by Ann Charles
Damn. What had Cornelius and his little room of horrors done to her?
I frowned at Mr. Black. “I guess we’ll have to have this meeting without Prudence in any sort of flesh.” Personally, I liked her better when she stayed hidden.
His dark gaze narrowed on Zelda. “Enough with these games.”
Zelda’s eyes widened. Her hand flew to her chest. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He crossed his arms. “Come forward, Rogue. I have no time for your ruses today.”
Rogue? I looked toward Zelda. “What’s he talking about?”
She shook her head. “I don’t kn—”
“Do not make me remind you of your oath!” Mr. Black’s voice rumbled loudly, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.
Zelda’s head fell forward, as if her neck had suddenly turned to rubber. I was about to ask her if she was okay when a husky laugh came from her. When she looked back up, Prudence was at the helm with her creepy white eyes. “You are too astute to fool even after all of these years.”
All of these years? How long had Prudence known Mr. Black, and in what context?
“My kind must take heed while in the presence of a renowned slayer.” His gaze moved to me. “My mistake. Two slayers.”
Prudence scoffed in my direction. “This one is no match for you. She can barely defeat her own shadow.”
“I killed seven Chimera in one battle with a crowbar and an old steering wheel,” I said. “Seven.”
She shrugged off my boast. “Chimera are child’s play.”
“Don’t forget about that milky-eyed white grizzly back in my graveyard,” Harvey said and downed some more whiskey.
“That’s right, add a Bone Cruncher to that tally.”
“Have you met its companion yet?” Mr. Black asked.
“No.” I cringed at the idea of fighting another one of those sharp-toothed bastards. According to him, Bone Crunchers came in pairs, so one of these days I was going to have to face off with another white grizzly. I had a feeling the next one would be a teeny bit cranky with revenge.
“Add another notch for that spiky troublemaker in the ol’ Opera House.” Harvey had his fingers out now, counting for me. He pointed at Mr. Black. “Then there was this one here’s twin at Mudder Brothers, and let’s not forget about—”
“Thank you, Harvey,” I interrupted him, wanting to end this topic. While I appreciated his support when it came to cramming a sock in Prudence’s big mouth, bragging about killing the albino-like juggernaut while Mr. Black stood in the same room seemed crass. While they may not have been brothers as I’d originally thought, they were certainly of the same species.
I focused on Mr. Black. “How did you see through Prudence’s subterfuge?” I wanted to learn his secret for the next time the uppity ghost tried to trick me.
“I have learned over time not to believe only what I see, especially when in the presence of your kind, Scharfrichter.” He moved away from the window, standing front and center. “Now that I have you both here, I will reveal the message I was tasked to deliver.”
“By Ms. Zuckerman?” I confirmed.
He gave a single nod.
“Who is she to you?” I pressed.
“Must you continue to natter when you should remain silent?” Prudence snapped.
Harvey snorted out a laugh. “Ol’ Prudy must’ve spent the money her mama gave her for manners on a tongue sharpener.” He tossed back more whiskey.
Crud, that whiskey was greasing Harvey’s tongue a little too much. “Old Prudy” didn’t take kindly to disrespect under her own roof. I needed to keep her focus on me.
“Listen, Miss High-and-Mighty,” I said to her. “Mr. Black is the delivery man. I’d like to know who this message is actually from in case I have questions.” I tossed my sunglasses to her. They landed in her lap. “And put those on so the rest of us don’t have to stare into your freaky eyes.”
She pointed at Mr. Black. “He has already revealed that Mademoiselle Zuckerman sent him. Why must we dwell on known facts?” She shoved the glasses on, finally covering those big white empty orbs.
“Have you considered that I don’t know who this Zuckerman woman is or why a message from her should be of any importance to me?”
“Mademoiselle Zuckerman’s identity is not important at present,” Prudence declared, as if that were the end of the discussion, plain and simple. She turned back to Mr. Black. “Do you see the lack of expertise I must endure? Again. When I consider all that I sacrificed …” she sighed loudly.
I frowned at Zelda—or rather Prudence. What did she mean by “again”?
She scoffed. “And to add insult to injury, I have little doubt that this one’s line is full of raggabrashes and whiffle-whafflers.”
I might have objected if I’d known what those words meant. As it was, I just frowned back as she continued her tirade against me.
“Her methods are brutish at best, her actions are impetuous, and her vernacular is uncouth.”
“That’s one hell of a mouthful, peach,” Harvey said to Prudence, swirling his drink. “But you’re forgettin’ that you ain’t the biggest toad in the puddle anymore.”
That was surely the whiskey talking. I mimed buttoning my lips to Harvey, worrying about the future of his canine teeth. He grinned back at me. “Well, I should smile.”
Prudence reached toward Harvey’s leg, but he pulled away too fast. “Don’t be gettin’ frisky now, girl. I’m not trying to set your tail to rattlin’, I’m just doing my job watchin’ out for Sparky.” He gave her a wink. “I sure would’ve liked to have seen you in action back when you were still breathin’.” He raised his glass to her and then polished off the last of the amber liquid. “Damn, that is some fine firewater. I think I’ll go get me another glass.”
“Harvey, wait,” I said as he stumbled to his feet.
He shot me with a fake finger gun. “Don’t leave before I get back.”
A hint of a smile crossed Mr. Black’s face as he watched Harvey meander toward the kitchen whistling “Dixie”—literally. He turned back to Prudence. “Your opinion aside, Rogue, the new Scharfrichter accomplishes tasks presented to her, and whether she is disciplined or not is of no importance. I’ve learned over the withering effect of time to never underestimate the strength and cunning of your kind.” He clasped his hands together. “Let us continue.”
I still wanted to know more about Ms. Zuckerman, but I kept my lips closed for the time being.
“There has been a resurgence of a pestilence that once threatened this region.”
Pestilence? I doubted he was referring to the mountain pine beetle that had killed many of the pine trees in the Hills over the last decade or so.
“Caper-sus,” Prudence said knowingly.
Now where had I heard that word before?
Mr. Black’s solemn nod made me chew my lower lip. Of the three of us, I had a feeling exterminating this “pestilence” was going to fall mainly on my shoulders, and I already had a lidérc, a Duzarx, Lord only knew how many Nachzehrer, and an imp to corral.
“What’s a caper-sus?” I asked.
“What evidence do you have that this resurgence is occurring?” Prudence ignored my question. “More branding? Rings?”
“Tattoos have been observed on multiple occasions.”
“I have seen some as well. We shall need to cull the herd once again.”
I moved to the edge of the cushions, leaning my elbows on my knees. “So, you two have had problems with these caper-sus creatures before?”
“Caper-sus does not refer to a creature,” Mr. Black explained, “but rather a following of crusaders bent on usurping the old order.”
“When I was still of the flesh,” Prudence said, “I purged many from their ranks—both human and others—throughout the Black Hills. Eradicating this pestilence is in part why I came to this land.”
“What was the other part?” I asked.
“That is no busine
ss of yours.”
Sheesh. And here I thought we were on our way to being best friends forever. I turned back to Mr. Black. “Is there more to your message?”
He gave a slight nod. “You will need to exterminate the pestilence before it spreads beyond your capabilities to do so.”
Fuck. I knew I’d end up drawing the short straw. “Then why did you require both of us to hear this message?”
“The Rogue will act as your mentor in this campaign.”
Both Prudence and I scoffed in sync.
“I cannot teach her.” Her chin jutted. “She is a simpleton.”
“And she’s impossible to work with,” I told him. “I’d sooner spoon with a lidérc.”
Something crashed in the kitchen, drawing Prudence’s attention.
Mr. Black focused on me. “Have you determined where the lidérc hides?”
How did he know it was loose or that I was on the hunt for it? “Not yet.”
“You need to watch for subtle signs of death. A lidérc will draw the life from all it touches.”
I nodded, trying not to frown. Subtle signs of death? It was winter. Weren’t there “subtle signs of death” all around right now?
“And know this,” he continued. “Its preference to hide in plain sight is its weakness.”
Prudence made a sound of disgust, her attention back on me. “Why would you attempt to catch a devil of smoke and shadow? Have you no concept of the dangers a lidérc presents to our kind?”
Oh, I’d heard all about how a lidérc can be deadly for an Executioner, thanks to my family history books.
“To my knowledge, there has been only one of your kind who has succeeded in slaying a lidérc,” Mr. Black said.
I leaned forward. “How did she catch it?”
“I do not know, but she did not catch it. She slew it.”
“I told you not to dig up more snakes than you can kill, Sparky,” Harvey called from the kitchen.
“We are not born to catch,” Prudence said. “We are born to slay. Why must you resist what is innate to your lineage?”
“Because I’m different, okay? Not all of us are content to kill, kill, kill.”
“If I want more to drink, old woman,” Harvey hollered, “I’m gonna have it!” I heard a cupboard door slam. “Now where’d you hide the gut warmer?”
Who was he talking to? What was in that whiskey?
“That compassion will be the death of you,” Prudence told me, her voice tight with fervor. “Especially when faced with those who belong to the caper-sus.”
I believed her. “And you two expect me to do something about them on my own?”
“Oh, dear.” She turned to Mr. Black. “We are doomed.”
I would have hit her with a smartass comeback, but she was right. “How can you tell if someone is one of these caper-sus supporters?”
“They bear the mark of the caper and sus—the goat and pig.”
I sat up, suddenly remembering when I’d heard that word—Dominick had said it that night in the Sugarloaf Building. “You mean a tattoo of a goat merging into a pig?”
“Yes, or a ring like this with the signature emblem.” He fished something from his pocket, holding out a ring toward me.
I took it, frowning down at the insignia on the pewter ring. I’d seen that goat-pig image before. It’d been tattooed on the bitch who’d torched my Bronco, and another on a dead woman in front of the Sugarloaf Building with my war hammer lodged in her chest, and another somewhere else I couldn’t quite remember, dang it. “I thought that was the symbol for a group of demon worshippers down near Yankton.”
“There may be members there as well,” Mr. Black said. “But they do not worship a demon per se, they worship what it represents—power.”
“And greed,” Prudence added gravely. “In the past, many of those bearing the caper-sus mark were quite formidable.”
I suddenly remembered where else I’d heard about this tattoo—Doc had seen them in the visions he’d had about Prudence’s death while she was using him as a ventriloquist’s doll. All three of her killers had spoken with Chinese accents and had that same goat-pig tattoo.
Shit. If this caper-sus group could take down an Executioner as hard-headed and kickass as Prudence claimed to be back then, what chance did I have at making it out of this new mess alive?
“How can we stop them before they become too powerful?” I asked, as Harvey rejoined us. He was empty-handed. Apparently, he hadn’t found the whiskey.
Mr. Black’s scowl deepened. “According to our informant, there is a company of great wealth that has made a deal with the science lab to use some of their underground equipment to perform experiments. This is a ploy.”
“I assume they’re planning to try to remove Masterson from his throne once again,” Prudence stated.
At Mr. Black’s nod, I asked, “And removing Masterson would be bad because why?”
“While you may not always agree with Masterson’s methods, he does keep order. Balance. The usurpers will encourage chaos.” Mr. Black gave me a grim look. “You need to determine who at the science lab is spearheading this new attempt to acquire control of the region.”
“Why can’t Dominick do th …”
Holy shit! That must be why Natalie saw Dominick coming out of the lab with Rex.
And why he invited Rex to live over his garage.
And why he’d become so chummy with my ex.
It was not about finding a way to get at me. That just happened to be a lucky coincidence—well, unlucky for me. He had to be using Rex to gain access to the lab and find out about this caper-sus controlled company.
Another idea struck, making me gasp. Was this why Dominick was pushing me so hard to find his damned lidérc? It wasn’t a matter of losing his smoky pet, but rather a need for a deadly weapon to unleash upon his enemy?
“What is it?” Mr. Black asked.
“I think Dominick is already working on this in his own way.” I told them about my big realization.
Mr. Black nodded. “A keen observation, Scharfrichter. Well done.”
Before I could bask in the glow of his compliment, Prudence butted in with, “You dolt! Why did you not tell me about this before now?”
“Because it is impossible to have a rational conversation with you while your big-ass ego is in the room. Every time I try to talk to you, all you do is list my faults and pontificate about how much better you are than me.”
“Hoo-wee!” Harvey clapped. “We got us a ruckus brewin’ now. Sparky, hold onto yer teeth.”
A grin spread across Mr. Black’s face. “I see some things never change, Rogue.”
Prudence lifted her chin. “Is it too much to ask for a competent colleague?”
“Was she always like this?” I asked Mr. Black.
“Let’s just say that you are not the first of your kind to find fault with her directness.”
He confirmed my earlier deduction. “So there was another Executioner in the Black Hills before me? I mean, other than Prudence?”
He shot Prudence a raised brow. “You have not told her?”
She shrugged. “It has not been necessary as of yet.”
“Told me what?”
“There was another here back when gold first ruled these hills,” Mr. Black said.
“Another Executioner?” Harvey asked, leaning forward.
“Yes.” Prudence scowled at me. “One whose skills far exceeded yours, yet still fell short.”
I rolled my eyes. She was like a dead bee with its stinger still armed and ready. “Was this Executioner a gunfighter?” That would make sense with our killing profession.
“Of course not.” Prudence sniffed. “She was an undertaker.”
Chapter Eleven
Several hours later …
Calamity Jane Realty was a ghost town.
I’d been left alone in the office to hold down the fort for the last hour of the day after Jerry, Mona, and Ben had each headed out for various
appointments and whatnot with no plans to return. Considering the dust devil of fear, anxiety, and doubts spinning in my mind, some time spent without having to fake a smile and pretend that I didn’t need to be fitted for a straitjacket was a good thing.
After Prudence’s announcement about the previous Executioner having been an undertaker, Mr. Black had taken a peek out the front window and announced that he had to go. Without bothering to explain why, he’d told me he’d be in touch and left. By the time Harvey and I had grabbed our coats and headed out into the cold, Mr. Black was long gone.
The ride back to Deadwood was uneventful, in part because I decided to skip going through downtown Lead and take the Central City route back to work, wanting to avoid any cops on the trip. I’d prodded Harvey about what was going on in Zelda’s kitchen as we’d left her driveway, but he’d only muttered something about Prudence hiding the whiskey and then leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He was snoring by the time we hit Central City five minutes later. It appeared that Prudence had drained him of energy during our little chat, the same way Cornelius had sucked the energy out of her yesterday.
I’d dropped Harvey off back at Doc’s place, telling him that I was going to pester him later for more details. Between his sleepiness and my need to return to work so I could go through my Calamity Jane website vlog with Jerry—his idea at brunch, not mine—I didn’t have time to share ghost stories over brownies like Harvey had offered. Although being that the brownies were Harvey’s own chocolate-marshmallow-peanut-butter-fudge brownies, I almost followed the old boy inside anyway, work be damned.
I’d tried calling Doc on the way to Calamity Jane’s, but the call went to his voice mail, so I hung up, figuring the things I wanted to tell him probably shouldn’t be recorded. The Picklemobile wasn’t in the lot when I parked in my usual spot, either. I didn’t think he had any appointments today, but in his line of work that could change with a single phone call.
Now, as I sat at my desk waiting for five o’clock to roll around, I was wishing I’d grabbed some brownies for the road and was contemplating taking Harvey to Mexico with Doc, me, and the kids so that he could cook for us. He’d certainly enjoy the bikini-clad babes on the beach and might find himself a sexy señorita to take Beatrice Geary’s place in his heart.