Revenge and the Wild(92)

What happened? she signed.

It was Bena who answered. “The mayor took the sheriff’s horse and slipped away with the gold during the chaos. He was the least of our concerns.”

Nigel finished by saying, “We haven’t been able to find him. With that amount of gold, it’s doubtful we ever will.”

Westie wanted to crawl under the covers and scream. She didn’t want to believe that her epic search for justice would conclude with the last of the bad guys getting away with the gold meant to save magic.

Her hands felt like clumps of lead as she began to move them. So that’s it—it’s over?

With slower and more deliberate hand signs, Nigel seemed to understand well enough without Alistair’s help.

“Well, no, not exactly,” Nigel said.

What do you mean?

“I mean I found another investor for my machine.”

What? Westie didn’t want to get excited for fear of being let down, but she couldn’t help herself. Who?

She watched Nigel’s mouth, waiting for his lips to open and a miracle to slide out, so when she heard the smooth, rich voice come from the doorway opposite him, she started.

“I’ve been looking for investments,” Costin said. He leaned against the door frame, not a scratch on him. He smiled his arrogant grin when he saw the shocked confusion muddying her features. “What’s the point of being disgustingly wealthy if you can’t brag about all the little people you’ve helped along the way?”

Westie jumped up from her bed, nearly tripping over her sheets, and threw herself into his arms. His body was cold and stiff and more comforting than she could ever have imagined possible. She held on to him like a vise, with her face against his neck. His cold skin brought some comfort to her aching jaw. After a few minutes in his embrace, she suddenly remembered everyone else in the room and stepped away.

I thought you were dead, she signed.

“Oh, this is delightful,” he said with a full body laugh. “I don’t suppose it’s permanent?” He pointed to one of the metal wires that stuck out of her mouth and curled around her bottom lip in a decorative loop.

She hit him in the chest with her machine, nearly knocking him to the ground, unperturbed by his teasing.

Alistair laughed too until she turned her glare on him. He cleared his throat. “She wants to know how you survived.”

Costin’s laughter trailed off, but his smile remained. “I’m not exactly sure, but I believe Bena had something to do with it.”

Westie looked curiously over at Bena, whose cheeks were the color of overripe peaches. Embarrassed, Westie thought with some amusement. The only other time she’d seen her friend that ruffled was when Bena had let it slip that she had feelings for Nigel.

Bena raised her chin as if that might drain the blush from her cheeks. “Big Fish has informed me that I will succeed her as chief when the time comes. She has been helping me to talk to the spirits. I was able to reverse the effect the protection ward had on the vampire before it was too late.”

Westie didn’t ask Bena why she had kept such important news about becoming the next chief from her. It didn’t matter. All Westie cared about was that her family was with her.

I don’t have to tell you how glad I am the two of you saved us, and that Costin is alive, Westie signed, but how did you find us out there?

Alistair translated for her.

Bena said, “The sheriff sent for us as backup when he received your telegraph bird. Unfortunately, he was closer to the mine than we were and went in without us.”

Westie pulled her fingers through her hair with a trembling hand. Nothing had gone according to plan, but it could’ve gone so much worse. A heavy fog of relief settled over her. Her family was safe and Costin was alive. That was all she wanted to think about.

Westie had Jezebel and Lucky on leashes standing between Alistair and Nigel in a large gathering in front of the mayor’s mansion in Sacramento. There was a slight breeze, but not a cloud in the sky. Folks from all over had flooded into the north valley to hear Costin, the new mayor of the Sacramento Valley—and first creature to ever become an elected official—speak.

Costin wore his authority well. He stood on a platform with Bena and Emma, hands clasped behind his back. The Wintu made up a large portion of the crowd. Now that the old mayor had been replaced, there was no one to keep the the tribe out of the city. Once folks had learned it was the Wintu who were responsible for the magic ward that would keep their town safe, they didn’t seem to mind the tribe’s presence—even if they did stand feet away.

Westie laced her fingers with Alistair’s and leaned into his ear so she could whisper.

“Isn’t it something to have a creature as our new mayor?”

It had been six months since her broken jaw, yet it still clicked every time she opened her mouth. She didn’t care about that, though, and was just thankful to have kept all her teeth.

Alistair touched the small of her back and rubbed slow circles as he spoke, a new habit of his that Westie adored.

“Something indeed,” he said. “It’s too bad what happened to the old one.”

A smile grazed Westie’s lips. “Sure is. Bandits can be mean ol’ suckers, can’t they? I do wonder who will change his diapers while he’s convalescing.”

Costin went on to finish his speech about the machine, about mankind and creaturekind coming together, and how Nigel’s invention was a symbol of hope and tolerance. He told the people it was a step closer to a united America, where humans and creatures might one day live in a world without the need of wards.