Corris Lee thrashed in the hollow of the mine, his mind submerged in the "Shift-fever" while his body remained locked in Kaplan’s grip. He didn't merely fall into a feverish sleep; he fell away from the world entirely, plummeting through a sky the color of a bruised lung. He landed not in the mud of the gulch, but on a floor of polished, ivory bone. He stood in the center of a cathedral where the arches were petrified ribcages—the true "Crown of Bones" he had mocked Paul Jacob with.

  In the distance, Abby stood draped in white, her hands weaving a golden snare. She wasn't looking at him; she was staring at the shifting shadows at his back. Nearby, Asher sat on a pile of rusted, jagged clockwork gears. His face was restored to the boyish light it held before the Grimsbys, and he was carving a small wooden wolf. The boy looked up, his eyes glowing with the sickly blue twilight of the mines. "The message was received, Corris," Asher whispered, his voice echoing like stone grinding on stone. "But the messenger is already dead."

  The air suddenly turned cold, and the smell of bleach and raw cinnamon drowned out the scent of the mine's hearth. A tall, conical shadow—the silhouette of a Hennin—towered over the bone cathedral. Silver skull spurs clinked in the dark, sounding less like metal and more like teeth chattering in a frozen jaw. A woman’s hand, encased in black silk, reached out to touch the brand on Corris's stomach. Where Kaplan’s coffee pot had seared him with heat, the woman’s touch was a spike of ice that reached into his marrow. "Reclaimers are just hunters who haven't realized they're already prey," a voice rasped, smooth as a razor across silk.

  From the dark corners, a wolf the size of a gear-steed emerged, its fur composed of the same black ash bubbling from Corris’s skin in the waking world. It didn't growl; it spoke with the Judge's absolute, resonant authority. "You are a monster, Corris Lee. Stop trying to find the man. The man died in the cage."

  Corris thrashed against the vision, his muscles convulsing as the black blood purged itself from his system. The Shift-fever was a crucible, burning away the weakness of the flesh to prepare him for the arrival of the cold, clinical death that was even now tracking his scent through the red rain.

  A sharp, metallic clink from outside the mine entrance—the sound of a silver spur catching on stone—snapped Corris's eyes open. He was back in the shallow mine, drenched in a cold sweat that smelled of sulfur, his head resting against Kaplan's frantic heartbeat. The blue twilight had deepened into a pitch-black void, save for the rhythmic, low-burning red glow of their gear-steeds.

  Kaplan felt his muscles lock tight as he came to. She pressed a hand to his chest, whispering, "Easy, Corris. You’re burning up."

  He didn't answer. He reached for the King-breaker on his hip, his fingers finding the grip with a predatory instinct that bypassed the pain of his scorched gut. The vision was fading, but the scent of bleach remained, cutting through the damp air of the gulch.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  You scared the shit out me. What were you thinking intensionally getting shot? You could have beat him without getting hit.

  “Not on his own ground. You're not as good of a shot as you led me to believe. If I'm being honest.”

  “Eat buckshot. Plus your little plan didn't work. I couldn't dig the bullet out. All this was coffee pot, and gunpowder bullshit put us behind a day. Some tactician Judge Nagy bragged to me about.”

  "Oh ye of little faith, Billy Trigger. Open your hand for me?"

  Kaplan resisted at first. I waited her reluctance out. When she offered her hand, I dropped the warped bullet. Still stained with my blood. Kaplan rolled it around Compacted.

  Hurt like hell to take that shot at point blank range. I counted on Paul Jacob's unwillingness to fight in close with me. That was plain to see when he had me dead to rights on several occasions when I was in that crevice. My reputation won that fight for me.

  “Where…what…how? Where did the bullet come out?”

  “For the sake of killing the inquiry. My body pushed it out. What I wasn't born with, my body resets itself during my healing process.”

  “Wow. Nagy was right. Your body is like a machine.”

  Who are you Corris Lee?

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  "What kind of bullet is this? I never seen anything like it? A bone breaker round maybe?" Kaplan picked up Paul Jacob's lever action rifle he nicknamed the Undertaker. Ejected a round in her hand. Comparing the two with her naked eye. It didn't make sense.

  "They don't match. These aint the same Corris. You playing a magicians trick with me?"

  “Ain't isn't a word Kaplan and you are holding why the two aren't lining up. That's a brass cartridge, the warped bullet has gold splinters embedded. Ever seen a bullet go in one way and come out the other?

  Don't you start talking about magic bullets don't change.

  "They can if fired from a Cursed gun." I pointed to ole Paul Jacob's rifle. Kaplan looked me in the eyes for a good minute. Bewildered by what she held in her hands. She needed proof. That wouldn't be hard.

  I pulled King-Breaker, and fired. Catching the hammer before it ignited the bullet. Ejecting the round I dropped it in her hand. Along with a standard bullet for comparison. Kaplan looked at King-Breaker with a closer inspection she noticed it is a heavy six-shooter. Ornately decorated on the heavy duty cylinder. The gold hammer stood out in contrast with the black barrel. It was the first bonafide hand cannon Kaplan has ever laid her eyes on. Examining the bullets she saw the gold flecks of a half transformed bullet. Next to a standard round. Her eyes went wide in astonishment.

  "Sexy ain't it?" I said.

  She didn't answer. The gold striations were evident under the afternoon sun. Kaplan held them both in the light until she saw the difference.

  "How did the bullet change metals?” Kaplan rolled the half transformed bullet in between her fingers.

  "Pack your shit. We move in five. There is enough blood in this mine to summon Creepers. I heard their calls early this morning.”

  I didn't have time to sit here and explain Cursed guns, and Shaper bullets when we can find Caleb Grimsby in a Shadetown. This time of year

  he would be in Lethe gambling his winnings away.