Ice and Blood Page 15

  The ice bear remained with its paws against the church’s wall as if part of the building itself—a frosted buttress or a crystal gargoyle. It gashed the air inches away from Tiberius’ boots, just once, before rhythmically pounding the stone. The rumble crawled up the wall and rippled over the garland of hanging bodies.

  Diamond grunted. “What are you waitin’ for? Up you go. And watch where you put those hands if you wanna keep ’em,” she told Tiberius, her voice as taut as her muscles.

  “Fair enough,” he replied.

  He slithered up the side of her tense body, feeling her warmth and listening to her deep breaths.

  “Hi there,” Will puffed as their faces passed each other.

  “Howdy.”

  Tiberius climbed up Will’s torso. He kept his legs around his waist as he reached for the windowsill. He held on to the cold ledge, freed his legs, and upped himself. Turner Spade took a slight step to the side to let him squeeze through the window, losing none of his grip around Will’s ankles. He groaned with the extraneous effort but never lost his sly smile. Tiberius fell on the wooden floorboards and leaned on his back, covered in sweat.

  Turner gave him a side glance. “A hand, Sheriff? There’s only so much one man can do.”

  Tiberius stood up, legs trembling. He wrapped his arms below Turner’s armpits and they both pulled until the bodies of Will and Diamond landed safely inside. They all dropped to the floor and lay there, faces wet and reddened, chests raising and sinking like the bellows of a forge.

  “Told you… We… Could pull this… Off,” Diamond stated between her faltering breaths.

  “Definitely better than Chattanooga,” Will croaked.

  Turner was the first to get back on his feet. He shook his arms, placed his palms on his thighs, and leaned forward, still heaving. “I don’t think we’ve done anything like this before.”

  Diamond sat up and stretched. “Definitely not with a Sheriff.” She exchanged a roguish smile with Turner and Will that Tiberius pretended not to see. As he rose, he realized they stood on top of the side altar where Father Darley’s pipe organ used to be, before the priest sold it to pay for the repair of the building’s aging roof.

  Tiberius descended the rickety staircase that spiraled from the platform to the aisle. The morning light crossed the stained glass window above the pulpit—a simplified representation of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil in big pieces of colored glass: green for the shape of the tree, red for the apples, and blue for the sky. It cast its tinted gleam on the end of the nave, where Miss Gray sat on a lonely pew, hands on her lap, face toward the barren cross behind the altar. The Chief stood in front of her, his dark, hawkish eyes controlling the alchemist’s every move, which were none. She was as still as one of the marble angels in the graveyard.

  “Glad you made it in one piece,” the Chief greeted.

  Tiberius jerked his head to Miss Gray. “What’s up with her?”

  “She’s been like this since we took shelter. I assume her creatures are still out there?”

  “They’re goin’ nowhere until we are all dead. Unless she commands it otherwise.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Say, Chief. Can’t help but wonder, when the heck did you become so chatty? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you spill more than four words at a time.”

  A loud slam echoed through the church. Their gazes darted to the entrance. The wooden draw bar barricading the double doors held but bent inward a little more after each of the monster’s rams. Tiberius circled his sore shoulders and cracked his neck. “Papa Bear wants to know who sipped his soup.”

  “We’ll have to discuss my language skills at a later time.” The Chief gripped his tomahawk and tensed his arm over his head.

  “Do you plan on taking down the beast with just that? You’ll be dead before you even chip its skin.”

  “No much else to do, is there?”

  “Guess not.”

  Tiberius rummaged through the pockets of his duster, hoping he would find an extra weapon, even a pocket knife. He heard the clinking of glass. And remembered. “Here. These might help.”

  The Chief stared at the vials resting on his palm. “I would’ve never guessed you’re keen on alchemy.”

  The sheriff frowned. “I’m not.” He jerked his head to the old lady. “These are hers. I’m pretty sure one of them turned Wilson’s stage to a crisp. It might buy us some time.”

  “Yes, but which one?”

  Tiberius shrugged. “We’ll have to try ’em all at once. Here, tie them up to the handle of your axe. Just below the blade.”

  Miss Gray broke from her reverie. She jumped to her feet with a gasp. “Are you insane? You cannot mix potions like that. You might kill us all!”

  “All right, care to tell me which one’s which?”

  She tightened her lips and said nothing, glowering.

  “Then it’s cocktail time.”

  The Chief secured the three vials to his tomahawk with a piece of string. “What now?”

  The bangs on the double doors became louder, faster, and more furious. The draw bar started to give in. A sliver of light seeped through the widening crack.

  Tiberius pressed the Chief’s forearm. “As soon as that thing shows its ugly snout, throw it. And you better not miss.”

  “Are you sure about this? What if Miss Gray’s right?”

  “Oh, I bet she is. But I’m all out of ideas.”

  “Point taken.”

  “What’s goin’ on down there?” Diamond shouted from the top of the side altar.

  “You better get here,” Tiberius answered, pushing Miss Gray back. “And fast.”

  Diamond, Turner, and Will rushed down the wooden platform, half using the staircase, half leaping over the railing like a pack of monkeys. They joined him and Miss Gray in front of the chancel as the double doors of the church broke open. The ice bear barged in through the cloud of splintered wood.

  “Here goes nothing,” the Chief whispered. He threw his tomahawk. He missed. They all watched the axe clank against the floor and held their breaths. The ice beast stomped it furiously with its front paws, crushing the weapon and the three vials. It pointed its bulky head to the group crowded together in front of the altar as if musing the most efficient way to trample and slash their bodies all at once.

  “What now?” the Chief asked.

  Tiberius heard a slight sizzle. Soon it grew louder, like a whistling teapot. “Wait.”

  A green flame blew from the ground up. It spread twice as fast as any wildfire, creeping on the floor, benches, and walls. It swirled up the legs of the creature like climbing ivy, as if its frozen flesh had turned into straw. The bear ran in circles, jouncing against the columns, trampling over anything in its path as it bled alchemical fire.

  The emerald flicker of the flare overpowered the spillage of sunlight coming through the shattered door and the lancet windows of the aisles. The shadows of the burning pews spread across the floor like duckweed on top of a forest lagoon. Walls gleamed as green as the carapace of a dragonfly under the summer sky. No smoke floated over the iridescent tips of the flames, but the scorching air that reached Tiberius’ face scratched his throat like a sandstorm. He coughed and wiped the sweat off his brow, dizzy with the invisible fumes that left an acrid aftertaste in the back of his mouth. The heat became more oppressive as the fire made its way toward the front of the church, not burning, but melting wood and stone together in hissing puddles of slush. The columns and beams supporting the building would last no longer than a candle would. And in the eye of the expanding chaos, the ice beast, now a fiery ball of iridescent light, rolled blindly, madly, lethally, smudging its own destruction on everything its thawing body touched.

  “That worked a bit too well,” the Chief expressed between coughs.

  Tiberius shielded his eyes. “You think?” He looked around and pointed to a small door to their left. “The bell tower. We should be able to reach the roof from there. If we’re luc
ky, the snow will be high enough somewhere around the building that we can jump without breaking our necks.”

  “All right. Gather the rest and go.”

  “Bad time to play the hero, Chief.”

  “Someone has to make sure the beast doesn’t follow you out. And figure out how to stop the fire after the monster’s done for.” He grabbed a handful of small vials from his pocket. “One of these should do the trick. I hope.”

  “How many of those did you get?”

  “Enough.”

  “You’re getting rid of the potions after this is over. All of them. I’ll throw you in jail otherwise. Understood?”

  “Sure thing, Sheriff. Now go. Fire’s spreading fast.”

  Tiberius turned to the three people backed against the altar. “You heard the man. Move it.”

  The two men nodded, but Diamond Graves crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m staying.”

  “Have you lost your goddamned mind, Diamond?” Will exclaimed.

  She shrugged. She jerked her head to the Chief. “I like him.”

  Tiberius opened his mouth to protest. Turner Spade clapped his back and shook his head. “Don’t bother. She’s stubborn. And insane.”

  She scoffed. “Look who’s talkin’.”

  “What should we write on your tombstone, D?” Turner asked with a smirk.

  She punched him on the shoulder. “Get a move on and let me be, you moron.”

  “Catchy.”

  Miss Gray stood apart from them, crouched in the shadow of the wooden cross, as if afraid of the effect of the multicolored light on her wrinkled skin. Her eyes reflected the green gleam of the flames as they followed the panic-stricken lumbering of her animalistic creation. She backed away like a frightened alley cat when Tiberius reached for her wrist. “Don’t touch me.”

  “We have to go.”

  “I’d rather die.”

  “Not before you’re judged for your crimes.”

  “Judged…” She spat the word like a watermelon seed. “I won’t leave this world as a cautionary tale, nor a martyr. I’ve come too far. Too far.”

  Four figures crashed through the stained glass. Tiberius shielded his face to the downpour of green, yellow, and blue shards. The golems landed on their feet inside the church. They steadied themselves with two quick jerks, their bodies full of indents and cracks but free of the blades that Tiberius and his companions had so arduously stuck into their icy chests. One of them lifted Miss Gray as the other three dashed forward. They wasted no time in fighting. They tackled Tiberius out of the way and pushed through, straight into the wall of green fire. Their bodies melted faster than the massive ice bear. They rained onto the flames, weakening them enough for the fourth golem to jump through and carry their master away.

  Soon the fire devoured the three hearts remaining on the floor.

  Soon the alchemical vortex of blazing ruin grew stronger and erased any trace of the golems’ sacrifice.

  “Let’s go,” Tiberius uttered, still unsure if what he’d witnessed had in fact happened.

  Will and Turner enveloped Diamond in a quick group hug while he shook the Chief’s hand. “Good luck.”

  “See you in town, Sheriff.”

  They climbed the stairs up the narrow tower, leaving the crackle of the fire behind. When they emerged on top of the belfry, the wintry air cleansed their throats and their lungs. Tiberius blinked as he scouted the graveyard to vanish the green glow that still stuck to his retinas. He saw no sign of Miss Gray or her ice golem. He circled the small twin bells, jumped onto the roof of the church, and from there to the highest mound of snow leaning against those old wall, without turning to check on his two odd companions, but trusting they would follow.

  The road back to Souls Well, invisible under the same icy white that hid the rest of the rocky grassland, traversed a hillock half-way between the town and the cemetery. From its top, Tiberius watched the burning church. The green fire escaped through the windows and crept up the stone walls. It already engulfed the base of the bell tower, its gleam bouncing off the polished surface of the bells like the halo of a lighthouse. On the other side of the hillock, Souls Well seemed peaceful and undisturbed, with its short, crammed houses and their smoking chimneys, and its silent, narrow, wintry streets—the epitome of a picturesque mountain town, a haven, a winter wonderland. But all that distant peace and quiet carried the same funereal aura that loomed over the cemetery he’d just left behind.

  Tiberius pressed on. He did his best to quiet the dire whispers inside his head that told him he’d be too late.

  Too late.

  Those voices would follow him all the way to the wooden archway.

  Welcome to Souls Well.

  And to the first fresh trace of blood on the ground.

  29

  A trail of corpses, men and women alike, marked the path up Main Street. They bent over the railing of the porches, or lay face up on the steps or the reddened snow, eyes wide open in fear, frosted blood coming down the deep gashes on their necks. Tiberius paused by every single one of them. He closed their eyelids with the palm of his hand. Will and Turner followed, heads down, hats against their chests, babbling prayers, curses, and apologies.

  Tiberius spotted Miss Gray in front of the Silver Moon. He pulled his companions behind a half-buried donkey cart before she could spot them back. The lady’s hair was disheveled, her braid frayed. Her face aged with pain, wrinkles deepened with ash, eyes glinting with madness. The edges of her shawl, burned, her frock, spotted with charred holes. But she stood tall, leaning on her cane without losing the pride in her pose.

  A gunshot rattled the windows of the Silver Moon. The sound came from within. Seconds later, the ice golem emerged on the porch, dragging a terrified man down the steps. Pellets freckled half of the creature’s chipped face. Madame Valentine followed, a smoking shotgun in her hand and an expression of frightful disbelief on her face.

  The golem threw the man by its mistress’ feet. It pulled him up by his hair until he kneeled like a penitent asking for forgiveness. Its palm stayed on his crown. Soon the melting ice dripped down his forehead. Tiberius recognized the shivering man: Louis Masterson, the cousin.

  Miss Gray caressed Louis’ cheek. “Don’t be afraid, child. Answer my question and you can go back inside.”

  Louis nodded, eyes twinkling, a mix of snot and blood running down his nose.

  “Where’s Bennett Rowland?”

  “Who? I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t think we’re acquainted.” His voice hardly made it out of his mouth.

  “Think harder.”

  “What was…” He gulped. “What was the name again?”

  “Bennett Rowland.”

  “The b-baker’s ch-chap?” he stammered.

  She grinned devilishly. “That’s the one.”

  A petrified crowd had gathered on the porch of the Silver Moon, although no one stepped in front of Madame Valentine, as if her shotgun provided them with an invisible shield. Tiberius turned to his companions. “Someone needs to warn those people and get them as far away as possible. Go, I’ll distract Miss Gray.” Will and Turner acknowledged his words with a cock of the chin and crept away behind the piles of buried crates and the shadows of the wooden buildings.

  Louis Masterson pointed to a side street with a trembling finger. “I reckon the kid lives with his pa, ma’am. On top of the family bakery.”

  “I know that. But the place is empty, you see? Are you sure you haven’t seen Bennett around?”

  The golem pinned Louis to the ground, pushing down on his fleshy shoulders. “I have not. I swear. Never been much acquainted with the family. I only come to Souls Well seasonally, to help my cousin Luke through the winter. That’s all.” He started sobbing like a child lost in the woods.

  Miss Gray cupped his chin with her hand. She hushed him. “I believe you.” The golem placed its icy fingertips, sharp as a wolf’s fangs, on Louis’ neck. “Sadly, your ignorance makes you an accomplice.”


  Tiberius leaped out of his hiding spot just as she waved her wrist. The creature tore the man’s throat open with one swift slash before he could even cross their line of sight. Louis pressed both hands around his bleeding wound. He gaped as he fell onto the snow. His body twitched as the white road became red. Then stopped. And there was silence. A thick, sickening silence.

  “Who’s next?” Miss Gray asked the empty street with a bone-chilling smirk.

  Tiberius walked toward her, fists clenched, arms stiff by his side. “Enough.”

  She cackled. Her golem turned its head to him but stayed in place. “Sheriff Tiberius Tibbetts. I knew I hadn’t seen the last of you.”

  “You’re killing innocents.”

  “No one in this town is innocent. You all sheltered my son’s murderers for years.”

  “No one knew.”

  “You mean no one cared. As always.”

  Tiberius raised both arms. “I’m unarmed. Would you hear me out before sentencing me to die?” He approached her head-on but with caution, as a curious child would a butterfly that alighted on a flower. “Souls Well is full of good people. Fighters. Survivors, just like you. No one here is a stranger to tragedy, yet everyone learned how to move on. Together. I vouch for my people. I can’t let you bring any more pain to their doorstep.”

  She pounded the ground with her cane. “You know nothing about pain.”

  “And you know nothing about Souls Well. For years we lived enslaved to the silver mine, and for what? The mine is no more. The mountains claimed it back as it did the souls of our men: fathers, brothers, and sons. It took but one day to break dozens of families. One. But they’re still here. They endured. You hurt because you could never even bury your own flesh and blood. Neither could they. It’ll break my heart when, come spring, people will gather flowers to honor their dead, just to find out they have nowhere to place them.”

  She shook her head. For a split second, her anger dissipated. There was only exhaustion. And piles of rooted, solidified sadness. “It’s not the same. No one will ever share my sorrow.” Miss Gray pointed her cane at him. “Silence him.”