The Devil's Pact by V. S. McGrath

Author:V. S. McGrath [McGrath, V. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasty, weird west, historical, adventure, young adult, diverse, magic
Publisher: Brain Mill Press
Published: 2018-12-18T06:00:00+00:00

When Hettie cracked her eyes open the next day, or after however much time had passed, she found Duke Cox leering down at her.

“Breakfast is early ’round these parts.” Hettie sat up and stretched, surreptitiously studying Duke. “I’ll take two eggs and bacon. And I like my coffee strong.”

“The boss wants to see you,” he grumbled.

“Would that be Zavi or Mizzay? I’m a little bit confused about which master y’all serve.”

“I don’t serve anyone,” Duke snapped.

Interesting. “You and Mizzay had some kind of falling out, huh?”

“Some kind,” he muttered.

“Let me guess. It started falling apart after Zavi joined the outfit.”

He remained stoic as he unlocked the cage. She kept talking. “What’s the story with that mage gun? When did Zavi give it to her?”

“I told her she shouldn’t have taken it,” he said under his breath.

Hettie clung to that. “Mage guns have a blood price. You know that, right? What does the General do to Mizzay?”

“Stirred up her head, is what.” He glowered and added in a hiss, “Ever since she started using that thing, she’s lost her mind, bit by bit. She never had cause to kill before. It was always about the money. She was smart. Now she shoots folks for fun. She don’t trust anyone. Not even me…” He suddenly seemed to realize who he was speaking to, and he clamped his lips shut.

“Duke, listen to me. Help me out of this. If I can stop Zavi, maybe I can stop Mizzay, too.”

“Stop him?” He huffed. “There’s no stopping him. Beg for a quick death, girlie. And hope Mizzay doesn’t get to you first.”

Duke yanked her to her feet and steered her through the cavern. Her chains clinked as she passed tents and men in cots, horses and small fires that did little to stave off the damp chill in that dark, stony cavern. She wasn’t sure how the smoke was escaping from the cave if there were no vents to the outside, but looking up, she couldn’t tell where the ceiling was. The entire mountain might as well have been hollow.

The warlock stood by a great machine, its tooled brass parts gleaming with runes. It looked like Fielding’s engine but…not. The shape of it was different from either of his prototypes, almost as if some of the tubes and pieces had been inverted. Instead of a sickly drawing sensation, the device radiated a kind of menace, as if it’d just been extracted from a hot oven.

She didn’t understand. If the Alabama gang had stolen the prototype from the lab, why were they building a new device?

Inside one cavity, like a rat huddled inside the ribcage of a buffalo carcass, was Fielding, tinkering with some mechanism while another man held a glow stone set in a lantern over him. The scientist looked up—hopeful elation lit red-rimmed eyes—and then his dirt-streaked face crumbled in despair.

“How’s your progress, Dr. Fielding?” Zavi’s liquid voice pooled in Hettie’s gut.

“I…I need more time. And parts,” he added hastily. “And these

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