“I don’t suppose you have a spell that might help us out, Mrs. Lindson?” Alun asked.
“No, Mr. Madder. Magic doesn’t work to harm people. Not even the undead.”
He laughed and madness rode the rise of it. “Oh, magic can do terrible harm, Widow Lindson. To dead and the living alike. But only in certain hands.”
“Bryn,” Cedar said, “did you see a back door?”
“Nothing by the cells.”
“Then we fight, make a path to the wagon,” Cedar said. “Mae, take Rose there near the desk. When I yell for you to run to the wagon with her, you do that.”
“Wagon’s unhitched,” Cadoc Madder said as he reloaded his gun, unconcerned about the undead hands scraping the air just inches in front of his face.
Cedar swore. He’d forgotten. If the women made it to the wagon, they couldn’t drive it safely out of here. And Rose couldn’t sit a saddle to ride out on her horse, even if the horses were unharmed.
“The Holder?” Alun asked again. “Are you sure you have no idea which general direction it got off to?”
Cedar knew, had known from the moment he touched the burned patch where the Holder had smoldered.
“East. It’s not near. Not within a day or two. But east. Now,” he said, “can we put our attention to getting through that mob?”
“With pleasure.” Alun unhooked the hammer from his belt and swung it with bone-breaking force.
The growl and steam of a matic, something big and coming closer, was so loud, Cedar almost couldn’t hear the screams and moans of the unalives.
He’d heard that sound before. Not lately. Not in the last few years. But he’d heard it. He just couldn’t place what sort of matic it came from.
The window over the stove broke and a woman crawled through. She stumbled across the room toward Rose and Mae.
Mae shot her clean in the head and the woman fell to the ground, twitching.
Cedar stepped up and fired another bullet into her brain.
The Strange that had been inhabiting her pulled up out of the body, a ghost with teeth where its eyes should have been. Insubstantial as fog, it clawed at Rose, but had no more effect on her than a cool breeze.
That was why the Strange wanted bodies. Crossing into this world, they were spirits with no form. They couldn’t hurt, couldn’t rightly touch the world around them, except for small nuisances—a bite or a pinch. But certainly nothing near to the damage a physical form could provide them.
“Let’s blast our way out of here, brothers,” Alun yelled. “Put these people to their rightful rest. Mr. Hunt, I suggest you get the women out and away from here. Far and fast as you can. We have ways to find you. You still have that chain we gave you?”
Cedar reached up and touched the necklace hanging around his neck. The Madders had told him it would keep the thoughts of a man in his head when the moon turned him to wolf. And it had done just that.
“I have it,” Cedar said. “I won’t leave you to these monsters.”
“Our paths divide here, Mr. Hunt. I am trusting you to do anything you must to see Rose gets medical attention, understand? We’ll find you no matter how far you roam. Believe in that.”
“But—,” Cedar started.
It was too late. Alun kicked the hinges off the door, which was already buckling with the press of bodies. Six people tumbled into the room and fell down flat.
Bryn and Cadoc shot them till they weren’t moving anymore.
Alun rushed out the door with a roar, swinging that big hammer of his, sending body parts flying like a man mowing down wheat.
The thrum of a steamer working hard poured in through the door.
“Nice working with you, Mr. Hunt,” Bryn yelled as he pushed his goggles over his eyes and pulled an ax out from under his coat. He followed his brother out into the night. “We’ll see you again real soon.”
“The Holder wants what Rose has,” Cadoc Madder said. “Remember that. The key.” He unhooked a wrench the size of a small child from off his back and strolled out after Bryn.
Cedar rushed to the door. The brothers smashed the undead with hammer, ax, and wrench, holding them off the building just enough for Cedar and the women to escape.
The wagon was turned on its side. No way out there. The horses were gone.
A racket of fans grew louder and a flash of light swept across the Madder brothers as they laughed and bashed their way through flesh and bone.
The light wasn’t coming from a low angle. It was coming from somewhere up high. The roof? Cedar leaned out a bit and looked up.
The entire night sky seemed to be filled with the bullet shape of an airship. Her fans were working to keep her steady, her nose up into the wind that gusted down from the hills surrounding the town. Lanterns held to what appeared to be mirrors were the source of the light.
And then a rope ladder dropped down, just a few paces from the door.
“Ho there, strangers!” a man’s voice called out. “This is the airship Swift. If you want a way out of that tussle, grab hold.”
Cedar glanced at the Madders.
“Go on!” Alun yelled. “Get Rose medical attention. We’ll find you!”
Running was not an option, not with Rose so wounded. No horses, no wagon. They might be jumping out of the griddle into the fire pit, but it was the only way out.
Cedar ducked back into the building. Mae was already helping Rose walk to the door.
“I’ll take her,” Cedar said, putting his arm around Rose. She leaned against him, weak and heavy, but still standing on her own. “Climb the ladder, Mae. We’ll be out of this soon.”
Mae glanced outside, and her mouth set in a determined line. She jogged for the ladder, which was now being held by a lean redheaded man standing on the ground. He had a pile of scarves around his neck and breathing gear hanging by one strap at his shoulder.
He steadied the ladder as best he could and Mae started climbing.
“I’m sorry for this, Miss Small,” Cedar said. “But I’m going to have to carry you.”
“My hero,” she whispered with a weak smile.
Cedar picked her up and made fast for the ladder. When the man holding the ladder caught sight of the two of them, he hollered up to the ship. By the time Cedar had reached the ladder a slinglike net had been lowered and the redheaded man held it ready.
“Put her here,” the man said. “We’ll pull her up.”
Cedar set Rose as gently as he could into the sling. She was already groggy from the run he’d taken, and breathing hard.
The man stuck his fingers to his teeth and whistled. Then he gave the rope a tug and the sling cranked upward.
“Up!” The man nodded at the ladder.
Cedar grabbed hold of the ropes and climbed. He glanced above him. Mae was nowhere to be seen, already having stepped into the ship.
“The others?” the man called up.
“Go!” Alun yelled. “Get on out of here!”
Cedar was a half dozen rungs up the ladder, and the man below started up, giving out another whistle.
The ship rose and the rope ladder shifted and swung, nearly clipping the edge of the building. It was dizzying, confusing. The night filled with a roar of fans above him, the yell and cry of the undead below, mixed with the hot stink of gunpowder and the Madders’ wild laughter. He thought one of the brothers, maybe Bryn, was singing.
In a night too black, in a town too alive for itself, beneath a ship that was built to ride the skies, not cherry-pick the earth, Cedar climbed.
Halfway up the ladder he suddenly remembered. Wil. He had left Wil behind.
His heart fisted like a lead weight and panic froze him in place.
“Problem?” the man below yelled.
“My brother’s down there,” Cedar said.
“Which one?” He looked over his shoulder to peer down through the darkness at the Madders.
“Not them,” Cedar said.
“Up.” The man pointed at the ship. “Up.”