Tin Swift by Devon Monk

struck by a piece of the Holder, Mr. Hunt. If you had, I would have given a stronger ear to your complaints earlier.”
    “The Holder?”
    Alun laid Rose down on a cot by the wall.
    He shook his head slowly. “She should have died from this wound by now. Even a sliver of the Holder will strip a mortal soul from the body easy as shucking corn. There’s something more to our Miss Rose Small,”he said with something close to pride in his voice. “I think she’s got a bit of the old blood in her.”
    “Old blood?” Mae asked. “What old blood, Mr. Madder?” She had allowed Cadoc Madder to help her sit on a chair near the foot of the cot.
    All of them were mostly ignoring the gore-covered desk.
    “The sort of blood that still flows in the veins of a few people who walk this land. Rare. A gift from the El.”
    “El? A people like the Strange?” Mae said.
    “As much as light is like shadow, I suppose,” Alun said. “There isn’t much crossing of their kind to this world, but sometimes, sometimes. Makes me a tad more curious as to who, exactly, her parentage is.”
    “Will it do anything to help her endure the wound?” Mae asked.
    “Oh, I think it will indeed,” Alun said. “But we’ll need to get that key out of her. Even someone with her strength can’t hold up a fight against the Holder for long.”
    “Can we cut it out?” Cedar asked.
    “No. Once a strangeworked thing hooks into mortal flesh, it begins to consume, to spread and devour. But if we can find the piece of the Holder this key came off of, then it will call to itself. Like a magnet to steel. The pieces weren’t meant to be changed or altered or broken to bits. But someone has found a way to break this much off. This key. That,” Alun said, “is a problem, Mr. Hunt. A grave problem.”
    “Cadoc,” Cedar said, “you can put some water on to boil for Mae.”
    “Yes,” Mae said, perking up. “Hot water. It will help. And I’ll need my herb satchel.”
    Cadoc Madder frowned. “Your satchel, Mrs. Lindson?”
    “Canvas thing she keeps at hand,” Alun said. “It’s likely in the wagon. See to fetching it, will you, brother Cadoc? Mr. Hunt and I will see if the Holder might be found in these walls.”
    “Her bag of blessings,” Cadoc Madder said as he walked to the door. “I know it.” He opened the door a crack and looked outside. “Not evena soul to scrape together among them,” he noted. “No souls to fly. No wings to rise.” Then, shotgun in hand, he went out into the night.
    Mae strode to the stove in the corner of the room. “I’ll need a kettle, or a pot,” she said more to herself than anyone in the room. She pulled the kettle from the back of the stove and checked the flue. There was a pile of kindling in the wood box and Mae stoked the stove, then took the box of matches off the shelf pegged to the wall.
    “Mrs. Lindson,” Cedar said, “Cadoc Madder will be right back inside and Alun, Bryn, and I won’t be far off. If you need anything, call.”
    She nodded and nodded. “I’m coming. As quickly as I can.”
    She wasn’t talking to him.
    “Mae,” he said a little quieter, but stepping closer, “did you hear me?”
    She blinked hard, then looked up at him. For a moment her eyes were filled with a wild panic, and he could tell her heart was beating fast. She was afraid.
    “Mr. Hunt,” she said as if just noticing him. She glanced quickly at the room, her eyes pausing on Rose. Her hand flew up to the tatting shuttle she wore on a string, almost like a talisman, around her neck. That touch seemed to calm her, and a bit of color came back to her pale cheeks.
    “I’ll be fine. I am fine,” she said, correcting herself. “It wouldn’t matter if I was out of my mind or not. I know the herbs. I can tend to Rose.”
    “The undead are not far in the night,” Cedar said. “Keep your gun ready.”
    “You’ll be in the building?”
    “Yes.”
    She placed her hand on his arm and Cedar caught his breath at her