The Cursed Towns of Jericho

By M.G. Bell

Put on your hat, strap on your gun, and prepare to enter the mysterious cursed towns of Jericho, a fantastical untamed world where ancient magic and dark intentions collide in the necromantic wild west.

Jacob Blackwood, a single father raising two extraordinary children, travels aboard an unusual train, searching for his lost love and hoping to unravel the secrets that shattered his family. Sinister creatures, deceitful outlaws and a dark figure haunts their path. The Blackwoods must band together, drawing on their unique talents and abilities, if they hope to confront the challenges ahead and save Jericho.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350910223

Book preview

PART I

THE NIGHT SHARD

1

CALICO

Trouble is a private thing: don’t lend it and for sure don’t borrow it.

Bobbin sat alone on a sunbaked water barrel, feeling determined but out of place. She imagined herself as a tiny oasis of grace in this hamlet for the unrefined. The town of Calico was a patchwork of sturdy buildings as diverse and full of character as the honest people who built them. There was no want for open land, but the structures stood shoulder to shoulder like a mutinous mob daring the wilds of this untamed expanse to deny them their claim. A simple porch joined the storefronts together. It was the only common element in the jumble of architecture and paint. She liked that the town was a muted pageant of soft colors: the faded red of the livery, the sun-darkened brown of the Tobacco and Drug, even the peeling white trim of the Mercantile. The buildings were as disparate from one another as the townsfolk who lived in them. She found comfort in the chaos. 

Bobbin saw a weathered Asian woman whose skin looked as well-pressed as her ornate robes. The woman sat cross-legged, painting a talismanic ward on the front of her small shop. Next to her, a group of work-hardened men with wild beards labored to fasten silver bars onto the front of the Holloway Inn. Nearby, a priest holding a red umbrella splashed something from a flask across the threshold, muttering blessings under his breath. Across the street, three identical portly men wearing pinstriped suits were engaged in an argument. Their similarities were absolute, from their doughy, clean-shaven faces to the perfect part in their grease-slicked hair. They were pushing an envelope from one to the other like children playing an intense game of pass the parcel.

These folks where colorful, but her eyes were drawn to a lean figure in the street, who looked like a blemish dressed all in black. His low-brimmed hat and long duster hid both his features and his agenda, but the badge on his chest glinted like a lonely star in a black sky. He stood there, cradling a silver crossbow, while at his feet a disturbed woman missing her left shoe sobbed thickly. Tears and spittle marked the dusty earth where she groveled, holding a child’s rag doll. Despite her distress, the Dark Sheriff’s gaze never left the horizon. He eyed the setting sun as if it might shoot him in the back. 

From her water barrel perch, Bobbin saw all this and more. She observed every detail of this town and its mismatched collection of citizens. Nothing was lost on her: not the man wearing leather skins whispering to a cattleman, nor the scrawny mole-like creature who placed dyed feathers in the long braid down his back, nor the old man with milk-white eyes and writing tattooed on his arms and neck. Yet, no matter their oddities, they belonged in a way she knew she could not.

These cautious observations were making her restless. She folded her small hands squarely and adjusted her posture in an imitation of nobility and inspected her white-and-blue lace-up shoes, gratified that they bore no trace of having walked through the dust traps of Calico. Then to center herself, she sucked in a short breath and held it, finally letting her eyes fall closed and turning her concentration inward in meditation. The air became charged, and a small current of electricity arched across her hands. She felt the curls lift ever so subtly off her shoulders, as if she were suddenly underwater. A weathered hand gently grasped her shoulder, interrupting her trance.

Little miss?

The girl looked at the sun-weathered face in front of her.

Your pa around?

She flushed, guilt swelling in her throat. Before answering, she drank in the man’s details: He wore a pink shirt that had once likely been red. Tan suspenders held up his heavily patched trousers of the same color. He had ginger hair peeking out from a floppy, wide-brimmed hat. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing layers of scars on his forearms. Around his neck, he wore a red bandana under a menagerie of talismans and wards, and his mustache looked like a wire bottle brush. But his wrinkled eyes were kind. She let out the breath she had been holding feeling irritable. 

No sir, he’s . . . working, she lied.

Well, your ma, then?

 No sir.

Perhaps an older brother?

No sir, no Uncles or Aunts or cousins neither, Mr. . . .

Tagert, Will Tagert. Miss, you need to find your kinsfolk and get off these streets. I don’t mean to alarm, but a shiny jewel like you’ll set ’em off.

Is that a fact, Mr. Tagert?

Will Tagert glanced about, visibly uncomfortable with the topic.

Why, I’d be glad to discuss that matter with your folks, or whoever claims you, little miss. It’s not the subject of light conversation, and I wouldn’t want to cause you further distress.

A heat rose in Bobbin’s cheeks at having now been referred to twice as little miss. She hopped off her roost and met Will Tagert’s eyes. He stiffened, locked in her power.

"Thank you kindly, Mr. Tagert. My kin will be much obliged to you."

He shook his head, blinking. Then he returned to his mission. Miss, there really isn’t much time—

Bobbin closed her eyes and focused her concentration as if she were reaching into a deeper part of the world, sifting through all the layers with her determinedly curious mind. She thought of it as her ‘Seer’s vision’, using it now to seek out the thing that held this man’s concern, the same thing that brought her to Calico. For her, the moment felt long and deliberate, but after only a few seconds, she felt a predatory hunger closing in around the town. Her eyes opened.

There’s less time than you know, Mr. Tagert. Then she saw that Will Tagert was standing with his eyes half shut and mouth slack. MR. TAGERT! Oh, of all the dim-witted . . .

She cursed herself for not being more careful. Without meaning to, she’d stupefied the man in front of her. She held the flat of her palm near Will Tagert’s face. A small jolt of electricity leaped to his forehead, shocking him alert in an instant.

"Not to cause you further distress, Mr. Tagert, but you best find shelter. Now!"

Will Tagert stumbled back, a look of bewilderment on his face. As he fumbled his way down the street, his purpose gained momentum, and he began encouraging others inside as he went. The sky had grown considerably darker, and the sun was only the faintest of glows behind the jagged mountain range. Bobbin began to wonder if she’d made the right decision coming here. Those thoughts drained from her mind when a thick white mist began rolling down the dusty street. 

A movement tugged at the edge of Bobbin’s vision. She turned to face the few townsfolk still left in the deserted street. The Dark Sheriff had stepped over the disturbed woman, who was now clutching the rag doll to her chest and staring at the mist, unblinking. The Dark Sheriff reached into his breast pocket and pulled out an engraved compass. Studying its dial, he turned his gaze in Bobbin’s direction. He stowed the compass and was suddenly walking purposefully toward her. She took a step back despite herself, then cursed her lack of nerve. She could see now that a purple fire burned where his eyes should be, and the warmth from the air seemed gone. In the space of a heartbeat, he’d reached her. He stretched out long bony fingers that were wrapped in tight black leather gloves. 

Then a howl echoed through the street from within the mist that had continued its occupation of the town. The Dark Sheriff stopped an arm’s reach from Bobbin. He looked toward the mist, cocking his head, listening. Then, without warning, he knelt. Using his long pinkie finger and thumb, he drew a shape in the sand surrounded by a circle. He reached into his pocket and threw a small knuckle bone into the center of his drawing.

In front of Bobbin, an apparition began to solidify. It was a horse as inky black as its master, who lost no time vaulting onto its back. The horse reared up, then leaped through a narrowing gap in the fog and disappeared into the night. Bobbin had the sensation that she’d just had a close call. She glanced around the city, which had become the very definition of a ghost town. Blinds were drawn, and the people had vanished. Only Bobbin and the pitiable woman holding the doll remained.

The air felt anemic, and Bobbin began breathing in short, tight breaths. She went to the woman and knelt beside her, keeping her eyes on the mist all the while.

You need to be inside now, ma’am.

The woman looked at Bobbin with hollow, bereft eyes. They took her. They done took her right outta ma arms! Right OUTTA MA ARMS! No one cares, they’re all a part of the flock, the pack, the wind . . .

She began to rock back and forth in the dirt. Bobbin ripped her eyes free of the mist to study the woman. Seemed like every town had some poor mother robbed of her child by some monstrous thing creeping through the night. There was La Lechuza, the Witch Bird of Alamosa, and before that, the zombies at Hightower. It was always something. This time it was wendigos.

Stories said wendigos were humans who, through some act of evil, had accidentally given themselves over to the feral whims of a carnal force. At least that’s what Bobbin’s books had to say on the subject. Her books also said that wendigos were drawn to the innocent, like a drowning man to air, and that none who had been taken were ever seen again.

There wasn’t much time, and this woman was another casualty Bobbin couldn’t stand. Ma’am, that all sounds… real horrible. But those things, they’re almost here. You hear me? Ma’am?

The woman sat despondent on the ground, shaking her head and cradling the rag doll like a baby, still muttering, In the wind . . .

Time was short, and Bobbin simply had no patience for this distraction. She placed the palm of her hand on the woman’s forehead, like a preacher casting out demons. She produced what she meant to be a mild electric spark, but the woman was propelled two feet back into the stairway behind her. The force knocked a clay pot to the ground as the woman came to rest in a cloud of dust and debris. The woman looked up at the little girl in horror, hair sticking up at all angles.

Bobbin winced, sucking in her breath. Sorry. But now that we’re seeing each other clearly, let’s get you outta this night air.

The woman’s face was fixed in stunned horror. Exasperated, Bobbin put her hands on her hips and stamped her foot.

I was only trying to snap you—

Her voice trailed off as she realized that the woman wasn’t looking at her. She was looking behind her. Bobbin could feel them now. Why had she let this woman distract her? Without looking to confirm the threat, she dropped to her knees and curled into the smallest of balls. The hair on her neck stood on end as a heavy, hairy body hurtled over where she had stood seconds before.

She forced herself to stand up, gritting her teeth. She pulled two telescoping rods from her waist coat, and with a flick of her wrists, they extended into long conducting rapiers. Across from her the pale wolfish creature watched her. Its extremities were elongated and muscular, ending in bulbous knuckles and veined hands with long splintered nails. Yellowed fangs gleamed behind an albino snout, as it sniffed the air. It shook its head, sending rings of viscous saliva in looping arcs, then began slowly advancing on her. It pushed her back toward the mist, its pink eyes hungrily looking her up and down.

Bobbin unwillingly inched her way backward. She knew she was being herded, but the instinct to back away from this creature was overwhelming. A cold grasp of doubt wrapped around her heart, robbing her of her conviction to prove herself.  A second wendigo materialized from the mist near the grief-stricken woman, who still hadn’t moved from where she’d landed.

Bobbin willed herself to hold her ground. She focused her energy into her hands, sending electric currents down the rods. Sparks arched from one to the other like a child jumping between hot stones. Bobbin twisted her posture so that she had one rod behind her back and the other crossed over her chest.

Both wendigos seemed to sense the change in energy. The closest lunged at her midsection while the other dropped to all fours and began to gallop toward her. She held her pose, waiting for the first wendigo to reach her. At the last moment, she spun in place, extending her arms out from her sides and becoming a pinwheel of electricity. The first wendigo collided with the rods and dissipated into wisps of vapor. Bobbin finished her arc and brought both rods down on the second charging wendigo. They passed through its flesh without resistance, dematerializing the beast instantly.

With the rods still crackling in her hands, Bobbin called out to the woman, Ma’am! Go! 

The woman scrambled up the porch and across to a nearby shop. She fumbled at the locked door. Two wide eyes peaked through the curtained glass, while behind her another howl signaled the approach of more wendigos. The woman, panic-stricken, began to claw and beat at the door. A latch slid and the door swung inward, revealing the small Asian woman who owned it. 

You gonna ruin seal, stupid woman! Come inside, else we both be dead!

The women disappeared behind the door. Bobbin felt her burden lighten. She no longer had any pedestrians to worry about.

Behind her, a chain reaction of howls sounded in the mist. She spun in all directions, looking for the brutish creatures to take form. Then, the wind was knocked from her as she was bowled over from behind. The acrid sweat of the creature that now straddled her made her want to retch. Bobbin’s hands grasped instinctively for the rods, but they had been knocked out of her reach. She cupped her hands together and pushed with all her might. An electric bolt propelled the beast twenty feet back, where it was engulfed into the mist.

Bobbin gathered herself up and reached for her rods, but already there were over a dozen wendigos closing a tight circle around her. She retreated to the wooden barrel she had spent the afternoon sitting on. She cupped her hands to unleash a barrage of electric bolts at her enemies, but she was too drained. Two new wendigos leaped from nowhere and, with unnatural speed, caught her wrists in their knotted hands. Her strength spent, Bobbin screamed into the night.

a thick white mist began rolling down the dusty street

2

THE ALPHA

Never corner something meaner than you.

In answer to Bobbin’s scream, the barrel behind her split into quarters, unfolding into saber-like arms and tripod legs that shuffled to her rescue. A young boy with pale hair sat cross-legged where the barrel machine had concealed him. His eyes fixed on the scene in front of him as his hands worked a complicated brass remote filled with dials and knobs. His Barrel-Bot danced forward with a bouncy elegance. Two sabers sliced through the wendigos holding Bobbin like a hot blade through butter.

You okay, Bobbin?  

That was too close! Bobbin retreated to her younger brother’s side.

Landon was a gearhead, from the grease on his white sleeves to his toolbelt that bulged with screws, thimbles, springs, and cogs. His tousled hair made him seem like he had just woken up. But at this moment, his usually playful face was set in a scowl , the sweet-natured child artificer had a new construct and a reason to use it.

We’ll see about these flea-bitten, no-account polecats!

Landon’s creation rolled back into a barrel with the sounds of gears popping into place. The wendigos began to circle around this lethal oddity. Like a pack of dogs, they sniffed the perimeter where the barrel had come to rest. They inched closer, hackles raised. One curious monster lunged, but before he even touched the barrel’s surface, a blade swung out, turning the creature into a spray of mist.

Yes!  Landon grinned. 

Bobbin had to admit: she was glad to have him with her. The wendigos began to howl in frustration and pounced on the barrel, snarling, scratching, and ripping hunks of wood from it in a frenzy.

Bobbin, watch this! Landon flipped a switch on his remote, and the top of the barrel shot into the sky. As it fell, a gossamer net shot from it, momentarily trapping the wendigos beneath. Landon twisted a knob, and the robot unfolded again, its midsection spiraling around in circles with its blades unsheathed. By the time the arms came to a rest, the wendigos surrounding it were nothing but vaporous trails wafting in the night air.

The Barrel-Bot then scuttled forward and retrieved Bobbin’s conductive rods. The children followed the machine back to the center junction of the street, where the Barrel-Bot handed the rods to her tilting forward in an awkward bow.

Bobbin scowled. Show off. 

Landon snickered. Oh, I almost forgot . . . He shoved his hand deep into his left pocket. Rummaging around, he pulled out several items, shoved them back in, and then finally pulled out a brass ball with a rubber ring around its center and two holes on either side. I got this idea from Pa. 

Bobbin winced at the mention of her pa. He wouldn’t be pleased that they had snuck out. But what choice did she have? Pa never let her go on hunts, never let her prove herself. This would show him that she and Landon could hold their own.  

Landon twisted the sphere and set it on the ground. It rolled to life, encircling the two siblings in widening arcs. A thin white line began to pour out of the holes on each side.  

Instant salt circles! Good, right?  Landed said with an excited grin.

The ball continued to roll, completing a circle just large enough for the two children to stand within. Then it spiraled outward, making ring after ring around them, each larger than the last. After three full rings, the salt ran out, but the little ball continued to roll. It rolled near the intruding mist, and a clawed foot, all tendons and bone, crushed it under its heel. The wendigo owning that foot, as well as a number of other wendigos, stepped out of the mist. The siblings huddled together in their circle.  

Can you zap anything yet? Landon asked, sounding hopeful. 

No, I’m all used up. I still need a minute to recharge.  

Then recharge, recharge! The circles won’t last too long, Bobbin!  

Landon was right. The salt would provide only a limited respite against a swell of wendigos. They were already crowding the outer ring, looking eager as they sniffed its edges. Bobbin knew they were looking for a break in the line. Landon brought his Barrel-Bot back to life. It spun, hacked, and vaporized its way through wendigo after wendigo.

Bobbin dropped to her knees, sucked in a short breath, and closed her eyes.

Landon glanced at his sister. An occasional arc crackled in her palms. He took a breath and turned to the wendigos. Some of the more enterprising brutes in the growing mob were trying to leap over the defensive circle of salt. As each one reached the invisible shield, they burst into vapor.

Landon concentrated his every thought into his Barrel-Bot’s assault. His tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth, and he mimicked every move with sympathetic body sways, back and forth. The Barrel-Bot was an endless blur of motion: cut, roll, slice, retract, parry, and thrust. At times the pack seemed to be thinning, but before Landon could push any advantage, more would take their place. Landon brought his creation’s silver blades up in a smooth motion, slicing two more wendigos into ribbons of vapor. One had been rather crooked and bent, and the other was the smallest wendigo Landon had yet seen. Concern gripped him for a moment that it might have been a child, but he decided monsters didn’t have children, and it must have been a pygmy of some kind. 

Landon pressed hard on the squelch toggle he had installed on the remote, and a high-pitched siren sounded from the Bot, making the wendigos cover their ears. A few even ran back into the mist. But then a deep growl emerged from the mist, playing counterpoint to the deafening siren. The mist began to thicken and congeal near the Barrel-Bot, and a monster different from the others emerged. This wendigo was larger, more ape-like, and wore a tarnished medallion around its neck. It had a look of utter hate in its eyes.

The wendigo didn’t even glance at the Barrel-Bot—its eyes were fixed on Landon and his sister. Landon rolled the Bot toward this newest threat, kicking Bobbin at the same time.  

He’s here. Wake up! 

The beast leaped over the robot and landed at the outer ring. Landon used the Bot to slice at the monster’s shins with a criss-cross movement, but the beast easily sidestepped the attack, causing the Barrel-Bot’s blade to strike the earth, severing both salt lines in one blow.  

It’s smarter than the others! Landon gasped.   

The Alpha brought its foot down hard on the blade that was still stuck in the ground, snapping it off the Barrel-Bot. It picked it up and held it like a dagger. The creature stepped toward the final circle, blade raised. Landon kicked his sister a few more times. 

Bobbin, wake up! Dang it! Bobbin? When she didn’t respond, Landon dropped to his knees, and with a sigh of anguish, he pressed down on the only button left on the remote. He had painted it red—it had seemed like the thing to do with a button like that. The Barrel-Bot, which was still at the Alpha’s feet, began ringing like an alarm clock. 

The explosion knocked the creature from its feet. The Alpha’s scorched skin made the air smell of burnt hair. Landon’s ears rang as he tried again to wake Bobbin.

Get up! he begged, shaking her.

It was many seconds before the Alpha stood. When it did, it shook like a wet dog and grinned. Landon felt a shiver run through him. It was a repulsive sight, not only for the toothy, lopsided malevolence in the grin, but because it was such a human thing to do. It was still grinning as it reached the last circle. It dragged the Barrel-Bot’s broken blade across the final protective barrier. Immediately three wendigos jumped through.

Blue streaks of lightning cleaved each of them in two before their fangs could ever reach their intended victims. Bobbin was on her feet now. Landon let out a small breath of relief as his sister put herself between him and the Alpha.

Bobbin held her rods in the air, determined to cut down anything that got near. The Alpha continued grinning, but its eyes were glazed with madness. It arched its back, leaning into a mournful howl. Bobbin aimed her conducting rods at the core of the beast, but before she could focus properly, it reached out and ripped them from her grasp.

At the same time, she heard Landon say, Aha! Found it! He pulled out a glove with wire coils wrapped around the fingers and slipped it on. The coils began to glow, but before Landon could use the device, the Alpha reared back on one foot and kicked Landon in the chest, sending him sprawling. A protective surge of hate mixed with her shame at bringing her brother into this. The Alpha flung the rods aside, then lunged toward Bobbin. It snatched a handful of her dress in its hairy fist and lifted her off the street with ease.

Bobbin was terrified for her brother, for her very life, but somehow, she couldn’t stop thinking about how this creature was spoiling her favorite dress. She stared defiantly into the evil face and tried to hold it with her hypnotic stare, but the Alpha appeared unaffected. Its huge jaws opened as if they hinged at the neck, ready to end her. Bobbin drew what strength she still had so she could blast this creature into tomorrow, but she never got the chance.

There was a gunshot, and then she was falling to the dusty street. Bobbin looked up to see that the beast’s hand had been obliterated by a blast of silver. She scrambled over to Landon,  looking up in time to see the butt of a gun slam into the creature’s jaw. Pa’s crimson shirt seemed like a banner, his dark suspenders exclamation points. His rolled cattleman hat, more a part of him than not, blocked his expression. Bobbin was no longer afraid of the wendigos. Pa had handled worse. But Pa being here meant one thing: he knew she’d disobeyed him.

Jacob Blackwood didn’t say a word as he stalked a group of wendigos pacing in a circle, their drool dripping onto the dirt. He carried a modified Winsome Death-Bringer with a black stock and a trigger mechanism that allowed rapid-fire shots. It fired custom ammunition: .33 caliber silver rounds inscribed with arcane runes. Jacob cocked it with a smooth three hundred and sixty-degree flip around the trigger guard, bringing the weapon to bear on one of the wolfish creatures in front of him. His hand was a blur as it