the main tunnel of the Gilded Bird mine. The light from their lanterns cast flickering shadows in darkness so dense they could almost feel it clinging to them like a sticky spider web. The silence that enveloped them was absolute with only the sound made by the soft shuffle of their feet on the dirt floor.
A place ripe for fantasies and tricks of the mind , Devlin thought. He came to a sudden stop.
A cool mist originating from the floor enveloped him a fragrant cloud.
They are the same as the ones that blanket the dark forests of my homeland .
He blinked, shook his head, and the mist cleared. Then he found himself in a medieval forest surrounded on all sides by the tall trees. He began to run. Fast. He had the bounding, leaping stride of a predator Not the two legged stride of a man but that of a wolf. Every one of his senses felt vibrant and alive. In this creature form he could smell the scent of man miles away and galloped towards it hungrily. When at last he burst through the trees he saw an ancient stone church. Still in wolf form Devlin leapt up the steps and then slowed and crept inside.
At the far end of the church a man and woman stood before the altar. A dark robed priest spoke words to them in Latin. Devlin understood it to be a wedding.
The man at the woman’s side wore an elaborate black velvet doublet embroidered in gold he held hands with an angelic blond woman. Her eyes, when she looked up at the man were a bright emerald green, fey, like a forest creature. The robed clergyman handed them a chalice. When the man looked inside he saw it was filled with blood. It splashed out of the chalice and spilled across the bride’s snow white dress. Then, from behind the altar, a large winged form began to emerge.
Devlin shook his head again.
The beast, the demon, was here. Of that he was certain and he was also certain he was ready to end this thing once and for all. He reached for the leather scabbard, which hung down his back, and pulled out a sword. It was an ancient two handed Scottish Claymore. It was special. A master sword maker had crafted it nearly four hundred years ago. He kept it with him always.
Walking Ghost followed behind him, tomahawk in hand, softly chanting a native charm. A distant knocking echoed through the tunnel. Devlin felt the short hairs on the back of his neck rise. He halted abruptly nearly colliding with Walking Ghost. Then pebbles began to rain down on them from both the sides and top of the tunnel.
Devlin grasped Walking Ghost by the arm. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
They leapt and scrambled through the narrow passage towards the entrance of the mine.
Outside the Gilded Bird, Laredo crouched behind an outcropping of rock. Ever since they had crossed paths the gambler, Devlin Winter had become a blistering itch he needed to scratch.
Now he had his chance.
He smirked before he plunged the handle down on the wooden blasting box. It sent a charge through the fuse to the bundles of dynamite hidden in the mine.
“Take that, you son of a whore,” he chuckled.
The ground shook with the blast.
The mine caved in upon itself in a huge cloud of yellow dust. Inside the mine, timber and rocks buried Devlin and Walking Ghost alive.
Chapter Seven
Maelstrom
T he play inside the Emerald Salon was in full swing. Roulette wheels whirled and the card tables were full and liquor flowed. Upstairs in the back rooms Esmeralda received another patient.
Kate was a hurdy girl from the Brick Brothel, a buxom blond, and an Irish immigrant. For several days she had lain naked and feverish in a hipbath. She swore that snakes had entered her stomach and she’d tried to cut them out with a knife before another prostitute had taken the knife from her. She had thrashed about in pain and desperation. Finally the madam of the house had tied up her limbs and given her opium but to no avail. She screamed and thrashed as she became increasingly violent. She was convinced that
A place ripe for fantasies and tricks of the mind , Devlin thought. He came to a sudden stop.
A cool mist originating from the floor enveloped him a fragrant cloud.
They are the same as the ones that blanket the dark forests of my homeland .
He blinked, shook his head, and the mist cleared. Then he found himself in a medieval forest surrounded on all sides by the tall trees. He began to run. Fast. He had the bounding, leaping stride of a predator Not the two legged stride of a man but that of a wolf. Every one of his senses felt vibrant and alive. In this creature form he could smell the scent of man miles away and galloped towards it hungrily. When at last he burst through the trees he saw an ancient stone church. Still in wolf form Devlin leapt up the steps and then slowed and crept inside.
At the far end of the church a man and woman stood before the altar. A dark robed priest spoke words to them in Latin. Devlin understood it to be a wedding.
The man at the woman’s side wore an elaborate black velvet doublet embroidered in gold he held hands with an angelic blond woman. Her eyes, when she looked up at the man were a bright emerald green, fey, like a forest creature. The robed clergyman handed them a chalice. When the man looked inside he saw it was filled with blood. It splashed out of the chalice and spilled across the bride’s snow white dress. Then, from behind the altar, a large winged form began to emerge.
Devlin shook his head again.
The beast, the demon, was here. Of that he was certain and he was also certain he was ready to end this thing once and for all. He reached for the leather scabbard, which hung down his back, and pulled out a sword. It was an ancient two handed Scottish Claymore. It was special. A master sword maker had crafted it nearly four hundred years ago. He kept it with him always.
Walking Ghost followed behind him, tomahawk in hand, softly chanting a native charm. A distant knocking echoed through the tunnel. Devlin felt the short hairs on the back of his neck rise. He halted abruptly nearly colliding with Walking Ghost. Then pebbles began to rain down on them from both the sides and top of the tunnel.
Devlin grasped Walking Ghost by the arm. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
They leapt and scrambled through the narrow passage towards the entrance of the mine.
Outside the Gilded Bird, Laredo crouched behind an outcropping of rock. Ever since they had crossed paths the gambler, Devlin Winter had become a blistering itch he needed to scratch.
Now he had his chance.
He smirked before he plunged the handle down on the wooden blasting box. It sent a charge through the fuse to the bundles of dynamite hidden in the mine.
“Take that, you son of a whore,” he chuckled.
The ground shook with the blast.
The mine caved in upon itself in a huge cloud of yellow dust. Inside the mine, timber and rocks buried Devlin and Walking Ghost alive.
Chapter Seven
Maelstrom
T he play inside the Emerald Salon was in full swing. Roulette wheels whirled and the card tables were full and liquor flowed. Upstairs in the back rooms Esmeralda received another patient.
Kate was a hurdy girl from the Brick Brothel, a buxom blond, and an Irish immigrant. For several days she had lain naked and feverish in a hipbath. She swore that snakes had entered her stomach and she’d tried to cut them out with a knife before another prostitute had taken the knife from her. She had thrashed about in pain and desperation. Finally the madam of the house had tied up her limbs and given her opium but to no avail. She screamed and thrashed as she became increasingly violent. She was convinced that
Similar Books
