by Ann Charles
“It is also believed,” Mr. Black said, “that anyone who encountered the hunters would be captured and delivered to the underworld where torture and death awaited.”
Doc cocked his head as he frowned at the clock. “Wasn’t there something about how being captured by the hunters could result in a nightmare in which the victim would be forced to join the hunt?”
“That is also correct, Orakel. However, this nightmare is not the sort that comes in one’s sleep. It is in reference not to a nightmare, but to an altered state of reality.”
Well, wasn’t that just fucking wonderful? I crossed my arms. “To be clear, those creatures I dealt with in Slagton are part of this mythical hunt?”
“They are the hounds, if you will,” Mr. Black said. “They will lead the hunter to the prey.”
“With Violet being the prey,” Aunt Zoe said, her blue eyes lined with worry when they met mine.
“In this instance, ja. Der Scharfrichter is now the hunted.”
“Why me?”
“You’ve seen the hunters, Killer.” Doc’s eyes mirrored Aunt Zoe’s.
“There is the probability of another reason,” Mr. Black said, drawing all three of our gazes. “Having ein Scharfrichter join their hunts would be quite advantageous.”
“If they want me to join, why are the mutant griffins attacking me?”
“Mutant griffins?” Mr. Black repeated. “Ja, that works, too.”
If he approved of referring to the creatures as “mutant griffins,” what would he think of “sabertooth turkeys”?
“They attack,” he answered, “because they are difficult to control, at best.”
“Doesn’t their leader need to be here for the hunt?” Aunt Zoe asked.
“Their master is simply the leader of the pack. They are intelligent creatures. You should also be aware that according to legend, they are singularly capable of recognizing enemies, such as ein Scharfrichter.”
I thought back to the first creature I killed in the woodshed. “It knew my name,” I told him. “I mean what I am—a Scharfrichter.”
“But you killed it,” Aunt Zoe said. “Before it could tell the others.”
“Are you sure?” Mr. Black asked.
I thought back to the scene in the woodshed. “It made a strange sound while it was hiding in the shadows, sort of like a turkey gobble but more screeching.”
“It was communicating,” Mr. Black said. “Another was nigh.”
“So, they all know about me and there are five left?”
“Christ.” Doc growled in his throat. “This is only one myth out of hundreds passed down through generations. What’s yet to come?”
Mr. Black pointed at the clock. “Time will tell.”
Doc’s dark eyes locked with mine, a troubled expression on his face. “Your nightmares. I can’t protect you there.”
“Are you certain?” Mr. Black asked Doc. “Your kind have the potential to ward off ein Mahr.” At our blank looks, he explained, “NachtMahr, a troublemaking goblin that sits on your chest while you sleep. A bearer of bad dreams that feeds on your fears.”
“Mahr,” Doc repeated. “You mean a mare, as in nightmare?”
“Ja.”
“But Violet has been having nightmares since I met her.”
I held up my hand. “Wait a second.” I thought back to some of my more recent nightmares. Cooper had been there in the last few doozies, but not once had I woken up screaming while Doc was within reach. I sifted back through the months, realizing something Mr. Black had nailed. “I don’t think I’ve had a nightmare when you’re next to me.”
“You are the key, Orakel.”
Mr. Black said it as if there were no doubt. I was having trouble wrapping my head around the idea of the whole hunt business, let alone Doc influencing whether I did or didn’t see Kyrkozz, Wolfgang, and all of the other monsters in my dreams.
Before I delved into the whole oracle and nightmare business any further, I returned to the clock. “Who is the lead hunter?”
And was this motley hunting crew somehow connected with the horned creature with blue blood we had found in the informant’s shack in Slagton?
“I do not know. It varies with every hunt, depending on the prey.”
“I thought the clock was supposed to show me what to expect.”
“The clock will show you when the leader returns to this realm. Since this is your hunt, only you will know the leader. You must rely on your senses to alert you of danger.”
“What are the creatures doing here?” Aunt Zoe asked. “Why are they hunting without their leader?”
“As with many hunts, they have been sent in advance.”
“We have company,” Doc said, looking out the window.
I turned as the door opened.
Cooper stepped inside, his hand reaching toward his holster when his gaze landed on Mr. Black. “A gunshot was reported in the area. I thought I’d start here with Parker.”
“That was me, actually,” Aunt Zoe explained. “I slipped on the ice and pulled the trigger by accident.”
“So you weren’t trying to shoot Parker’s pale-faced pal here?”
“Not this time,” she answered. At Mr. Black’s raised eyebrow, she smiled. “You do cause a stir.”
“As does der Scharfrichter in Slagton.”
“What’s going on in here?” Cooper shut the door behind him, his focus still on Mr. Black. He lifted the radio on his belt, giving an “All clear” to the dispatcher, calling the gunfire an accidental discharge.
His eyes narrowed when he saw the clock, his nostrils flaring. “Parker, tell me you didn’t steal that clock from Ms. Wolff’s apartment. We’ll have the police up your ass again if that’s one of the inventoried pieces.”
“It’s not from the apartment.”
Cooper leaned closer, inspecting the carvings. “Are those what I think they are?”
“Yep.” I looked up to find Doc watching me, his expression shielded again. “Apparently there are five more of them roaming around out in Slagton.”
Cooper swore, not even bothering to keep it under his breath. “I suppose you want to drive back out there and kill the others.”
“These are just the ‘hounds,’ Coop,” Aunt Zoe told him. “The lead hunter has not arrived yet.” She caught him up to speed with a quick playback of what Mr. Black and Doc had explained about the Wild Hunt, ending with, “The leader’s return will be shown by the clock. Then Violet will have to defeat that hunter, too.”
“Or die trying,” I muttered. I turned to Mr. Black. “What happens if I move the clock’s arms?”
“You shift the gateway.”
“Shift it how?”
“There are known portals between the realms. It is imperative that we know the locations so that we may monitor them as necessary. If you shift a gateway, we will not know where to expect the traveler to enter our realm.”
“And that’s a problem because why?” I asked, wanting to be clear on this.
“The ability to track a traveler’s entry point is crucial. If harm is a probability, the traveler needs to be monitored upon arrival on this realm.”
“And this is part of the job of a Timekeeper?” Doc asked.
Mr. Black gave a single nod.
“So, when this clock chimes or cuckoos,” Aunt Zoe said, “the lead hunter has returned to this realm?”
Another nod.
“And you already know the gateway it will come through?” I asked.
“I do, but hunters may take many forms.”
“Like what?”
Before he could answer, something screeched outside the window. It didn’t sound like any bird I’d heard before.
Mr. Black backed away from the worktable. “I must leave.”
“But how do I know where to find the hunter?”
“When the clock alerts you to its arrival, contact me. The death dealer knows where I can be reached.”
“Death dealer?” Who the hell was tha
t?
“Herr Mudder,” he answered.
Oh, Eddie.
Mr. Black started toward the door, but then stopped abruptly. He stared at the mirror hanging on the far wall, then stepped toward it.
It was the same mirror with foggy corners that had hung there since I was a child. The one Aunt Zoe had always said belonged to me. She’d even stuck a picture of me in my purple boots in the dented bronze frame that was etched with weird symbols. Doc had noticed the mirror months ago, commenting at the time that he didn’t think it was a normal mirror.
Mr. Black reached toward the frame.
“Stop!” Aunt Zoe said, her voice sharp with warning. “You shouldn’t touch that.”
He lowered his hand, looking at her in the reflection. “You have ein magischer Spiegel.” His voice was filled with disbelief.
“A what?” I asked.
“A special mirror. A gateway.” He looked over at Aunt Zoe. His eyes had morphed into the snake-like pupils again, his mouth and nose protruding. The mirror must have forced him to change, just as I’d witnessed happening to him once before when I’d flashed one of Aunt Zoe’s trigger charms in his face.
“Have you told her how to use this?” he asked, his pupils and face returning to their previous state.
She shook her head, her focus shifting to me. “The time hasn’t seemed right yet.”
What did she mean by that?
“The time may never be right.” Mr. Black stared at me for several beats, and then he shrugged. “Or it may have already come and gone, and it is too late now. Only der Scharfrichter will know.”
Chapter Nine
An hour later, I sat behind my desk at Calamity Jane Realty pondering the meaning of life. Not life in general—I didn’t give a shit about that at the moment. My focus was on the mad, mad world that had cracked open under my feet since I’d moved to Deadwood.
Fortunately, I was alone in the office this morning, unless I counted my old boss, who had been murdered months ago by one of Mr. Black’s more nefarious kind. Since I didn’t have a ghost radar, the way Doc and Cooper did, I wasn’t sure if Jane was hanging out with me in her wispy form. Oddly enough, I sort of hoped so. Her ghost was preferable to some mythical hunter bent on bagging me for future use as an evil weapon.
Groaning, I lay my head on my desk. If only I could find a pause button on this runaway train to Hades.
I’d left for work shortly after Mr. Black disappeared into thin air. At least that’s what it seemed like when I raced after him out the workshop door, wanting to know how on earth I was supposed to use Doc to get insight on retaliation in Slagton. I searched the back and front of Aunt Zoe’s house, coming up juggernaut-less.
The damned, cryptic, pale-faced pain in the ass. He’d blown in and out of my morning with gale force gusts, leaving me in a tailspin.
To top it off, I now had a whole new dilemma swirling in my noggin. According to Mr. Black, I was Doc’s Achilles heel. That tidbit of information grew heavier in my gut by the moment. It was no surprise that Doc would put his life on the line for me—that was old news. He’d proven from the get-go that he’d race into a burning house to keep me breathing. What had me staggering was the fact that helping me made him vulnerable on a whole new level, something beyond his control. And Doc liked having control, especially when it came to the paranormal crap raining down on him. Something he’d almost achieved prior to my entrance into his life. That was one of the hangups early in our relationship, since me plus my kids equaled chaos most days. This morning’s breakfast in bed was a perfect example.
I banged my forehead on my desk a few times, cursing my Executioner bloodline. Then again, would Doc have even been attracted to me if it weren’t for my hereditary tendency to kill? Had our attraction been fated? If I were just a plain ol’ single mom of twins, would das Orakel have even looked twice when I’d tripped over his box of books the first time we met?
That seemed like a minor technicality, but call me old-fashioned. I wanted Doc to like me for me, not some genetic anomaly that turned me into a weapon.
I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Doc alone about Mr. Black’s revelations before he and Cooper had driven off in the detective’s police Bronco. While Doc had been upstairs showering, Cooper had informed me that he and Doc were going to Bighorn Billy’s to grab some breakfast and compare notes about the clusterfuck out in Slagton. Doc had kissed me good-bye as if everything between us were hunky-dory, but he’d avoided making eye contact.
What did that mean?
I wasn’t new to sex. Long-term relationships, however, were still a mystery to me. Communication was key, but how did I go about asking Doc if he were still interested in pursuing this love “connection” we had been solidifying after learning the initial bond might have been an innately strategic move on my part?
“Crikey!” I pushed to my feet, needing more coffee to wash down Mr. Black’s bitter pill and its hair-tugging side effects.
Mona had paid a visit to the office before I’d arrived this morning, leaving the lights on for me along with a fresh pot of coffee. According to the note she’d left on my desk, she needed to check out several potential listings and would be out until lunch.
While I poured and sugared up a cup of coffee, I told Jane the ghost about my predicament. The sound of my voice in the empty room made the whole Wild Hunt business seem less goose bump-worthy. Jane had been an ace at writing lists and setting goals. Maybe she could give me some kind of message from beyond, advising me how to proceed with this latest Executioner mess into which I’d stumbled.
I knew better than to ask for her opinion on my love life. Jane had been in the process of divorce number three when she’d been murdered. She’d warned me about mixing business with pleasure, such as my relationship with Doc who’d been my first buying client, in one of our last conversations.
“To sum it up for you, Jane,” I said as I lowered into my chair. “I now have mythical hunters trying to make me their bitch, an oracle keeping my heart and bed warm and safe, and a mirrored gateway hanging on the wall in Aunt Zoe’s workshop.” I took a sip of coffee, leaning back and resting my boots on my desk like Ray the arrogant dickhead so often did. “I’m on a freaking roll today. It has to be all downhill from here, right?”
Jane didn’t answer, thankfully.
I pulled out my cell phone and started to text Doc, but then cleared the text and shoved my phone in my desk drawer. I’d made a royal muck of everything over the last couple of days, starting with the situation in Slagton. I didn’t need my blundering brain and yap trap creating a Superfund site to evacuate and decontaminate.
But damn it, I needed to make Doc understand that my feelings for him had nothing to do with his Oracle ancestry.
I reached for my desk drawer again.
The bell over the front door jingled. I lowered my feet to the floor without thinking, sitting upright like a good Realtor. The sight of Natalie rushing inside and shutting out the cold behind her made me do a double take.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as she stomped the snow from her boots.
“Coop called.” She took off her coat and hung it on the coat rack. She’d changed clothes since she’d left Aunt Zoe’s earlier. Now she sported a pair of overalls and a baby blue, long-sleeve thermal that made her look ten years younger than her thirty-six years, especially with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Is that coffee fresh? It smells good.”
I nodded. “What do you mean, he called?”
“To call—a verb meaning to attempt to contact another person via a phone-like device.” Her eyes sparkled.
“Don’t make me vault this desk and do a full nelson slam on your smart ass.”
She guffawed. “You may be a kick-butt Executioner chick when you have your funky weapons, but I’ve always been better at wrestling. Just ask Quint.”
She was right. My brother had taught us several wrestling moves when we were kids. Natalie was wigglier and almost always able to s
quirm free of Quint’s holds, whereas I ended up pinned every time by the big ogre. Then again, I often wondered if he took it easier on her since she wasn’t his little sister.
Skirting my desk on the way to the coffee maker, Natalie grabbed a spare mug from the stack. “Coop called to tell me that I needed to pay you a visit ASAP.”
What the—? “Why?”
“How in the hell should I know? The guy isn’t known for his candor. All he said was that you’d received some disconcerting news, and Doc thought you might need some company.”
Doc. Of course. He was still in protection mode, sending in a backup while he went offline to regroup.
She lowered into the chair opposite me, setting her steaming coffee mug on her knee. “So what’s going on? Why am I being called off the bench and sent into the game?”
Doc was right. I needed my best friend to share my burden. Taking a deep breath, I spilled what had happened after she’d left Aunt Zoe’s this morning, skipping the bit about the chicken and gerbil sideshow. By the time I’d finished, Natalie’s coffee had stopped steaming.
She leaned forward, setting her cup on my desk. “So, according to Mr. Black, Doc and you were predestined to be together?”
“Sort of. He didn’t actually say that we were hooked up by unseen forces, only that our union was beneficial to me, as if I’d thought about it and selected Doc for his skills.”
“His oracle skills,” she said, as if trying to cement it in her head.
“The ability to see what others cannot.”
“Gadzooks, girlfriend. This shit keeps getting more screwy by the day.”
“Tell me about it.” I leaned my elbows on my desk, resting my chin on my hands. “I’m worried Doc will want to leave me now.”
She frowned. “Why would he want that?”
“Because being with me puts his life at risk.”
“It was already at risk and he was fine and dandy with that. Why would anything change?”
“I don’t know. This whole revelation, along with my recent screwups in Slagton, has made me feel like some sort of untouchable.”
“Untouchable? You’re referring to the lowest group in the Hindu caste system, right? Not Eliot Ness’s hand-picked team assembled to stop Al Capone.”