An Easy Death (Gunnie Rose #1)

by Charlaine Harris

  “We can make do in one room,” I said without any enthusiasm. “If you want.”

  But we’d all had a bad night the night before, and some good rest was high on my list of wants. Paulina and Eli agreed to look further, so we drove on a little ways. At the second place, a large, two-story wooden structure a block off the main square, there were three rooms available on the second floor.

  “And we got four bathrooms up there,” the owner, a middle-aged woman named Margaret, said. It was hard to stop myself cheering.

  We took all three rooms, and my relief was so great that, again, I wanted to cheer. I needed some time to myself.

  The second floor was one long corridor. I took a quick look at the other two rooms before I stepped into mine. They were all more or less the same: a double bed without any trough in the middle, a lamp on the bedside table. As a backup, there was a candle in a heavy candlestick (harder to sneak out) on a little wicker table beside a matching chair.

  Nothing looked suspicious in any room.

  I’d done my duty. I was able to shut the door of mine, the grigoris on the other side, without any guilt. I could not grab a towel and clean clothes fast enough. The hall bath closest to my room was in use, but the second one was not. I pulled off my dirty clothes and ran a big tub of hot water. As soon as I was clean, I washed my nasty clothes, quickly as I could, and wrung ’em out.

  I put on a shirt and pants that didn’t smell, returned to my room to hang out my wash, and looked forward to eating some decent food.

  I would have enjoyed exploring by myself, but the grigoris had told me they’d meet me in the lobby.

  They were my bosses. I met them.

  Margaret was still at the reception desk. “What’s the best place to eat?” Eli asked her.

  “You want to eat? Or you want to eat and drink?” Margaret was a plain and plainspoken woman.

  “Eat,” said Paulina.

  I could have used a drink or two, but it would not have been smart to drink around the grigoris, or while I was working.

  “The Angora, two doors down, is the cleanest place in Paloma,” Margaret said. “Dusty’s, off the square, is good, too, but sometimes you pay for eating there by staying up all night.”

  Without discussion, we went to the Angora. The sun was just on the edge of going down, and some streetlights came on while we were walking. I’d seldom seen such a thing. It was real convenient to have a little light to see by, but at the same time it felt funny, as in unnatural. The restaurant had its own light pole outside, and a million bugs were whirring and bashing into the yellow glow. People spilled out onto the sidewalk, some of them with glasses of whiskey, or cigarettes, or both, in their hands. The Angora was doing a good business.

  Paulina made an impatient noise. “I will see how long we must wait for a table,” she said, and vanished into the brightly lit dining room.

  “I’m sorry,” Eli said the minute she was out of earshot.

  “What for?” So much had happened, it was hard to pick out exactly what he should apologize for.

  “For landing on you like that last night.”

  So we were going to talk about it. “I didn’t know if you were going to kill me or have sex with me.”

  “I didn’t know, either.” There was a moment of silence while we both tried to figure out where to go next in this conversation.

  Eli said, “If you hadn’t shot the witch, we’d have all been under her control in another minute. How did you do it?”

  I didn’t know. “She wasn’t really focused on me,” I said. I was just thinking out loud. “She was after you and Paulina.”

  “She didn’t focus on you because she knew you were not a grigori,” Eli said. “You should have fallen under her spell right away, faster than Paulina and I did. Instead you pulled away enough to kill her.”

  This was becoming real awkward. I shrugged uneasily. “That’s what you hired me for.”

  “You saw Paulina harvest her.”

  So that was what they called it. “Yeah. I saw that.”

  “Not all of us . . .” He trailed off. I didn’t know if he meant he would not have done that, or if he could not have done that. Either way. Bad.

  “Does she do that often?” I really wanted to know if that sucking thing was a common practice.

  “It’s supposed to give you a lot of power.” He looked away.

  Not really an answer.

  “Why is everyone trying to kill us?” I thought I might as well ask while I could. I could see Paulina turning from the host to come outside.

  “Isn’t that why you’re along?” He smiled, just quick and gone. “To make sure no one does?”

  Eli was big into not answering.

  “That’s why you’re paying me,” I said, and if I sounded grim and grumpy, I figured I had good reason.

  Paulina beckoned from the door. “There’s a table,” she called.

  The food was good, just as Margaret had said. Grilled steaks, fresh bread, onions cooked in butter in the skillet, snap beans. My stomach hadn’t been so happy in days. As soon as I was full, I wanted to sleep. I thought of the bed, of being alone in a room.

  That sounded so wonderful it was hard to keep myself seated with Paulina and Eli. They were talking about nothing more important than whether or not they should order pecan pie.

  The answer was obvious (yes), so I let my eyes wander through the crowded restaurant. The bar was visible against the north wall, and I looked at the mirror facing me. I could hardly believe it when I spied a face I recognized. His eyes met mine in the mirror, and his weather-beaten face spread in a smile.

  We were moving toward each other the next breath. “Chauncey Donegan!” I called, and we wrapped our arms around each other.

  “Lizbeth,” he said to my scalp. “Jesus, girl, what did you do to your head?”

  “If you’re talking about the scar, I got clipped. If you’re talking about the hair, it’s growing back,” I said, pulling away from him. I ran my hand over my scalp; yep, it was coming in thick “What you doing here?”

  He nodded to two men sitting together at a small table near the front window. They were staring. When they saw me looking, they turned away quick. “Guarding them two. They’re from Britannia. They got some business here.”

  “What kind?”

  “Who the hell cares?”

  Chauncey had never been too interested in the underpinnings of his job. He was a surface kind of guy, and he’d done well that way. He was at least fifteen years older than me, and still alive. Gunnies don’t live too long, mostly.

  “How’s Martin?” he asked. “That truck still running? And the rest of the crew?”

  “They’re all gone, Cee. Killed on the Corbin road.”

  “You all on your own? Come here for work?” he said, after giving the dead a minute of respect.

  “I got me a job for the moment. I’m taking the grigoris somewhere.” I tilted my head, indicating Paulina and Eli.

  Chauncey gave them a hard look. I didn’t check to see if they were looking back. “Jeez, gal, they’re some kind of scary,” he said. “How’d you find them?”

  “They found me. My lucky day.” My voice told him it was just the opposite. “But it’s paying well.”

  “Smooth trip?”

  “Not so far. Yours?”

  “Quiet as the grave. Nobody seems to want to kill Mr. Harcourt or Mr. Penn.” He sounded kind of regretful.

  “Even you?”

  “Only every other minute.” He laughed, but it was forced.

  Well, that makes two of us, I thought. “Don’t get too bored,” I said. Being bored means being sloppy.

  “I guess you all are staying the night?” Chauncey asked hopefully.

  “Yeah, we’re at the Palacio.”

  “Maybe we can have a drink after
we put the clients to bed?”

  I was powerfully tempted. “That would be so great. But we’ve had shooting and whatnot and I can’t leave ’em alone. How’s Nancy?”

  Chauncey looked away. “She passed of the pneumonia last winter.”

  I shook my head. “Hard times, Chauncey. I’m real sorry.”

  He shrugged. “Least I still have my boy, Milton. He’s fourteen now. He stays with my mom while I’m working, helps her out.”

  I gave him another hug, a quick one. “It’s great to see you, Cee. I got to get back to the grigoris. You keep your two Britannians safe. You got to get back to that boy of yours.”

  He gave me a whiskery kiss on the cheek and returned to his spot at the bar, where he could keep an eye on Mr. Harcourt and Mr. Penn. After their first quick look, they hadn’t glanced our way. Chauncey could have been dancing with a voodoo queen, for all they knew, or he could have had a snake wrapped around his neck by an enemy. They cared as much about Cee as my grigoris did about me. Well, maybe the jury was still out on Eli.

  Paulina and Eli were making for the door, so I made haste to catch up with them. Looked like we weren’t going to have pie. They didn’t speak, but I could tell they knew I was right behind them. When we were out on the sidewalk, which had grown a lot quieter, Paulina said, “Are you going to spend the night with your friend?”

  “I am not, because I am working,” I said, biting out each word. “I don’t recall asking you who you were spending the night with, Paulina.”

  “He just seemed fond of you,” she said with a real cold innuendo.

  “Yeah, fat damn lot you know,” I said. “He just lost his wife. Not that you ever asked, but my man got shot and killed on the Corbin road less than a month ago. So you just go take your ideas about me and stuff them somewhere you have a hole to fill.”

  I hadn’t realized how angry I was until I let this fly.

  There was an awful silence. I should have stopped with “He just lost his wife.” They didn’t need to know about Tarken, or any part of my personal life.

  “I spoke from anger,” I said, and though I was trying, my voice was stiff and unrepentant. “But you should know I don’t leave people I’m guarding, especially when the trip’s been as busy as this one has.” And I walked away, hoping like hell they’d follow me.

  CHAPTER NINE

  For once, they did what I wanted them to. And they didn’t say a word. That was damn near perfect. If I could have locked them in their rooms, I would have, and been happy to do it. But I had noticed a whorehouse two blocks down from the Palacio. Maybe Paulina would be going over to see what there was to play with.

  I didn’t have the slightest idea what kind of whore would appeal to Eli. I didn’t know if he’d want a man or a woman, a real young one or a granny. I had a strong feeling, after the incident in the desert, that grown women were his preference.

  If my clients ever started talking to me again, I had a few questions I wanted to ask. I’d heard of prostitutes who had some magic in them, for whom sex worked as a kind of feeding. If that was true, maybe grigoris sought them out. It was hard to believe this little town would have any such. Thinking about prostitutes got me all the way to the Palacio, and past Margaret standing vigilant at the desk, and up the dimly lit stairs.

  Paulina went to her door, Eli to his, and I pulled my key out, but then I noticed something. I clamped my hand down on Eli’s arm and poked Paulina with my free hand. She whirled around to snarl at me, but I pointed to the line of light showing under Eli’s door. It had not been dark when we left for the Angora.

  I’d stopped him from unlocking the door and pushing it open, but now I wasn’t sure how to proceed.

  I could shoot through the door, but I might kill a maid or a thief or a friend who wanted to surprise Eli (that would be one stupid friend). None of those people should be in the room, but shooting them dead was the kind of overreaction gunnies got hung for, time to time.

  Paulina had a plan, which didn’t surprise me one bit. She pointed to a spot to the left of the door. It was clear she meant me to stand there and stay still. Then she beckoned to Eli. They consulted in near silence.

  Paulina took something out of her vest and knelt in her smooth way, putting the pinch of whatever it was just under the door. When she stood up, she and Eli began moving their hands and whispering. I could not understand the words, was not sure they were even English, and I was grateful for that. I was real busy praying no one needed to walk by us. By chance or by magic, the hall remained empty.

  Paulina waved a finger at my gun belt.

  So my part in this was to be ready to shoot. I drew a Colt and began breathing deep, emptying out my head.

  When someone appears out of nowhere and starts shooting at you, it’s easy to shoot back. It’s not so easy to stand there waiting.

  There was a thud inside the room; something had hit the floor. Could be there was someone in there smart enough to feel the magic, smart enough to play possum. But the chances were better that the grigori magic had worked.

  Paulina stepped back and swept her hand from me to the door. Of course she wanted me to be first through, when it was her magic that might not have worked. As I stepped past her, I thought how great it would be to stomp on her toes, accidentally on purpose. Someday Paulina and I were going to have a showdown.

  But not today.

  I took the key from Eli’s fingers and turned it in the lock with my left hand, pushed the door open, and stood back, my Colt at the ready in my right.

  Nothing moved in the room. The glow of the lamp showed a man sprawled on the floor. He was very young.

  “Peter!” Eli jumped past me on his way to the body. Paulina wrapped her arms around Eli from behind and lifted him up off his feet. I admired her quickness and strength.

  I could hear boots coming up the stairs, so I stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind me.

  “Gunnie,” Paulina snapped. I was supposed to understand my orders from that. I circled round the grigoris to look down at the man—no, the boy—on the floor. I sniffed the air. I moved the lamp so I could see him better. Nothing suspicious . . . aside from the fact he had no reason being where he was, and Eli thought it was someone named Peter.

  I took a deep breath, let it out. I knelt down. Lightly. I laid my hand on the boy’s back. Eli’s breath left his lungs in a groan.

  “He’s alive,” I said, real calm and quiet.

  Paulina let go of Eli, who didn’t dive for the fallen boy like I’d thought he might. Eli’d gotten control of himself.

  “I’m gonna turn him over,” I said, and laid my gun on the bedside table, by the lamp. “You be on watch,” I told Paulina, looking up to meet her eyes.

  She nodded.

  That was as much reassurance as I was going to get. I leaned over the body, gripped the clothes on the boy’s left side, and heaved backward. Though the situation hung in the balance for a second or two, I got him flipped. His eyes were shut. His mouth was twitching. This Peter looked a lot like Eli, but with all the character sanded off.

  Eli couldn’t keep away after he saw the boy’s face. He was crouching on the other side of the body before you could say lickety-split. “Peter,” Eli said, low but urgent. “Talk to me!”

  The boy’s eyes opened. They were blank and white and horrible. As his hands shot up to grab Eli, I shoved Eli with all the strength I could muster. He fell back on his ass. “Pau—” I said, and then the boy was on me.

  This was it for me. Upstairs room in a hotel in Paloma, somewhere on the border between Texoma and Mexico.

  I tried to reach the night table to scrabble for my gun, but I couldn’t get to it. For the second time in two days, I had a determined male on top of me. But this Peter was not interested at all in being inside me. He wanted to kill me.

  His fingers clamped on my throat. I brought my ha
nds up between his wrists, hitting out as hard as I could, and I loosened one hand. I rolled in that direction and pinned his wrist with my elbow, but his other hand was still digging into the flesh and bone of my neck, and I was seeing spots. I saw a flash of something coming down and heard a nasty crunch, and the boy fell away from me, limp and lifeless.

  I could not move. I lay bonelessly on the floor, feeling pretty limp and lifeless myself.

  Gradually my breath got regular again. The pain in my throat and chest eased up just a little. I wasn’t going to die.

  “Gunnie?” Paulina said. “How are you?” She was holding the candlestick she’d hit the boy with. It wasn’t clean. Eli had left the room hastily, and now he came back in and leaned against the wall. His broad face was pale and clammy. He’d been sick. At least he’d made it to the hall bathroom.

  I could think only of a play we’d all had to read in my mom’s school. “‘A plague o’ both your houses,’” I whispered, and I rolled to my feet, retrieving my gun. It was the only smart thing I could think of to say.

  They could handle this from here on out. With great care I walked out of the room, went next door to mine.

  I had to lean against the wall while I turned my key in the lock. After I pushed the door open, I made damn sure the floor was clear. I looked up at the ceiling. I checked every corner and opened the wardrobe, too.

  I even crouched to look under the bed. That might have been a mistake. It took me a very long time to get up.

  Finally I was sitting on the bed instead of staring underneath it. I pulled off my boots, and my shirt, and my pants, and I lay down in my underwear. My neck hurt like hell. I didn’t even want to think about swallowing, or talking, or coughing. A little air stirred in the open window, and it felt good, helped me breathe.

  Some time later, maybe ten minutes or a couple of hours, I don’t know, there was a knock at the door. I hadn’t locked it behind me, which lets you know what kind of shape I was in. I was scared to speak. I used my knuckles to knock on the wood of the table. Even that sounded feeble.

  Eli came in. He pulled over the rickety wicker chair. He leaned over me to have a look, but my room was as dark as the night outside. He made an impatient sound and turned on the lamp. His face got all blank. Yep, my neck was bad.