Revenge and the Wild(7)

“How do you know it’s disappearing?” Westie asked.

“Big Fish told me the earth wasn’t responding to her commands. And now the dome is fading. I’ve been going out to the Wintu village to take care of the injured and ill now that their healing spells aren’t working. They’d only ask for my help if things were dire.”

“If magic dies, does that mean Rogue City won’t be protected from creatures anymore?” Westie asked. It was a scary thought. There was rarely a kind word passed between her and a creature. She’d made plenty of enemies over the years.

“Technically, yes. There will be no protection for us against creatures, but it won’t matter because it also means there will be no creatures. Magic lives within the creatures. If magic dies, they die with it.”

A sinking feeling settled in her gut. “Does that mean the Wintu will die too?” She thought of Bena and Big Fish, and the rest of the Wintu tribe, who had taken care of her after she’d lost her arm. Losing Bena would be like losing family.

“No. The Wintu are human. They just won’t have magic to control. They’ll be like the rest of us.”

The sinking feeling dissipated instantly. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I don’t see the problem. No creatures means no need for magic.”

Nigel shook his head, disappointment warping his kind features. “The Wintu’s control of magic is far superior to most tribes. Settlers stay away from the tribe for the most part because of their fear of magic. It’s what has kept the Wintu safe all these years after so many other tribes were slaughtered. Not only that, but killing off creatures is not a small thing either. They have a right to this land and to their survival just as much as the Wintu.”

She knew better than to argue with Nigel when it came to the importance of creatures. He’d been a die-hard advocate for their rights ever since he was a soldier during the creature war, when a faery had saved his life after he was bitten—even though her kind was the enemy.

Westie picked at her nails with the tips of her copper fingers. There was a long, awkward pause before she said, “I get why you want to save magic now, but unless these investors of yours are creatures, there’s no way they’ll want to put money into that machine. They’ll see a way to get rid of creatures and Indians alike.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“How in blazes do you plan to get folks to buy this machine?”

“Simple. Only the Wintu, Alistair, and the two of us know that magic is disappearing and that when it does, the creatures will die with it. All I have to do is tell people I’ve built a machine that will produce enough magic with one nugget of gold to protect a town the size of Rogue City from creature attacks for years. Of course, only certain native tribes can use the magic the machine harvests to cast the protection spell.” He raised a brow, watching her to see if she understood.

Westie’s lips tilted into a knowing grin. “Thus ensuring the safety of the Wintu people, while keeping magic alive for the creatures.”

He smiled. “If I can just get these people to invest the money I need to finish the machine, they can in turn sell the technology to other towns and be richer than any tycoon.”

Westie glanced back down at her hands and tugged at the sheet stuck between the gears at her wrist. She said, “I take it the moral of this story is not to scare away investors with my rotten manners.”

He tapped her knee with a gentle hand. “Don’t forget the cussing.”

She grumbled. It would be a hard task to pull off, for she rarely thought about such things. “Don’t worry. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Thank you,” he said as he stood up. “Now get some sleep. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”





Four


The next morning Alistair walked into Westie’s room holding a silver tray with a cup and kettle on it. Her heart thumped like a cart with a loose wheel when she saw him standing there in his mechanical mask, dark hair in anarchy around his face. His eyes settled on her, two glowing blue moons behind thick lashes.

“Hope you don’t mind me barging in. Nigel sent me to bring you some tea,” he said.

There were aches and pains all over her body from the long ride home, but it was the stiffness in her shoulder that stood out most. She tried to move her arm but realized her machine was stuck to her head.

Her face warmed with embarrassment. “Can I get a little help here?”

The skin around Alistair’s eyes creased when he smiled under his mask. He placed the tray on the bedside table and sat down beside her. Westie stared down at their touching knees.

“You were gone longer than usual,” Alistair said, gently unwinding her hair from the exposed gears of her arm.

“I was closer to them than usual.”

The fresh smell of soap wafted from his skin each time he moved. She’d missed that scent so much while she was away.

He kept glancing at her face to make sure he wasn’t hurting her. Each time their eyes met, he stole a little piece of her that she’d been trying to take back from him for the last three years.

“Nigel was worried,” he said. The voice emanating from his mask was metallic and without emotion, like talking through a fan. But his eyes, they were full of life and sharp as daggers. They could cut a hole in a heart and stay there long after he had looked away. No one knew that better than Westie.