Rattling the Heat in Deadwood

by Ann Charles

  “Hey, Mom,” Layne said around a mouthful of cheese and bread. “Have you ever heard of a white demon?”

  “Layne, you know better than to talk with your mouth full,” Aunt Zoe said.

  I stirred my soup some more, wondering where Layne came up with some of his notions. Last week he’d asked me if I would rather be a purple dragon or a red lizard if I lived on a planet named something I couldn’t remember. “Is that a character in one of your video games, sweetie?”

  He shook his head, swallowing and chasing it with a drink of lemonade. “I read about it in that book I borrowed from you. The one that told stories about the lidérc and all of those women gladiators.”

  Otherwise known as our family history book. “Gladiators” was a much nicer name than “Executioners.” It sounded more badass, too, not so creepy.

  The other night, when Doc and I had asked Layne more about the family book and what he knew about capturing a lidérc, he’d told us that one of the “gladiators” had allowed it to attach to her. At least that was what he thought it described. He’d described it like a tick, stuck on her skin. I didn’t correct him to explain that the attachment was more like a mental tethering, not really physical.

  When Doc asked how the “gladiator” had removed this so-called tick, Layne explained that according to the book, she’d jumped off a cliff into the rocky ocean below. Doc, Aunt Zoe, and I had discussed his answer later alone in the cold on the back porch while Cooper was in the shower, all three of us wondering what the executioner had been thinking by taking her own life. Was she only focused on freeing herself from the Hungarian devil, or had she truly managed to take the lidérc with her to the next plane of existence? Doc and I had no definite answers, of course, but Aunt Zoe believed the lidérc had probably lived through the ordeal, found another host, and was still out there ruining people’s lives. The disappointment in her voice had been as clear as the star-filled night sky.

  I hoped I didn’t inspire such feelings from her the next time I crossed paths with a supernatural troublemaker, but like the previous executioners in my family line, I was only human. At least part-human, anyway, according to one of my most recent execution-ees.

  Now Layne was talking about a white demon. I probably needed to flip through that family history book, but truth be known I sort of didn’t want to know what I might be up against. Ignorance was bliss, especially when trying to stay alive in a world where monsters roamed. My nightmares were bad enough without fodder from those pages.

  I shared a worried glance with Aunt Zoe. “No, Layne, I don’t think I’ve heard of a white demon.” I’d only seen a black pustule-covered demon with orange eyes that supposedly went by the name of Kyrkozz. “Why do you ask?”

  He wiped his fingers on his napkin, my years of badgering him to not use his pants that way finally paying off. “At recess today, I was sitting on a bench looking at the trees on the hill behind the school and I thought I saw one standing up there.”

  Skirrrchhhhh!

  “You actually saw a … a white d … demon?” I sputtered.

  He shrugged. “It might have been just a really tall, super white-haired guy. Do we have any albinos living around here?”

  Mr. Black!

  My pulse redlined, my breath rushing from my lungs.

  The juggernaut’s twin had returned! But why was he watching my son instead of me? Was it something to do with the picture of Layne that had been in Ms. Wolff’s apartment when Harvey and I had stumbled upon her withered body? The photo that had gone missing after Mr. Black had paid a visit to the Galena House?

  Shit! What should I do? Keep Layne home from school? I’d need to come up with a damned good excuse if I did, since Layne had already missed a week of school due to the fights he’d gotten into at recess last month. I could hire a tutor maybe to homeschool him, but …

  Doc squeezed my thigh hard enough for me to wince. “Breathe,” he whispered, then took a drink of lemonade.

  “Could you describe this white demon to me, Layne?” Cooper asked, interrogation being his second language, of course.

  For once, I was grateful to have Cooper sitting at the table with me, allowing me to focus on calming the hysterical broad ranting in my head.

  “He sort of reminded me of a bird,” Layne said.

  “Did he have white feathers like Elvis?” Addy asked, dipping the last bit of her grilled cheese sandwich into her soup.

  “Not that I could see.”

  “An orange beak?” she pressed.

  “No beak.”

  “Tail feathers?” Addy took a bite of the tomato-soaked bread.

  Layne sighed, annoyed. “Not like a bird bird, Addy. More like an eagle or a duck if it was turned into a human.”

  Cooper and I shared a frown-filled moment. I’d often referred to the juggernauts as Donald Duck’s nephews.

  “What’s a lidérc?” Addy asked, her thoughts random, as usual.

  “It’s a Hungarian devil,” Aunt Zoe answered. When I gave her a what-the-hell look, she shrugged. “That’s what she’d find if she looked it up online.”

  “A hungry devil,” Addy said, confusing the reference to the country for an empty stomach. “How cool would that be to see?” She stuffed the last of her tomato-soaked grilled cheese sandwich into her mouth.

  Not cool at all.

  Silence followed, filled with clanging spoons on bowls and lemonade glasses clinking on the wooden table.

  My spoon trembled as I tried to scoop up some soup, spilling half of it back in the bowl. Why Layne, dammit? Was Addy being followed, too, but so busy eating candy and giggling with her friends that she hadn’t noticed yet? Prudence the ghost, my executing predecessor, had lost her son to the enemy before they slit her throat. According to her, the idea had been to end her line, which meant my kids were targets along with me. While this wasn’t news to me, I wasn’t sure what level of paranoia was required in order to raise them to adulthood now that I bore the executioner yoke. Hell, keeping normal kids alive in today’s danger-filled world inspired a headful of gray hairs. How was I supposed to keep sane when fighting off monsters?

  “Reid.” Addy broke the silence, her brow lined. “Do firemen wear underwear under their yellow fire pants?”

  My cheeks warmed at my child’s personal question. “Adelynn Renee!”

  A snort of laughter came from Aunt Zoe’s direction.

  Reid’s grin filled his face from ear to ear. “Most of us do, Addy.”

  Addy grinned back. “Is your underwear yellow, too, Reid? Or red like your hat?”

  Dear Lord, child! I heard Doc laugh under his breath and bumped him with my knee under the table.

  Reid’s face reddened under Addy’s steadfast gaze.

  Cooper snickered. “I believe we have an amateur detective in-training here, Martin. Answer the girl’s question.”

  “Well.” Reid’s blue eyes crinkled around the edges. “I like to wear my lucky underwear to a fire. They’ve kept me safe time and again.”

  “You didn’t answer her question,” Cooper said, setting his empty soup bowl on his clean plate.

  Reid slanted a glare at Cooper. “They’re black with red stripes.”

  Addy frowned. “Why are they lucky?”

  Aunt Zoe cleared her throat. Her cheeks were now turning an interesting shade of red.

  “Did you win them in a card game?” Layne asked.

  “Reid,” Aunt Zoe warned, shaking her head.

  Reid hit her with raised brows. “What, Zo? Coop insists that I answer Addy’s questions. I’m on the stand here, woman.”

  She squinted. “Yes, you are.”

  “Addy,” he said, returning to my daughter’s inquiring gaze. “My favorite girl gave them to me years ago and told me that if I wore them to fires, they’d keep me out of harm’s way.”

  Layne’s grilled cheese sandwich lowered along with his jaw. “Your girlfriend gave you lucky underwear?”

  “She gave me underwear.” Reid’s eye
s twinkled when he looked over at Aunt Zoe. “And then she made them lucky.”

  “How did she make them lucky?” Layne asked.

  “And we’re done here.” Aunt Zoe started collecting plates, piling them on top of each other without trying to be quiet.

  “Do you two still like each other?” Addy asked, not heeding Aunt Zoe’s scowl.

  Before Reid could answer, Aunt Zoe scooted her chair back. “Who wants dessert?”

  “I do! I do!” Addy and Layne both yelled.

  Well-played, I thought with a smile at my aunt. She knew exactly how to derail young, curious minds. At least those sharing blood with me, a sugar aficionado.

  “Bring your plates to the sink,” she told them, “and I’ll dish you up some ice cream.”

  “On a week night?” Layne asked, knowing I was trying to limit sweets during school nights over the holiday season.

  Aunt Zoe looked at me for approval. I nodded with a smirk. She’d owe me one for bending the rules.

  Twenty minutes later, the table was cleared, ice cream had been served, and the kids were in the living room distracted by a PBS show on the buffalo in Yellowstone National Park.

  I stood at the sink, washing dishes while Doc dried them. He flirted with me as we worked, tenderly brushing my hair out of my face while my hands were wrist-deep in dishwater, or running his palm over my hip when he needed me to move to one side or the other to make room for him to put a glass or dish away.

  Aunt Zoe leaned against the counter near the stove, her bowl of ice cream in hand. “Reid, I need to ask you about something I heard come over the scanner earlier today.”

  That made Cooper’s ears perk up, judging from his sudden stillness. The detective had opted out of ice cream even though I’d suggested some sugar in his blood might do him some good, sweetening up his disposition. That had earned me a sour scowl.

  Reid nodded. “I wondered when you’d get around to it.”

  “To what?”

  “Explaining the reason you invited me over for supper.”

  “Maybe I missed your charm,” Aunt Zoe said with a smirk.

  His laugh was low and velvety. “Or maybe you missed something else.”

  Aunt Zoe’s lips flat-lined.

  “Like your lucky underwear,” Cooper cut in.

  I paused mid-scrub to gape at the detective. “Did you just make a joke?” I turned to Doc. “Someone must have extracted Cooper’s funny bone from his anal cavity.”

  “Zip it, Parker.” Cooper focused on Aunt Zoe. “What did you hear?”

  “There was a report that a cross-country skier on the Mickelson Trail came across a smoking, partially burned crate with human remains in it.”

  Reid lowered his spoon. “You heard about that, huh?”

  “Yeah. It made me curious.”

  “Why didn’t I hear about it?” Cooper asked Reid, his face hardening.

  “Hawke took the call. You were apparently busy elsewhere. The report came in just after lunch.”

  Cooper nailed me with a glare. “I was busy dealing with trouble at the Galena House.”

  Oops! I hid behind Doc until Cooper focused back on Reid.

  “What are you wondering about it, Zo?” Reid asked.

  “Were there cloven hoofprints in the area again?”

  “What do you mean again?” Doc asked.

  Aunt Zoe pointed her spoon at Reid. “He’s seen this before, haven’t you, Reid?”

  Reid nodded slowly. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

  “Cloven hoofprints?” I said, draining the sink. I borrowed the towel from Doc, drying my hands. “Like a pig?”

  “Yes.” She scraped her spoon over her ice cream, frowning at Reid. “Tell me about the human remains.”

  “We just ate, Zo.”

  “Please, Reid. None of us here are squeamish.” She scooped a bite of ice cream on her spoon. “Were they partially eaten?”

  “It’s hard to tell for certain due to the degree of burns.”

  “But?” she prompted after swallowing the spoonful.

  “I think so.”

  “Damn. I was hoping it was merely a case of plain old murder.”

  I scoffed. “ ‘Plain old’ murder?”

  Doc leaned against the counter. “Who do you think did it, Zoe?” He grabbed me by the waist and settled me back against him, resting his hands on my hip bones. “Or is it a what again?”

  “The latter.” She set her bowl on the counter. “I wonder if we have a Nachzehrer on our hands.”

  “What’s that?” Cooper asked.

  “It’s a creature that feeds off the living to survive.”

  “Is it parasitic?” Reid asked. “Like a lidérc?”

  “No, I mean it literally eats human flesh. Folklore lists it more like a German version of a vampire, but it’s not a blood drinker. Well, not blood alone.”

  “This is insane,” Cooper muttered.

  “So is the creature,” Aunt Zoe told him. “It was once human, but after death it reanimates for a reason that nobody knows for certain.”

  “It reanimates,” I said. “So it can be killed again?”

  “According to legend, yes. But remember, this all comes from stories that have been passed down one generation to the next. Nachzehrer were prominent in the northern regions of Germany according to legend, but I’ve read similar accounts from other cultures’ mythology.”

  Cooper sighed. “How do we know we don’t have just some crazy bastard on our hands who thinks he’s a cannibal and then left the burned evidence in plain sight to draw attention?”

  Aunt Zoe shrugged. “Time will tell. A Nachzehrer will feed on the living after consuming its own death shroud and flesh. If anyone else turns up partially eaten or any graves appear to have been disturbed around—”

  “Mom!” Addy cried, running into the room. “Look what I found!”

  She held out a clock for me to see.

  A German clock from the Black Forest region.

  I frowned. “Where did you get that, Adelynn Renee?”

  “It was in a box by the stairs.”

  A box that was addressed to me, dammit. I glared at her for opening something that she had no business touching.

  Cooper held out his hand. “Let me take a look at that, Addy.”

  She handed it to him, pointing at the face. “Look at that. It looks like a big dog mixed with a werewolf.”

  Aunt Zoe joined them, staring down at it. “A Hellhound, maybe.”

  I stepped closer, checking for myself, and flinched. Ah, shit.

  “It needs winding,” Aunt Zoe said.

  Or maybe not, I thought, my gut tightening at who might have left me the freaking clock.

  “Addy,” I said, “go get the box and bring it in here.”

  Cooper set the clock carefully on the table. There was no misinterpreting the fury lining his face when he looked over at me. “Damn it, Parker. It’s one of the missing clocks.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. The question is, who left it on my doorstep?” I fell into a chair, burying my face in my palms.

  And why?

  Chapter Ten

  Tuesday, December 4th

  I woke up fretting about that damned clock.

  Cooper had wound it last night in the kitchen, cursing about my being a magnet for trouble under his breath as he pulled on the chains. But even after being wound, the clock sat on the table … dead … while we all frowned at it.

  Reid and Doc had headed home a short time later, leaving me with a grumpy detective and a bottle of tequila. It didn’t take long for me to pick which of the two I would rather spend the rest of the evening with, taking the bottle to my room. In between sips, I’d put away clean clothes, tidied up my closet, and kept my mind from getting stuck on the who and why behind the clock’s appearance on my doorstep.

  After my morning shower, I tiptoed down the stairs, wary of Cooper’s sharp teeth. I doubted a night in Addy’s pink room had dulled his temper. Cute kitten posters and stuff
ed unicorns were no match for a pissed-off detective.

  The clock was on the sideboard in the dining room. Its hands were still frozen in time—or rather without time. Not even a few nudges would make them move on their own. I stared at the carvings in the morning light, getting chills all over again at the sight of the large beast with a long snout and pointy ears. Its jaws were spread in mid-howl or roar, its long claws reaching up toward the closed cuckoo door.

  “It’s still not working,” Aunt Zoe said from the kitchen archway, making me jerk in surprise.

  “I see that.” I walked past her into the kitchen, rubbing away my goosebumps. “Where’s Cooper?” I grabbed a coffee mug from the cupboard and filled it full of caffeinated happiness.

  “He’s already up and gone.” She settled into her usual chair, picking at her breakfast muffin on the plate in front of her. “He told me to tell you that he’ll be watching you with his phone.”

  I grumbled something not very nice about Cooper’s phone and a certain location on his person where I’d like to shove it. I stuffed two pieces of bread into the toaster, planning to use them to soak up some of the acid in my gut caused by Cooper and Hawke.

  Aunt Zoe chuckled. “What are you up to today besides selling houses and complaining about your favorite detective duo?”

  “Cornelius wants to talk to me about Jane’s ghost, but I have to pick up some groceries for him before I head in to work.”

  “Want me to take the kids to school?”

  I shook my head. “Natalie texted me this morning. She’s heading down to Rapid City first thing to pick up some supplies for the Galena House and offered to swing by and take them to school before heading out of town.”

  “How’s she liking living in town?”

  The front door creaked. “Honey, I’m home,” Natalie called out.

  “You can ask her yourself,” I told Aunt Zoe, grabbing a slice from the toaster and spreading on a dab of butter.

  Natalie breezed into the room, literally, ruffling the December page of the calendar hanging on the wall. “Is that the creepy clock you were telling me about on the sideboard?”