Gunlaw

Gunlaw 41

"The only help I'm like to give you is a bullet, corpser," Mikeos kept his revolver pointed at Walker's head. Even so a sense of unease crept over him. "Close the door, Hemar. Bolt it."

The dogman made no move.

"Hemar?" Mikeos risked a glance.

Hemar stood frozen, eyes fixed on the corpser. "You're him. Henry Walker." Words spoken through bared teeth.

"I don't recall denying it." Walker seemed oblivious to the stare of Mikeos' gun.

"He's one of them. The three that came for Eben Lostchild in Sweet Water. One died. Properly. Walker and Purbright, the one that stabbed me, they ran in the end."

"Purbright? James Purbright?" Mikeos reached the desk in two quick strides and set the barrel of his gun against Walker's forehead. "Jim Bright? The outlaw?"

Walker looked up at Mikeos with dead and glassy eyes. "Outlaw? There are so many laws. Who's to say who is in and who is out? Your girlfriend here wants to be an outlaw. Don't you, Jenna? Wants to break the biggest law of them all." He turned his head to look at her, careless of the gun scraping his stolen skin. "Me too. I've been busy at it awhile now. Turns out all that 'one strike and you're out' stuff was a lie. The world's a big ol' place – I been around, bushwhacked a gunslinger or two in most unlawful ways. Got myself killed doing it the first time. Anyhow, the whole thing didn't come crashing down round our ears. Turns out the gunlaw just gets weakened, just starts a-leaking, letting sect slip in through the cracks. Any power you hex-whores have is cos of cracks me and my kind have put in the gunlaw for you. It's give and take see? Opportunities for all, sect and men both. Corpsers too."

Mikeos hit Walker square in the mouth with the butt of his revolver. Teeth and parts of teeth sprayed across the desk. "Where is he?" He'd told himself so often that revenge had led him down the 'slinger's path, so often that he almost believed it. Either way Jim Bright would die for shooting his father, and Mikeos would be the one to do the killing. The need for it trembled in his hand. "Where's Bright?"

Walker rolled his neck, picked up an unbroken tooth between finger and thumb, and looked up at Mikeos. "Thought you cared about these miners?" he said through torn lips. "Where do you think I'm going to get new biters from then, eh? Some little kiddie upstairs is going to get sore gums because of you, Mikey."

Mikeos shot him through the left eye. "Jim Bright. Where is he?"

"Riding up the First Track, I expect. Heading for that terminus where doggy here stashed the crip. He always likes to tie up loose ends does Jimmy, keeps his promises." Walker shrugged and turned his good eye back to Jenna. "Gunlaw's a lot of things. It's like a dam. You can chip at it forever and not get far, but a few cracks in the right places and it starts to give. You hexers think these ruins are dead places, but creatures like me know death can be deceptive. There's still juice in the engines down here. Look at the miners. There ain't many without burns on their hands. The wires they pull out spark and hiss and sizzle. We're breaking things – things even the dark wurms won't touch. Every little helps." He smiled yet again, a slime tear oozing from his ruined eye. "So why don't you run off to save your cripple and leave me to do exactly what it is you're trying to do, only better?"

Jenna came to the desk, her face serious, intent, the hex on her forehead just an intersection of dark red cuts. "I'm working to free mankind from the Old Ones' bonds, not to let the sect into our cage to devour us."

"It's the same thing." Walker kept his one eye on her.

"And I'm not walking over the corpses of children to get there. You tortured people to death at Small Stones, and for what?"