Vera Cogsworth's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

By dawn Vera had the lightning gun almost whole. She had soldered the last wire without burning the loft down. But when she moved to seat the core in its cradle, the brass ring would not close. She needed a clamp pin, one small strip of metal to hold the cage tight. Without it, the core would rattle loose and the gun would never fire. Vera dug through her tools. Nothing fit. She lay flat on the planks and peered down through a gap. Her scattered gear still sat on the ash below, where she had dropped it the night before. A broken cylinder rod lay among it, the right size, the right metal. It was six feet down, near the stilts. And the creature waited there. It had not left. Its low shape pressed against a rotted post, scraping the wood with something hard. Crystalline Gearwhisper stamped and swung her horn toward the ladder. The rainbow light off her horn shook. Vera set a hand on the unicorn's neck. "I have to go down for it," she said. "There's no other way." Then a voice came from the ash below. "Stay up there." A man stood clear of the stilts. His beard was white, his coat black and belted with worn leather. He held a bundle of red dynamite sticks in one fist, a short fuse already lit. He did not look up at Vera when he spoke. He watched the creature. "You're Vera," he said. It was not a question. "It wants your blood. Opens a door with it. I've tracked this thing for weeks." "Who are you?" Vera called. "Ashwood. Demon hunter." He stepped sideways, drawing the creature off the post. "Get your part now. While it looks at me." Vera swung onto the ladder and dropped fast. Her boots hit ash. The broken rod lay three steps away. She snatched it up. The creature turned toward her, dragging its weight around. Ashwood threw the dynamite under it and stepped back. "Down!" he barked. Vera flattened against the stilts. The blast tore the air. Ash and stone rained on her back. When she looked up, the creature was gone from the post, thrown clear and smoking, but already crawling to right itself. Not dead. "Best case, that bought a minute," Ashwood said flatly. "Up. Both of you." Vera scrambled back to the loft with the rod in her teeth. Her hands moved fast now. She filed the metal, bent it, and seated it against the brass ring. The clamp closed. The core locked tight and pulsed blue, steady. The gun was whole. It could hold the core at last. Below, the creature dragged itself upright. Ashwood backed toward the ladder, out of dynamite, one man against a thing that would not die. Vera lifted her finished gun. It had never been fired. She did not know if it would fire now. But it was the only weapon left between them and the thing on the ground.