by Barry Reese
He was also the employer of Samantha Grace, Charity’s half-sister.
His mismatched eyes – one a startling emerald, the other a dull green – stared at her with authority. His athletic physique seemed barely contained by the suit and tie that he wore. Despite her ambivalent feelings for him, Charity had to admit that he cut a dashing figure.
Charity looked around for any sign of Mitchell but he wasn’t in his usual spot at the edge of the cemetery – in fact, their car seemed to be gone.
“You and I seem to have something in common,” Lazarus said.
“What’s that?” she asked, wishing that she hadn’t left her weapons in the vehicle.
“We both have a penchant for coming back from the dead.”
“I’ve heard rumors,” Charity replied. “But I thought they were a bunch of bunk. Did you really die?”
“Yes and no.” Lazarus took a few steps forward but stopped when Charity looked like she might bolt and run. “How about you?”
“I did. A higher power offered me a shot at redemption and I took it.”
Lazarus studied her closely. “And now you’re killing people. Did you murder Josef Goldstein? You’re living in his house.”
“What did you do with Mitchell?” she asked, refusing to answer him.
“He’s fine. My associates just took him away so that we could talk in private.”
“I know Mitchell. He wouldn’t have gone quietly.”
“He didn’t,” Lazarus admitted.
“Why are you here?” Charity asked.
“I’ve heard rumors about The Gravedigger but it took me awhile to figure out if they were true – and once I had done that, who might behind the mask. I had to station informants all around the city before one of them noticed that Goldstein’s house was still being used, despite the fact that he died months ago. I wasn’t sure if it was connected to Gravedigger or not – but a few days of watching the property led me to you, a dead girl. Suddenly, things began to make a little bit of sense. You killed Goldstein, possibly in cahoots with Mitchell, who turned on his employer. Now the two of you live in his house and have set yourselves up as judge, jury and executioner.”
“You’re wrong about several things.”
“Such as?”
“I didn’t kill Josef. He was training me when a nutcase named Arthur Meeks murdered him. The Peregrine and I teamed up to bring him down.”
There was a subtle shift in Gray’s expression, so minor that most would have missed it. Charity knew that it was in response to her mention of The Peregrine – while he didn’t trust her, it was obvious that Gray did trust Max Davies.
“So you’re a vigilante?”
“If you want to call it that.” Charity took a deep breath. “I was serious about dying – and about being given a second chance.”
“You’re saying that God sent you back to murder criminals?”
“I don’t know if it’s God. It doesn’t matter, really. Josef was a Gravedigger and there have been others before him. I’m the first woman to ever have the mantle and I plan to be one of the ones who survive. I only have three years to do it in.”
“What happens after three years?”
“The Voice returns and it judges me. If I’ve redeemed my soul, then I’m a free – and better – person. If I haven’t, then my soul is condemned to Hell.”
“I don’t think killing people is the way to redeem anyone.”
“That’s what The Voice told me to do. And I’m not just killing random people – I’m killing people who’ve dug their own graves. I’m taking scum off the streets.”
Lazarus reached into his jacket and Charity tensed. She grew even more still when a pistol appeared in his hand. He pointed it at her and said, “We’re going back to Robeson Avenue. I’m going to ascertain whether or not you’re sane. If you are… and I’ve encountered enough strange things in my time to admit that you may be… then I’ll offer you a position with my group. We kill from time to time, but only when there’s no alternative.”
Charity felt an anger rising up within her. There was no turning back after today – even if she managed to defeat Lazarus and escape, he knew where she lived. He was aware of her allies and could reach out to harm them. And he had the bargaining chip of Mitchell’s well being, something she couldn’t ignore.
On the other hand, she wasn’t about to become a prisoner of anyone, especially not her half-sister or her employer.
Charity moved quickly, reaching out with her left hand to smack Gray’s gun hand. With the barrel no longer pointing in her direction, she felt better about raising a foot and kicking him hard in the midsection. It was like striking an oak tree and he showed no sign of having been pained.
Lazarus brought his pistol around again and fired, his shot narrowly missing her torso. As she spun away from the blast, she noticed that it wasn’t a bullet at all – but rather some sort of specially made tranquilizer dart.
Charity dropped down and spun about, her foot knocking Gray’s legs out from under him. He went down but recovered quickly, getting off a second shot from his prone position. This time, Charity performed an acrobatic back flip that once again allowed her to avoid being shot.
Clutching a handful of dirt in her hand, Charity hurled it into Gray’s face. The act momentarily blinded him and allowed her to lunge towards him without fear of being caught. She had caught a flash of something sheathed under his coat – a dagger. Realizing that she needed a weapon to even the odds, Charity grabbed hold of the blade and yanked it free. As she did so, the edge of the weapon caught Lazarus under the chin, leaving a tiny cut in its wake. Blood oozed from the wound but Charity felt no regret about its presence – she was the victim here, not the other way around.
Now armed, Charity struck quickly – she slashed her blade across Gray’s chest, slicing his tie in two. Another line of blood appeared.
Gray now used his gun as a bludgeoning weapon, clubbing Charity in the shoulder. She winced but refused to fall – instead, she drove the blade into Gray’s hip. Yanking it free, she started to strike again but she was distracted by a sharp stinging sensation in her neck.
Staggering back, Charity realized what had happened, even before she reached up to yank the tranquilizer dart from her throat. She turned her head, seeing Gray’s “associate” at last. Samantha Grace stood there, looking beautiful in an ankle-length coat, turtleneck sweater and form-fitting skirt. She looked like she’d stepped right off the society page of The Sovereign Gazette, with the addition of a pistol, of course.
Charity swayed on her feet. She fell forward into Gray’s arms, darkness claiming her.
***
The Headless Horseman sat atop his steed, hiding in the stygian shadows that cloaked Sovereign. He was positioned outside the home of Inspector Cord, a well-known member of the police department. Cord was on the straight-and-narrow, which put him at odds with many of the more corrupt officials in the city. But the whippet-thin man with the perpetually narrowed eyes was no friend to men like Lazarus Gray, either. He despised vigilantes almost as much as he hated crooks.
Cord stepped out from his house, a cigarette dangling limply from between his tightly clenched lips. He headed towards his car but stopped abruptly when he saw the bodies draped across the hood.
Even with the damage done to them, he recognized them: O’Hara, Gibson and Drake. Three of the best cops on the force, good and decent men who had families.
Cord’s shock lasted for only a moment before he reached for his holstered gun. The killer or killers were likely to have fled the scene but if they hadn’t….
A sharp blade touched the side of his neck, giving him pause.
“Draw your weapon and die.”
Cord couldn’t see the figure behind him but he sure as hell could smell him. “Who are you?” he demanded, using the same voice he used on two-bit hoods when he was shaking them down.
“You should avoid Charon,” the Horseman replied. “You and your men have been as
king too many questions. Now they won’t be able to ask anything, ever again.”
Charon. Cord’s jaw clenched tighter. He might have known it would be one of the city’s freaks. “I’m going to see you fry for this,” he promised. “You and your buddy Charon.”
The Horseman increased the pressure against Cord’s throat. “You still taunt me? When death is so close?”
“You don’t scare me. Kill me if ya want,” Cord said defiantly. “I’d rather die with my chin up then beg.”
The Horseman leaned close, remembering the way that he had met Charon… Nipper had proven to be a disappointment. But here he was, again with a man who refused to back down in the face of his own demise. Would Cord have been the better person to ally himself with?
It was too late for that, the Horseman mused.
“I’d like to see you die,” he said, his ghostly voice echoing in Cord’s ear. “But I have chosen my side in this conflict and Charon has asked me to leave you alive. Do you know why he thinks you are more useful to him in this way?”
“I’d love to hear it – because he doesn’t know me very well if he thinks I’m not going to come after him with everything I have after this.”
“These men were known for their honesty. The fact that they were all killed while you alone were left alive… do you know what people will think?”
Cord’s eyes widened. He knew exactly how this would be perceived – people would think he was now on the take. “You bastards,” he hissed. “My reputation is the one thing I’ve got.”
The Horseman stepped away. “Not anymore.”
Cord whipped around, planning to strike back – but there was no one there. Not even a hint of the Horseman remained.
Chapter III: Assistance Unlimited
Charity woke up, her head pounding. She opened her eyes, finding herself in a well-furnished room that was not her own. Even without any other evidence, she could guess where she was: 6196 Robeson Avenue, home of Assistance Unlimited. Housed in a former luxury hotel, the building still retained that old feeling.
Mitchell sat on a second bed in the room, flipping through a battered copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. He tossed it aside when he saw Charity pushing off the mattress. “Sleeping beauty awakens!” he said, smiling broadly.
“Are you okay?” she asked, rubbing her temples.
“I’m fine, luv. My own headache faded after a bit and yours will, too.”
“I can’t believe they caught us. Josef must be rolling his eyes in heaven.”
“We’re going to be okay.”
“How do you figure that? We’re prisoners.” Charity looked up at him, annoyed that he was still smiling. “At best, they’re going to keep us on a leash. At worst, we’re going to jail. I’m going to spend my three years making license plates.”
Mitchell swung his feet off the bed, facing her. “If they wanted to turn us over to the police, they could have done so. We were as helpless as babes. The fact that they didn’t makes me think that they have other plans – and I don’t think they’re going to keep us around at all.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, we just need to make sure they contact The Peregrine. He’ll vouch for us.”
“I namedropped him. Doesn’t mean they’ll forget all the bodies I’ve left in my wake.”
“Max is pretty persuasive and I think he has a good rapport with Lazarus Gray.”
Charity stood up and wandered over to a mirror. She looked tired but otherwise unharmed. “I wonder if they’re listening to us right now.”
“Probably. If I were them, I would be.”
“Do you think she knows who I am?”
Mitchell’s smile faded and he became more serious. “Probably. I know you didn’t meet her during that whole blackmail scheme of your boyfriend’s – but I’m sure she knows your name.”
Charity sighed. “I’m more afraid of talking to her than I am of facing Lazarus.”
“Why?”
“Because a part of me is jealous of her! And now she’s going to be superior to me – again. She’s a hero, I’m a killer. It’s like all my worst nightmares come to life.”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Charity laughed coldly. “Oh, please. You mean besides the criminal record and the murders? Not to mention the fact that she’s gorgeous and I’m… I’m me.”
Mitchell turned her face towards his. “Are you joking? You’re absolutely beautiful. And you’ve done things that you needed to do to survive. You weren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth the way she was.”
Charity stared at him, her eyes widening slightly as he leaned closer. His lips parted and she knew what was about to happen though she wasn’t certain how she was going to respond.
She was saved from making that decision by a rapping at the door. Charity turned away and asked, “Yes?”
Samantha stepped inside, looking nearly as uncomfortable as Charity felt. It occurred to Charity that she hadn’t given any real thought to how Samantha would take this meeting.
“Lazarus wants the two of you to come down to the briefing room,” Samantha said. She addressed those words to both Charity and Mitchell but it was Charity alone who received her glance. “I’ve always wondered what you were like.”
“You could have found me,” Charity answered, immediately regretting her tone. “Sorry. I shouldn’t treat you like the enemy.”
“I thought about looking for you,” Samantha replied. “But I wasn’t sure how big a role you played in the blackmail scheme. And my father refused to talk about you or your mother so… I was scared, I guess. It was bad enough that I learned my father wasn’t the perfect figure I’d grown up believing him to be. To then learn that he had another daughter… I wasn’t sure I wanted to draw any comparisons between us.”
Charity looked stunned. “But you had everything! Why would you be scared of how I turned out? Nothing I accomplished was going to hold a candle to what you’ve done.”
“My life hasn’t been all sweetness and light.”
Charity stepped towards her, hands clenching into fists. “I don’t know how to speak to you,” she admitted.
Samantha smiled shyly. Up close, she didn’t look nearly as perfect as she seemed in the newspaper photographs. She was gorgeous, yes, but she was very human. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t know, either. But we are related by blood… and from the looks of things, we both have a penchant for getting into trouble. Maybe we should get to know one another.”
Charity resisted the urge to respond sarcastically. It was part of her nature to do so when upset but she sensed that Samantha was being sincere… and, deep down inside, she wasn’t against the notion of having a family again. She’d been alone for a very long time – she’d started to think of Mitchell, Li and Cedric as a family of sorts but she was hesitant to commit too deeply given how easily any of them could be killed.
“I… I’d like that,” she said at last.
***
Charity was relieved to see that her uniform and weapons were lying on the table when she entered the briefing room. She wanted to grab hold of her sword, desiring its comforting weight in her hands, but she held off.
Lazarus Gray was standing at the head of the table, his handsome face drawn and serious. Seated on either side of him were a glowering young Korean whom she recognized as Eun Jiwon and a man in his forties, with a perfectly tailored suit and a small, well-tended moustache. This was Morgan Watts, a former criminal who had joined the side of the angels thanks to Gray’s intervention.
Charity spoke first, wanting to take control of the situation. She knew that Mitchell was at her side and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Samantha taking a seat. “Are you ready to let us go?” she asked.
Morgan grinned at her audacity but her words had the opposite effect on Eun. The Korean’s frown deepened and he obviously would have responded if not for a glance from Lazarus.
“We are, actually,” Lazaru
s replied. “But only with certain conditions.”
“Like what?”
“Well, The Peregrine vouched for you, as I’m sure you knew he would. He also corroborated your story about some sort of mystical form empowering you.”
Thank you, Max, Charity thought to herself.
Lazarus crossed his arms. “But he and I are in agreement that you’re going to get yourself in hot water if you keep murdering criminals. He’s found himself the target of law enforcement before and has recently taken steps to curb the number of deaths associated with his investigations. I want you to do the same.”
“Take it up with The Voice,” Charity responded. “I was told to ‘shovel the dirt’ onto their graves. The Voice didn’t give me much leeway about that.”
“Nevertheless, I think you’re putting too much emphasis on the killing aspect of what The Voice said. From what I understand, you’re also supposed to become a better person. I know from personal experience that it’s hard to do that with blood dripping from your hands.”
“I second that,” Morgan said.
Mitchell cleared his throat. “We can stop killing.”
Charity looked at him in shock but Mitchell pressed on.
“But we don’t want to feel like you’re watching over us like spies or something. You have to trust us, mate.”
Lazarus paused and then nodded. “Fair enough. But if I hear that Gravedigger is killing again, I’ll come knocking – and this time, I’m not going to go easy on you.”
***
“What the hell was that about?!” Charity shouted, as soon as they were back in the car. Her equipment was thrown into the back seat, leaving her free to stare down Mitchell.
He started up the car and began driving before he answered. “I lied.”
“You lied?”
“That’s what I said, luv. I told them what they wanted to hear so they’d let us go free.”
Charity shook her head, chuckling. “Lazarus is going to hate us.”
“I think we should abandon Josef’s house.”