Drovers and Demons

by Scott Langrel

  The big problem was that Lilith was nowhere to be found. To Murphy, this was a point of both consternation and relief. He’d wanted to put an end to her, but was secretly kind of glad he hadn’t had to face the succubus down again, not so soon after their first encounter, which had shaken him badly. In his estimation, it would be good to have a little time to prepare himself before running into her again. For Loco’s part, he was pretty pissed off about it.

  “She must have slipped out,” the Apache said, eyeing the western horizon. “She’ll head for Phoenix, no doubt.”

  “Well, we can’t get after her until we wash up a bit and get a change of clothes,” Murphy reminded him. “If we take off looking like this, we’ll get hanged for sure.”

  Loco had to admit that Murphy was right. They both looked like they’d been working in a slaughterhouse for a week straight, and neither one of them smelled too good, either. Loco, in particular, smelled like the wrong end of a sick mule, but then he’d done his fighting close up.

  “Let’s get about it, then,” Loco said. “We’ll wash up, grab some new clothes, and go find Seaver. I don’t like the fact that he’s been awfully quiet since I left him out there.”

  “He may have taken off,” Murphy surmised. “Or maybe he fell asleep. We won’t know until we go check on him. But let’s get the rest taken care of first.”

  Wearily, they took off in search of the hottest bath they could muster.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “He’s not here,” Loco said as he stomped around in the bushes. “This is where I left him.”

  Murphy thought about telling the Apache that he could clearly well see Seaver wasn’t there, but decided to keep his mouth shut. They were both irritable from lack of sleep and hunger; breakfast had consisted of jerky and stale corn fritters, and the pitiful meal had done nothing to improve the disposition of either man. At least they had gotten clean and acquired new clothes, as well as extra ammunition and a few supplies for the journey to Phoenix.

  “He probably lit out as soon as you turned your back on him,” Murphy said. “He didn’t strike me as a dependable type, anyway.”

  “Maybe,” Loco muttered, but he didn’t look convinced. He walked back over to the trail and studied the area carefully. “He left, all right,” the Apache said at length. “And he left on foot, too. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to double back into town and get a horse?”

  “You heard what he said,” Murphy reminded him. “He didn’t much cotton to horses. And he was probably scared out of his brain, to boot.”

  “At least he had enough sense to take the gun with him,” Loco said, frowning. “Not that it’ll do him much good, unless he doesn’t run into anything bigger than a prairie dog.”

  “Let’s get going,” Murphy said. “We’re likely to catch up to him before too long, unless he got foolish and veered off the trail.”

  Loco climbed back into his saddle and the pair headed southeast, leaving the fresh sunrise and the dead town of Vulture City behind them. The morning air was still cool, but the fog had mostly dissipated, and the sun would heat up the desert within the coming hour or two.

  With the Anasazi gone, there was nothing left to do but set out after Lilith. Loco was convinced that she would head for Phoenix, so that’s where they were going. Murphy, not being as well-versed in the ways of demons as he would have liked, had offered no resistance, mostly because he had no idea where the demon might be going, and Phoenix sounded as logical as anywhere else.

  They rode for the better part of the morning without encountering a single soul. Loco, the better tracker of the two by a hair, was convinced that Seaver was still on foot, and still ahead of them, having seen intermittent signs of the man’s passing. Murphy thought this unlikely, though he too had spotted evidence of a lone man on foot having come that way.

  “If he were still on foot, we would have caught up to him by now,” the hired gun argued.

  “He had a head start on us,” Loco reminded him. “If he took off right after I left him, he could still be ahead of us, assuming he kept his pace up.”

  “You saw him as well as I did,” Murphy said dismissively. “Did he look to you like a man who could keep up a march through the desert for hours without stopping?”

  Loco had to admit that Seaver hadn’t looked like a fellow who could climb the stairs at the White Dog without stopping twice to complain about it, but the evidence was right there in front of them. Of course, there was another possibility which the Apache had been considering for the last hour, but had heretofore kept to himself.

  “Lilith might have possessed him,” he told Murphy.

  That thought hadn’t occurred to Murphy, so he took some time to chew it over.

  “After the Anasazi possessed people back in town, they didn’t look so good,” he said finally. “None of them looked up for a trek across the desert.”

  “The Anasazi were mad,” Loco explained. “And they weren’t nearly as powerful as Lilith. I suppose she could hold a body together for quite some time, if she needed to.”

  “What’s wrong with her own body?” Murphy asked. “The one she had back at the boarding house, I mean. She’d get a lot more help from men along the way using that one, instead of Seaver’s.”

  “That wasn’t a real body,” Loco said. “That was just the image she wanted us to see. She’ll need to possess real bodies if she wants to conduct business here on the material plane. And pickings were pretty slim back in Vulture City, as far as live bodies go.”

  “Did you learn all of this from Roop?” Murphy asked. “I mean, about demons and everything.”

  “Some of it,” Loco replied. “Most of it, I picked up when I was in school in New Hampshire. I took several classes in theology, and I had a good relationship with the local Catholic priest. I’d bring him a bottle of Scotch, and he’d lecture me on the finer points of demonic possession and exorcism.”

  “Looks like I’ve got a lot to learn, as far as this wrangling business goes,” Murphy remarked.

  “You’ll catch on,” Loco assured him.

  They rode in silence for some time, until the sight of a lone figure appeared in the distance ahead of them. The person looked to be sitting several yards off the trail, under the scant shade of a small Mexican Bird of Paradise tree.

  “Is that Seaver?” Murphy asked, squinting as he stared into the distance.

  “I don’t think so,” Loco replied. “It looks like a woman to me.”

  “Lilith?”

  The Apache shrugged. “Can’t tell from here. We’d best be on our guard, though.”

  They approached at a casual pace. Murphy kept the Exterminator where he could get to it fast, just in case the person they were riding toward proved to be someone who needed shooting. As they closed the distance between them, it became apparent that Loco had been right; the person was definitely a woman, and she appeared to be sitting on the ground in a cross-legged fashion, much as an Indian might. Murphy scanned the area and saw that there was no sign of a horse or other means of transportation in sight.

  “That’s not Lilith,” Murphy said when they got a little closer. “That’s an old woman.” He looked around again. “Wonder how an old woman came to be out here in the middle of nowhere, without a horse or mule in sight?”

  “It could still be the succubus,” Loco warned. “Remember what I told you, about her body simply being an image she wanted us to see?”

  Murphy hadn’t remembered it, but he did now. He pulled the Exterminator a little closer to him.

  The old woman didn’t look up as they approached. She appeared to be meditating, or possibly asleep. It was hard to tell. She was Indian, probably Navajo, judging from her clothes.

  “Yá'át'ééh abiní,” Loco said when they pulled to a stop in front of her.

  “It’s about time you two showed up,” the woman said, lifting her gaze to study the two men. “I thought I might die of old age, sitting here waiting for you. And I’m immortal.”


  “It’s her!” Murphy said, bringing the mare’s leg up to bear.

  “Put that damn gun down, Murphy,” the old woman said calmly. “I’m not the demon you’re after.”

  Murphy, taken aback that the woman had known his name, didn’t immediately lower the weapon. Instead, he looked at Loco, puzzled.

  “Then who are you?” the Apache asked.

  “I am called Tse-che-nako,” the old woman replied.

  “Spider Grandmother?” Loco gasped, his eyes widening.

  “Yes,” the old woman said. “And you are Loco, and the other idiot is Murphy. Now that we have the formal introductions out of the way, we must talk. There isn’t a lot of time, after all.”

  “What is this?” Murphy asked. It seemed that half the people he came across anymore weren’t people at all, but some kind of supernatural being. And this one had just called him an idiot. The whole thing was starting to leave a bad taste in his mouth. Still, he lowered the Exterminator, but he didn’t stow it.

  Loco removed his hat and dismounted. His movements conveyed awe and respect, even though he’d been named an idiot too, albeit indirectly.

  “You know of the demon we’re pursuing?” Loco asked.

  “Ardat Lili,” Spider Grandmother confirmed. “I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I wasn’t aware of that witch’s arrival. You boys need to be careful with that one. She’s devious, and cunning.”

  Murphy dismounted as well, but he left his hat on his head. The way he saw it, if this Spider Grandmother wanted respect, she ought to try dishing some out herself, Indian goddess or not.

  “We think she’s stolen a man’s body,” he said to the old woman. “You didn’t happen to see a little guy come by here on foot, did you?”

  “She’s in that poor man’s body, all right,” Spider Grandmother said. “And she’s not the only one. Two of the Anasazi escaped with her.”

  “They’re all in Seaver’s body?” Murphy asked, surprised. “I imagine it must be pretty cramped in there.”

  “I’m sorry, Spider Grandmother,” Loco said. “We were under the impression we’d destroyed all of the Anasazi back in Vulture City.”

  “You did manage to take out most of them in that bloodbath,” Spider Grandmother said. “Along with everyone else in the town.”

  Murphy had heard about enough. “We did what we had to do to keep them from spreading,” he said. “And I didn’t see you there helping us, either.”

  Loco looked at Murphy like the hired gun had just stepped on a rattlesnake.

  “I was the one who allowed the kachinas to imprison them in the first place,” Spider Grandmother reminded Murphy with obvious irritation. “And it was foolish, greedy men who let them out again. It was your mess, you clean it up. I swear, you humans are like little children. You can barely do anything for yourselves, but you break everything you come across. It’s like being a full-time babysitter, watching over the likes of you.”

  “Murphy meant no disrespect,” Loco said quickly, though he was pretty sure Murphy had meant it. He was going to have to have a talk with his partner, and soon, concerning the etiquette of conversing with celestial beings.

  “The two remaining Anasazi must be stopped,” Spider Grandmother said. “They are the two oldest and most powerful. They’ll do a lot of damage if they reach a larger town, and now they have the succubus to protect them and draw energy from.”

  “Don’t worry,” Murphy said. “We’ll take them out when we take Lilith down.”

  “Take Ardat Lili down?” Spider Grandmother asked, her white eyebrows raised. “With what? That pop gun of yours? Good luck. I’ll come visit you in the Seventh Circle of Hell, where you’ll likely be busy getting flayed for eternity.”

  Murphy had been irritated at the Indian goddess before, but now his hackles were really raised. He didn’t know where these supernatural beings got off, talking down to people like that. He started to reply, but the feeling of something boring into his skin stopped him. He turned to see Loco shooting him daggers and emphatically shaking his head. With great effort, he bit his tongue and looked down to study his boots.

  “Murphy’s gun won’t kill Ardat Lili?” the Apache asked.

  “Won’t do more than piss her off, most likely,” Spider Grandmother said. “Ardat Lili isn’t a mere succubus. She’s an archdaemon. That’s the worst kind, you know. Your weapons will destroy the remaining Anasazi, but you’ll need to catch them away from the demon’s protection to do it.”

  “Can you help us?” Loco asked hesitantly.

  “Haven’t I already?” Spider Grandmother asked irritably. “Do you think I’ve been sitting out here in the desert for my health? I have better things to do, but I thought you might want to know about the Anasazi. Because you obviously didn’t know, now did you?”

  “Well, we know now,” Murphy muttered. He was still looking at his boots.

  Spider Grandmother looked at Loco and jerked a gnarled thumb in Murphy’s direction. “You need to trade that one in, if you know what’s good for you,” she whispered. “He’s about as worthless as tits on a boar hog. Why Roop picked him is beyond me, and I’m all-knowing.”

  “He’s not too bad, once you get used to him,” Loco said, feeling like he should at least try to defend his partner. It wasn’t really much of a defense when you stopped to look at it, but then Murphy had been rude to a Navajo deity. “We thank you for your aid, Spider Grandmother.”

  “Just try to not get your fool selves killed,” Spider Grandmother said, rising from her sitting position with the grace of a young woman. “Even the idiot. The Great Father knows there’s few of your kind left as it is.” She turned abruptly and began walking into the desert.

  Loco watched her go. Murphy walked over and stood next to the Apache.

  “Nice little old lady,” the hired gun said. “Sweet disposition.”

  “Do you know how close you were to being turned into a horned lizard?” Loco asked.

  Murphy spat. It was white and dribbly. He wished he had some chewing tobacco, but he didn’t. He’d forgotten to take some from the general store in Vulture City. So he just spat again for good measure.

  “Come on,” he told Loco. “We need to catch up with Lilith before she reaches Phoenix.”

  They looked back out into the desert.

  Spider Grandmother was nowhere to be seen.

  ***

  Lilith wished that Seaver had been a bigger man. It was awfully congested within the confines of his small frame, what with the two Indians hitching along and all. The two Indians were constantly bitching and quarreling with each other, which made it worse, but she suffered their presence because she knew she would need foot soldiers in this new world she found herself in. Which was the old world, really, considering where she’d come from.

  The desert was more desolate than she’d been expecting. If she hadn’t been animating Seaver’s body, the little man would have fallen over dead several miles back. As it was, he was looking much the worse for wear. He looked to be little more than a walking corpse. Which he was, technically, because Lilith had consumed his soul when she and the Indians entered his body. The Indians had pouted for a while over being left out of the meal, but soon they went back to fighting again.

  The succubus stopped to consider a small cloud of dust on the horizon. It was ahead of her on the trail, in the direction she was walking. It could have been dust kicked up by an approaching horse or wagon. Whatever it was, it was still too far off in the distance to tell.

  Had she not been stuck inside her human host, Lilith would have been able to see or sense what was approaching. Being inside Seaver limited her abilities. It was a trade-off, and one she didn’t care much for, but she needed the body to travel more than a short distance.

  The dust cloud grew a little bigger. Sighing, Lilith began to walk again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The stage was late, but that fact wasn’t causing Baxter Hunley any significant amount of consternation.
The stage was always running late. In fact, the stage hadn’t run on time in at least a year. Baxter knew this for certain, because that was exactly how long he’d been driving it. But there were hardly ever any complaints about it. People knew that Baxter would show up sooner or later, and very few people along his line were ever in a hurry, anyway.

  Besides, he wasn’t hauling any passengers today. He had some papers for the mine office, a couple of crates of whiskey for Calvin at the White Dog, and a few boxes of sundries for the general store. It was a light load, and if the owners of the mine hadn’t bellyached something awful about those papers being delivered, Baxter might have skipped that leg of his run entirely. But it was a pleasant enough ride when the weather was good, and he thought he might linger at the White Dog for a while. He could use a couple of drinks, and maybe Bug-Eye Betty would be in a magnanimous mood and offer Baxter a roll in her bed for two bits.

  He was considering whether or not Betty was worth her usual bottom rate of fifty cents when he noticed someone walking on the trail ahead of him. It was hard to tell, but he thought the person was walking toward him. That wasn’t a good sign. Bandits sometimes used a single man—or, on rare occasions, a woman—as bait to get a stagecoach to slow down or stop and offer assistance. Then the rest of the gang would burst from concealment and rob the stage.

  Baxter scanned the countryside. There wasn’t anything large enough in the immediate vicinity to hide a couple of grown men, much less a gang and several horses. There were some clumps of ironwood and large boulders in the distance, but they were so far away Baxter would be halfway to Vulture City before they could get to him.

  It was also possible that the lone figure might be the sole survivor of another attack by outlaws, or, even worse, Indians. The Navajo were rarely a problem, though there were some renegade young warriors, but when the Apaches were bored or decided they were in a bad mood, then it was time to count and watch your tail feathers. Baxter had never really blamed the Indians. It would piss anyone off if someone moved onto your land and started tearing everything up. But he was also quite fond of his own scalp, and the Apache were notoriously difficult to reason with.