Wicked Wasteland, page 19
Colonel Graves’ body had been reduced to charred cinders by the booby trapped safe. Prescott, who was really Hicks, ran off with the only photo we had as proof, so we couldn’t claim the bounty that we’d done most of the work to claim. He was likely out there right now claiming our prize and likely plotting how he would use all that money in his next attempt at revenge.
Todd, who I’d been hoping would return with us triumphant and committed to sticking around and pulling his weight, was in the wind. Angry, scared, alone, and worst of all, devoid of any moral compunction whatsoever. Last I checked he still firmly believed that the Wicked Wasteland was all just a videogame and therefore none of what happened here mattered. An amoral immortal was not the sort of being I wanted to add to our list of enemies right now.
Oh, and I’d almost forgotten, but blowing up that train a few days ago had likely bought us attention from the Company. Which meant the heat was about to get turned up a thousandfold. If Marshals weren’t already conducting an investigation, they were sure as shit on their way. It was the least out of all our concerns at the moment, but that didn’t make it any less dangerous in the long run.
Lawmen had resources that made them more dangerous than bandits, bowmen, or even some of the supernatural threats of the world. And worst of all, if our last encounter with one was any indication, they apparently knew about Minutemen.
I had a sinking feeling that we might soon have to abandon the Homestead in search of greener pastures. That would be a shitshow. The girls were comfortable. All of the people who relied on us were, too. Boone’s remaining wives and all his kids, a few of the folks from Butte Creek and a handful of other towns we’d saved over the years, they’d all have to be relocated. Uprooting them all because of two jobs gone wrong? That could get tricky.
Things could never just be simple, could they?
***
Ethan and I didn’t have much to say to each other when we finally arrived. We’d sort of said all there was to say back at the plantation. We knew the score. Todd and Hicks were both on our shoot-first-ask-questions-later list. I barely felt a twinge of remorse about Hicks. Todd was a slightly different story, but Ethan’s final question was the final nail in the kid’s coffin.
I didn’t trust him around our girls.
Seeing Melody and the others awaiting my return really drove that point home. Sure, Mel and Hazel could handle themselves in a fight. But Brooke? Elizabeth? I mean, Isabelle might lay down some curses and shit, but so far I haven’t seen anything to suggest that her magic was of the immediate variety where she could hurl fireballs or anything. Pretty sure hers was the chalk outlines, obscure ingredients, candlelit sacrifices, and chanting in dead languages varietal of spellcasting. Which is cool and all, and plenty useful, but not ideal for a straight up fight.
If we were going to invite another Minuteman to join our crew he needed to be respectful and someone we could trust to watch out for these girls. Preferably a dude who already had a woman, or a few, so we knew he wasn’t likely to go after our girls.
When all was said and done the bottom line was Todd just didn’t fit that bill.
“What happened?” Clementine asked.
Ethan sighed. “Prescott turned on us. Took the bounty and ran.”
He didn’t mention to her that Prescott was really Hicks. Guess he didn’t want that word to spread. A part of me wanted to trust my girls with that knowledge even if Ethan didn’t trust his, but the fewer people who knew it the better. If Boone’s wives found out that Hicks was sniffing around these parts…there’d be a headache in store.
Melody caught my eye, silently asking me if there was more to the story.
I gave a subtle nod, then a slight turn of my head to indicate that yes, there was, but no, I didn’t want to talk about it.
She got the hint, though I noticed a slight pursing around her lips as she disengaged.
“And what of Todd?” Clementine demanded.
Ethan looked over at me. “You want to answer that, or shall I?”
“I’ve got it. Todd shot Ethan in the back,” I said, setting semantics aside and focusing on what mattered, “then ran.”
The shock this news caused sent a ripple through the girls. Many of them were afraid. Mel and Hazel, and at least two of Ethan’s blondes knew what it was like to be hunted by Minutemen. A relentless, unkillable enemy that never gave up. They were all at least a little afraid. But none more so than Clementine.
“Did he team up with Prescott?” she demanded. “Were they in on it together?”
Fuck, I sure hope not.
“I don’t think so,” Ethan replied. “Prescott had his own thing. He was mad at Boone and decided to take it out on us since the old man ain’t around anymore.” The lie rolled off his tongue so easily it had me wondering if that’s really how he saw it.
I’m not sure I agreed with that assessment. Pretty sure Hicks was mad at us because we killed his buddy Taylor. But that was semantics. He was probably already gunning for us. It would likely take him a bit to find us, so we had time to work on some defenses, but shit was going to go down sooner or later. We needed to fortify.
Ethan and I handled a few more questions and then went our separate ways.
Melody and Brooke headed into the main house while Hazel and Elizabeth headed off to my house. A big part of me wanted to go straight to my workshop and start rigging up some detonyte landmines, or follow one set of my girls and indulge in their company for a while. After the day that I’d had, relaxing with some of Brooke’s cooking sounded like the perfect way to wind down. But that wasn’t in the cards.
My eyes drifted up to the hut on the hill where a dark figure stood under the eaves of the tree and beckoned to me. It was time to pay a visit to my pretty little witch.
I started moving up the hill.
In spite of the circumstances, I found a slight spring to my step as I walked.
***
Gorgeous, effeminate, and covered in tattoos from head to toe; Isabelle stood outside her hut wearing little other than breast straps and a skirt, lightly draped in a cloak of sheer black cloth. In addition to the tattoos–which ranged from runic sigils and swirling patterns to highly detailed animals and even a smoking gun on one forearm–she also decorated herself with warpaint. A black streak across her eyes.
Barefoot as ever, my little bald witch gave me a warm smile that seemed at odds with her appearance.
“Hello, husband. Have you come to renew our bond?” she asked, giving me a lascivious look and trailing one hand up her body. Despite her very slight curves, she had an ass that just wouldn’t quit. There had been some truth to Melody’s assumption that Izzy let me fuck her ass.
But that was more of a perk, not the actual reason we got along so well.
“If we have time, I’d love to, Izzy,” I admitted. Fuck knows I had some tension to work out. “But I actually came up here to ask for your assistance. Mind peering into that crystal ball of yours and answering a few questions for me?”
She shrugged. “I thought you might. I have already taken the liberty of searching for the answers you seek. Come, I will show you. But I must warn you that what I have to tell you will not please you.”
A sigh worked its way up from my chest and tried to escape, but I bit down on it. “I’m sure it won’t. But I need to see it all the same. Whatever danger is coming, I need any advance warning I can get.”
Izzy nodded and led me into her hut. My eyes tracked her ass as she moved, and she treated me to an extra bit of sway to entice me, turning back to wink at me as she opened the door and stepped inside.
Just going to get a couple of things out of the way early. Izzy’s hut was larger on the inside. Like, if any of the other girls saw how much room she had there might be a bit of an issue. One corner was entirely dominated by her candle making supplies. She had crystals, crystal balls, wicked looking knives, animal skulls, and stranger things lining the shelves along the back of her hut. It was mainly a lot of black everywhere, interrupted by rich purple silk sheets on her bed and white chalk sigils that adorned several spots on the floor. There was a cauldron, plenty of odd ingredients (which I’m not totally sure how she even acquired and I wasn’t keen on asking) on a heavy bookshelf, and an intimidating raven perched in another corner.
The raven got a little less intimidating when I discovered his name was Mister Featherington. But yeah the completely white eyes were a bit trippy.
Izzy’s wardrobe consisted of various strappy outfits and lots of flowy sheer fabric. But she also had one set of ‘normal’ clothing that–aside from being almost entirely black aside from the shirt–would allow her to blend in if we ever needed to go into town.
She paused at the foot of the bed, glancing back at me again.
“You sure I can’t convince you to relieve some of that stress first? You’re carrying an awful lot of tension in your body, husband. I could siphon some of it off and use it for a few spells I’ve been working on.”
I suppose I should explain the whole ‘husband’ thing. According to Isabelle, she and I were married in the eyes of ‘the shadows’ (don’t ask) the moment we first slept together last year. To make a long story short, she referred to herself as my ‘shadow wife’ and to Melody and the others as my ‘daylight concubines.’
Did I know what any of that meant? No.
Was I going to dare to ask for clarification? Never again. Not after last time.
Let it be a testament to the quality of the pussy involved that I ever stepped foot in this hut again after Izzy started answering my questions about her magic. She showed me a couple truths about our reality that uh…you know what? Suffice it to say I was a believer and leave it at that. I’m not sure what eldritch horrors may or may not be listening in.
I no longer asked questions about the nature of her magic.
“While I am tempted by your offer,” I told her, entirely truthfully (bruh, her ass was more magical than anything else in this place), “I must decline. There is a danger, two dangers in fact, that I need information on.”
She nodded and moved towards a small table at the back of the room. “The pitiful wretch of a boy and the specter of vengeance that haunt you. Todd and Hicks, as you know them.”
“Sounds about right.” Surprisingly accurate descriptions, actually.
Izzy plucked a black handkerchief off of a dark crystal orb and placed a hand on it. Her eyes immediately rolled back into her head to reveal the white part only. “Yes…the shadows reveal much to me, dear husband. Not all, but I likely have some of the answers you seek. Ask,” she instructed.
“Where are Todd and Hicks?” I started.
Izzy’s eyes went pitch black. Her voice came out deeper, more guttural, and with an unnatural echo. “Close.” The orb’s surface suddenly reflected a pair of hoofprints leading straight to the Homestead. Two riders, one Hicks and the other Todd, were heading our way.
Shit.
“What are their intentions?”
“Vengeance.” The orb’s surface became awash in flames. I heard a faint gunshot and a woman screaming bloody murder at the top of her lungs. But all I saw was flames.
“How do I stop them?”
Even in her trance, Izzy’s expression grew sad. “You cannot. Not entirely. But you mitigate the damage they deal. When it happens, do not let the anger in your heart blind you to what must be done. Save as many as you can. Vengeance shall consume much of what you have built here. Do not let it consume you as well. Rise above, Roger Buchanan. Rise above and save as many as you can!”
Izzy stumbled back from the crystal ball, her breaths coming out rapidly and her chest heaving. I lunged forward and caught her before she collapsed entirely, and she clung to me gratefully.
When she had her wits about her again, she looked up to me with a grim expression.
“Buck I…I’m sorry. Two terrible things are going to happen soon. Tonight. We can’t stop them. If you leave this hut right now, it will be worse. You’ll be killed. But if you stay with me and renew our bond, I will be able to help you far more than an extra gunhand. Do you trust me?”
I didn’t like the sound of this, but I knew Izzy well enough to know she was speaking the truth. Magic always came at a cost. Sometimes it led to outcomes that didn’t seem all that great at first. But if she said this was the route to the best possible outcome, I believed her and was going to take it.
Instead of answering aloud, I scooped my little witch wife up and carried her to the bed to prove to her how much I trusted her. Orgasms made witches more powerful. I intended to make Isabelle very, very powerful for whatever the hell was coming next.
Chapter 30
Sex with Melody was fun, energetic, and sweet. With Hazel it was slow and sensual right up until it wasn’t. Brooke liked it rough and tender in equal measure. Elizabeth was a bit of a pillow princess but that worked just fine for me since I liked to spoil my girls. But Izzy? Izzy was chaotic. She liked it all.
All four of my other girls struggled to keep up with me in bed but Izzy and I were on even footing. Some nights were slow and loving. Some nights were downright frantic and involved a series of quickies interrupted by long talks that usually got us in the mood all over again. Then there were nights where I wound up choking her and pounding her into her bed as she screamed for me not to stop.
That night fell into the latter category.
We were both drenched in sweat and moving together like we’d choreographed it. Her face was a mask of pleasure, and the way she looked wrapped around me had me ready to finish. Which was why I was extra pissed off when our session was cut short by two sounds I never wanted to hear on my Homestead.
A gunshot followed by a woman’s blood-curdling scream.
I slid out of Izzy and was grabbing my gun, heading for the door butt ass naked when she called out faintly for me to stop.
I had one hand on the door handle and was ready to go out there with my dick swinging.
“Wait, Buck. Don’t go yet,” she pleaded.
“Are you insane? Someone just got shot!”
“Yes. But you can’t save her if you’re dead.” She partially tumbled out of bed, a little dizzy and too shaky to stand right away, but she didn’t let her stop her from talking. “If you walk out of that door right now, without any of your armor, you’ll die, Buck. Permanently. Think of your other women. Melanie and the others.”
“Melody,” I corrected.
“Right. Who will save them if not you? Ethan? No. I’m afraid he has his own torment to endure tonight. It has to be you. You must rise above, my husband. Slow down. Dress yourself. Don your armor. Please. For me. For your light concubines. For everyone else who relies on you, Buck. Slow down. Think. That is the only way you win this night, my love. You came to me for answers. I’m sorry I could not give you easier ones.”
Even though it went against my every instinct, I forced myself to slow down and pull on some clothes. Pants and boots were necessary, fine. My gun belt and wrist-mounted speed loader, obviously. But I pretty much threw my armor on and hiked up my suspenders over the top of it, not even bothering with the shirt or a coat or even my cowboy hat before I headed out the door.
All told it delayed me by less than a minute, but that still felt like a lifetime.
I started for the door but Izzy stopped me again.
“Buck. When all hope seems lost, trust your instincts. But remember you only have an hour from that first gunshot. Now go!”
Izzy must have been satisfied with this cryptic parting phrase, for she made no further protest as I rushed out into the night. When I left her she was sitting in the center of the central chalk symbol on the floor with her eyes just as pitch black as they were when she was consulting the crystal orb.
When I burst out of the hut, the first thing I noticed was the bright orange light wafting from the Homestead’s central structure.
The horse barn was on fire, and I could see most of the Homestead’s occupants flocking around it trying to put the fire out and rescue the horses.
Cursing, I started running down the hill to join them, knowing Hazel would be the first one in the barn and the last one out if I wasn’t there to help her. I could take the burns better than she could. A quick time out would be all it took to heal me all the way up to normal. Not true for Hazel, but that wouldn’t stop her for a minute.
In my rush, I tripped over a stray stone or root and tumbled down the hill. Not my finest moment, but I was panicked.
Pushing past the pain, I latched on to Izzy’s words as I scrambled to my feet.
Slow down. Think.
Her forewarning had told me that Hicks and Todd were heading our way. There had been flames reflected in the crystal orb. Along with the scream and…the gunshot.
My all-out sprint towards the barn suddenly halted. From here I could make out details.
Ethan was at the barn along with three blondes.
Hazel, Elizabeth, and Brooke were all there too.
Most of the occupants of the main house as well. Though I didn’t spot all of Boone’s wives. That made a certain amount of sense. Someone had to stay with Boone’s kids, after all.
But where were Melody and Clementine?
My eyes scanned the property. Awash in the flickering orange flames, little details began to stick out to me. The main house’s back porch door, unseen by all those fighting the fire, was bent at an odd angle and hanging ajar. Like it had been wrenched open angrily.
Biting down on a cold feeling in my gut, I turned towards the main house and ran for all I was worth.
It may have been my imagination, but the sky seemed to grow darker overhead as I ran. Like the stars were winking out of existence one by one.
