Wanting to snap the man’s neck if he didn’t start talking.
“They did what?” Malachi demanded, his voice taking on an angry tone and rising in pitch. The other Archaics were watching now, they were spellbound by Walking Cat’s story, but they also grew restless and nervous at the thought of Malachi’s anger.
“Fire came from inside the train. Before he died, Jonathan said two of the humans were the same ones from Absolution. They had weapons that shot flame, a great distance. I… we caught fire. Another human shot a gun,” he stopped and picked up the wooden bullet that lay in the dust at his feet. “The gun, I have seen them before, when I fought the bluecoats. It shoots many bullets, and between this gun and the fire, we… many of us died. We kept attacking, but we could not get inside the train for some reason. It was like the doors were blocked somehow. No matter how many times we tried, no matter which direction we attacked from, we could not enter the train.” Walking Cat bowed his head and his shoulders slumped when he finished his report.
“Where are the others? Those who came back with Walking Cat? Step forward,” Malachi said.
Six Archaics made their way toward him, reluctant looks on their faces. The crowd parted until the seven of them stood in line facing Malachi. Most of them bore similar injuries to Walking Cat, burns and cuts and broken bones, but they were also starting to heal. None of them faced Malachi, they were afraid and disappointed they had let him down, and stood there with their heads hanging low
“Tell me,” he said to them. “Is what Walking Cat has told us true?” He spoke loudly so all of the remaining Archaics could hear him.
All of them mumbled yes or nodded their heads, still unwilling to face their leader.
“As Archaics, you were ordered to attack Shaniah, to find her and kill her and you did not. You returned here like whipped dogs with tales of weapons and fire and human tricks, instead of stories of a great victory! Is this not true?”
The seven of them stood motionless. There was nothing to say, they had no defense. Their leader had given them a command and they had failed.
Malachi moved so quickly, the seven Archaics were dead almost before anyone could blink. From somewhere in the folds of his cloak he pulled a long gleaming knife and with the speed of an Olympian god he decapitated all of them in seconds. Where there had been standing, living beings, there were now only bodies and heads, and their screams died before their heads hit the ground, their faces still showing the death grimace of surprise.
The crowd was silent. Malachi looked at the remaining group.
“It will be sunup soon. We will wait until the darkness returns, then we will find Shaniah and the humans who assist her. And we will kill them.” He spun on his heel and entered the mine. Leaving the Archaics behind him, the sun just beginning to peek over the eastern horizon.
Chapter Sixty-three
Monkey Pete had shooed everyone away, telling them he could construct the cart on his own, and that they would just be in his way. Hollister had suggested they get some sleep while taking turns standing watch in the gunner’s bubble above the armory car. Chee had volunteered to take the first watch. He sat in the seat, his hand on the handles of the Gatling, ready to shoot in an instant if the Archaics reappeared.
Chee was too wired to sleep, so keeping watch had been a good thing for him. But it didn’t sit right with him, knowing Shaniah and Hollister were not sleeping. Hollister had made a show of heading for his bunk and Shaniah did the same, leaving the main car and following Monkey Pete, giving every indication she was going to the guest quarters.
Chee was willing to bet one of the two was not in their bunk. She had made her way to Hollister’s quarters or he had gone to hers, but they were together somewhere on the train. They were lovers. Chee had seen it almost immediately when they returned from their ride the previous night. It should not bother him. The major was an adult, his own man, and not to mention Chee’s superior officer. He could sleep with whomever he wished. The sergeant just wished it was anyone but Shaniah.
He reached inside the folds of his shirt and fingered his medicine bag, and he could still feel the cord with the coin tied around his ankle. He muttered both a Shaolin prayer and a Creek war chant. Neither made him feel better. He wished his grandmother Annabel were here so he could ask her more questions. How could he protect all of them from this Brujeria — this witch- in their midst?
Monkey Pete lowered the door on his “lab” car, slowly rolling the cart he’d built down the ramp onto the ground. One of the spare Gatlings was attached to it. Chee continued to marvel at the engineer’s ingenuity as he yawned and stretched.
It was almost time to fight again.
Chapter Sixty-four
Shaniah lay next to Hollister in his bunk, with her leg draped over his torso. Hollister questioned his judgment in making love to her again, right before the biggest fight of his life. It was a fight he knew he might not survive.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, her fingers tracing the scar on his shoulder from the bullet he’d taken at Five Forks, right before the end of the war.
“I was wondering if I was still alive,” he said.
She laughed. “Oh, you are alive, all right.”
“I might not be for much longer,” he said. “Is this… I mean
… your people… do they always… is their lovemaking always this… intense?”
“Yes!” she teased him. Enjoying making him uncomfortable.
“You’re kidding. It’s always this… vigorous?”
“Yes, most of the time,” she said.
“Dear God,” he groaned.
“I’m pleasantly surprised,” she said.
“About what?”
“You shouldn’t worry, Jonas, your stamina and… skill is quite remarkable.”
He sighed. “At least there’s that.”
He had no idea what time it was, but he should probably get up and relieve Chee of the watch and allow him to get some sleep, although he had begun to wonder if Chee ever slept.
He sat up on the bed, feeling weak and dizzy after making love to Shaniah. Was that what it would always be like? The truth of it was, he couldn’t remember anyone like her. It was like the women he’d known had all been wiped from his mind and no other woman had existed for him before her. Strange, he thought.
“I’ve got to relieve Chee,” he said. “It is almost…”
“He knows, Jonas,” she said.
“Knows what?”
“About us.”
Hollister tried not to react.
“Chee knows a lot of things,” he said. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised he figured this out.”
“He ‘figures things out’ because he is a Vrajitoarea,” she said.
“A what?”
“It is what my people call… your word for it would be ‘witch.’ ”
“Chee’s a witch?” He looked at her, smiling.
“Yes.” And from the look on her face he could tell she wasn’t joking.
“Like a ‘bubble bubble, toil and trouble’ witch?”
She frowned, not understanding his reference.
“It’s from Shakespeare… a play… a story written… never mind. I’m pretty sure Chee is not a witch.”
