Oh, and we had a ghost. A family ghost. Who might even rate higher on the pain-in-the ass scale than my mother and sisters right now.
John Henry Holliday. My grandfather. Yeah, that John Henry Holliday.
It was a shame he was already dead. On days like today, I wanted to kill him. This was all John’s fault. He and my mother had gotten into it about something—neither would tell us what, which made it worse—and Meema was on a rampage. Another thing that would need to be sorted. There were too many secrets in our house. I shook my head. Later. This would all need to happen later.
Deadwood was quiet today. It was late spring. We had a little more time before the tourists descended en masse on us. Not that I was complaining. I loved the tourists. I didn’t know them, and despite the public family business, didn’t get to know them. But I loved them nonetheless.
Because it was late spring, Meema closed Monday through Wednesday. I could roll right past our family’s tea and herbal shop without feeling any guilt. Thank goddess, because the Crab Hollandaise burger was calling to me in the worst way. I parked and walked in, taking a seat at the bar.
Duffy, the bartender, looked over her shoulder when I sat down. “Hey, Des, what’s up?”
I rolled my eyes. “Fighting with Meema and my sisters. What else?”
“Crab?”
“Yes, please.” I loved being a local.
Outside of the fact that all I had to do was walk in here, and the bartenders knew what I was having, I loved Deadwood. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. The fact that who and what I was centered on Deadwood came in second, almost. I truly loved it here.
“What are you drinking?”
“The Stranahan,” I said. I loved that they had a good-sized whiskey selection. Even though I didn’t stray from my favorites. Right now, it was the Colorado whiskey from the Stranahan down in Denver.
Duffy smiled and poured me a healthy shot, neat. She added a glass of water, and then let me be.
Yeah, it was good to be local.
I stared at the mirrors over the bar, not really seeing them. Someone came in the door, and I felt the breeze from the open door waft over me. Kind of like when you felt ghosts pass by. That was another reason I liked Saloon No. 10. I knew the ghosts here, and they knew me. Actually, a number of them had known me. As the oldest granddaughter of Desdemona Nightingale, saloon and dance hall girl at the Bella Union Saloon, circa 1876, she and my mom, also Desdemona Nightingale, had seen a lot of death. So had I, Desdemona Nightingale number three.
But since we all knew each other, the ghosts here tended to leave me alone unless they were in the mood for a chat. They were terrible gossips. After a hundred years, I was pretty good about ignoring ghosts I didn’t want to deal with.
Duffy came out with a plate and set it in front of me. “Here you go, sweets.”
“Thanks, Duff.” I smiled.
I inhaled the smell of crab and hollandaise. Two of the foods from the goddess. I took a bite and as I was chewing, steps sounded behind me. The proverbial boots-on-hardwood.
“Desdemona Holliday,” a deep voice said.
I chewed carefully and swallowed. Then I set my burger down, also carefully. I wiped my hands on my napkin and took a deep breath. I felt the magic gather at my fingers. No one called us Holliday. We were the Nightingales, and the Holliday aspect was kept under wraps.
No exceptions.
I turned my barstool around slowly to see what had to be the brand-new neighbor, since the man in front of me was a necromancer. While he didn’t have the normal stink they all seemed to have, he had the look. After a while, you could just tell. He was tall, with dark, longish hair. His face was clean-shaven, and his eyes were the gray-green of a summer storm.
What the hell? Stop it, I told myself. This guy needed to shape up, move, or die. No matter what color his eyes were.
We protected Deadwood. No exceptions.
“I am Desdemona Nightingale. Can I help you?” The magic coiled tightly in my fingers, waiting to be released. One wrong move, pal. Make just one … and all my aggression is gone for the day. Probably for tomorrow, too.
He frowned. “You call yourselves Nightingale, but we both know the truth.”
“Oh? Well, please enlighten me.” I swiveled a half-turn and picked up my burger again. “I suppose you can have a seat.” I indicated the stool next to me with my burger.
“I did not come here to—”
“I came here for this burger, and I’m not letting it get cold. Sit, or don’t.” I turned the barstool back to the bar. It was a risk, putting my back to him, but it was better he not suspect anything. Bad enough he knew my real name.
The indecision rolled off him. That was a good sign. At least he didn’t plan to off me before I finished the burger. Then he sat down.
“What can I do for you?” I asked.
“I wish to make peace with you.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” The magic waiting in my hands eased in intensity. I didn’t know what he wanted, but it seemed there wasn’t going to be a showdown at the Saloon No. 10. Which was probably for the best. Damn it.
“I am well aware of what you and your family do here.”
My eyebrow went up. I knew it made me seem snotty as hell, but I couldn’t help it. “Are you? Then why are you here?”
“My help has been requested.”
Oh, this was good. “In what way?” Finishing the burger, I went to work on the fries.
“I would like the chance to help those requesting my … services without interference from you.”
“Really? I’d like all the cats and dogs in our neighborhood to keep on breathing.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s totally realistic and fair, zombie guy,” I hissed, leaning closer to him. “And you know it. If you know about my family, then you know better than to come here and try and blow smoke at me.”
“We’re not all the same.”
I laughed. “Yeah, sure. I’ve met a bunch of you, and yes, you are all the same. It’s part of the job description.”
He flushed, the color spreading up from his neck into his cheeks. “That’s a matter of choice.”
“Which totally sells your profession even more, zombie guy.”
“I have a name,” he grumbled.
“Do I need it?”
“Seeing as we’re neighbors, it would be neighborly if you knew it.”
“Lay it on me.”
“Zane McCallister.”
I nodded. “And how long do you plan to stay, Zane McCallister?”
“Depends,” he said.
“What can I get you?” Duffy chose this moment to come over, making eyes at me.
Smiling, I gave a little shake with my head. She’d bounce him if I wanted, but I could handle this.
“An iced tea, please.” Zane smiled pleasantly at Duffy.
Duffy nodded and moved away.
“Depends on what?” I asked.
“On exactly what my client needs. After that?” He shrugged, making no promises.
“Who is your client? I know most of the dead guys around here.”
He gave me a glance that I couldn’t interpret. “Yes, I think you probably know this one well.”
“Oh?”
“John Holliday.”
Damn that man straight to hell.
Get your copy of Hellborn HERE.
About the Author
Lisa Manifold is a USA Today Bestselling Author of fantasy, paranormal, and romance stories. She moved to Colorado as an adult and has no plans of living anywhere else. She is a consummate reader, often running late because "Just one more page!" She is a fan of all things Con, and has an entire room devoted to the costumes created for Cons.
Lisa is the author of many flavors of paranormal series, including The Realm, Djinn Everlasting, Dragon Thief, The Aumahnee Prophecy, Tales from the Veil, Sisters of the Curse, the books from The Midnight Coven collective, and the upc
oming Deadwood Sisters and The Mostly Open Paranormal Investigative Agency.
She lives as close to the mountains as possible with her husband, children, and four red rescue dogs.
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Also by Lisa Manifold
Vampire Mates
(with The Midnight Coven)
Immortal Darkness (Aug 2019)
The Mostly Open Paranormal Investigative Agency
Dark Pact
Dark Night (Oct 2019)
Vampire Brides
(with The Midnight Coven)
Forever Blood
Deadwood Sisters
Hellborn: The Unlucky Book 1
Hellfire: The Unlucky Book 2 (Sept 2019)
Dragon Thief
Dragon Lost
Dragon Found
The Realm Series
Heart of the Goblin King
To Wed the Goblin King
Realms of the Goblin King
Rise of the Dragon King
The Companion Tales, Volume I
The Companion Tales, Volume II
The Aumahnee Prophecy
with Corinne O’Flynn
Eamonn’s Tale
Marigold’s Tale
Watchers of the Veil
Defenders of the Realm
Tales From The Veil
with Corinne O’Flynn
The Portal Keepers
The Gimcrackers
Djinn Everlasting
Three Wishes
Forgotten Wishes
Hidden Wishes
Sisters of the Curse
Thea’s Tale
One Night at the Ball
Casimir’s Journey
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Dark Pact Page 17
