Devil Days in Deadwood

by Ann Charles

  “I didn’t need to figure that out. Your great-grandmother said it was made in the mid-1700s by a Venetian-trained glassmaker who migrated to Germany and married one of our ancestors.”

  “Was the glassmaker a male or female?”

  “Does it matter?”

  I shrugged. “It just fills in the blanks a little more.”

  “I believe it was a he. However, if memory serves me right, he had five daughters and trained all of them in the art of glassmaking, too.”

  “Ah, so you come from a long line of glass artisans.”

  She smiled. “Just as you come from a long line of killers.”

  I didn’t find that as smile-worthy. “Right.”

  “So, now you understand how old this mirror is, but not what makes it special.”

  “Is it the frame?” I guessed, interrupting her. Doc had mentioned something once about that not being a normal mirror after talking about the frame and its markings.

  “Violet, how much coffee have you had this morning?”

  I grimaced. “I gulped down a full cup of straight-up black coffee before coming out here.” At the shake of her head, I said, “What? It was a late night, remember?”

  I’d told her about what had happened at Piggly Wiggly in Lead as soon as I’d burst through the door earlier.

  “It’s not just the frame,” she said, setting it back down onto the bar stool. “There are elements mixed into the mirror that your great-grandmother told me about. She mentioned two in particular, which I confirmed to be true with a high-powered microscope that belongs to an old friend of mine from Santa Fe who’s a gemologist.”

  “Gemologist? You mean there are pieces of gems in it? Not just the silver and mercury or whatever else they used back then to make mirrors?”

  “Yes. There are trace amounts of quartz and rubies.”

  “I know you had a microscope, but how can you see trace amounts?”

  “Many gems have impurities present that show up under a black light, including rubies and quartz.” She tapped the glass. “This mirror is infused with powers. A ruby is said to protect the bearer of the gem from physical harm.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Nope. You can look it up for yourself. Rubies represent the fire element and are said to keep evil entities and other such negative energies away from the gem bearer.”

  “So, it’s a protective mirror.”

  “That’s right, but it also has grains of clear quartz infused in the glass—quartz also shows up under black light.”

  “What does quartz do?”

  “Since ancient times, quartz has been a source of energy and healing. If you look closely at quartz, it’s prismatic. It has all the colors of the spectrum. That’s why it’s been considered the ‘perfect jewel’ for centuries.” She pointed at the star-shaped suncatcher hanging in the window.

  The sun wasn’t out today so the usual rainbow of colors was absent, but I nodded anyway. I thought of the many times I’d stared, mesmerized, at the kaleidoscope of color it splashed on the walls of her workshop.

  She looked into the mirror. “It’s believed that quartz can amplify energy, focus it, and channel it into etheric realms. It helps to open pathways to the other side, giving strength to those who use the crystal.”

  “So, you’re saying that this mirror can protect and empower someone.”

  “Yes.”

  “That sounds exactly like what I could use to catch the lidérc.”

  Half of her face creased. “Maybe in the right hands, but maybe not in the wrong ones.”

  “How do I know which mine are?” I asked, looking down at my palms.

  “You won’t until you try to use it.”

  “But if it’s been passed down through our family line it should work for me, don’t you think?”

  “What I do or do not think will not keep you alive when facing off with the lidérc.”

  “You could really use some schooling on your bedside manner.”

  “Let me tell you about the frame.” She ran her fingers over the symbols that were etched down the right side of the frame. “This is far older than the mirror itself. The two were fused together after the mirror was made. It was your great-grandmother’s belief that the fusion was done to strengthen the properties of both mirror and frame.”

  She touched the symbol near the top right. “This is Mercury, which typically represents the mind.” She looked up at me. “It can also be used to mean a state that can transcend death.

  “These symbols here represent the four elements—fire, water, air, and earth.” She indicated the four corners and the different triangle symbols there. “While you can’t find them on the periodic table, alchemists believe they have both significant powers and the ability to create new elements.”

  “Are those numbers?” I asked, pointing at what sort of looked like a 4 and a 7, only they were crooked and blended partially into the other symbols.

  “Yes. Four can represent many things, such as the four elements or the cardinal points. Seven is often used to represent the seven planetary bodies.”

  “Only seven? Did they have something against Pluto, too?”

  “Keep in mind that the planetary bodies in alchemy are different than what we consider planets these days. There was the moon, Mercury, Venus, the sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn.” She raised a finger. “However, the number seven can also represent the seven stages of transformation, which begins with death and concludes in rebirth.”

  “In other words, four and seven aren’t just lucky numbers, and I should hold off on buying lottery tickets.”

  “Correct, smartypants.” She poked me in the side, making me flinch and laugh. “Throughout history, alchemy was often blended with numerology to show deeper concepts that were mysterious and complex.” Her forehead creased. “I’ve studied the symbols all over this mirror frame in great detail over the years. The problem I’ve had in fully understanding all that it could be capable of in light of what you’re facing now is that symbolism can be perceived not only differently depending on the original artist’s intentions, but also it can be multi-layered with several levels of meaning.”

  I blew out a breath. “I think I’m going to need more coffee if you go too much deeper into this.” I tapped on two of the symbols I knew well. “Those look like the symbols for male and female.”

  “That is correct as well. The male symbol as you know it is often used to represent Mars and the element of iron. The female is used for Venus and copper. And the circle with the dot in the center is the Sun and gold. These all can also correspond to days of the week as well as organs in the body, such as the heart, the gallbladder, and the kidneys,” she said as she pointed at the Sun, Mars, and Venus symbols.

  I scrubbed my hand down my face.

  She nodded at my reaction. “That is how I’ve felt many times while studying what the symbols may or may not mean.”

  “I see why you’re hesitant for me to use it for the lidérc.”

  Leaning back in her stool, she sighed down at the mirror. “According to your great-grandmother, a long time ago—long before the mirror was created with its gem-inspired protection—we had a magistra in our family who also practiced alchemy. She was successful when it came to the transmutation of base metals and created several weapons during her life. These weapons were kept in the family for years, but later they were melted down and blended together to form this frame.”

  “Transmuted again,” I said, wondering if another alchemist had been at work here.

  Aunt Zoe nodded and continued her story. “Initially, there was another cruder mirror that the frame surrounded. Combined, they formed, as Mr. Black said, a ‘gateway.’ Unfortunately, the gateway was not carefully fortified with the right wards and symbols, and we lost an Executioner who tried to use the mirror during a battle.”

  “A battle with what?”

  “Your great-grandmother did not know and I haven’t been able to find reference to this ba
ttle in our family history volumes … yet.”

  If there was a reference, it had to be in one of the volumes from the Dark Ages written in Latin that Aunt Zoe hadn’t translated.

  I clasped my hands together. “Does that mean the Executioner was killed?”

  “She didn’t know that either. What your great-grandmother did know was that the Executioner tried to use the mirror as a trap and somehow ended up stuck on the other side of it, never to be seen again.”

  That reminded me of warnings I’d heard about another Executioner using a Timekeeper to help change the past. She’d also ended up lost forever, stuck somewhere in the dark between realms.

  “So, there’s an Executioner stuck in this mirror?”

  “No. Since that time, the mirror has been replaced, as I explained to you. However, this mirror does not come with instructions. You could use it and end up lost for good as well. Or you could find success and trap the lidérc within the mirror, as Layne mentioned with the demon in the movie. I just don’t know.”

  I frowned at her. “Disclaimers aside, what do you think the mirror can do?”

  “Like I said, according to what I’ve read—”

  “I’m not asking about what you have read or what Grandma-Great said. I’m asking what you think the mirror might be able to do after all of the time you’ve spent researching and pondering it.”

  She ran her fingers along the bottom of the frame. “I think it can protect the bearer, which is you. How it will protect you is where I get fuzzy, and that makes me nervous.” She covered my hand with hers. “Someone went to a lot of work to make this mirror, and many others have safeguarded it for generations. My question is, if you use it, will it destroy you along with your enemy?”

  I picked up the mirror and stared into it, seeing nothing more than a cloudy-edged version of me.

  “At this point, I’m running out of options when it comes to the lidérc. I’m thinking it can’t hurt to try the mirror on the tricky bastard.”

  She frowned up at me. “But what if it does?”

  * * *

  An hour later, I’d steamed my head under hot water while thoughts of that mirror and frame percolated through my tired brain. After towel-drying my hair and slathering myself in lotion, I returned to my bedroom no more certain of what to do than before, dang it.

  While I dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a green sweater of Doc’s that I’d permanently borrowed, an idea took seed. It wasn’t a warm-and-happy idea, but it was something, at least, which was far better than all of the “nothing” that had filled my idea piggy bank previously.

  Although I wasn’t sure anyone else would like my seed.

  The smell of bacon wafted up the stairs, luring me down to the kitchen. Doc and the kids weren’t back yet, judging from the lack of squeals and giggles, and Aunt Zoe had been pulling on her glass mitts when I left after our talk, which meant either Reid or Harvey was cooking in the kitchen. I didn’t care if it was Count Dracula standing at the stove right then, so long as no bacon was burned when I dished it up.

  I made a couple of quick phone calls that went along with my not-so-great-but-potentially-okay idea. Then, after doing a rotten job of combing my hair with my fingers, I hurried down to see what was cooking along with the bacon.

  I rushed into the kitchen, skidding to a stop next to the table. Turned out it was Count Harvey up and out of his coffin this morning. He was flipping over sizzling strips of bacon on a broiling pan. His gray hair was slicked back, his Moon the Cook apron was tied with a bow, and his whistling was full of high notes. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes on scene to deduce that Harvey’s date last night had ended successfully, and that was as much as I wanted to know on the subject.

  Harvey being here played along with my post-shower idea—a notion that I’d bet my purple boots he wasn’t going to like, especially since his name specifically had come up in one of the calls I’d made.

  “Hey there, Sparky.” He closed the oven door and looked my way, his grin wide and toothy. “I hear you were out playin’ ghost detective last night at Piggly Wiggly.”

  He must have talked with his nephew already. Speaking of Sparky, I had a bone to pick with the ol’ goat. “Why are guys up in Lead calling me ‘Sparky’ now?”

  I heard the front door open, hoping it was Doc and the kids back from the Rec Center. I needed to tell him about my idea.

  Harvey snickered. “I’ve been spreadin’ rumors about you at the senior center.”

  He was what?!! “Why would you do that?”

  “For one thing, all those people there are old and bored witless. They’re just sittin’ around all day waitin’ for their final number to be called so they can ‘Bingo!’ out. I figured they could use some gossip to juice things up.” He aimed the tongs at me. “And you, girlie, offer up one helluva tale.”

  “I agree with Harvey,” Doc said, breezing into the kitchen. “You have one helluva tail, especially when you’re wearing those yoga pants.” He dropped a kiss on my lips as he passed me, smelling like fresh air with a hint of Rec Center pool, and then headed for the laundry room with his duffel bag. I stared at his backside as he left.

  Harvey cleared his throat. “Feelin’ a little fertile this mornin’, are we?”

  My cheeks warmed at getting busted ogling. “I was just admiring the tailoring of his clothes.”

  “You mean his old jeans and T-shirt?”

  “Yep.”

  He grinned. “I see you’re speakin’ fluent in bullshit this mornin’.”

  “I’ve been practicing what you preach,” I shot back with a wink.

  He laughed at that and returned to making breakfast.

  I heard a zip and the sound of the washing machine door opening. The rest was drowned out by the thunder of footfalls clambering up the stairs, sounding more like a herd of water buffalo than three kids.

  When the commotion died down, I turned to the bucket mouth at the stove. “Harvey, what kind of stories are you telling about me at the senior center?” According to Bill the security guard, the old boy’s yarns were inspiring erroneous notions of wedding bells.

  Now that I thought about it, I remembered a couple of ladies one night at Mudder Brothers Funeral Parlor talking about me and Harvey and Cooper. Somehow or other, we needed to get Doc’s name thrown into the mix. Maybe I needed to bust in during bingo night and make an official announcement between B14 and O62 that I was sleeping with the town “Doc” these days. Let the tongue-waggers chew on that fat for a while.

  “Don’t bust your bloomers, Sparky. The tales ain’t that tall. I just sprinkled a little sugar about you seeing a ghost or two durin’ your day job. I figured it can’t hurt what with your new TV show coming out soon and all. Your boss would probably cheer me on if he knew I was promotin’ you like that.”

  Sweet Mary Lou! “Like I need to be any more notorious than I already am in this town.”

  He shrugged. “It’s January. Come April you’ll be old news.”

  “Why April?”

  “Because everybody in town will be bitchin’ about all of the snow still flyin’ around then. Winter wears on a person up here, sort of like a hat that’s a little too tight and gives you a headache in certain spots after a bit.” He grabbed a cast iron frying pan from the cupboard next to the stove. “You’re good entertainment, girlie. Not as excitin’ as when the brothels were still up and runnin’, mind you, but you have surely added some fireworks here and there.”

  I heard the water in the washer kick on, and then Doc returned to the kitchen sans his duffel bag.

  “Did you hear any of that?” I asked him, dropping into a chair at the table.

  “Most of it.” He walked over to the refrigerator, grabbing some creamer. “Harvey’s right,” he said as he closed the door. His smile was downright sinful. “You’re my favorite distraction.”

  I hit him with a level squint. “The last time you said that, you didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

  At the
time, he’d been in the process of buying his house while trying to avoid me, claiming I messed up his head—and not in a good way. He, on the other hand, had already gone and pretty much screwed up my heart. Calling me a “distraction” had burned deep, inspiring fantasies of hanging him upside-down by his testicles. Ahh, young love.

  Lucky for him, I’d resisted violence and fallen ass over teakettle for him and his bedroom eyes.

  Lucky for me, he’d fallen, too, for me and my kids.

  Doc swung by the table with the creamer in hand. “Yeah, but this time I added the word ‘favorite’ in front of ‘distraction.’ ” He tipped up my chin, searching my face. “Your bruises are starting to fade, Killer. How about I kiss them better later?”

  “Yes, please.” Although if I couldn’t figure out how to use that mirror, there might not be much kissing-better necessary, because I’d be dead.

  His gaze held steady on mine, his brow tightening. “What’s wrong?”

  I should have known he’d be able to read my mind. “I talked to Aunt Zoe about that special mirror in her shop.”

  “And?”

  I glanced toward the dining room, making sure we didn’t have an audience other than Harvey, who was grabbing eggs from the fridge. “She says the mirror has microscopic bits of ruby and quartz in it for protection and empowerment.”

  I could see on Doc’s face that he was weighing that news. “Those both seem like good things.”

  “And the marks on the frame are alchemy symbols, but there are too many possibilities on what they might mean for her to know for sure the mirror’s purpose, other than to possibly help me if used correctly.” I didn’t add that it could severely screw me over if not.

  The edges of his eyes crinkled. “That still is good news. Now tell me why you don’t look happy about it.”

  “Aunt Zoe doesn’t know for certain how the mirror and frame work, and she hasn’t been able to find anything regarding it in our family history volumes. She only knows what Grandma-Great told her.”

  “Which was what, Killer?”

  “That the mirror is for me to use to protect myself.”

  Harvey scoffed and cracked an egg in a frying pan. “Sounds to me like there’s a squirrel in that tree somewhere. You just need to figure out how to flush it out.”