“With The Unkillable Frank Lightning, Rountree solidifies himself as not only one of the best writers working today, but makes the case for being the best Western writer of our present century.” —C. S. Humble, author of That Light Sublime trilogy
With his signature lean, clean prose, Teaxan author Josh Rountree (The Legend of Charlie Fish) has penned a Frankenstein-inspired tale unlike any other. With equal parts Cormac McCarthy, Mary Shelley, and Stephen Graham Jones, Rountree creates a dramatic tale of love, death, and its terrible aftermath.
Texas author Josh Rountree (The Legend of Charlie Fish) has created a devastating Frankenstein-inspired tale set in the Wild West. With equal parts Cormac McCarthy, Mary Shelley, and Stephen Graham Jones, Rountree creates a work of historical horror that deftly navigates the terrible aftermath of love and death.
With The Unkillable Frank Lightning, Rountree solidifies himself as not only one of the best writers working today, but makes the case for being the best Western writer of our present century.” —C. S. Humble, author of That Light Sublime trilogy
Catherine Coldbridge is a complicated woman: A doctor, an occultist, and, briefly, a widow.
In 1879, Private Frank Humble, Catherine’s husband, was killed in a Sioux attack. Consumed by grief, she used her formidable skills to resurrect him. But Frank lost his soul after the reanimation, and disappeared after a killing spree. Unable to face her failure and its murderous consequences, Catherine fled to grieve.
Twenty-five years later, Catherine has decided she must make things right. She travels back to Texas with a pair of hired killers ready to destroy Frank. But Frank has remade himself as the Unkillable Frank Lightning, traveling with the Wild West Show.
Reaching for a last chance at redemption, Frank and Catherine are at an impasse. As time runs out, their final choices may result in considerable bloodshed.
“Weird and heartfelt and hard to pull your eyes away from.” —Stephen Graham Jones, author of The Buffalo Hunter Hunter
“With The Unkillable Frank Lightning, Rountree solidifies himself as not only one of the best writers working today, but makes the case for being the best Western writer of our present century.”
—C. S. Humble, author of the That Light Sublime trilogy
“Once you start reading The Unkillable Frank Lightning, you just won’t be able to stop. Catherine Coldbridge and her companions and her Old West are endlessly fascinating.” —Tim Powers, author of Declare and The Stress of Her Regard
“The well-trod Frankenstein mythos gets an enjoyable twist in this weird western from Rountree (The Legend of Charlie Fish). In 1879, frontier medicine woman and occultist Dr. Catherine Coldbridge attempts to resurrect her late husband, Frank, via a mixture of science and witchcraft. The spell works, but the man who returns is violent and incoherent and Catherine flees. Thirty years later, however, she discovers her resurrected husband is now thriving as the star attraction in Cowboy Dan’s Wild West Revue. Catherine enlists a pair of outlaws to help her track Frank down, but a drunken shoot-out compels her to attempt another arcane resurrection, drawing the wrath of a conservative frontier town. It’s a rollicking romp with a fast-paced plot and well-written characters that play with western archetypes in unique ways.” —Publishers Weekly
“Josh’s novel, The Legend of Charlie Fish, was a “must-read” for us here at Macabre Daily, and an all-time favorite, and his new novel, The Unkillable Frank Lightning, is just as phenomenal.”
—Macabre Daily
“What begins as The Searchers meets Frankenstein ends as Unforgiven meets The Magicians. A dark, brooding meditation on both what we’ll do for love, and the callous indifference of the hardened souls of the early West.”
—C. Robert Cargill, co-screenwriter of The Black Phone
“This western reimagining of Shelley’s classic sticks true to the heart of the story, while giving us something entirely new and breathlessly exciting. Everything Rountree writes is a treat. I hated to put it down.”
—Chris Panatier, author of The Redemption of Morgan Bright
“The Unkillable Frank Lightning, much like The Legend of Charlie Fish, becomes a kind of paean to the outcast, to the monstrous, and to a land where, once upon a time, there was room enough for them find both love and acceptance.”
—Fan Fi Addict
“Western horror at its finest.”
—Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam, author of Grim Root
“This is the F-Monster we’ve always wanted, in a yarn we never knew we needed―until now.”
―David J. Schow, screenwriter of The Crow
“In The Unkillable Frank Lightning, Josh Rountree mixes Charles Portis’s True Grit and Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove with elements of James Whale’s The Bride of Frankenstein for a relentless train-ride of a novel.” —Derek Austin Johnson, author of The Faith
“Rountree continues to hitch his wagon to his unique and fun storytelling genre―the neo-Gothic Western monster mash. His work, as always, is full of heart.”
―David Sandner, author of The Afterlife of Frankenstein
“The Unkillable Frank Lightning stands with the best of Charles Portis, Joe R. Lansdale, and Larry McMurtry. Buckle up for a wild ride.”
―William Jensen, author of Cities of Men
“[The Unkillable Frank Lightning], like every damn word I have read from Josh Rountree, is perfection.”
―John Boden, author of Etiquette of Booby Traps
Photo by Leah Muse
Josh Rountree is a novelist and short story writer who writes across multiple genres, and focuses mostly on horror and dark fantasy. His novel The Legend of Charlie Fish, released by Tachyon Publications to wide acclaim in 2023, selected for the Locus Recommended Reading List, and named one of Los Angeles Public Library’s best books of the year. More than seventy of Rountree’s short stories have been published in a variety of venues, including The Deadlands, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Bourbon Penn, Realms of Fantasy, PseudoPod, Weird Horror, and The Year’s Best Dark Fantasy & Horror. Several collections of his short fiction have been published, most recently, Death Aesthetic. Rountree lives in the greater Austin, Texas, metropolitan area with his lovely wife of many years and a pair of half-feral dogs who command his obedience.
Praise for The Legend of Charlie Fish
San Antonio Current 10 Notable 2023 books from Texan Authors Los Angeles Public Library Best Books of 2023 Locus Recommended Reading List
“A fantastic work of dark historical fiction, in the spirit of Lansdale, Gorman, Pronzini, and McMurtry.” —Brian Keene, author of the Rising series
“A tense, exciting, and gorgeous read that will sweep you up immediately and not let go, lingering even after you turn the last page.” —A. C. Wise, author of Wendy, Darling
“Odd, creepy, funny, The Black Lagoon meets the Six Gun universe. High up on the way-cool factor. You need this.” —Joe R. Lansdale, author of the Hap and Leonard series
“A paean to turn of the 20th century Galveston, Tex., Rountree’s romp of a debut novel (after the collection Fantastic Americana) combines a historical disaster with fantastical elements, including a creature who would fit right in, in the Black Lagoon.” —Publishers Weekly
“Equal parts touching and bizarre, The Legend of Charlie Fish is a Weird Western with heart and is a completely delightful read from start to finish.” —David Liss, author of The Peculiarities
“A tight heart-filled tapestry of almost alternate history that hits all the notes I crave in weird fiction. I adored it.” —John Boden, author of Jedi Summer, Spungunion, and Snarl
“The lyrical prose and sense of foreboding as undeniable as the first gusts of a hurricane make for an utterly charming and haunting tale.” —KC Grifant, author of Melinda West: Monster Gunslinger
VERDICT: Rountree’s colorful palette brings together Western and fantasy elements to create a magical tale about the deep bonds forged by circumstance.” —Library Journal
This isn’t science. It’s more like black magic.
—Dr. Frankenstein, Bride of Frankenstein
Yesterday’s gone on down the river, and you can’t get it back.
—Larry McMurtry, Lonesome Dove
This is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.
—Maxwell Scott, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance
Texas on a Fast Train
From the Arkansas Woods to Dallas, Texas
Spring 1905
I never imagined myself the sort of woman to throw in with a pair of killers, but Frank’s death unmoored me from the stable life I’d known, and I’d spent the ensuing years shedding every trace of civility and decorum that my society parents had bred into me. The Sioux arrows that killed Frank stole my life as well, and yet I couldn’t allow simple human grief to excuse my actions in the wake of his death, or to forgive the life I’d lived since then. Everyone loses people they love. Most of them, however, consign those souls to eternity. They mourn and move on. They don’t lose themselves in their own carefully crafted afterlives. And they certainly don’t summon their husbands back from the dead.
I have made mistakes that can’t be forgiven.
We rode a train to Texas, a place I’d never been, and one I had no desire to visit. In my imagination, Texas was a hard, unforgiving vista of rock and fallow earth. A land that celebrated horse thieves and murderers and anyone else seeking asylum from the civilized world. The prospect of Texas thrilled my wicked companions, and that was enough to turn me off the place. I considered Texas might be my own personal Hell, and knew it was better than I deserved.
“Are you comfortable, Dr. Coldbridge?”
Aubrey Dawson sat beside me. The train shuddered and rocked, carved a straight line through a forest of towering Arkansas pines and clawing cedars that seemed to suck all the oxygen from the train car. The air was moist and hot, and smelled like decay. Sunlight was scarce, and shadows blossomed. I longed for the trees to vanish and the plains to open wide before us so I might breathe again. Aubrey suffered no such claustrophobia. He sat by the window, eternally smiling, like he shared some secret with the forest that the rest of us would never understand. Despite the heat, he kept his blue jacket buttoned tight over his waistcoat and his gray felt hat tipped back at the perfect rakish angle. He was dangerously handsome with his beard clipped neat and his eyes like cold blue gemstones. He was mannered, and at times pleasant, but despite his best efforts, the low man inside him peered out from time to time, revealing the unsavory aspects of his nature.
“Yes, I’m quite fine, Aubrey,” I said.
“Offer you a drink?” Aubrey withdrew a tin flask from his pocket and waved it in my direction. I had become quite familiar with that flask in our travels and was grateful for the offer. Given free reign, I’d drink the whole thing in a series of furious swallows, but like Aubrey, there were aspects of myself that I preferred to keep hidden when possible.
“Just a sip, I guess.”
Aubrey handed me the flask, and I took a bit more than a sip.
“I like a woman who’ll have a nip of whiskey now and again.” He retrieved his flask from my reluctant hand, took a drink, and returned it to his pocket.
“And I like men who don’t comment on my base proclivities. I suppose I’m destined for disappointment.”
“Nothing wrong with enjoying yourself,” he said.
“I never said I liked it. I was thirsty.”
“We’re all of us thirsty, all the time it seems.”
“I like you better when you keep quiet,” I said.
That drew laughter from the seat across the aisle. Aubrey’s brother, Seth, lounged with his hat down over his eyes, but he’d obviously been following our conversation. The Dawson brothers claimed to be twins, but there appeared little relation between them. Aubrey enjoyed his finery, but Seth’s black coat was disheveled and stashed in the seat beside him, his shirt untucked except where it would interfere with his holster. Aubrey chose a particular cologne that he mail-ordered from Boston, and he existed in a fog of sage and sandalwood, while Seth smelled only of his unwashed body, and often of whiskey. Having spent the last week in their company, I was convinced the creator had doled out all the manners and good looks in their family to Aubrey, and had left Seth begging for the scraps. Despite that, Seth seemed always in good humor, and I’d yet to experience his shadow side, though I suspected that was at least one quality he shared with his brother.
“Aubrey is usually the quiet sort,” said Seth. “You must bring out the talker in him. He’s often too reserved for his own good.”
“I’ll admit, it’s a character flaw I can’t overcome.”
“I suppose it’s not the talking I mind,” I said, “it’s what you have to say.”
Seth laughed all the harder, and Aubrey didn’t let his smile slip for a second.
Under other circumstances, I might not have felt comfortable being so bold in their company. Might, in fact, have feared for my life. But I paid them five hundred dollars each before our departure, and I’d promised to double that amount upon our return to St. Louis. A hedge against them deciding to take my money and leave unfinished the job for which I’d hired them. So, if for no other reason than simple greed, I believed they’d endure a measure of my unpleasant personality, my ribbing, and my naked disdain. I was without love or happiness, and rarely chased those things anymore. But I had plenty of money, and that was enough to keep a person moving forward through life, if they were skilled enough at self-deception to pretend all those other things didn’t matter.
Aubrey went back to looking out the window, kept his palm rested on his pistol, as he always did. I reminded myself these were not my friends. They were a hard pair. Alleged killers. And they’d have no problem burying me too if circumstances demanded.
Thankfully I was years past caring what became of me.
“I’d like another drink,” I said.
“I’m sure you would,” said Aubrey.
“Can I have another, is what I’m asking.”
“Well, as long as you’re asking nice.”
This time I took the flask and drained it. I did my best to wait a while between sips, to pretend there was no urgency in my gut that demanded to be sated. I disguised myself as a proper lady with my bustle in place and my corset drawn tight as a clenched fist around my midsection. My forest green hat matched my dress. I kept it fastened to my head with a fat ribbon, and my graying chestnut hair was knotted up beneath it. But I could only play at being the person I used to be so much. I ignored Aubrey’s satisfied look when I handed him the empty flask. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the swimmy feeling in my head as the liquor sought out my bloodstream. Despite my efforts, Aubrey and Seth had figured out exactly the person I was, and I wasn’t sure why I continued to put on airs.
I lazed in the seat for a long time. Maybe I slept. The motion of the train became a steady comfort, and as rain began to patter against the top of the car, I experienced dreams or visions. It was hard to tell which anymore. Summoning my husband’s soul back into his broken body had required me to reach out my mind to a darker corner of reality, and while doing so, I’d disturbed something that had haunted me through the intervening years. White as the face of the moon and just as featureless. Slender as a willow tree with limbs that stretched and flowed like milky blood though the veins of the world. The creature lived in my dreams and in the periphery of my waking hours, visible in the silvery reflection of old mirrors and coiling through the bustle of crowded streets. Never revealing itself in full, but always haunting me.
No matter how much whiskey, no matter how powerful the dose of laudanum, it remained a near constant companion, and the only explanation I could surmise was that I’d awoken some guardian of the afterlife. And it would not sleep again until I’d made some sort of amends. It had taken a long time to work up to what needed to be done, but now that I had, I would not allow myself to be deterred.
The Unkillable Frank Lightning
Josh Rountree
“With The Unkillable Frank Lightning, Rountree solidifies himself as not only one of the best writers working today, but makes the case for being the best Western writer of our present century.”
—C. S. Humble, author of That Light Sublime trilogy
With his signature lean, clean prose, Teaxan author Josh Rountree (The Legend of Charlie Fish) has penned a Frankenstein-inspired tale unlike any other. With equal parts Cormac McCarthy, Mary Shelley, and Stephen Graham Jones, Rountree creates a dramatic tale of love, death, and its terrible aftermath.
The Unkillable Frank Lightning
by Josh Rountree
ISBN: 978-1-61696-436-8 (print); 978-1-61696-437-5 (digital)
Published: 15 July 2025
Available Format(s): digital, trade paperback
Texas author Josh Rountree (The Legend of Charlie Fish) has created a devastating Frankenstein-inspired tale set in the Wild West. With equal parts Cormac McCarthy, Mary Shelley, and Stephen Graham Jones, Rountree creates a work of historical horror that deftly navigates the terrible aftermath of love and death.
With The Unkillable Frank Lightning, Rountree solidifies himself as not only one of the best writers working today, but makes the case for being the best Western writer of our present century.”
—C. S. Humble, author of That Light Sublime trilogy
Catherine Coldbridge is a complicated woman: A doctor, an occultist, and, briefly, a widow.
In 1879, Private Frank Humble, Catherine’s husband, was killed in a Sioux attack. Consumed by grief, she used her formidable skills to resurrect him. But Frank lost his soul after the reanimation, and disappeared after a killing spree. Unable to face her failure and its murderous consequences, Catherine fled to grieve.
Twenty-five years later, Catherine has decided she must make things right. She travels back to Texas with a pair of hired killers ready to destroy Frank. But Frank has remade himself as the Unkillable Frank Lightning, traveling with the Wild West Show.
Reaching for a last chance at redemption, Frank and Catherine are at an impasse. As time runs out, their final choices may result in considerable bloodshed.
Advance Praise for The Unkillable Frank Lightning
“Weird and heartfelt and hard to pull your eyes away from.”
—Stephen Graham Jones, author of The Buffalo Hunter Hunter
“With The Unkillable Frank Lightning, Rountree solidifies himself as not only one of the best writers working today, but makes the case for being the best Western writer of our present century.”
—C. S. Humble, author of the That Light Sublime trilogy
“Once you start reading The Unkillable Frank Lightning, you just won’t be able to stop. Catherine Coldbridge and her companions and her Old West are endlessly fascinating.”
—Tim Powers, author of Declare and The Stress of Her Regard
“The well-trod Frankenstein mythos gets an enjoyable twist in this weird western from Rountree (The Legend of Charlie Fish). In 1879, frontier medicine woman and occultist Dr. Catherine Coldbridge attempts to resurrect her late husband, Frank, via a mixture of science and witchcraft. The spell works, but the man who returns is violent and incoherent and Catherine flees. Thirty years later, however, she discovers her resurrected husband is now thriving as the star attraction in Cowboy Dan’s Wild West Revue. Catherine enlists a pair of outlaws to help her track Frank down, but a drunken shoot-out compels her to attempt another arcane resurrection, drawing the wrath of a conservative frontier town. It’s a rollicking romp with a fast-paced plot and well-written characters that play with western archetypes in unique ways.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Josh’s novel, The Legend of Charlie Fish, was a “must-read” for us here at Macabre Daily, and an all-time favorite, and his new novel, The Unkillable Frank Lightning, is just as phenomenal.”
—Macabre Daily
“What begins as The Searchers meets Frankenstein ends as Unforgiven meets The Magicians. A dark, brooding meditation on both what we’ll do for love, and the callous indifference of the hardened souls of the early West.”
—C. Robert Cargill, co-screenwriter of The Black Phone
“This western reimagining of Shelley’s classic sticks true to the heart of the story, while giving us something entirely new and breathlessly exciting. Everything Rountree writes is a treat. I hated to put it down.”
—Chris Panatier, author of The Redemption of Morgan Bright
“The Unkillable Frank Lightning, much like The Legend of Charlie Fish, becomes a kind of paean to the outcast, to the monstrous, and to a land where, once upon a time, there was room enough for them find both love and acceptance.”
—Fan Fi Addict
“Western horror at its finest.”
—Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam, author of Grim Root
“This is the F-Monster we’ve always wanted, in a yarn we never knew we needed―until now.”
―David J. Schow, screenwriter of The Crow
“In The Unkillable Frank Lightning, Josh Rountree mixes Charles Portis’s True Grit and Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove with elements of James Whale’s The Bride of Frankenstein for a relentless train-ride of a novel.”
—Derek Austin Johnson, author of The Faith
“Rountree continues to hitch his wagon to his unique and fun storytelling genre―the neo-Gothic Western monster mash. His work, as always, is full of heart.”
―David Sandner, author of The Afterlife of Frankenstein
“The Unkillable Frank Lightning stands with the best of Charles Portis, Joe R. Lansdale, and Larry McMurtry. Buckle up for a wild ride.”
―William Jensen, author of Cities of Men
“[The Unkillable Frank Lightning], like every damn word I have read from Josh Rountree, is perfection.”
―John Boden, author of Etiquette of Booby Traps
Josh Rountree is a novelist and short story writer who writes across multiple genres, and focuses mostly on horror and dark fantasy. His novel The Legend of Charlie Fish, released by Tachyon Publications to wide acclaim in 2023, selected for the Locus Recommended Reading List, and named one of Los Angeles Public Library’s best books of the year. More than seventy of Rountree’s short stories have been published in a variety of venues, including The Deadlands, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Bourbon Penn, Realms of Fantasy, PseudoPod, Weird Horror, and The Year’s Best Dark Fantasy & Horror. Several collections of his short fiction have been published, most recently, Death Aesthetic. Rountree lives in the greater Austin, Texas, metropolitan area with his lovely wife of many years and a pair of half-feral dogs who command his obedience.
Praise for The Legend of Charlie Fish
San Antonio Current 10 Notable 2023 books from Texan Authors
Los Angeles Public Library Best Books of 2023
Locus Recommended Reading List
“A fantastic work of dark historical fiction, in the spirit of Lansdale, Gorman, Pronzini, and McMurtry.” —Brian Keene, author of the Rising series
“A tense, exciting, and gorgeous read that will sweep you up immediately and not let go, lingering even after you turn the last page.” —A. C. Wise, author of Wendy, Darling
“Odd, creepy, funny, The Black Lagoon meets the Six Gun universe. High up on the way-cool factor. You need this.” —Joe R. Lansdale, author of the Hap and Leonard series
“A paean to turn of the 20th century Galveston, Tex., Rountree’s romp of a debut novel (after the collection Fantastic Americana) combines a historical disaster with fantastical elements, including a creature who would fit right in, in the Black Lagoon.” —Publishers Weekly
“Equal parts touching and bizarre, The Legend of Charlie Fish is a Weird Western with heart and is a completely delightful read from start to finish.” —David Liss, author of The Peculiarities
“A tight heart-filled tapestry of almost alternate history that hits all the notes I crave in weird fiction. I adored it.” —John Boden, author of Jedi Summer, Spungunion, and Snarl
“The lyrical prose and sense of foreboding as undeniable as the first gusts of a hurricane make for an utterly charming and haunting tale.” —KC Grifant, author of Melinda West: Monster Gunslinger
VERDICT: Rountree’s colorful palette brings together Western and fantasy elements to create a magical tale about the deep bonds forged by circumstance.” —Library Journal
This isn’t science. It’s more like black magic.
—Dr. Frankenstein, Bride of Frankenstein
Yesterday’s gone on down the river, and you can’t get it back.
—Larry McMurtry, Lonesome Dove
This is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.
—Maxwell Scott, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance
Texas on a Fast Train
From the Arkansas Woods to Dallas, Texas
Spring 1905
I never imagined myself the sort of woman to throw in with a pair of killers, but Frank’s death unmoored me from the stable life I’d known, and I’d spent the ensuing years shedding every trace of civility and decorum that my society parents had bred into me. The Sioux arrows that killed Frank stole my life as well, and yet I couldn’t allow simple human grief to excuse my actions in the wake of his death, or to forgive the life I’d lived since then. Everyone loses people they love. Most of them, however, consign those souls to eternity. They mourn and move on. They don’t lose themselves in their own carefully crafted afterlives. And they certainly don’t summon their husbands back from the dead.
I have made mistakes that can’t be forgiven.
We rode a train to Texas, a place I’d never been, and one I had no desire to visit. In my imagination, Texas was a hard, unforgiving vista of rock and fallow earth. A land that celebrated horse thieves and murderers and anyone else seeking asylum from the civilized world. The prospect of Texas thrilled my wicked companions, and that was enough to turn me off the place. I considered Texas might be my own personal Hell, and knew it was better than I deserved.
“Are you comfortable, Dr. Coldbridge?”
Aubrey Dawson sat beside me. The train shuddered and rocked, carved a straight line through a forest of towering Arkansas pines and clawing cedars that seemed to suck all the oxygen from the train car. The air was moist and hot, and smelled like decay. Sunlight was scarce, and shadows blossomed. I longed for the trees to vanish and the plains to open wide before us so I might breathe again. Aubrey suffered no such claustrophobia. He sat by the window, eternally smiling, like he shared some secret with the forest that the rest of us would never understand. Despite the heat, he kept his blue jacket buttoned tight over his waistcoat and his gray felt hat tipped back at the perfect rakish angle. He was dangerously handsome with his beard clipped neat and his eyes like cold blue gemstones. He was mannered, and at times pleasant, but despite his best efforts, the low man inside him peered out from time to time, revealing the unsavory aspects of his nature.
“Yes, I’m quite fine, Aubrey,” I said.
“Offer you a drink?” Aubrey withdrew a tin flask from his pocket and waved it in my direction. I had become quite familiar with that flask in our travels and was grateful for the offer. Given free reign, I’d drink the whole thing in a series of furious swallows, but like Aubrey, there were aspects of myself that I preferred to keep hidden when possible.
“Just a sip, I guess.”
Aubrey handed me the flask, and I took a bit more than a sip.
“I like a woman who’ll have a nip of whiskey now and again.” He retrieved his flask from my reluctant hand, took a drink, and returned it to his pocket.
“And I like men who don’t comment on my base proclivities. I suppose I’m destined for disappointment.”
“Nothing wrong with enjoying yourself,” he said.
“I never said I liked it. I was thirsty.”
“We’re all of us thirsty, all the time it seems.”
“I like you better when you keep quiet,” I said.
That drew laughter from the seat across the aisle. Aubrey’s brother, Seth, lounged with his hat down over his eyes, but he’d obviously been following our conversation. The Dawson brothers claimed to be twins, but there appeared little relation between them. Aubrey enjoyed his finery, but Seth’s black coat was disheveled and stashed in the seat beside him, his shirt untucked except where it would interfere with his holster. Aubrey chose a particular cologne that he mail-ordered from Boston, and he existed in a fog of sage and sandalwood, while Seth smelled only of his unwashed body, and often of whiskey. Having spent the last week in their company, I was convinced the creator had doled out all the manners and good looks in their family to Aubrey, and had left Seth begging for the scraps. Despite that, Seth seemed always in good humor, and I’d yet to experience his shadow side, though I suspected that was at least one quality he shared with his brother.
“Aubrey is usually the quiet sort,” said Seth. “You must bring out the talker in him. He’s often too reserved for his own good.”
“I’ll admit, it’s a character flaw I can’t overcome.”
“I suppose it’s not the talking I mind,” I said, “it’s what you have to say.”
Seth laughed all the harder, and Aubrey didn’t let his smile slip for a second.
Under other circumstances, I might not have felt comfortable being so bold in their company. Might, in fact, have feared for my life. But I paid them five hundred dollars each before our departure, and I’d promised to double that amount upon our return to St. Louis. A hedge against them deciding to take my money and leave unfinished the job for which I’d hired them. So, if for no other reason than simple greed, I believed they’d endure a measure of my unpleasant personality, my ribbing, and my naked disdain. I was without love or happiness, and rarely chased those things anymore. But I had plenty of money, and that was enough to keep a person moving forward through life, if they were skilled enough at self-deception to pretend all those other things didn’t matter.
Aubrey went back to looking out the window, kept his palm rested on his pistol, as he always did. I reminded myself these were not my friends. They were a hard pair. Alleged killers. And they’d have no problem burying me too if circumstances demanded.
Thankfully I was years past caring what became of me.
“I’d like another drink,” I said.
“I’m sure you would,” said Aubrey.
“Can I have another, is what I’m asking.”
“Well, as long as you’re asking nice.”
This time I took the flask and drained it. I did my best to wait a while between sips, to pretend there was no urgency in my gut that demanded to be sated. I disguised myself as a proper lady with my bustle in place and my corset drawn tight as a clenched fist around my midsection. My forest green hat matched my dress. I kept it fastened to my head with a fat ribbon, and my graying chestnut hair was knotted up beneath it. But I could only play at being the person I used to be so much. I ignored Aubrey’s satisfied look when I handed him the empty flask. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the swimmy feeling in my head as the liquor sought out my bloodstream. Despite my efforts, Aubrey and Seth had figured out exactly the person I was, and I wasn’t sure why I continued to put on airs.
I lazed in the seat for a long time. Maybe I slept. The motion of the train became a steady comfort, and as rain began to patter against the top of the car, I experienced dreams or visions. It was hard to tell which anymore. Summoning my husband’s soul back into his broken body had required me to reach out my mind to a darker corner of reality, and while doing so, I’d disturbed something that had haunted me through the intervening years. White as the face of the moon and just as featureless. Slender as a willow tree with limbs that stretched and flowed like milky blood though the veins of the world. The creature lived in my dreams and in the periphery of my waking hours, visible in the silvery reflection of old mirrors and coiling through the bustle of crowded streets. Never revealing itself in full, but always haunting me.
No matter how much whiskey, no matter how powerful the dose of laudanum, it remained a near constant companion, and the only explanation I could surmise was that I’d awoken some guardian of the afterlife. And it would not sleep again until I’d made some sort of amends. It had taken a long time to work up to what needed to be done, but now that I had, I would not allow myself to be deterred.
“We have arrived, Dr. Coldbridge.”