Kill the Raven: A Thriller (Raven Trilogy Book 3)

by Kurt B. Dowdle

  Nyx turned to face him and saw that he was tall with a wide chest, broad shoulders and forearms thick with muscle that twitched when he squeezed his fists. Sweat poured down his face from the powerful heat in the chamber.

  Nyx took off her coat.

  “Tha’s better. Now we can enjoy ourselves.”

  She said, “You’re Dis Padgett.”

  He smiled. “That I am. But I’m much, much more than that. This world belongs to me. And after we’re finished, I’ll be your lord and protector. I’ll be your daddy.”

  “Why did you do it to him?”

  “Who?”

  “Aodh.”

  “Tha’s for later. No questions now.”

  “Tell me now.”

  “He was a good man, but he always wanted what was mine.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “They told me Nef Bahr was feisty. I do like my boys feisty. I can give you more than Blackall ever imagined. Now, let’s get to it.”

  Nyx unbuttoned her wool shirt, exposing the bandage wrapped tightly around her torso. She unwrapped it, letting her breasts fall free.

  Padgett’s eyes grew wide, and he said, “Sweet Jaysus.”

  She said, “Now you take off your shirt.”

  “Gladly.”

  When Dis Padgett reached for the first button, she pulled the pepperbox pistol from her boot with her right hand and held it to his forehead.

  Dis Padgett said, “Fire that gun in here and you’re killed too. Damp will explode. And even if it don’t, all my boys’ll come runnin’.”

  “Maybe.”

  “There’s more trouble in this than you know.”

  She cocked the pistol and held it steady.

  He held out his hands, palms up.

  “I can give you anything you want. Tell me. tell me what you want.”

  Without shifting her gaze, she hefted the coal axe with her three fingers and thumb.

  She saw a flicker of recognition cross the man’s face.

  He said, “I know who you are. After what’s about to happen this very day, you and me, the two of us, we could start—”

  Nyx swung the coal axe, penetrating Dis Padgett’s skull at the left temple. He let out a low groan and went down hard.

  She didn’t feel triumphant or even satisfied, and she knew that her life in the mine was over. On her way out, she caught sight of another figure in the room, someone sitting in dark.

  She gripped the coal ax tighter and stepped across the room so that her head lamp lit the corner.

  It was Short Pinky, seated on the floor, skin blue, eyes open, dead.

  He had a purple lump at his left temple, the site of the killing blow. In each of his hands they’d placed a stick of dynamite. One last sick joke. Both sticks were connected to a fuse that led out of the room. Now Nyx discerned a faint hissing that grew louder.

  THE FIRST EXPLOSION SHOOK THE GROUND beneath Nyx’s feet, the walls beside her and the ceiling above. The next one caused large chunks of coal to fall to the floor and forced the timbers to bow.

  She remembered that Aodh had told her of an iron ladder in an air vent that ran from the mine mouth to the very bottom. She’d never looked for it before, but she had a good idea where it was and started in that direction. The next series of explosions—Nyx counted six—brought more rocks down on her helmet and extinguished the candle.

  She crawled on hands and knees in complete darkness and found her way, in part, by following the shouts of men also looking for the ladder. As she neared their voices, Nyx felt a breeze of fresh air on her cheeks.

  When she came within ten feet of the base of the ladder, a cave-in blocked her path. Men clawed at the rocks that kept them from reaching the ladder, to no avail.

  Nyx, though, was able to slide through a crease barely wide enough for her narrow frame.

  She called back to the trapped men, “I’ll send help,” and she began to climb.

  The explosions came in waves as long fuses set off each line of charges. She climbed steadily, hands raw and naked torso scraped and bleeding. The wound in her side throbbed and her head ached. One tumbling rock would finish her.

  After more than an hour of climbing, Nyx looked up and saw a disc of blue sky. She pulled in a deep breath. After twenty more rungs, Nyx made it out, clawing her way to the surface, rolling onto her back and taking great gulps of fresh air.

  Men gathered to see the spectacle of a woman, nude from the waist up, bloodied and bruised.

  A fire captain with a bushy red moustache leaned over her face and said, “This is no place to rest.”

  “You have to help them. There’s many more down there. Trapped. Go get them.”

  The fire captain gave a sad shake of his head. “All’s lost,” he said. “The damp.”

  “They did it on purpose,” Nyx said, although the fire captain had already moved on.

  Two firemen picked her up by wrists and ankles and carried her to safety. They set her down behind a fire wagon and wrapped her in a wool blanket.

  One of them said, “Doctor’ll be here directly.”

  But Nyx knew that soon someone would recognize her and that she’d be arrested, or worse. She stood up, pulled the blanket tight around her and ran down the back of the mountain.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  NYX SPENT THE NEXT THREE WEEKS at Joe’s cabin, letting her wounds heal and awaiting the return of Angus, Joe, Shaw and Autumn. But they never came.

  Instead, an odd letter carrier arrived one cold winter day with a letter, written in Angus’s scrawl that read, “Gnaddenhutten.” She knew that meant they weren’t coming back, not soon anyway, and that she could find them in Ohio, if she wished. Nyx had no plans to join them, though, no plans to do anything at all, really, except perhaps to find Aodh.

  She assumed she was still wanted for a variety of reasons: the original bounty on her head, killing the sheriff, the raid on the mansion, Dis Padgett. And so, Nyx resolved to remain hidden. But her need to find Aodh won out.

  In the pre-dawn one morning, she made the familiar march to the mine mouth. She suspected that after the previous batch of miners had been slaughtered and their deaths ruled an accident, a new crop would have been sent in at lower pay. And she was right. As she approached the summit of Sleeping Bear Mountain, she heard all the familiar sounds that signaled the start of the day. Someone would know Aodh’s whereabouts.

  Nyx quizzed a half a dozen men, all of whom spoke Hungarian and none of whom recognized Aodh’s name.

  She found an old German woman at the base of the spoil heap and said, “Where’s Aodh Blackall?”

  The woman gave her a long look and then pointed halfway up.

  Nyx recognized Aodh there, or rather, recognized the sad facsimile of the man she’d known. He was hunched, scuttling along the side of the slag, searching for shards of coal.

  When she climbed to where he was and took him by the arm, he looked up, mouth hanging open. He stared at her and showed no flash of recognition. Then he shook her hand off his arm.

  Nyx trudged back to Joe’s cabin, head down. When she walked in, at first she didn’t notice the smell of coffee or the man seated at the table. Nor did she see another man, who held a shotgun and stood behind the door.

  The man seated at the table said, “I’ve made enough for both of us.”

  He spoke with a refined German accent, and now Nyx noticed his wavy blonde hair, lightly oiled and combed straight back. Joachim S. Thaler.

  Nyx looked at the man with the shotgun, and Thaler said to him, “Wait outside.”

  The man went out the front door and closed it behind him.

  Thaler gestured to the empty chair at the table and said to Nyx, “Have a seat.”

  He took a sip of coffee from the mug she always used. Nyx stood motionless. She’d been running for the past two years, and finally she’d been well and truly caught.

  “Whatever you’re going to do to me, just do it.”

  “I’m not here to do anything to you. That
time has passed.”

  “Then leave.”

  The anger and sorrow had drained from Nyx. There was nothing left.

  Thaler shifted in his chair. “I do need to speak with you briefly. Please, sit.”

  Nyx sat down and stared past Thaler, out the back window.

  He said, “I need you to understand something.”

  “Really.”

  “Our revels are now ended, Nadine. You’re not to press the matter any further.”

  She looked at him now. “The matter?”

  “Indeed. And I’ll speak in plain terms here—”

  “Good.”

  Thaler leaned toward Nyx and looked straight in her eyes.

  “Your claim against Black Feather, a legitimate claim, has been settled. Or should I say, you’ve settled it in a most spectacular way.”

  “What about Kamp? I guess you settled your claim with him, too. Is that it? Why couldn’t you just leave him alone?”

  Thaler shifted in his seat, but his gaze didn’t leave Nyx.

  “He got caught up in something. He learned information he shouldn’t have known. And he committed horrific crimes. He wasn’t well, Nadine, even before he was injured in the war. You should know that.”

  “You’re insane. All of you.”

  “You were drawn into this matter as an unintended consequence, as were your parents. It couldn’t be helped.”

  “What about the Fraternal Order of the Raven and your dumb fucking coins?”

  Thaler looked out the window, then said, “I assure you there’s no such thing as a Fraternal Order of the Raven.”

  “Of course there is.”

  “As far as Black Feather Consolidated is concerned, you’re free to go and no harm will come to you or those about whom you care.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought that would be welcome news to you.”

  Nyx felt the flames of anger burst to life at the base of her skull.

  “What about what you did to Aodh Blackall? You ruined him. And all the people you killed in the mine just so you could get other guys who’d work for less. What about all of them?”

  “Nadine, it’s beyond your understanding.”

  “Like hell it is.”

  “The money must move. Those men in the mine, including your friend, needed to be replaced. Expeditiously.”

  All the rage and grief Nyx had held inside since her parents were killed and some from even before that burst forth now. She slapped Joachim S. Thaler with one hand and then the other. And when that didn’t do enough damage, she balled her fists and punched him again and again in the face.

  Thaler offered no resistance, and soon a welt formed under each eye and blood flowed from both his nostrils. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket, wiped away the blood and then combed his hair back with his fingers.

  “Nadine, you’ve done the same as we have. And you know it.”

  “Only because—”

  “We live in the same world, alas. It’s the cost of doing business. And now the business is done.”

  Nyx looked up. “Why would it be over now?”

  Thaler laid his hand on the table, palm up. “Give me your hand,” he said.

  “I’m not—”

  “The injured one.”

  Nyx reached out her hand and let him touch it. He caressed it and ran his fingers along the places where her missing fingers had been cut off. She felt the pulse in his fingertips.

  He leaned forward and said, “It was never intended for you to be hurt. We wanted to help you. I wanted to help you.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “It’s true. That’s why I returned your father’s pistol to you.”

  Nyx pulled her hand away.

  “Your friend Wyles has settled her claim as well. She saved my life, and no harm will come to her. She is free to pursue her livelihood without interference.”

  Nyx said, “I still don’t see why I—”

  “You won the game, Nadine. You killed the raven.”

  Joachim S. Thaler stood up, put on his hat, tipped it to Nyx, and left.

  EPILOGUE

  THE BETHLEHEM DAILY TIMES REPORTED the following:

  “James Shelter, 52, Chairman and Chief Executive of Black Feather Consolidated, perished unexpectedly on the evening of August 31, 1873 in the town of Mauch Chunk, Pennsylvania. A devoted husband, father and accomplished industrialist, he is survived by his loving wife, Elyse, and their two boys.

  The Honorable Tate Cain, 64, longstanding adjudicator and benefactor to the County of Northampton, died peacefully in his sleep after a brief illness. His contributions to the people of Northampton County cannot be overstated, and he will be greatly missed.

  Bartholemew H. Grigg, 33, Northampton County District Attorney, is hereby the Acting Judge until such time as a new judge is elected.

  Joachim S. Thaler, 46, former head of Black Feather Extraction, has been named Chairman and Chief Executive of the Black Feather Consolidated Industries of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.

  The murderer Nickel Glock was killed by the Honorable J. Blasius Grimp of Mauch Chunk, Pennsylvania. Judge Grimp donated the entire reward in the amount of one thousand dollars for the founding of an Indian Industrial School at Carlisle, Pennsylvania.

  Captain Wendell W. Kamp, 28, member of the 1st United States Sharpshooters, veteran of the Second Battle of Bull Run and the Battles of Antietam and Frdericksburg and former Detective, Bethlehem Police Department, succumbed at his home to complications related to injuries received during the War Between the States. He is preceded in death by his father, Horace G. Kamp, his mother, Alice B. Kamp (née Erzähler) and his brothers Wilhelm, Johannes, and Matthias.

  May he rest in eternal peace.”