by Tonia Brown
“A big deal? Dodger, you don’t understand the enormity of what just occurred here. There’s just one thing those women love more than blood, and that’s money. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but did you or did you not just talk a eighty year old vampire out of five thousand dollars?”
Three things struck Dodger all at once, bringing him to another stop.
First and foremost, he had a hard time processing the suggestion that the buxom southern gal was a day over twenty-five, much less eighty years old.
Secondly, how much money did Boon say Dodger was just walking around with stuffed in his jacket pocket like it was a few measly bucks?
And third, he had done just the very thing Boon claimed he had done.
Boon’s chuckle interrupted Dodger’s shocked thoughts. “Forgive me for being so crass, son, but I don’t understand how you get about without limping, ‘cause you must have balls as big as church bells.”
Dodger groaned as he rubbed his eyes. “Let’s fetch the Sunbox from the Rhino and get this the hell over with. I’m getting tired and I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”
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Chapter Nine
Down in the Dark
In which Dodger picks locks, secrets and battles.
One fine evening, many years ago, a man by the name of Joseph Bernard Waxford wandered into Fort Keller and collapsed. The man was dehydrated and delirious and, perhaps more importantly, loaded down with two sacks of familiar yellow nuggets. When revived and questioned about his curious cargo, he claimed to have found it all in a mine in the middle of the desert, bursting at the seams with gold. Well, being the adventurous types (which is just another word for greedy) the young men of the fort were, a number of them abandoned their duties at the Fort and took off for the heat of the south, hoping to find an untold wealth of treasure in the sand.
They did indeed find the beginnings of a mine—a small hole in the ground blasted away by unknown hands which led into a wide underground cavern—and set to work seeking the very same gold the mad man claimed was there for the taking. The small town of Waxford, named in Joseph’s honor, sprang up to care for those men who spent countless hours digging away in the belly of the earth. And countless hours upon countless hours were spent. Hours used up. Hours wasted. For when it came down to it, nary a single pebble of gold was ever unearthed from the cold, uncaring rock.
In a year the town folded, the folks faded and Waxford was no more.
“And that’s when Becky and her girls moved in,” Boon said, finished his narrative as the pair of men approached the mouth of the now abandoned mine.
“They swooped in and set up shop, as it were,” Dodger said.
“Yes. The story of Waxford’s folly was enough to deter thru traffic. That and the fact that it’s located between miles of sand and the rump end of nowhere.”
Dodger crouched over the heavy boards bound with iron chains covering the entrance to the mineshaft beneath. He pulled at one of six aged padlocks that held the whole works in place. “Bitch. She never said anything about a key. I guess we’re supposed to let ourselves in.”
“Blast them open?”
“No. I don’t want to announce our arrival to those below.” Rather then return to the Rose and risk an unnecessary encounter with the vampires, Dodger turned his mind and his penknife to the task of picking the locks.
“A lock pick are we?”
“Among other things. Like the bearer of silver bullets, apparently.” From the corner of his eye, Dodger saw the ghost wince.
“I’m sorry. I should have said earlier, but it completely slipped my mind.”
“That’s all right.” A soft click sounded his first success. Dodger turned to the next lock in line. “Tell me more about ‘em. Why silver?”
“Silver, for some reason or another, seems the best way to deal with the majority of the unusual trouble the doc attracts. You know the kind I mean? Yes. I discovered early on in my work for him that it’s best to go ahead and carry silver bullets at all times. Saves the trouble of loading it when you need it most. Because most of the time, you’re gonna need it.”
“That’s all kinds of handy, I suppose.” Another click. Another lock. “How long have you been with the doc?”
“A few years. Seems longer.”
“And you’ve been dead just a few weeks?”
“Yes. I died quite unexpectedly. There wasn’t time to train a replacement.”
Dodger gave a snort at the spirit’s words. “It’s been my experience that unless you are diagnosed with a proper disease, no one dies expectedly.”
“That as it may be, in my case it was doubly surprising. I went into town for some supplies. Alone. I normally took Ched with me on those little excursions, but I just needed some time to myself. It was stupid of me, I now know. The Rhino always draws attention, especially from thieves and thugs. They see the fancy carriage and assume you’re carrying great wads of cash. It’s best to travel in pairs.”
Dodger made a note of that as he swallowed hard and thought about the lumpy envelope he had left in his jacket pocket.
The spirit pressed on with his tale. “I also left the guns with Ched. I hated carrying them into town. They tended to make folks a touch nervous. Made them hard to do business with.”
“I can imagine.”
“That was my mistake, though, because I was jumped on my way back to the Rhino. Two thugs took me by surprise. I tried my best to fight them off, and when it was apparent they had the upper hand I acquiesced and offered them everything I had, but … they weren’t just after my money, Dodger. They weren’t satisfied with my goods. They wanted my life. I don’t know why. Just pure tee meanness I suppose, but they weren’t happy until they beat my brains into a bloody soup.”
Dodger stopped to look up to the long, sorrow filled face of the ghost. “You watched it all, didn’t you?”
The ghost nodded. “One moment I was under their hateful blows, the next I was standing over them, watching the whole thing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t just that. I never got a chance to say goodbye, you know? It was like I went away for supplies and just never came back. I feel like I abandoned them.”
Dodger didn’t know what to say to that. He returned his focus to the locks, and asked, “What was with the whispering in front of the vampire? Ched can hear your whispers, why not her?”
Thankfully the spirit got over himself. “It was a risk, I admit, but I sensed she couldn’t hear me. Perhaps it is something in how the vampire mind works.”
“Well, all I can say is I feel like an ass not knowing what’s going on half the time. Damn, this one is tricky.” Of course, it had been a number of years since Dodger picked a lock, and even then it was with professional tools. He jiggered it and wiggled it, probing the tumblers deep with his knife until the lock gave up the fight. “Tell me, did you ever learn what became of old man Waxford?”
“A decade or so later he finally confessed that the gold belonged to a rival miner in Black Hills territory, up north. Seems he killed the poor fool, hid his body in the mines and made a run for it. When he spotted the Fort, he rounded and approached from the south so folks wouldn’t suspect his little lie. He didn’t think so many idiots would go looking for the made up mine, much less name a whole town after him.”
“Don’t tell me,” Dodger said as slipped another free and moved onto the next lock in line. “He spilled his guts to some innkeeper because his conscious bothered him after so many years of spending the poor fool’s money.”
“Sort of. He told the whole story to Becky when they took him in as a client.”
“He became one of the retched lonely, huh? I guess there are some thing money just can’t buy.” Dodger shuddered at the thought of Becky taking on a client. He dropped the fifth lock to the sand and started on the last. “That doesn’t bother you? The idea that they just help themselves to men like
that?”
“It really is a give and take relationship. From what I understand, men get as much as they give.”
Dodger paused, mid-pick, to glance up at the specter. “And how much did you give? Or should I ask how much did you get?”
It was a mean spirited question, one designed with a specific effect in mind.
An effect Washing Boon was quick to exhibit.
The specter huffed and puffed and grew all manner of flustered at the idea he had engaged in trade with the brothel behind them. “Well I never intended … that is to say … I think perhaps … well … it isn’t that they aren’t lovely girls …” He hemmed and hawed, declared and denoted, and all the while became more and more incomprehensible in his embarrassment.
Dodger couldn’t help but laugh at the poor ghost. “Don’t worry, Wash. I wouldn’t think less of you if you did, nor more of you if you refrained. I suppose, once you got to know them, a little time with such talented ladies might become a hard thing to resist.”
“You have no idea,” Boon said.
Dodger supposed he had to thank merciful Kwan Yin for that. With a soft click, the last lock opened and Dodger pulled it away. He lifted the hatch and peered down into a long, dark shaft. A foul scent wafted from the hole, curling around Dodger in musky wisps of rot and death. Giving the Sunbox a few cranks, he lowered the light into the mouth of the mine to reveal a worn and quite unreliable looking ladder.
“I guess it’s our only way down,” Dodger said.
“Well, the best of two ways down,” Boon said.
“Shall we proceed?”
“Allow me to go first, just in case they are laying in wait.”
Dodger couldn’t argue with that logic, and so he watched as the spirit descended the ladder, then grabbed up the Sunbox and followed, pulling the hatch closed behind him.
The ladder ended after nine or so feet—Dodger guessed this from the relation to his own height—with the shaft bottoming out into a round cavern perhaps a dozen or so feet in diameter. Paths branched off from either side, two nondescript tunnels that lead off into utter blackness. Dodger was just able to stand erect. Boon, on the other hand, had to stoop or else the top of his ghostly head disappeared into the rocky roof with a soft crackle of static discharge.
“This is most annoying,” Boon said.
Dodger hissed and held a finger to his lips. Not yet, partner. Let’s secure the area first.
Good idea, Boon whispered in his mind.
Dodger didn’t know if Boon heard his very thoughts, or if his plan was just that apparent. He drew Florence and set her hammer as he kept the Sunbox held high, watching the flickering shadows for any sign of attack. None came. Yet.
Where to first?
Dodger motioned to the left passage. Eldest hand always goes first.
You stay here. I’ll see what I can see. Boon disappeared into the darkened shaft.
Dodger stood in the small halo of light the Sunbox provided, breathing shallow and listening for any little movement, any little sound. He heard nothing. Saw nothing. Felt nothing. The ghost stayed gone for what seemed a very long time. One hundred heartbeats, maybe longer. Dodger was just about to trace Boon’s exit, when the specter exited from the opposite shaft across the grotto. Where only minutes before his presence was strong, his appearance almost solid, the ghost now flickered and waned. His voice reached out to Dodger as if coming from miles away, his usual whisper nothing more than a weak sigh.
The shafts converge into another small cavern a ways from here. I was unable to see in the darkness—I don’t understand any more than you do so do not ask—but I was able to touch the beasts’ minds with some effort. I counted ten of them scattered all along the way. The strongest minded one, the Jackal I assume, is at the back. They appear to be asleep, but I don’t know how long that will last once you start firing.
“We should make our stand here,” Dodger whispered as quietly as he could. “I hate to ask this but can you draw them to me? I can protect this spot better than running up and down some dark tunnel.”
I understand, and yes, I think I can bring them to you. I shall give you a count of fifteen and flush them out.
Boon slipped into the left hand passage again, and Dodger began his countdown.
Fourteen.
Thirteen.
Twelve.
Using the crank as a hook, Dodger affixed the Sunbox to a step of the ladder behind him.
Eight.
Seven.
He drew both weapons and set the dials to one. No need to waste ammo when one silver bullet was enough.
Four.
Three.
Dodger set the hammers on both weapons, raised his arms and aimed them toward the dark tunnels.
Two.
One.
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Chapter Ten
Like Hungry Jackals
In which Dodger deals death to the deathless.
A high-pitched shriek sounded from the left tunnel, followed by the undeniable sound of something scrambling toward him. Dodger leveled the gun, and waited. The instant the tunnel mouth proved movement, he fired. A creature shot forward, tumbling into the grotto and collapsing at his feet. There the thing—what looked like a man, only warped with unnatural features—twisted and writhed, screaming at the top of its unholy lungs as a fetid vapor rose from the gaping wound in its shoulder.
Dodger had no time to watch this spectacle, for a chorus of voices sounded from both tunnels, filling the grotto with a wild echo of shrieks. Sounds bounced off every surface, dancing through the mines until Which was a bit unfortunate as now he couldn’t be sure which tunnel would dump the next target onto him. He raised his weapons again and waited for the sign of movement.
Left! Boon shouted in his mind.
Flinching at the scream, Dodger hesitated for an instant at the urgency in the ghost’s voice.
Left, damn you! Boon shouted.
Dodger understood, and fired blindly into the left hand tunnel. To his relief, a creature skidded from the mouth and fell writhing before him.
Right!
Dodger complied, firing Florence into the darkness of the right hand tunnel.
Thus it went, back and forth, Boon piloting Dodger’s shots by shouts and Dodger following his partner’s lead. Four, five, six, and with a flick of the dial he switched the guns to their second setting. Seven, eight, nine creatures exploded under the force of two bullets, until eventually the shouts and shots and shrieking ceased. A thin vapor rose from the pile of dead at his feet, leaving Dodger a bit light headed but none the worse for wear. It was easy. Too easy.
“Bravo,” came a woman’s voice from the belly of darkness.
Dodger paused as he reloaded his gun. This was unexpected. Rebecca said the vampire was an animal. He didn’t expect to talk to her.
“I haven’t seen shooting like that in years,” the woman said. Her voice had just an edge of an accent. Something European. Bulgarian? No, Romanian. Home of dark legends and myths. “You have quite a way with weapons. I wonder if you have the same, delicate way with women? I often find those talents coincide. Something to do with the expertise of the hands, I imagine.”
“I take it you’re Gladys?” he asked the darkness.
“Yes. And you’re lunch.”
Dodger smirked at that. “Funny. Very funny.” He clicked Hortense closed and turned his attention to Florence. “I hate to disappoint you but I have no intention on dying today.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Are you going to come on out,” Dodger asked. “Or are you going to make me come after you?”
“Why should I come out? You’re just going to kill me too. Aren’t you? After all, isn’t that what those lying, two faced bitches sent you down here to do.”
“Yes.” He flicked the second gun closed and eyed the two tunnels. Where in the hell was Boon! At the moment Dodger needed him most, the ghost just ups and disappea
rs. It was just as well, Dodger always worked better alone. If he could keep her talking, he was fairly sure he could pinpoint which path she was down. “I do plan on killing you. I’d like to say I’m sorry about that, but considering the state these poor men are in, I can’t say that I am.”
Her voice turned venomous. “Those men had it coming. Abusing women for their own disgusting needs. They deserve everything they got.”
“I thought the policy of the Rose was give a little, get a little.”
“As if you believe that any more than I do.” The Jackal’s rich laughter echoed up both tunnels.
“I’m not sure what I believe anymore. Let’s get this over with. Come on out now.”
“Tell me, why should I come out?”
The left one. He was almost sure she was down the left hand side. “Because I will kill you either way.”
“Men are all the same,” she said. “You expect women to just bend to your very will. I should thank you for my freedom. But I won’t. I knew it was only a matter of time before those cows made a mistake.”
“Come out and face me, or I’ll just come in after you.”
“Come in after me? You think you know everything. But I know something you don’t.”
“Oh yes? What’s that?”
“I have a gun too.”
Dodger ducked and rolled away just as the Sunbox exploded and shattered behind him, taking with it his only source of light. The inky gloom swallowed him whole, drowning him in complete black. He scrambled in this darkness, over the pile of corpses, until he came to rest against the cavern wall. Backing up the wall, Dodger drew both weapons and waited in the darkness for death to claim him.
Several sounds came to him as he concentrated, listening for a hint of where she was; a scurrying along the cavern floor, the grunts of those men sill dying before him, his own too loud breathing.
Wait … if he could hear his breathing, then so could-
The Jackal swept him off his feet before he could finish the thought and Dodger buckled under her. In his effort to break his fall he dropped Hortense, reaching out for any purchase along the cavern wall. He found none, and fell to the ground under her heaving bulk. To his dismay, the fall twisted his right arm behind him, pinning Florence under their combined weight. There he struggled in the total darkness, squirming amidst the bodies of the dead and dying, fighting to keep his life’s blood to himself. The beast chomped the air inches from his face—he didn’t need to see it to know. He could all but feel her teeth snap and snarl, dripping slobber and God only knows what else on his face.
