Page 28 of Red in Tooth and Claw

Chapter Twenty-eight

Dai Lo hunched over Dillard, checking on him in the flickering candlelight. I heard Will hiss a curse, but I ignored whatever was making him ornery, as he could no doubt handle whatever it was without me. I helped Dai Lo roll Dillard over more gently than he deserved.

Blood trickled from his mouth, drawing a stark line across his waxy pale skin. He shivered, baring his bloody teeth at us in a grimace as his eyes blinked open. Dai Lo studied his wounds, her face grave.

It looked bad to me, but then, I wasn’t a healer. Blood soaked the front of his robe. It was so saturated, I couldn’t much tell where, exactly, he was bleeding from. So I asked what I thought might be a fairly boneheaded question. “Is it bad?”

“He’s been stabbed at least three times.”

It wasn’t the answer I’d expected. I’d assumed he’d been mauled like the others. “Can you do anything for him?”

Dai Lo looked at the blood on the floor with a frown. “Maybe if I had Miss Moon with me and we were in the Still. Even then…” She pointed at the blood dripping from his mouth. “The blade nicked his lungs, and he’s lost so much blood. If he doesn’t choke on it, he’ll likely die of blood loss.”

Dillard’s eyes started to roll back in his head.

Oh, no you don’t. I smacked his cheek, not as hard as I could, but enough to sting.

He swam back to consciousness, staring at me. “Mr.Kelly? Am I dead?”

“You’ll meet your maker soon enough, I reckon.” I gave him a little shake. “What did you do? Unburden yourself while you have the chance.”

He coughed, blood speckling his cheeks. “When we first got here—” He wheezed, struggling over the words. “Went wrong. Bad crops. Sickness, taking healthy workers. No money for tools. Couldn’t—couldn’t fail.” He coughed again, a wet, nasty sound. “Promised we wouldn’t. We’d be protected by the hand…hand of our God.” He struggled for breath. “Couldn’t let my people d-down.”

More like he couldn’t admit he’d been wrong, but I didn’t argue. “So how’d you fix it?”

He shivered again, harder this time. “Sought help. Other holy men. No one—no one could help. Said…called it…fool’s errand.” He sucked in another breath, coughing. “Finally found someone. Gave…book.” His eyes closed briefly as he tried to swallow. “Said ritual would bring power. Riches. The book…so full of strange words. Didn’t—didn’t understand it all.”

Anger filled me. The Settlement hadn’t worked, so instead of leading his people to safety, Dillard had delved into something he didn’t understand.

His eyes squeezed shut. “Did ritual. No riches. That thing—that thing came through. Learned—” Another coughing fit. More blood. He wasn’t going to last much longer. “I could make it do what I wanted. They can smell—” He paused to suck in a few rattling breaths. “Riches. Gold. Gems. Seek them out. Take them. Send Davens, Harris, to trade them. Supplies. Settlement pro—” He tried again. “Prospers.”

He forced the cat to find riches, stole them, and then traded them for what he needed. He made the Settlement work through stolen goods and blood.

“Why all the killing?” I asked. “They don’t need to kill like that.” I still hadn’t seen Chirp show any interest in mauling people.

“Didn’t…didn’t want to do my bidding.” The blood dripped slower now from his lips. “Had to keep—had to try new ritual. Bind it. Bind it more. Feed it. Keep it…keep it in my power.”

It took a few seconds for me to piece together his meaning, but in the end I understood. The cat hadn’t wanted to do what he demanded. It kept fighting him. Dillard didn’t know what else to do, so he’d started sacrificing bigger and bigger things to bind it, and to feed it. He started listing names—Mary Ellen. Ruby. A few more that I didn’t know. Amos. That’s what I’d heard when I was in the Box. Amos had probably come out there to taunt me, to try to get me to make noise so I’d get more time in the Box, only to end up being dinner.

And the goats. My silly Gertie. So very many dead.

The amount of blood Dillard had spilled to get what he’d wanted. “Why them?” I spit out. “Why not the others?”

Dillard shuddered, coughing up more blood. “Got paid to…to get them out of the way.”

I thought of Mary Ellen with that rich, no-good cousin. Will was right. He’d probably paid HisBen to whisk her away and get rid of her so he could inherit. Then Dillard had fed her to the cat—it was all so awful I felt sick.

Dillard was a weak man, too mean and rigid to admit he’d been wrong about something, and he’d dragged probably dozens of people to the afterlife for his trifling ambitions. I didn’t want to look at him anymore, but I had one more question. “How do we send them back?”

He didn’t answer, his breath a faint, knocking rattle.

I slapped his cheek. “Dillard! How do we send them back?”

Dillard’s eyes were closed. Dai Lo shook her head. “I think that’s all you’re going to get.”

“Figures he’d be stingy to the end.” I straightened, washing my hands of the disgrace that was Gideon Dillard.

I wiped my bloody palms on my trousers and turned to see what had made Will curse a few minutes ago.

The chapel, like much of the Settlement, had gone through a major transformation since I’d been here last. Pews were overturned. The air was thick with incense, making me cough, but it was the walls, the walls , that really caught my eye.

Bright symbols covered every surface, their lines wavering with power, the sequence repeating over and over from ceiling to floor. I couldn’t tell, but I think they’d been done in charcoal. Dozens of candles, stuck in candelabras that were set along the ground, in the pews, and even on the piano next to a fiddle case, gave off a dim glow over it all. Not even the back wall of the chapel had been spared from destruction. Symbols marched across the mural, covering the sun, as if the focus of their faith was no different from any other surface in this chapel.

Up at the front, Miss Honeywell stepped out from behind the lectern. She watched us with bright eyes, her face euphoric. Her hair was down and tangled, her grin wide and feral, and her right hand held a large knife that I recognized from the kitchens. Her left hand was wrapped in bloody cloth and was holding a hollow-eyed little boy pinned against her.

Obie. Little Obie, his face still streaked from earlier tears, stared at us blankly. Drugged. He’d been drugged.

A sudden movement as something shimmered into place, certain death coming toward us.

A huge cave cat hurtled in our direction, bigger than mine, filled out in a way that Chirp wasn’t. Same slick white coat and purple rosettes, but the eyes were pumpkin orange, mouth agape. Large white teeth gleamed in the low light.

Right for me. I was going to die.

Something crashed into the cave cat, tumbling to the ground. I couldn’t see what hit it, but I knew—Chirp.

HisBen’s cave cat rolled to its feet, snarling. Miss Honeywell reached down and grabbed a tether. In my fear, I’d missed that the cave cat had one tied to his neck. Miss Honeywell somehow managed to secure it, keeping Obie in front of her the whole time.

Will was watching her, hands hovering over his pistols. He wouldn’t be able to shoot her, not with Obie in front of her like that.

I’d seen a face like hers before. Stuckley. She reminded me of Ignatius Stuckley, right before he tried to stick a knife in me.

“Mr.Kelly,” she said, her voice an eerie singsong, “and the gunslinger.” She giggled. “I told Gideon you weren’t dead, but did he listen to me?”

She sneered now, staring at Dillard’s body. “No. He never listened to me!” She spit on the ground. “If only he’d listened!” Her eyes were fire now, lit from within by fury and fanaticism. Her hand tightened on the knife. “ I had potential. I was ready. What better vessel for the benevolence than me, but he chose Stuckley ?!”

“Well, at least we won’t have trouble getting her to talk,” Will muttered, his gaze never leaving her.

She was snarling now, swinging the knife around. My heart rate picked up every time she swung it close to Obie. “How was Stuckley better than me? How was he more benevolent because he was a man? I was made for this.” She swayed where she stood, her face serene again. “Who is more benevolent than I?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dai Lo pressing what was left of HisBen’s robes to his side, trying to stop the bleeding. He must not be dead yet. From the amount of blood, I didn’t think it would be long. Jesse hovered behind her, ax in hand, while Tallis stood behind me. I wasn’t sure where Chirp had gone.

I kept my gaze fixed on Miss Honeywell, as if staring at her would keep her from doing anything rash. At the same time, I was trying to get a sense of the other cave cat. It had a beat-down look to it. Sick, maybe.

Right now, Miss Honeywell was the threat that most needed my attention. We needed to get Obie away from her. I held my hands out, trying to look nonthreatening. “You’re right, Miss Honeywell.”

Her attention whipped to me, but it was like she was struggling to focus. She kept blinking. “How’s that?”

“I was there,” I said, tipping my head toward one of the walls. “When Stuckley tried to do this. He wasn’t a good vessel. He wasn’t ready for the gift your god had for him.”

“I know. You know.” She hissed at Dillard. “Why didn’t he know?”

“He wasn’t a good vessel, either,” I said. “He was flawed.”

“Yes,” she said. “ Yes! Looks like your smart mouth is good for something after all.” She licked her lips. “He kept losing control.”

I nodded solemnly. “That’s why I want to help you, Miss Honeywell.”

She looked suspicious now, her grip on Obie tightening. I heard Jesse suck in a breath. Will and Tallis were both breathing steady next to me, not moving. Just ready to jump in when I needed them.

“How can you help me?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why would you help me?”

“Because you’re right, Miss Honeywell. Everything you said about Stuckley. About Dillard. Overlooking you. It wasn’t right.”

“It wasn’t,” she said, but she wasn’t entirely with me yet, still suspicious. “I had to sneak looks at Dillard’s book. Make my own copies.”

“As to how”—I looked side to side, licking my lips, like I was anxious to reveal a big secret—“well, I’ve done this.” I waved a hand at the symbols, the cave cat beside her. “With Stuckley. Only he failed.” I leaned forward and dropped my voice so she’d have to lean in a little to hear me. I wanted her to feel like we were in this together, on the same team. “That creature, the one you have up there?”

She glanced at it.

“I have my own.”

She blinked at me before throwing back her head with a laugh. Gone was the girlish giggle. This was a full-throated belly laugh. “You? Please.” She shook her head. “I’m no fool, Mr.Kelly.”

I kept my face stubborn. “Chirp?” I tried to send him a picture in my mind, an image of him but fading in this time, not just popping out of nowhere. I didn’t want him to startle Miss Honeywell. Not with that blade in her hand. Even though I didn’t have a command to get him to reappear, he seemed to understand. He faded in slowly, starting at his nose, the colors flowing back like water until he was at my side.

Miss Honeywell gasped. She stared at Chirp, her eyes wide. “How?” she spluttered.

“Stuckley failed,” I said simply. “ I didn’t.”

She swayed some more, her arm almost absently around Obie. “Failed?”

“Failed,” I said firmly. “There’s a trick to it. See, they think they got the ritual right, but they don’t.”

Her head whipped back like I’d hit her.

Before she could pull together an argument, I plowed ahead. I waved a hand at the other cave cat. “Look at ’em. There’s something not right with that one. Not all there. Sick. Not like Chirp here.” I tried to send more thoughts along to Chirp to get him to show off a little, but he kept his attention glued on Miss Honeywell. She was our prey. That he understood.

She seemed almost convinced but needed another push in the right direction. I frantically tried to think of a reason, but my mind was suddenly blank.

“You’re far from a perfect vessel,” Miss Honeywell mumbled. “Those eyes. Your hair.”

“Like I said, there’s a trick.” For the life of me, I couldn’t think of what that might be.

“You need a better offering,” Tallis said, his body posture loose and easy. Like they were two old biddies chatting over tea. “That boy? Too small.”

She frowned down at Obie.

I had to jump in quick—I didn’t want her to think Obie was useless , because who knew what she would do with him then? “He needs more training, is all. For now, why don’t we trade?”

Before I could offer up myself, Tallis jumped back in again. “Me.”

“You?” She sneered. “You’re a Rover .”

As if he wouldn’t know that.

She eyed him suspiciously. “Why would you offer yourself up for him?”

Tallis shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not for him. It’s for Faolan. Why do you think she brought me?”

Miss Honeywell blinked hard at him. “She?”

Tallis’s expression blanked, trying hard not to show a reaction to her question. It was too late, though.

“ Mister Faolan, huh?” She gave another eerie cackle. “Did Gideon get anything right about you?”

“No, ma’am.”

She sneered at Dillard again, her eyes wild. “How could I have been so wrong about him?” She seemed to be talking to herself now, momentarily forgetting we were there. “I let him shame me. To get closer to the light of our God. I gave him everything . And he’s nothing .”

We were losing her. I had to bring her back to us, get Obie free. “Forget Dillard,” I said, leaving his title off on purpose. “You don’t need him. You need me. Let Obie go.” I put my hand on Tallis’s shoulder. “Take the gift I brought. For you. All for you. Then I’ll show you how the ritual should go.”

Her grip loosened on Obie as she considered this. She needed another nudge.

Jesse cleared his throat. “Ms.Honeywell? Why don’t I bring you this Rover, huh? Take Obie off your hands?”

She melted into a beatific expression, her fondness for Jesse not diminished, even being full to the gullet with whatever potions she’d taken. “Such good manners, Jesse.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He kept the ax loose by his side, not bringing it to her attention, as he clasped Tallis’s arm and drew him up along the wall of the chapel, coming up the opposite side from where the cave cat was.

As they got close, Miss Honeywell focused on Jesse, her grip loosening on Obie. A bud of hope blossomed in my chest. Maybe this would work out the way we wanted.

Just as they got close enough to make the trade, Miss Honeywell pulled back, holding the little boy against her. “No. Wait.” Her eyes darted between us, her brow furrowed. “Not yet.” She pointed the knife blade at me. “Do the ritual first. Show me your trick. We’ll make the exchange when it’s time for the sacrifice.”

The bud withered and died, the petals of hope falling down my chest and crumbling to dust. Blast it all.

And now I had to think of a trick. I had no idea how I’d finished the ritual beyond stabbing Stuckley, and that wasn’t really a trick that would work twice. What else had I done? What did I have to work with? Think, Faolan! I was a Kelly. A Kelly should be able to skip circles around the likes of Miss Nettie Honeywell.

I caught sight of the piano. Now, my piano playing was only a hair above disrespectful. It wouldn’t do me any favors here. But on top of the piano was a fiddle.

“Music,” I drawled, adopting a confident swagger. “That’s what the ritual needs.”

Miss Honeywell’s face twisted in confusion, so I plowed ahead, not letting her think about it too hard. “That’s how I got Chirp here. I added music to the ritual.”

“I heard you were a fair fiddle player,” she admitted grudgingly.

I stiffened. Miss Honeywell always was good at getting my back up. “Fair? Fair? Why, Miss Honeywell, I can coax a song so pretty from those strings as could make a wood thrush die of envy.”

“So prideful,” Miss Honeywell said, clucking her tongue, and for a second, she sounded like her old self.

I shrugged. “Ain’t pride if it’s true, is it?” I didn’t wait for the answer. “Tallis, can you play the piano?” I’d played with Tallis before. That would work best, especially since I didn’t like him so close to Ms.Honeywell and that knife.

He grimaced, shaking his head.

“I can play,” Dai Lo said. “Well enough, anyway.” She tilted her head up at Will. “Can you take over for me here? Put pressure on the wound?”

Will nodded, taking her place but keeping an eye on Nettie.

I moved slowly to the piano, not wanting to startle Miss Honeywell and her knife hand.

“Hurry up,” Miss Honeywell snapped. “We don’t have all night.”

I wondered if the night part mattered, if she was ashamed to have the sunlight touch her ritual, like it was the eye of her all-seeing god, and she didn’t want him to know what she was up to.

Dai Lo met me at the piano. She perched on the seat, bloodstained hands holding steadily over the keys as she stretched her fingers some and played a few notes. I freed the fiddle from the case, taking a second to tune it. When Miss Honeywell gave an impatient snort, I glared at her. “You want to go into the ritual with an off-key instrument? Do you know what that will summon?”

She dipped her chin, reluctantly pulling together her patience.

I settled my fiddle into position and thought furiously about what I should play. I could make something up, shooting for a song that sounded mystical and eerie. A song that sounded like it could reach out and tear a hole in the worlds.

I reckoned it would be a bit hard for Dai Lo to follow on that.

I remembered the cave. What had I sung to Chirp? Surely I’d called to him then as much as he’d been calling to me. Had it mattered what I’d been singing, or just that I’d been singing at all? I couldn’t remember what I’d sung. What I could remember was the soul-wrenching loneliness that I now realized had been Chirp’s.

I watched Dillard’s cave cat for a moment and wondered what it was feeling. That same loneliness, stuck in a strange world? No—or not quite. Maybe at first. I had to remember that the cave cat had been stuck with Dillard. A pushy, domineering fella bent on his own righteousness. The cat wasn’t straining at its tether, trying to take a bite out of us. No, with Dillard unconscious, probably bleeding to death, it was acting like Chirp now, only a sick and tired version.

What song would I want to hear if I was the cave cat? That thought called a tune to my fingertips, and I felt my lips curve up at the ends. It was an old Rover song, a lover’s song, about homecoming and forgiveness. Miss Honeywell was going to hate it.

Perfect.

“You know ‘Raina’s Lament’?” I whispered to Dai Lo.

She frowned, her nose wrinkled. “I don’t think so.”

Oh, well. “I’ll start it. See if you can jump in.”

I closed my eyes and let the music take me, pairing my voice with the sweet notes of the fiddle. “There once was a woman named Raina, and a fierce beauty was she. Full of pride and the hope of her people, for her fate, she took to the sea.”

The lament was a bittersweet tune, full of longing and regret, though it had a surprisingly happy ending. Raina had been lost from her people, ending up in a battle, doing things she regretted and felt ashamed of.

“Finally home, no longer to roam, she sailed back into town. But with bloodied hands and a heavy heart, she’d known that she let them down.” When Raina went home to her love, she’d felt she didn’t deserve them, with such blood-covered hands. Her love welcomed her, forgave her, and they built a new life together. In true Rover fashion, there was a second ditty telling of their marriage and adventures that was actually quite bawdy. It was one of my favorites.

About halfway through the song, Dai Lo joined me. Then from behind me, from the other side of the chapel, Tallis’s voice floated out over the pews, blending seamlessly with the music, three parts becoming one. My heart rejoiced. Gone was the heavy sadness of the day, the death, the grief. The fear. The music washed them from me, much like Raina’s love had done for her.

It was a momentary respite, like I’d been swimming through a rough river and temporarily found a log to rest my weight on. Any second, the river would snatch it away from me, but for this moment I could breathe. The music flowed out from us, comforting, welcoming listeners with open arms.

I felt Dillard die, because much like Stuckley, it triggered whatever strange ritual they’d been conducting.

I finished the song and opened my eyes.

It was different than it had been in the cave because the church was lit up with candles. I could see what was happening this time. There, at the front of the chapel, where the sun mural had been, was a ragged hole.

It was as if a cave mouth had appeared from nowhere, leading to a mysterious and unknowable place. I couldn’t see much through it, but I could smell something wet and marshy and hear strange calls from unknown birds. Or at least, I thought they were birds.

Miss Honeywell shrieked in triumph. “Mine. Mine!” She danced in place, yanking Obie about like he was a rag doll. Her face glowed in the candlelight, her expression the same as when we’d sung praise songs in this very chapel. Beatific. Ecstatic.

Distracted.

“Now!” I shouted, and though we’d discussed no plan—how could we?—everyone moved at once, jumping in whatever manner they saw fit. They were of such like minds in this, however, that even if we’d had time to orchestrate something, I don’t think we could have moved more smoothly.

Jesse leapt forward, dropping the ax and snatching Obie away as Tallis kicked the blade out of Miss Honeywell’s hand. The knife spun across the floor, landing close to the tethered cave cat. Both Tallis and Jesse kept moving, using what speed they had to split away from Miss Honeywell. She hovered, unsure who to follow first, her weapon or her sacrifice?

She went for her weapon.

Chirp beat her there, standing over the knife, snarling in such a way that I was reminded that at heart he was a fearsome thing when he wanted to be.

Miss Honeywell froze, hovering between the two snarling cave cats. She focused on the tethered one, her face dreamy and unconcerned. “The ritual is done now. You’re mine,” she crooned, leaning forward, her good hand outstretched.

The cave cat roared, bucking against the tether, and Miss Honeywell jerked away, suddenly wary. As she stepped back, a shot rang out, the staccato sound echoing in the acoustics of the chapel. Red bloomed on her shoulder, reminding me of a red poppy, the petals unfurling for the sun.

Miss Honeywell staggered back, hand going to her shoulder.

I dropped my fiddle as Dai Lo darted up from the piano. She ran to Jesse, probably to check Obie over and see if he needed help. Dai Lo was a healer, and that was always her first impulse.

I was not. I had no interest in healing Miss Nettie Honeywell. I leapt over the pews, heading for Chirp.

Tallis beat me, scooping the ax up and running to the tethered cave cat.

My heart skipped a beat, fear making me shout. But this was Tallis, and I should have trusted him.

The ax came down, splitting the tether easily. “Go!” He pointed at the ragged hole, the cave growing hazier by the second. I had no idea how long the ritual would last. I needed to make my move while I could.

Leaping over the last pew, I slammed into Miss Honeywell with all my force. She fell back, mouth a wide O as she moved from our world and into the other, falling into the ragged hole in the wall. She hit the cave floor with a thud, crying out as the landing jarred her wound.

Will stepped forward, pistol ready, steadily advancing. Jesse stood to the side, blocking Dai Lo and Obie from harm. The cave cat lurched like it was going to move to the cave and then hesitated, before sitting on its haunches. Chirp made a low, sad noise.

Will kept advancing. “As I see it, you’ve got two choices, Nettie Honeywell. I can fire this pistol again. This time, I can promise you I won’t miss.” He was about ten feet away now, so close to that other world. “Or you can turn around, you can run, and you can try your hand at life in the land you so desperately wanted to reach.”

“But…” The hand that pressed to her wounded shoulder shook. She took in the cave around her before looking over her shoulder into the darkness. Eerie bird calls split the air, sounding gut-chilling for all that they were far off. “I don’t belong here. This isn’t…” She sniffled. “I’ll be alone.”

“You’ll be facing the exact same fate you wished upon Chirp here.” I jutted my chin out stubbornly and she flinched. “I can’t think of anything more just.”

She wilted, the fight going out of her. Then she straightened up to her full height.

“Fine, but you just remember this, Faolan Kelly. I don’t sink easy. I will rise up. My faith has not deserted me.” Her eyes flashed with either confidence or a mighty fine bravado. I don’t know that it mattered which one it was.

“To my mind, you deserted your faith,” Will said. “But as far as I see it, that’s a never-you-mind. Get on, now. You’ve made your choice.”

“You’ll see,” she said, her voice fierce, her eyes hard. “You’ll see.”

Then she turned around and fled into the darkness.

She’d made her choice.

No one went after her. We all knew that the real options weren’t staying here or going there, but between a quick death at the hands of the gunslinger and a slow death at the hands of a likely hostile landscape.

I didn’t care either way.

My heart had no room for the likes of Nettie Honeywell.