“You could solve this entire situation in a week,” I remarked.

The blonde woman reclined in her seat, hands together and fingers twined in a demure pose that would fool many a man. She studied me with eyes as blue as a summer sky but infinitely colder.

“I have worked for decades to be able to solve a situation in days.”

“I suppose that it is up to me?”

“If you abandon your project and return to New York to board the first ship, then I will take over.”

A pause.

“Will you?” She continued.

“Never!” I erupted, “What sort of man boasts about a dream then gives up at the first difficulty? I will stop the Crew or I will die trying.”

“See that you do not.”

“I am just unsure as to how…”

“You can always ask me questions.”

“Yes… Yes of course. Have you ever been in a similar situation?”

“Where I had to defeat an enemy I had no hope of stopping in a regular battle?”

“Yes.”

“Indeed. Several times.”

“What did you do then?”

She turned away and her expression grew distant.

“I borrowed an army. But here you do not have the luxury of time, I believe. Not with so many people you need to protect. There were cases where I lured mindless foes into a trap to take them down.”

“A trap… It could work. What did you use?”

“A positively ungodly amount of explosives.”

I sputtered at the thought of such a classical beauty in a neat dress manipulating such dreadful forces, and yet could I blame her? Was it not gunpowder and gumption that brought civilization to the farthest reaches of the world?

“Yes, we could lure the Crew into a place and blow it up. They seem unconcerned with their own lives. We need to find a good place and explosives, however. Perhaps someone knows something?”

Ariane removed a map from a drawer under her desk and unfolded it before my eyes. It showed the local territory. Pins pierced specific areas in a color code I did not understand.

“This is Steeleborough, an abandoned mining town at the edge of the trail. It was to be a mining town, but due to high transportation costs the activity never picked up. The Crew came to expropriate the inhabitants when they heard that a railroad would be built in the vicinity. It was the final straw. Now, the settlement is a ruin.”

“My, we could even use some of the steel if some remains.”

“Steeleborough was named after its founder, Mr Steele. With an e at the end.”

“Oh.”

“They mined zinc.”

“Nevertheless, they could have dynamite.”

“Indeed. While you were moving to safety, I took the opportunity to… have a talk with the mayor while he was inspecting the city for damage. He had much to say about the family who sends the demands that the Crew backs, but the most important thing is what one can read between the lines. The elixir those ruffians quaff comes from a mysterious ‘Mr Winters’. Until his arrival, the family was but one more frontier clan, albeit a cruel one.”

“You think that they are patsies and that we must identify this Winters.”

“Absolutely, and we must do it without him learning of my presence or he might go to ground, only to resurface later with a similar scheme.”

“He would know of you?”

“People with his knowledge of blood magic almost always do.”

“Fantastic, you have found much, Ariane. Between my brawn and your brains, we will get to the bottom of it yet!”

My elation was ruined by the distant voice of Mr. Nead.

“We’re all doomed!” He said with amusement. Ariane did not share his mirth.

***

“I built a business empire starting with guns and expanding to alcohol and entertainment, but do people call me Ariane the Entrepreneur? No.”

“I regret teasing you, poppet, I did not realize it was such a sore spot.”

“And I created the alliance that stopped the Scourge Hive, bringing more species and factions together than the Lancaster renegades gathered to take down their insane progenitor, but do they call me Ariane the Negotiator? Oh no, not at all!”

“Aw.”

“I have engineering skills, I can play the piano, paint, and I am a master of enchanting and blood magic, the equal of archmages, but do they call me Ariane the Polymath? Ariane the Scholar? Nope!”

“I call you poppet!”

“But call a naval artillery strike on ONE war lady, and I’m Powder Ariane. Or the Boom Girl! Why? Why, I ask! Scandalous.”

“Take it that way, Ariane. The ranks of the Midnight Aristocracy count a great many schemers, scholars, and entrepreneurs… but only one Boom Girl. You have successfully given yourself a personal brand.”

“...”

“Take it that way, my dear. Whoever thinks you are only resorting to explosives underestimates you, and that can only lead to their ruin. And even if they expect explosives, well, they never expect how much you are willing to use.”

The vampire frowned, then relaxed.

“You do have a sweet mouth.”

The Prince of Summer smiled suggestively.

“No.”

***

“What do I look like?” Annie asked with a tense voice.

“Dust cannot hide the sun, rags cannot mask Venus in marble. You are my ardent dream, my fallen angel, and no artifice can make you less.”

“No, I, aw, you are so sweet. I suppose I should not ask you,” the muse replied, placing her hand against my chest. I felt the warmth of her palm through my shirt while her flowery perfume lured me in like a promise of spring. I was well and truly lost, dear readers.

“You should make ready, if you insist on accompanying Honore.”

I nodded and moved out of her way. We had made camp in a secluded clearing nestled between two hills, very close to the town of Steeleborough. Too close, I would have said, but we would occupy it or be found out long before crew members would find us. I quickly found Honore at the edge and looking up.

“Are you sure, marshal?”

“It has to be done.”

“We will not be able to arrest them.”

“Although I loath to be judge, jury, and executioner, I fear that I may not have a choice here. We are simply too outnumbered.”

“Right. Anyway, walk where I walk, imitate me and we should be fine. It’s an Injun that taught me.”

“I’m always eager to acquire more skill, good Honore. Lead on!” I exclaimed.

“Shhhhh.”

I wilted a little under the quiet reprimand. What we were going to do was underhanded and — dare I say — dishonorable. The lows to which I must stoop to protect the innocent terrified me, and yet the hammer of justice suffered no weak handling. I had to go all in. Annie’s safety also depended on it, which was a powerful motivator in itself.

Honore was as dark-skinned as they came. He wore a deep green coat over a white shirt and moved with the predatory grace of a panther. We walked up the slopes and I could not help but wonder where his strange knowledge came from.

“Say, Honore, were you perhaps part of the, what was it, colored regiment?”

“Non monsieur, I come from Haiti and I traveled here seeking my fortune. My ancestor was Dessalines himself.”

This all sounded suspiciously French.

“He overthrew the colonial government and killed tens of thousands of Napoleon’s soldiers.”

Good man.

“I am honored to fight alongside the descendent of such a noble character!”

“I thought you might, monsieur. Now hush. We must not give away the game.”

We progressed slowly and kept our eyes up. I had my guns but they were a last resort, or so I hoped. It took us almost ten minutes to crest the incline as we were quite careful not to be seen. Our caution turned out to be wholly unnecessary.

Steelebrough was equally nestled between two ridges and barely deserved the name of town. Rather, it was a village huddled around a mining pit now abandoned, with a single street and a well down near the exit. Most of the buildings looked deserted but there were a few outliers centered on a two-stories edifice that might have been a saloon. Even from high up, I could spot three sentries, two on a roof and one in the streets. They were looking down, however.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Annie will be here in ten minutes, we have to get to work or the diversion will be wasted, monsieur.”

“The two sentries on the roof first?”

“Absolument.”

We stayed low on our journey down, although when I got close enough to see the face of our foe, I knew that they would not see us.

I watched sentries at work before, having visited my father while he was back from India. They all handled boredom in different manners. However, they all exuded that feeling that they would rather be doing something else, especially resting. I did not get this impression from those men.

Now I know, dear readers, that I compared those ruffians to cattle before, but believe me when I say that I expected more energy, more vivacious attention from grazing cows than I saw in those men. They lounged impassively, without talking, without any sort of drive. Their faces were frozen in a mask of bovine disinterest. Never did they even glance in any direction except forward. It was as if someone had removed from them what made them humans. Until, that is, they spotted a familiar figure making her way up the slope. Then, animation filled the men. Their impassive traits turned to grins of predatory glee, dripping savage, cruel joy. They chuckled horribly while we scaled the opposite side.

“See what I see? Do you see?”

“I see, I see.”

They were debased. Defiled. Devolved to their most degenerate tendencies.

Honore and I struck at the same time. He slid his knife in his sentries’ more tender part with an efficiency that reminded me of a butcher and worried me slightly. As for me, I simply struck my target’s head with a stone and a considerable amount of force. The pair went down like logs and without a sound. Below us, the third man had spotted Annie making a convincing impression of a survivor seeking help. He took a few steps forward, and I felt anger well in my chest. He would get close to her, with his grubby hands, his filthy clothes. He had lost that right the moment he fell in with a band of murderers and drank that vile mixture.

“We could take him down as well.”

“She will lure some of the others outside. It would be best to wait. Divide and conquer, monsieur.”

“If you say so.”

I watched Annie be dragged by the lout with trepidation. She was mewling and gibbering in a way that sent the man smirking, but she turned at the door and our eyes met, and hers were calm, calmer than mine in any case, dear readers! For the drums of the light brigade would not beat any faster. Thankfully for my nerves, we did not have to wait long. The sentry himself was tossed bodily across the saloon gates, body tumbling on the ground. He jumped back to his feet with a bestial snarl. His courage did not last long.

A man walked out, soon followed by two other cowed bandits. He was the red-hair man I had seen at the brothel’s first floor and he towered over the rest like a keep above a hamlet. A crimson gash decorated his left cheek. It bled a pinkish fluid as I watched. The man had been burnt and the wound was left unattended. It wept humors too unsettling to consider. The pain must have been excruciating.

The sentry’s rebellious fit lasted only long enough for him to stand back up. He and two others left in sullen silence. The red-headed man returned inside without a backward glance, a terrible oversight.

“We can act now,” I suggested, terrified at the thought of leaving Annie alone with these ruffians.

“Very well, monsieur. Please take the one on the left.”

We climbed down from the roof of what must have been a dormitory, taking great care not to be seen from the saloon’s windows. We trotted silently after the party seeking what Annie described as ‘a caravan in distress’ with terrified women, but would only turn out to be their doom. I picked a stone and gave the man on the left a terrible smack. David would not have brained Goliath any harder, for my spirits were inflamed by fear and outrage in equal measure. The man fell. Meanwhile, Honore jumped from one man to another, silencing them with the largest knife I had ever seen. Blood spilled on the grassy path, over grey rock. It looked paler than it should be. I averted my eyes, not used to such violence yet.

My father had mentioned it. Paintings and stories have always failed to express the horror of death, quite likely on purpose. Blood and innards on a recently living man could strip away the fervour of battle like nothing else. Only my sense of duty and Annie’s fate kept the horrifying realisation at bay. I had seen what these men could do. I would not stop.

Honore and I snuck back to the saloon just as the rest of our ragtag band came from the road, armed with whatever they had grabbed during the escape. We found the door unguarded and crawled in. Another pair of men stood in the middle of a dirty room cluttered with crates and barrels. They were trying to look into an inner door from whence Annie was screaming and calling for help. I did not wait for the Haitian and smacked the first person I found on the way, bursting in a moment later. Sounds of struggle came from behind but I had no choice but to try and save she who had so graciously acted as bait. I saw her push herself back up from a table, lips bloody.

I ducked at the same moment, trusting my instincts and providence and finding them warranted. A fist swung over me, missing my temples by a hair. A powerful hand grabbed my collar before I could react. The red-hair man had found me. He cocked his arm in a move as predictable as it was powerful. Unfortunately for me, I was unable to dodge. I blocked the incoming blow on my forearm and felt pain. Numbness spread. We struggled for a moment and it was not to my advantage. Nevertheless, my unexpected resistance irked the man immensely.

“I will crush you like an insect!” He roared. I watched more lymph seep from the raw meat of his cheek and knew that I had no choice. I punched it.

It was a harrowing experience for me, but an even worse one for him. My foe dropped me with a terrible bellow, taking a few steps back and allowing me to breathe properly again. He bumped against a piece of furniture and his already bloodshot eyes took on a dire intensity. He rummaged in his shirt for the vial I knew to be here, but I found myself unable to capitalise on his gesture as I was still recovering from my ordeal.

“You are meat, boy. I will enjoy putting you in your place.”

He brought the vial to his lips and smirked, but his expression turned to dismay as a terrible clang echoed through the room. He touched the back of his head and saw blood, then slowly toppled forward. He slammed onto the dusty ground like an old oak. I beheld Annie with a frying pan standing like an Erynie over her fallen victim. She was dishevelled and her clothes were in disarray, but she was whole and so very beautiful.

“My valkyrie, my fallen angel.”

“Wake up, champion. Honore needs help.”

“Oh yes!”

Ashamed of discounting my comrade in arms, I rushed back into the main room to find my companion doing the same. We practically ran into each other, a dangerous prospect considering that he was still wielding his blood-soaked blade.

“Honore, you are unharmed! Well, except for that gash on your forehead.”

“And you as well, monsieur, besides that spectacular bruise on your cheek.”

“Praise the lord.”

“Hurray!”

My apologies followed our mutual congratulations, for I had left the man high and dry dealing with his own foe.

“I concur, monsieur. If you had helped me we could have faced their leader together. However, perhaps mademoiselle Annie would have been used as a hostage or worse and so I cannot begrudge you this decision. We just have to perform better next time.”

“Indeed, my good Honore! Although,” I add after a frown, “I hope we do not make a habit of stabbing miscreants in ghost towns?”

“Certainly monsieur, we can do it in the forest as well.”

“Haha! Good man. And now, let us see what those ruffians left us!”

I actually let Honore handle that part out of concern for Annie who had not resurfaced yet. I returned to find her still holding that frying pan, glaring at the prone form of her attacker.

“When do you think he will wake up?” She asked.

I watched the expanding pool of blood under the man’s head, knowing immediately that such an event would not occur before Judgement Day.

“Not any time soon, milady. How are you feeling? You were very courageous, but I cannot imagine how terrifying this must have been.”

To my surprise and guilty delight, she threw herself against my chest. I put my arms protectively around her before I could think and stayed still, too afraid to move, too afraid to even breathe. She was soft and warm and so very alive. Her back arched slightly with every sob. Fine hair tickled my chin. They smelled like sunshine and like her as well. Slowly, she hugged me in return. My mind broke apart through the sheer, unexpected felicity. I did not want that moment to stop. For a while, we just stood there, but Honore eventually brought us back to reality by knocking politely on the open door.

“Excuse me, but we have news of an urgent sort.”

Annie and I left each other with embarrassment. She dried her cheeks while I enquired about this new development.

“A man escaped. He was returning from a hunt, as far as we could tell monsieur. One glance at us and he ran away like a rabbit!”

“Did he have a horse?”

“Non monsieur, they are all still here.”

“Then hopefully he will need time before he can notify his fellow henchmen. No matter! We were planning to lure them in anyway. Call the others and we shall fortify this place. Now let us see what the Crew left us.”

I opened the nearest crate to reveal rows of rifles of different makes, most of them from the previous American conflict. They were old but in good repair, and more importantly, clean. Other crates delivered clothes and revolvers aplenty, as well as enough cartridges to withstand a siege, which would be necessary. The real treasure came from a set of reinforced barrels, familiar brown sticks in bundles.

“Are those…”

“Yes,” I replied. “The key to all our problems. Now then, gentlemen with me, we must barricade and reinforce the saloon. As for the ladies, please clean and load the guns.”

“Which ones?” The blonde prostitute asked.

“Why, dear Felicia… all of them of course!”

The strange huntress graced me with a smile that would have sent most respectable gentlemen running, and more is the pity, for her markswomanship would come in handy!

In the following hours, we did our very best to turn the derelict into a fort worthy of a siege, and I had never seen before such a motivated team of hard-working folks. Men shovelled slag from a nearby pile into crates, bags, and barrels which were then lines around the shooting spot we had selected. Most of us would be on the upper floor to give us a vantage point, and all of the windows were either barred to anything short of a battering ram, or reinforced by planks and the aforementioned crates until it would take a cannonball to breach through. As for the first floor, it was left free for now but we had furniture we could collapse to turn the access to the stairs into a merciless slog.

We kept an escape route at the back to allow us to flee to the mines in case all was lost, but I hoped it would not come to that. The determined women volunteered to stay to reload the guns while we fought. Soon, night came. We all had a nice meal in the common room and separated after deciding on a guard rotation. I was granted one of the small rooms upstairs but when I entered it, my heart lost a beat. Annie was there.

“Annie… I..”

“Shhh. I am tired of being scared, champion. Please, do not refuse me.”

Ah, dear readers, I could write a book of poetry on what happened but a gentleman does not kiss and tell. A gentleman does not do what I did either. Judge me, dear reader, judge me and condemn me for the folly of youth, for the fear of death and for love consummated in that most holy and unholy of unions. Judge me but do not think that I left my guilt behind. Just know that my heart was hers and that I would have braved all the circle of hells for a kiss of hers. I would have charged the devil himself with a rusty spoon. I was taken like Ulysses but the sirens, but unlike him, there was no rope to hold me back. I never trained myself to control my love for I had been taught it was the most precious of emotions, and so when love found me, it found no resistance. I fell asleep in her arms.

***

“We are pregnant!”

“Sinead, I really preferred it when you played the court animal.”

“Such an exciting moment for us, poppet. Will we attend the birth? Should I bring gifts? I heard that the mortals like foreign kings bringing precious offerings.”

“I think you have already spread your offerings far and wide, Sinead. No need to contribute more or you will have more offspring than Genghis Khan.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No.”

“It appears that this little escapade of yours is coming to an end. When we return, we will have to proceed with the plan. You know why.”

“I know. Mask confirmed your claims.”

“Did they now?”

“Yes. Ambassador Madrigal offered generous terms for us to join his organization.”

“And what was Constantine’s answer?”

“He offered him and Bertrand generous terms to join the Accords.”

“Daring! I like it, but you know what that means, yes?”

“I know.”

“We are going back to Europe! More murders! More intrigue! And this time… you will know how it feels to hide from the most dangerous predators of the land. I cannot wait.”

***

The ruffians arrived on the second day, much sooner than I anticipated considering the distance involved. I assume that they were searching for us, or that our mysterious enemy Mr Winters expected some shenanigans. In any case, the Crew arrayed themselves against us at the bottom of the slope on their horses like some barbaric horde from ancient times. To my surprise, they were followed by a few carriages that must have contained supplies and showed a level of preparedness I had not anticipated from such degenerates. More surprising was the presence of a single stubby barrel between two wheels, which a group of cleaner men deployed at the bottom of the slope. Honore, who was by my side, leaned and muttered in a worried voice.

“Do you recognize that thing, monsieur?”

“Oh yes, Ariane Delaney mentioned it several times. I believe this is called a Gatling gun.”