Gone Haunting in Deadwood

by Ann Charles

Now who was being the pansy? “Move over, princess and the pea, we have us a new drama queen in the ranks.” I held up my fist in front of his face. “What I should have done was shove it up your nose.”

  He pointed out the door. “Go get in the goddamned pickup and don’t either of you step one toe outside, got it?”

  “What if I have to milk my snake?” Harvey asked.

  “Don’t start, Uncle Willis.”

  “Violet, wait,” Doc said, stopping me on the porch. He held his closed hand out toward me. “Take this.”

  “What is it?” I held out my gloved palm and he dropped a long brownish-yellow tooth in it. “A tooth?” At his nod, I grinned. “Shucks, Doc. Are you asking me to go steady?”

  “Why are you giving her that?” Cooper asked.

  With a wink, Doc closed my fingers around it. “It’s a canine tooth for Prudence.”

  “Oh!” This would give the old girl a surprise.

  “Prudence told Violet that she needed to bring her a tooth the next time she came over,” Doc explained. “Or Violet would have to forfeit one of her own.”

  “Right,” Cooper said. “I’d forgotten about that. Will that be good enough?” he asked me.

  “We’ll see.”

  “Take your tooth and my uncle and get your asses in the pickup.” When I grumbled in response, he said, “I’ve told you before, I do not fornicate with monkeys. Now go!”

  Like good little kids, Harvey and I skirted the mess on the porch steps and made our way toward where the pickup was parked in front of the place. Cooper waited until we were shut inside the cab to lead Doc around the side of the house and across the snowy yard to the rickety woodshed near the tree line.

  “Where did Doc get a gun?” I hadn’t noticed it on him earlier when I was patting him up and down in his office.

  “Coop brought an extra.”

  “Dang it. Your nephew never shares his toys with me.” I shivered in the cold cab. Slouching in the back seat on the driver’s side, I looked out my window toward the center of Slagton. The clouds were growing darker, heavy with snow. Ominous was a good word to describe them, especially with that derelict two-story building in the foreground. As I stared down the street, the sky started to spit snowflakes.

  Aunt Zoe’s living room beckoned. Flames crackling in the fireplace, lights glowing on the Christmas tree, a rugged Tall Medium sexing up me and my cockles under a blanket on the couch while buttered rum warmed my …

  A large, black creature slunk across the road by the old store.

  I sat up straight, pressing my nose to the cold window. “Harvey! Do you see that?”

  “See what?”

  I pointed out my window. “One of those big cat-bird things. It’s about forty yards down the road in front of the store.”

  He leaned closer. “You mean the one standin’ in the middle of the road? Or the other doozy on the boardwalk in front of the ol’ building?”

  “Shit!” Now there were two. Even from this distance I knew they were the same breed as the creature I’d killed in the woodshed yesterday. There was no mistaking that body shape and the way they skulked while walking.

  Harvey scratched his beard. “They look like some sorta mutant griffin. Ya know, one of those mythological critters with a body like a lion that has wings, talons, and a beak? Only these suckers don’t have wings or a beak.”

  “Right.” A mutant griffin. I liked that. “They have lots of pointy teeth instead.”

  As we watched, the beast in the road stopped and turned in our direction. Its snout lifted in the air as though it was looking at the falling snowflakes.

  Or sniffing the air.

  Its body stiffened, head lowering.

  “Oh, crap,” I said. “It’s picked up our scent.”

  “Not ours, girlie. We’re cooped up in this cab safe as a banker’s wallet. I’m thinkin’ it’s sniffin’ out Coop and yer stallion.”

  The other one turned toward the informant’s house, its head lowering. A deep, growling sound filled my ears. “Do you hear that?”

  How was I hearing it from this distance was a better question. Maybe the growling was extra loud.

  “I don’t hear anything but yer breathin’, bucket mouth.”

  I frowned at him. “You can’t hear them growling?”

  “No.” He pointed out my window. “But I got a good hunch ‘bout their intentions.”

  I turned back and gasped.

  Both were stalking in our direction. As I watched, they split up, one on each side of the road, using the pine trees lining the ditches as cover. All that stood between them and the informant’s woodshed off to our right was the pickup.

  Make that the pickup, Harvey, and me.

  Harvey grunted. “Those sons-a-bitches are gonna launch a surprise attack on the boys.”

  Oh, lordy, I had to do something. Those things moved too fast for Cooper’s guns. I reached for the door handle.

  Harvey grabbed my wrist. “What’re ya doin’?”

  “We have to alert Doc and Cooper somehow.”

  He flashed his two gold teeth at me, holding up Bessie. “This’ll perk up their ears. Grab the crowbar under yer seat and let’s go.”

  We climbed out, armed but probably not prepared for what was coming at us. Leaving the safety of the pickup, we stopped in the middle of the road and faced our foes like gunfighters of the Old West.

  The two creatures slowed at the sight of us, sniffing the air again. I could still hear their growling.

  “Ready?” Harvey asked.

  “For what?”

  He pointed his shotgun in their general direction. “Cover yer ears, Sparky. Bessie has a loud bark.”

  I raised my hands right before he pulled the trigger.

  An explosion boomed from her double barrels.

  Down the street, both beasts stopped. Their stances were rigid, ready to spring into action.

  Heat filled my arms and legs, making me itch to fight or take flight. I took a calming breath. On the inhale, a multitude of scents slammed into me—the pine trees, Harvey’s cologne, my hair gel, wood smoke, and the pickup’s air freshener, to name a few. But underneath it all, I noticed the same sour odor that I smelled yesterday in the woodshed. As I exhaled, the growling deepened, growing more guttural and menacing.

  “Why aren’t they leaving?” I asked.

  “Maybe they’re waitin’ to see what we do next.”

  I knew what we had to do next—or rather, what I had to do now. It was time to take off my gloves and get my hands dirty. Literally.

  Stuffing my gloves into my pockets, I gripped the cold, steel bar.

  In a blink, everything around me slowed, like someone had downshifted reality. Sounds became muffled, except for the rapid beat of my heart. The snowflakes drifted down so slowly that they almost seemed to hover in midair. I looked over at Harvey. He was cocking his shotgun in slow motion, his gaze locked on the two predators. A slurred shout behind me made me turn. Doc and Cooper were rounding the woodshed, running our way at a snail’s pace. Snow sprayed up around their boots, floating behind them.

  What in the hell was going on?

  Goosebumps lifted on my arms, spurred by the adrenaline rushing through my body. I could hear the whooshing roar of my blood and feel energy sparking in my muscles, making me twitch.

  I turned back to the two predators, my vision tunneling and gaining focus. With their necks bristling, they reminded me even more of lions with full manes. Black feathers stuck out here and there, fluffing up their size even more. Their thick heads were lowered for battle; their sharp teeth were bared. Drool hung from the bigger one’s massive lower jaw. The smaller one had a streak of white up the middle of its black snout that split into a Y above its yellow eyes and continued through its mane, reminding me of the Bride of Frankenstein.

  I didn’t remember yesterday’s woodshed visitor being as big as these two, but then again I had caught only glimpses of it before I made it explode.

  Fra
nkenstein’s Bride turned its head toward Cooper and Doc. I saw it crouch, preparing to pounce.

  It was time to fight.

  I took off like a shot, running full-bore toward the two predators with the crowbar in hand. Shouts rang out from behind me, but the predators’ huffs and growls soon blocked them out.

  I raced down the street, breaking all of my previous sprint records for the ice cream truck. Both predators came at me at once, two against one. I lowered my head and plowed forward into battle.

  Gunfire echoed loud and long behind me.

  I saw the bullet fly past me and slam into the bigger mutant griffin on my right, knocking it sideways.

  Crowbar raised, I charged in, dodging Frankenstein’s Bride’s biting jaws as I slammed the bar into its ribs. It screeched and tumbled into the ditch.

  I heard the other predator grunt behind me. I whirled in time to see it push off the ground a good fifteen feet away, going airborne with its lips pulled back, massive jaws extended. Its front arms reached toward me, parachute-like flaps of skin attached from its elbows to hips giving the impression of wings.

  I swung the crowbar, throwing my body weight behind it as I’d learned in softball. The curved end of the crowbar connected with the side of the griffin’s head. Whack! I’d rung its bell like a Buddhist monk.

  Its drool plastered my face while shattered pieces of teeth peppered my coat. The bar vibrated hard in my cold hands, stinging like hot pins. I almost dropped it as the beast slid on its side across the snow-covered road.

  Wiping my face on my coat sleeve, I tightened my hold on the crowbar and prepared for round 2. Frankenstein’s Bride was working its way around my back, trying a sneak attack. I turned so I could see both predators out of the corners of my eyes.

  The drooler scrambled to its feet. Something black and viscous dripped from its now-crooked jaw. It shook its head, its yellow eyes rolling around in their sockets for a second before locking onto me.

  Another gunshot rang out. The griffin stepped to the side, dodging the bullet with ease this time.

  “Well, fuck-a-doodle-doo,” I said. “You’re smarter than you look.”

  “Scharrrrrfrichterrrrr,” Frankenstein’s Bride hissed, lowering its head. Its yellow eyes watched me with an intensity that made me grip the crowbar even harder.

  “Why are you here?” I asked. “Are you bounty hunters?” I doubted they spoke English as a second language, but it was all I knew.

  “Scharrrrrfrichterrrrr,” the Bride repeated in that hissing voice.

  Apparently that was the only word it knew.

  “You could stand to take a few English lessons from a parrot.”

  Frankenstein’s Bride made several gobbled guttural sounds and took a step back toward the trees. The same sort of vocalizations I’d heard from the one yesterday in the woodshed. The drooler nodded its head once and then lunged at me again with its jaws wide and aiming for my throat.

  Instantly, I gauged the trajectory and velocity of its jump. I ducked, spinning on my heel while the griffin vaulted over me. I popped up as it touched earth and swung the crowbar in a downward arc, landing a solid blow to its back. Something cracked like a dry tree limb and the beast dropped flat on its belly. It tried to stand and walk, but its hind end dragged.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” I asked, stalking after it.

  The griffin stumbled, falling onto its side where it hissed at me with blackened teeth. The dark gelatinous goo must be its blood.

  “That’s no way to talk to a lady.” I flipped the crowbar around and jammed the pry bar through its head. “Give Hades my love.”

  Its body convulsed, its legs twitching. I shielded my face before it exploded in a puff of gray ash.

  Expecting Frankenstein’s Bride to attack next, I raised the crowbar again, blinking through the ash from the dead griffin falling along with the snowflakes. But the other was gone. I glanced toward the trees. Where did it go? And when had time shifted back to normal speed?

  “Violet!” Doc slid to a stop beside me, grabbing my arm. “What in the hell were you thinking?”

  My mouth opened, but I didn’t really have an answer other than, “I had to kill it before it got to you or Harvey.” Behind Doc, Cooper ran toward us. “Or Deadwood’s most lovable detective.”

  “Christ, woman!” Doc’s chest rose and fell as he caught his breath. “I almost died from a damned heart attack watching you charge hell with a bucket of ice water.”

  I smiled. “You’re starting to sound like Harvey.”

  Doc rattled off a string of curses that made my jaw drop. He rarely swore in front of me with such zeal.

  “Wow. Cooper is rubbing off on you, too. Be careful. The way that man foams at the mouth most days, he probably has rabies.”

  “I heard that,” Cooper said, catching up to us. His breath steamed like a locomotive.

  “Jeez! Do you have a bionic implant crammed in your ear?”

  “Dammit, Parker!” He didn’t even pause for a breath before jumping right into chewing me a new asshole. “You need to wait for backup next time.”

  Movement over his shoulder caught my eye. I watched Harvey crawl into the driver’s seat of the pickup and close the door. Good, that should keep him safe while I hunted for the Bride of Frankenstein.

  “I had backup.” I focused on Cooper. “Your uncle caught the big griffin in the side, giving me a chance to take them on one at a time.”

  “Griffin?” Doc asked.

  “Harvey said they look like mutant griffins,” I explained.

  “That wasn’t Uncle Willis’s bullet.” Cooper raised his handgun. “It was mine. Neither he nor Nyce were willing to risk taking a shot with you in the picture.”

  But Cooper was, of course. “Good shootin’, Tex.” I tipped an imaginary hat at him. “Did you see where the other one went?”

  “It ran into those trees,” Doc said.

  I started after it, but Doc caught my arm. “What are you doing?”

  Pounding on my chest, I spoke in a caveman voice, “Me Executioner. Me kill bad beast.”

  Doc guffawed, frowning over my head at Cooper. “She’s going to be the death of me.”

  “I warned you months ago about dating girls with crazy curls.”

  “Leave my curls out of this or I’ll bust your kneecaps.” I tugged free of Doc’s grip. “Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a three-toed menace to ship back to Hades before it tears someone’s throat out with all of those pointy teeth.”

  “Hold up, Killer.” Doc grabbed me by the coat lapels and yanked me toward him. His lips were cold, but his kiss branded me. It was over before I had a chance to respond, and then he let me go. “I’m coming with you. Lead the way.”

  Cooper followed us, staying about twenty feet off to our side as we crashed through pine tree limbs drooping low with snow. He had his handgun out and ready for a rootin’ tootin’ shootin’ good time.

  The griffin’s long-toed tracks zigzagged through the pine trees, weaving a drunken path. Five minutes into the trees, Doc snagged the back of my coat.

  “Violet, wait.” He studied the forest floor, frowning to the left and then right.

  “What is it?” Cooper asked.

  “There are tracks all over the place here,” he told us. Doc was right. The tracks doubled back, fanning out in multiple directions. “We’ve lost its trail.”

  I looked toward the north, sniffing. My gut told me it had gone that way, but the scent of pine trees was all I smelled in the air. With a nod, I told Doc, “You’re right. I should have gone after it as soon as I finished off the other one. The fun is over for today, boys.”

  “Fun. Right.” Doc scoffed. “We’re heading back,” he called to Cooper.

  The detective nodded, scanning the trees.

  I looked down at my red pea coat as I stepped over a half-buried log. Darn it, this was one of my favorite coats. I’d just sewed on several new buttons. Stupid pet chicken and her button fetish. How
hard would it be to get dead predator ash out of the wool blend? Maybe I should …

  I didn’t hear the tree branch crack until it was too late.

  A black blur bulleted out of the trees in front of us. I started to raise the crowbar when Doc shoved me hard.

  “Doc!” I cried as I stumbled sideways.

  Frankenstein’s Bride rammed into his chest. Doc flew backward through the air, landing on his back inches from a large rock. His face creased in pain as he stared up at the sky, gasping for air.

  I raced to his side, putting my body between him and the griffin.

  The beast bared its teeth, pawing the ground with me locked in its sights. I braced myself for impact, trying to read its intentions from its body movements like I had earlier with the other one.

  “Get the hell out of the way!” Cooper shouted from behind me.

  I knew without looking that the detective had his Colt .45 trained on the creature, but I also knew that bullets wouldn’t stop it.

  “Cooper, help Doc,” I ordered, running straight at the sharp-toothed bastard, my crowbar cocked and ready to swing.

  It roared and came for me, springing into the air. At the last second, I veered to the side, dodging its long claws, and took off running away from Doc and Cooper, racing deeper into the trees.

  The griffin crashed along behind me, gaining on me when I tripped over a branch hidden under the snow and stumbled for a few seconds before finding my balance again. As soon as I heard its ragged huffs right behind me, I dropped to my knees and skidded to a stop. It tried to hit the brakes, too, but momentum carried it past me, sending it tumbling through the snow.

  Before the beast could get its footing, I hopped to my feet and charged. It tried to dodge as I swung, but it was too slow. I slammed the hooked end of the crowbar into its head, knocking it into a tree trunk. The predator slumped to the ground, a crumpled wreck of black fur and feathers.

  I marched over to it, my body pulsing with adrenaline. “And that’s what it feels like to be hit by a girl.”

  Its upper lip curled. A rusty growl rumbled in between rapid pants.

  “Who sent you here?” I asked.

  It stared at me with its yellow eyes for a moment, and then looked down at the crowbar.