Lockhart's Legacy (Vespari Lockhart Book 1) (9 page)

The vespari had seen what happened to the victims of the revenant’s gunshots. He couldn’t stand by and let someone else die and transform into a ghoul. He had to get the diseased bullet out of her before she turned. Leaving her there for a moment, Lockhart raced back to his horse to retrieve his things. As he did, he saw that the sun rose on the distant horizon. Must’ve been why the revenant fled. It might even help the woman’s recovery. He grabbed the bag from the horse and ran back to the hotel.

When he got there, he found that the woman writhed on the bed, drenching the sheets with her sweat. She was still unconscious, but her body was already starting to change. He had to work quickly. Pulling a bit of alcohol from the bag, he poured it over his knife and the wound in her shoulder. Then, putting his knee on her to hold her in place, Lockhart stuck the knife in the hole and started to search for the black bullet. She wailed in pain, fighting him, and trying to get away. Still, her eyes remained closed. The transformation fought him, not her.

The tip of his knife found the metal of the bullet with a clinking sound, and he moved to pry it out. More screams, but he ignored them and worked the bullet to the surface. He saw the circular thing form there before him, and he popped it from the wound just the same as he’d done with the ghoul. Also like the ghoul, as soon as the bullet was outside her body, it dissipated into a cloudy dust.

The young woman wasn’t out of the woods yet though. The black bullet had already done a lot of damage. Around the wound, her skin had started to turn a pale color, and the veins changed from blue to black. He had to find a way to help her, but he was low on supplies. Nothing he’d acquired in Abilene would help him with this.

Lockhart could only think of two options. First, he could leave her there and go in search of herbs that he could combine into something to help her. He didn’t relish the idea of leaving the woman there, especially if the revenant were to return for her. They did tend to take the possession of their ghouls rather seriously. Besides, he might not even be able to find any useful herbs nearby. Even if he did, he couldn’t guarantee her recovery.

The second option was no better. In fact, it was far more dangerous. The woman would either improve or die in agony. This method involved relying on vespari runes. The same runes that covered his bullets, knife, and chest could purge the revenant’s corruption from her. Given the diseased substance was inside her, he would have to put those runes inside her with the remaining sludge.

Deciding that he couldn’t leave her in this state, Lockhart opted for the second route. Digging through his ammo, the vespari grabbed one of the runed bullets. He then picked up the alcohol again and rinsed the bullet in his hand. Turning back to the woman, he took a deep breath and then dropped the bullet into the wound.

Her whole body shook as soon as it was inside her. Strictly speaking, the runes that the vespari’s used weren’t exactly safe. Only a select few could wear the tattoos on their body. Having them inside was what killed and weakened monsters. It often had a similar effect on people. If the revenant’s disease didn’t kill her, it was very possible his runed bullet would.

Her screaming resumed, but he could tell this was different than before. The skin around the wound was healing already. The effect wasn’t instantaneous, but the color was improving at least a little. This would take time though, and he couldn’t let that wound sit open while they waited.

Searching the rooms of the hotel, Lockhart found a needle and a bit of thread. Cleaning the needle with the alcohol, he started to stitch her up. At this point, she seemed too weak to scream or resist. Her body just shook and continued to pour out sweat. The vespari finished with the stitches and stood over her, watching to see how she was doing. Her chest continued to heave up and down, and with time, she calmed considerably. All he could do now was keep a watch over her and wait.

***

The woman’s recovery was faster than Lockhart would’ve expected. That is to say, the runed bullet lodged inside her shoulder didn’t kill her. The pale skin vanished after only a few hours, returning to the more tanned complexion it had formerly been. Following this development, the black veins soon disappeared too. As the sun died down that night, there was no sign that she’d even had the revenant’s disease inside her. Even her sweat dissipated, and he expected she would wake any time soon.

Sitting in a chair beside the bed he’d laid her in with his feet propped up on a stand, Lockhart started to nod off. When she jolted awake at his side, though, he did the same, his feet falling off the stand and banging against the wooden floorboards.

“You,” the woman said, trying to sit up.

“D-d-don’t move,” he told her. “You’ve g-g-g-got a b-bullet inside you.”

She sat back down and reached her arm over to her other shoulder, lightly rubbing the skin. “I remember. I was there.” Running her finger over the stitches, she asked, “You couldn’t get it out?”

“I p-p-put it there.”

She cut her eyes over at him. “What?”

“The revenant--”

“That thing?” she interrupted.

Lockhart nodded. “It shot a d-d-d-diseased bullet inside y-y-you. I removed it, b-b-b-but it still would’ve killed you.”

“Still not following.” Her eyes scanned him. “You’re a vespari?”

Nodding, he continued, “I p-p-put a runed b-bullet inside you to c-c-cleanse your wound.”

She glared at him. “Great, but there’s still a bullet in my shoulder, right? That seems like a problem.”

He nodded. “We n-need to get it out b-b-before it does any damage.”

Lockhart then pulled out his knife and grabbed the bottle of alcohol he’d been using to disinfect everything. He rinsed the blade off and was about to sit it back down, but the woman grabbed it from his hand. She proceeded to take several gulping swigs from the bottle, dripping some down past her lips and her neck. Nearly drowning herself with it, she stopped and set the bottle on the nightstand.

“Do it,” she said.

Brave, he thought. Not important though. He needed to focus on the bullet.

Using the knife, he cut open the stitches he’d made. Some of the skin had begun to mend back together though, and he had to slice part of it open again. Wasting no time, he dug the knife in and started to search for the bullet. The woman groaned, gripping the sheets in her hands and writhing in the bed. She tried not to move, but there was only so much a person could do against that kind of pain. Finding the metal of the runed bullet, Lockhart dug it out and brought it to the surface. When the bullet was in sight, he snatched it up and set it and the knife aside. The woman relaxed somewhat, lying still for a moment and breathing deep.

“That wasn’t so--” She passed out.

Not surprising given all she’d been through. Using the needle and thread again, he stitched the wound, better this time. During all this, she didn’t wake despite the pain. With the bullet out and the disease gone, Lockhart felt a little better about leaving her to have a look around. He needed to find something to dress the wound. A threaded stitch wasn’t going to help her much. Maybe the general store would have something, he thought.

After cleaning both the bullet and knife, he returned both to their respective places and turned to leave the hotel room. At the doorframe, he looked back one more time to make sure that the woman was alright. She continued to sleep, and there was no sign of the revenant’s corruption lingering within her.

Since she slept, Lockhart continued out of the hotel and made his way to the general store. Just like the saloon had been, the revenant had sent one of its ghouls into the store to loot the place. From what he could piece together, this revenant was something of a magpie, collecting things of value from its victims. And once again, he saw the same message that he’d found in the ranch and the saloon, regarding hospitality painted on the wall in what he had to assume was his victims’ blood. In all his time hunting these kinds of creatures, he’d never seen behavior quite like this. It made him wonder what kind of man this so-called Gentleman had been in life.

Ignoring the state of the store, the vespari proceeded to search what remained. Among the remaining wares, Lockhart found a few medical treatments. Tonics, creams, and other so-called advances from the coastal cities. He’d tried some of them through his time and many injuries, and most of them only served to slow his recovery time. Not finding anything but sham treatments, he left the general store, intending to head back to the hotel.

Passing the alley where he’d found the three dead ghouls, Lockhart also caught the sight of something else. Sprouting from the ground next to the store were mushrooms, and running up the side of the hotel was a type of vine. Both of these would prove more helpful to an injury than anything he’d seen in the store. Amused by the irony of the situation, Lockhart knelt down and collected a few of the mushrooms and a selection of one of the vines.

Taking them, he returned to the hotel, making his way to the kitchen. There, he proceeded to chop the mushrooms and the vine up and toss them into a pot. When he’d finished with the slicing, he poured in a bit of water from his canteen. Next, he rolled up his sleeves, putting his hands into the pot and ground up the vegetable matter. Not quite the poultice he used on himself, this would at least aid with the recovery time of the woman’s wound.

When it was ready, he wiped his hands clean and brought the pot back to the room where he’d laid her. She was just as she’d been when he’d left. Taking a finger’s chunk of the poultice, Lockhart dragged it along the wound. He didn’t want to smear it and cover the whole area like he’d done on himself. For this, he just wanted to keep the wound wet and covered. Wiping the rest from his finger on his pant leg, Lockhart grabbed a bandage he’d found when he’d collected the thread and needle. He placed it over her wound to keep her from getting anything else in there and took a moment to breathe. Unless there were any unforeseen complications, he expected the woman would soon make a full recovery. She was lucky if nothing else.

With her taken care of for the moment, Lockhart finally focused on himself. He made a meal with the provisions he had left, got a drink of water, and then tried to rest. He took care to feed and water both of the horses tied up outside as well, as he knew that he was going to need a mount when he left Delamar. When the sun fully dipped below the horizon, Lockhart picked out one of the hotel rooms and found some much needed sleep in a far more comfortable bed than the desert typically afforded him.

***

Heavy breathing woke him up the next morning. Years of hunting had tuned his senses to point out anything out of place, and since he believed himself alone, this sound was out of place. Sitting up on the bed and reaching for his revolver in one fluid gesture, Lockhart opened his eyes to see the woman he’d saved leaning against the doorway of the hotel room he’d used. She wore a grimace on her face, but he could tell it wasn’t from the pain of her wound.

“So,” she said, pausing long enough for him to relax and release his grip on his revolver. “Guess you saved me.”

Lockhart moved off the bed and stood up. “Y-y-y-you should rest,” he told her.

She shook her head. “I’m fine.” Another pause. “What’s your name?”

“Corrigan Lockhart,” he told her. “Y-y-you?”

“Wynonna… Barrow. You said that thing was a revenant?”

He nodded.

“And you’re a vespari?”

Another nod.

Lockhart could see her working over the information in her head. Her eyes drifted to the floor and then back up to him.

“Train me,” she told him.

The vespari winced. “What?”

“Train me to be like you - to be a vespari.”

Lockhart hadn’t expected that. Anything but that. He shook his head. “Y-y-you don’t w-w-want to be--”

“Don’t tell me what I want,” she said. “That thing, that revenant, that
Gentleman
, he killed my whole family. Made them into monsters. He took them from me. Took my whole life. He has to pay for what he did, and I want to be the one to put the bullet in his damned head.”

Lockhart didn’t respond for a moment. He didn’t know
how
to respond. How to deal with that particular situation. “I’ve never taken an a-apprentice,” he told her.

The grimace vanished from her face, and Wynonna stepped forward. “I’d be a good student,” she told him. “I’d do what you say. I’m already a pretty good shot. Killed more than a few of those… those--”

“Ghouls,” he informed her.

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “I killed probably a dozen of ‘em before you came along. Look, I’m asking you for help, and that’s not something that comes easy to me.”

Lockhart shook his head. “C-c-can’t.”

The pained glare returned to her face. “Can’t or won’t?”

“F-f-find something else,” he told her.

Wynonna said nothing further, her eyes drifting to the floorboards again. He couldn’t stay there any longer. He’d wasted enough time looking after her. Her energy had returned, and she’d be fine now. He, on the other hand, still had the Caustic Brand and the beldam coven to deal with.

“S-s-s-sorry,” Lockhart told her, approaching the door, which she blocked.