Hard Magic

BOOM!

Grandpa lurched forward as the man on the roof shot him. He Traveled, and was instantly before Faye. Grandpa took two steps and fell to his knees. "Oh…"

Faye dropped the pitchfork, grabbed him by the straps of his coveralls, and dragged the little man behind the broken bales. "Grandpa!" she screamed. Blood was welling out from between the top buttons of his shirt, way too much blood. "Hold on, Grandpa!"

He grabbed her wrist, his fingers hard as rocks, and he shoved an old leather bag into her hand and squeezed it shut. Blood came out his mouth when he tried to talk and she had to put her ear down next to his mouth to hear him. "Don't let them get it. Find Black-" and then she couldn't hear the rest because it turned into a gurgle as he breathed out. He didn't inhale. Faye pulled away, and Grandpa Vierra's grey eyes were staring at nothing.

"Grandpa?"

A man in a suit came running around the edge of the hay. Faye saw him coming and she was filled with an emotion she'd never felt before. The wood of the pitchfork was hard in her calloused hands as she rose, straw-colored hair covering her face. Fifteen feet away the man raised his gun.

He shouted to the others. "I got th-" but then Faye Traveled, screaming, and drove the three narrow tines of the pitchfork through his ribs. Still screaming she pushed the man, driving him back, until his knees buckled and she drove the fork all the way through him and into the ground. The man grabbed onto the handle, but Faye put all her weight on the shaft and held him there while he kicked and cussed. After a few seconds he quit moving.

"Hey, girl," a very deep voice said. She turned, and the giant man from the roof, the man that had killed the first person who'd ever loved her, the man who'd murdered her Grandpa, was standing there, calm as could be, with the biggest revolver she'd ever seen pointed at her head. He cocked the hammer. One of his eyes was white. "No reason for any more killing today," he lied. "I'm looking for something. That's all."

Faye wrenched the pitchfork out of the fallen man and pointed it at the big man. Blood dripped from the tines. "You… you killed… killed my Grandpa," she gasped.

He nodded. "I guess that's how it's got to be then." He pulled the trigger.

The bullet passed through the space where Faye had just been as she materialized off to the man's side. She gasped in pain. She'd gone too fast, hadn't used her instincts, and done something wrong, but there was no time, and she stabbed the pitchfork deep.

The man looked down at the iron embedded in his body. The top was in his ribs, the middle had to be through his guts, and the bottom went in just under his belt. Faye drove her weight forward, trying to stick it in deeper, but the man calmly grasped the shaft and wouldn't let her. It was like pushing on a wall. The man hauled the fork out of his body, several inches of bloody metal from each spot, and in the process knocked Faye on her butt.

Grandpa's leather bag hit the ground, spilling something metallic into the hay.

Blood leaked out the three holes in the one-eyed man's side, but he didn't seem to care. His attention focused in on the bag. Faye scrambled for it, fingers hitting the drawstrings just as he pointed the big revolver at her, and desperate, she Traveled further than she ever had before.

The.50 Russian Long dug a divot in the dirt, but the girl was already gone.

"Godamned Travelers," he spat. It was a good thing most of them died young, because he hated them especially hard. He checked his side. The little whore had got him good, but not good enough. It took more than getting stabbed to hurt him, but it sure made him mad.

Carefully scanning back and forth, waiting for the girl to reappear, he picked the small piece of machinery off the ground. He'd been briefed enough to know that this was a part of what he was after, maybe the most important piece even, but it wasn't all of it, and his orders had said to bring it all back. He carefully stuffed the piece into one bloodied pocket.

Next he checked the old man's body, but he didn't have it on him. He must have given it to the girl… His remaining men caught up a moment later. "Have you found it?" he shouted. The men shook their heads. "Find it or I'll kill you all!" he bellowed. "There's a girl. She's a Traveler too. Find her and put a bullet in her. What are you waiting for? Move!"

Terrified, the goons went back to searching. Better be afraid, fucking pussies.

One man hesitated. "You're bleeding, Mr. Madi."

The big man just growled at him. "Naw? Really?"

"Uh… what do you want me to do with the bodies."

Madi scowled. He'd lost two men to that damn Portagee and one to his brat. "Drag 'em inside. We'll burn everything 'fore we go. That's what they get for being weak. Now quit jawin' and find that girl."

Frustrated, he stomped over to the dead Portagee, lifted his LeMat-Schofield and pumped the rest of the hot loaded slugs into the body. Then he thumb cocked the second hammer and gave the old man the 12-gauge barrel just to be sure. He rapidly broke open his empty gun. The spent moon-clip kicked out automatically under spring pressure, and he stuffed in another moon-clip of cartridges into the cylinder and a single shotgun shell into the overbarrel, then snapped it shut and shoved the Beast back into his shoulder holster. The bloody mess he'd caused made him smile.

He sat on a bale of hay and waited for the bleeding to gradually stop. Travelin' Joe was dead, but without all the goods, the Chairman wasn't going to be happy.

Faye watched the one-eyed man from under the overturned trough halfway across the pasture. He yelled at his men, shot Grandpa a bunch more times, and then took a seat. Cows had sensed her, and always curious, were gathering around the trough. The metal was old and had rusted through in places, and she kept her eye against one of those holes, spying, until she could no longer see through all the Holsteins.

She couldn't stop crying.

Her foot hurt. She'd Traveled without checking first. Grandpa had been gone for all of ten seconds before she had violated his first commandment. She knew that there was something stuck in her heel. Maybe a piece of straw, maybe a rock, and the pain was almost unbearable. Every pulse of her heart felt like somebody was driving a nail through her bones with a carpenter's hammer.

But that wasn't why she was crying.

Faye kept Grandpa's leather bag clutched to her chest. It was splattered with his blood. The pain made her want to just close her eyes and curl up into a ball, but she didn't know what time it was, and didn't know how soon it would be until the rest of the family came back from town. If these men were still here, then she knew that she would have to try to stop them before they could hurt her family, but she didn't know what to do, and she was so very afraid.

Finally, the pain had grown too much to bear. She kicked her filthy boot off, and drew her bare foot into a shaft of sunlight. Faye grimaced when she saw what it was. One of those big black crunchy beetles, the kind that was so tough that you could stomp on them and if the dirt was soft they would just pop back up alive. Its back half was fused into the flesh of her heel, its front legs and mandibles still thrashing.

There was no hesitation. She just wanted it out. Biting her lip, she unfolded her pocketknife, and started cutting. It hurt too bad, so she pulled off her bandanna, rolled it tight and stuck it in her mouth to bite down on so the one-eyed man wouldn't hear her scream, and went back to digging. Tears poured from her eyes, but she forced herself to keep going. The beetle ruptured, squirting a thick white juice that quickly mixed with her own blood. She knew she had to be thorough. After a few seconds of carving, the beetle was gone, she had a hole that hurt so bad she could barely think, but she felt immensely better. She stuffed her bandanna into the wound and held it there.

The cows had moved enough for her to see again. The big man had stood, lit a cigar, and then used his lighter to casually set the haystacks on fire before wandering off. A minute later the barn was burning too, and she could see black smoke rising from where the house should be.

She waited until she saw the dust from the cars as they drove back up the road. Then she waited longer, just to make sure it wasn't a trick. Finally Faye crawled out from under the trough and limped across the pasture to the burning ruins of the only real home she'd ever known.

The grey-eyed girl vowed never to cry again.