The necromancer stiffened, and beside him Lucky Bob went for his gun, but Deray stayed him with a gesture. He shook his head and a dark smile blossomed on his face.
Grey heard Looks Away utter a low moan of sick despair.
His friend spoke her name.
“Veronica.”
The dead woman walked toward the gathered men who stood waiting for her as if this were all part of some prearranged drama. It was not, of course, and Grey found himself frightened by what Deray might do to the woman who wore the skin of the woman his friend had loved.
“What’s she doing?” demanded Looks Away in a strangled whisper.
Veronica did not walk directly to where Deray stood, but instead angled over to stand in front of the silent giant, Samson. All eyes were on her.
“I think… I think she’s giving us a chance,” said Grey.
To do what—?”
“To live,” said Grey, then he amended it. “To get out of here alive.”
“But why? That’s not even Veronica. It’s a mockery of her. A ghost or whatever damned thing she’s become. She’s in league with those sods. She’s come to tell them we’re here and—”
“No,” said Grey, touching his companion’s arm. “I don’t think so. Whatever else she is, that woman is no friend to Deray, which means Veronica’s on our side.”
“Impossible. Veronica is dead. Lost.”
Grey glanced at him. The tone of Looks Away’s words was harsh and bitter, but the look on his face told a different story. There was a complexity of emotions warring on the Sioux’s features. Anger and gried, pain… and something else.
Love?
Grey did not know what his friend truly felt for the dead woman, but he suspected that Looks Away had been greatly underplaying his affection for Veronica. That made this all so much more terrible.
Everyone on the plain had turned to stare. Veronica had become the center of all attention. Of course she was. Tall and beautiful, with a voluptuous body clearly visible through the sheer fabric and each curve accentuated by the blue-white light that burned within. Grey imagined that many of the soldiers would be afraid of her, repelled by her, but nevertheless enthralled. He hadn’t known the woman in life, but in death she was magnificent.
Aleksander Deray, flanked by Lucky Bob Pearl and the cluster of generals, approached her but they did so without haste and perhaps with a bit of understandable caution.
For the generals, Grey assumed it was fear and caution. For Deray? Probably curiosity and maybe some appreciation for whatever was about to happen. He had that kind of look on his ascetic face.
Lucky Bob was smiling a cold, cold smile as he followed his master.
So many smiles. As if this was something wonderful, as if it was something unlooked-for but delightful. Like an improbable meeting of old friends on some unlikely street.
He took his companion’s arm and began pulling him toward the open space they needed to cross.
“We have to go.”
“I can’t leave her there,” said Looks Away, tugging his arm free.
“We have to.”
On the field Veronica and Deray now stood a dozen paces away. Grey could hear a faint murmur of their conversation, but he couldn’t make out a single word.
“Looks — come on,” snapped Grey.
“No! They’ll kill her.”
Grey grabbed his shoulder and turned him around roughly, then he bent close. “They already have. Don’t you get that? They murdered Veronica and now whatever of her is left of her is trying to save us.”
Looks Away stared at him. Conflicted and appalled.
“It’s not her,” said Grey in a kinder tone than he’d used a moment before. “Listen to me, brother, she’s gone. Veronica’s gone. Now her ghost is giving us a chance…”
Looks Away still didn’t move. Grey tightened his grip on the other man’s shoulder. “Do you want Veronica’s death to mean nothing? Do you want Deray to get away with this?”
“No…” was Looks Away’s almost soundless reply.
“Then we need to get more men and more weapons. We can’t win this fight. We can’t even fight this fight. Not now. Smart soldiers know when to retreat from the battle so they can re-engage when they have better odds.”
“I’m no damn soldier,” said the Sioux, slapping Grey’s hand away.
“Yeah… you are. We both are. We’re at war with Aleksander Deray,” said Grey. “We have to make a choice. Fight now and almost certainly lose. Or fight later when we have a plan and a chance, and maybe actually kill that evil son of a bitch.”
Looks Away unslung the Kingdom rifle. “I could kill him now.”
“From this distance? Not a chance.”
“If we got closer—.”
“They see us coming and wipe us out. Don’t be crazy.”
The Sioux chewed his lip. “What about a chain reaction? If I shot the nearest undead, the ghost rock bullet would explode the rock in him, and perhaps that would cause a chain reaction.”
“Would that even work?”
“I don’t know, but it’s worth a try.”
Grey thought about it, then he shook his head. “No. It’s too risky.”
“God rot you, we have to do something. Don’t be a coward.”
Grey turned to him. “Easy now, my friend,” he said coldly. “I know you’re upset seeing Veronica and all, but try to use your brain for a minute. If you set off a chain reaction, you might kill half his army — and that’s great — but Deray’s so far away, and the men closest to him look like ordinary soldiers. They don’t have ghost rock implants and they won’t explode. If anything, their bodies would shield him and the bastard would slip away. That would leave us with no ammunition left and the rest of the army, and all of Deray’s allies, coming down on us like the wrath of God. And that’s even if the explosion doesn’t bring down the fucking ceiling. No… much as I wish we could, I don’t think we can guarantee that Deray would die. Anything less than that would be us throwing our lives away and failing everyone in Paradise Falls. Think it through, man, and you’ll see that I’m right.”
Down on the plain Veronica said something that made Deray clap his hands and laugh out loud. It was not a pleasant laugh.
The Sioux shook his head and fingered the outside of the copper trigger guard. Then he turned his face to a mask of stone, reslung the rifle, and nodded.
“I will kill him,” he said. “You hear me, white man? His life is mine. And I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way.”
Grey nodded. “Fair enough. Now let’s go.”
Like silent ghosts they crept from behind their shelter and began moving across the plain toward the sea. They stayed low and moved with many small light, quick steps instead of at a full run. That kept their bodies and equipment from jiggling and making unwanted noise.
Deray’s laughter seemed to pursue them.
It drove knives into them.
And it threw fuel on the furnaces of hate that burned in their hearts.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Their path to freedom took them past the railroad tracks and the massive train. They went to the far side of it and ran along the row of empty flatbeds, and then reached the first of the hoppers.
What they saw in the shadows of the hoppers stopped them dead in their tracks.
They hadn’t seen this side of the train from their earlier hiding place, but now they could see everything. Too much.
Laid along the ground, one between each of the endless rows of wooden ties, were corpses. They were soldiers.