“For the most part, yes.”
“Enough of this.” The mayor’s voice exploded in the night, startling everyone. “You’ve had your family reunion, now let’s find some copper and get on with the business at hand. That machine won’t finish building itself.”
Lavina nodded. Westie felt her fear and desperation rise up again when she looked at Cain with his knife at Alistair’s jugular.
“What do you care about Emma?” Westie asked the mayor, hoping to keep him talking while she thought of something, anything, to get them out of the mess they were in. She was sure when Emma was up and running there would be no need for the Fairfields to keep her family around. “I know you’re not a cannibal. I saw you in the mine—by the way your face turned green when you looked at the sheriff, your last meal was fixing to come back up for a greeting.”
“Heavens no, I’m not a cannibal,” the mayor said, flexing his face into a cringe. “I’m just in it for the money. Co-inheriting the Lovett fortune has helped my station plenty, but selling a machine like Emma will help build my empire.”
“Aren’t you forgetting you need magic for that? There’s no way the Wintu will help the likes of you.”
“The Wintu aren’t the only ones with magic. I know a fine shaman in the valley willing to help us out. He has a taste for the firewater, you see, and has made some poor choices in life that only a mayor can help him with—for a favor, of course,” he said with a grin.
Westie looked at Nigel. The sadness in his eyes bled into her heart.
Their situation was bleak, and it was all up to her to fix it. Her reputation for mangling past endeavors didn’t leave much space for hope to set up camp, but she refused to give up.
“Enough chewing the fat already,” James said. “Let’s deal with this machine so we can be on our way.”
“That’s it?” Westie said. “After the machine is built, you’ll just let us go?”
His smirk said that wasn’t the plan. They had no intention of leaving witnesses behind.
Westie’s voice sounded more frightened than she wanted it to when she said, “If you plan to kill us anyway, there’s no point in Nigel finishing it now, is there?”
“There is, actually. You have two options. Either Nigel can finish the machine, and you can all die together quick and painless as a family, or Nigel can sit there while I kill you and Alistair, slowly and painfully.” His eyes grew big and so did his smile.
A string of curses erupted from Westie so foul even James blushed.
“Cain,” James said. A look passed between the false cousins that Westie understood enough to spew apologies.
“No, please. Whatever you’re about to do, don’t,” she begged. “I won’t say another word, honest I won’t.”
Nigel roared beneath his gag, thrashing in his chair, trying to rid himself of his restraints when Cain pressed his knife against Alistair’s neck, hard enough to draw out a line of small blood droplets.
“No!” Westie cried. She tilted her parasol so the tip of her gun faced Cain. It wouldn’t misfire again, for Alistair had fixed it and he didn’t make guns that failed.
The cut on Alistair’s throat wouldn’t kill him, but just a few more pounds of pressure would mean his life.
“You don’t think I’ll have Cain do it, do you?” James said in a teasing voice.
“I do.” Tears poured down Westie’s face. “Don’t hurt him, please. I believe you.”
James brought his finger to his chin, twisted his face in thought. “No,” he said, drawing the word out, “I don’t think you do. Cain, please do the honors. I’d like to show Nigel we mean business so he will see what I can do to his precious daughter if he fails to provide our machine.” James winked at Westie. “And I’ve been wanting to watch that prick bleed since I arrived. After all, he’s not good enough for my big sister.”
Westie screamed when more blood spilled from Alistair’s wound. She pulled the trigger. The gun Alistair had fixed for her didn’t fail. Unfortunately, her aim did. With a painful howl Cain dropped the knife on the ground and brought his hand to the side of his face, where blood leaked down his cheek and onto his shoulder. Everyone was frozen, waiting for something to happen, to see how badly he was hurt. Westie looked at Alistair. He was wild-eyed and stiff, but alive.