Two hours had passed since Matthew had guided the team past the Autreys’ cottage. He could see stars between the clouds as they moved like gray wraiths across the heavens. His body seemed to be one pulsing pain. Any broken bones? He didn’t think so. The pain of his shoulder where Krakowski had clouted him with the pistol was bad, but the worst pain was in his heart.

He fought against sleep. How many hours had it been since he’d slept? Many. The wind in his face was a double-edged sword; it was helping him win the fight, but his eyes were so narrowed against the blow that they kept wanting to close altogether.

He heard the sound of the viewslit sliding open.

“Stop the coach,” Julian said, his voice now even more ragged and pain-wracked than before.

“What is it?”

“Just stop. Right here, right now.”

Matthew pulled back on the reins. “Whoa, whoa,” he said. The team needed no coaxing. When the wheels had stopped rolling Matthew saw that they were on what appeared to be a desolate road with flat, snow-covered moors on either side. There were no lights but the single remaining lantern to his left, the lanterns within the coach, and the stars.

“Come down here,” Julian said, and then he slid the viewslit closed.

Matthew climbed down. His back protested. He dreaded what a mirror would tell him; the only demon in it would be himself, because in his sorry state he was sure he resembled the very Devil, if that creature were covered in black and blue bruises. Before he went to the place where there had been two doors, reduced now to one door and an opening that allowed the passengers to freeze to death, he stopped to scoop up a handful of snow and press it against the bullet crease on his cheek because that too was stinging like Satan’s most favored scorpion.

Julian was already climbing out, but with the pained slowness of an elderly man. Again he clutched at his left side. “Here.” He gave Matthew his pistol. “Hold this beast for me, and watch that bastard.” He motioned toward Firebaugh, who sat shivering in his banyan robe. “I’m going to see if there are any blankets in the back. Hoping a horse blanket, at least. A rope to tie him up with would be good, too, because I’m about to pass out. Watch him,” Julian repeated, and then he went to the landship’s stern where the two doors were closed over the baggage compartment.

When Julian got around to the back, he noted that one of the doors had been jarred a crack open, likely from the motion of the coach. He grasped both handles and pulled, and as the doors came fully open starlight glinted on the snout of a pistol that was thrust into his face.