by Ann Charles
“Scharrrrfrichterrrr,” it said in that hair-raising hissy voice again.
“What?”
The creature extended its long claws and slashed its own throat right before my eyes. Thick, black fluid oozed from the wound.
“Damn it!”
Cooper was going to be pissed at me. For once I’d maimed instead of killed. “It’s not my fault,” I told the yellow-eyed beast.
It lay there blinking up at me, its lips pulled back in a toothy grin.
Several minutes later, I was still brushing off the griffin’s ash when I caught up with Doc and Cooper. They were making their way back to the road. As usual, Cooper’s gun was out and ready. Next to him, Doc held onto his left side as he struggled through the snow, his face tight with pain.
I jogged to Doc. “Are you okay?” I wasn’t sure if I should try to help him or if my touch would only make things worse.
He nodded. “Had the wind knocked out of me. You?”
“A couple of scratches from my own clumsiness.”
We walked in silence for a moment. The pine trees whispered and hummed in the growing wind.
“I killed it.”
“We heard.” Cooper sounded tense. “Heaven forbid you actually detain something for further investigation.”
“I tried interrogating it.” Well, sort of. “It wasn’t interested in chatting.”
“You’re three for three on fuckups, Parker, and I still have no informant or clues to his whereabouts.”
“At least you’re consistent,” Doc said, chuckling, and then grimaced at the effort.
“You’re going to the hospital,” I told him, in case he thought he’d pull a Cooper and self-administer first aid at home.
“I’m fine.”
“You look fine with your pasty face and sweaty brow.”
“It’s just bruised ribs.” Cooper took Doc’s side. “He’ll be back swinging in the ring in a week or two. That is, if you can refrain from using your deadly windmill move on him and inflicting more damage.”
I ignored the unprofessional assessment of Dr. Cooper, Proctologist Gigantic-us. “Bruised or broken?” I asked Doc.
“Bruised. I know what broken ribs feel like and this isn’t it.”
When had his ribs been broken? And how? Was it when he got that long scar on his knee? Or the one above his eyebrow? I wanted to touch him somewhere, but was afraid I’d jar him so I kept my hands to myself. “Is your head okay?”
“I’m fine.” He grinned at me. “Although my ticker nearly popped at the sight of my girlfriend taking on two huge … what did Willis call them?”
“Mutant griffins.”
“Two huge mutant griffins on her own.”
Everything had happened so fast, including Frankenstein’s Bride slamming into Doc. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”
I hadn’t seen the griffin coming for me through the trees, damn it. I’d been too busy thinking about my stupid coat. My lack of focus could have gotten Doc killed. The memory of how close he’d come to hitting that rock made my hands clammy.
“Violet, I stepped in front of it of my own free will.”
“Yeah, but—”
“And I’m the one who said we’d lost its tracks. Stop taking the blame for my mistakes.”
Head lowered, I walked alongside him in silence.
I’d raced into battle without thinking it through. In hindsight, that was stupid on my part. I had two kids relying on me. If I were going to live to see them through their next birthday, I needed to learn how to control that adrenaline-fueled impulse.
What would Aunt Zoe say about my poor judgment today? I cringed at the disappointment I’d see in her eyes.
I fingered the canine tooth Doc had pulled from the severed head back in the informant’s house. I knew what Prudence would say if she’d seen me rush in swinging. She’d drone on and on about my sloppy style, ending with how I was an embarrassment to the Executioner name. I sighed. Why did my predecessor have to take after the ghost of Christmas future—all doom and gloom while pointing out my shortfalls?
Harvey was waiting for us at the road, his pickup idling. I helped Doc into the back seat behind Harvey.
“What happened to Doc?” he asked as Cooper climbed in the front passenger seat, leaving me to join Doc in the back after stuffing the crowbar under the seat.
“He fell for a nutty broad with a bunch of wild hairs.”
I tried to flick Cooper’s ear, but he dodged my fingers while smacking my hand away.
“He took a hit for me,” I told Harvey.
As the pickup started to roll, a tremor rippled through me, leaving my freezing cold hands trembling. I clutched them together, hunching my shoulders. My muscles felt drained and limp, my lower back stiff.
Doc tapped my arm, beckoning me to slide to the center of the bench seat.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m bruised, Killer. Not broken. Besides, you’re on my good side.”
“You say that now,” I joked, “but wait until we get you naked.” He was going to have some colorful bruising for a week or two.
Cooper groaned. “Jesus, Parker. Can we not talk about your sex life right now?”
“Mind your own business, detective.” I scooted to the center, securing my lap belt before carefully leaning against Doc. He wrapped his arm around me and stroked my shoulder.
“Well, Sparky?” Harvey glanced at me in the rearview mirror.
“Well what?”
“Did you kill both of them humdingers?”
Cooper scoffed, shaking his head.
“Yeah,” I said, frowning out the front windshield.
“You moved like greased lightnin’, girl.” Harvey looked at Cooper. “Did you see her fly down the road?”
“You mean did I see her race headlong into a dangerous encounter with deadly predators without the appropriate backup?”
Harvey blew a raspberry. “You saw those things move, Cooper. They were fast, but she was faster.” Harvey sounded like a proud coach. “How do you move that fast, anyway? I’d break a hip at that speed.”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t fast. Everything else slowed down.”
“What do you mean?” Doc asked, grunting when Harvey hit a pothole.
“One minute, I was standing next to Harvey and everything moved along at the same speed as always. Then it was like time downshifted, but I didn’t.”
I went on to explain how even the snowflakes seemed to slow down, and how my vision telescoped on the two predators. When I finished, we were past the Slagton town sign and Harvey’s ranch, nearly to the main road.
“That’s nuts.” Cooper crossed his arms, firm in his evaluation. “First ghosts, then some bizarre creatures from some other realm or plane or whatever, and now Parker has the ability to slow down time. I can’t wait to see what’s next on this freak show merry-go-round.”
“I didn’t say I can slow time. I said it seemed to slow in my head.”
“Where’d ya learn to swing a crowbar like that?” Harvey asked.
“I played softball in high school. Earned a scholarship to college, thanks to my mad batting skills.” Not that I’d followed through on that scholarship for long, dropping out of college after a couple of semesters to figure out what I wanted out of life before heading back years later. A lot of good all that pondering did me.
“Sparky looked like Babe Ruth out there,” he told his nephew.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Cooper glanced at me. “You got lucky, Parker. Had you slipped on the snow, they would’ve ripped out your throat, and there’s nothing Nyce and I could’ve done to stop them. You were too far away. That’s a rookie mistake in my line of work.”
As much as I didn’t want to admit it, Cooper was right. Luck had been on my side. Prudence would have used skill. She wouldn’t have needed luck. I’d taken one hell of a chance with my life—a reckless risk I couldn’t afford again, especially now that catching the lidérc was on my to-do list.
I had no doubt Doc would throw himself in the line of fire again if I failed to focus on the game, and with the lidérc that would result in way more pain than a couple of bruised ribs.
Doc squeezed my hand, drawing my gaze. His dark eyes held mine.
Lifting his hand, I kissed his knuckles, and then rubbed my cheek over them.
He pulled me closer, his lips warm on my forehead. As we bounced along the dirt road, he leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell steadily, but his muscles stayed tense.
After we hit pavement, the storm let loose and dumped snow on us. It slowed our progress, but Harvey knew how to handle his pickup and made it down Strawberry Hill with minor slipping and sliding.
Doc remained steadfast about not going to the ER, telling Harvey to keep driving as we rolled past the hospital. I agreed to stop pestering him about getting an X-ray when he promised to stay with me for the night so I could keep an eye on him.
The house was quiet when Harvey dropped us off. Doc made it inside with only a few winces. I settled him on the couch and brought some ibuprofen and a bag of ice.
“What else do you need?” I asked.
“You here next to me.”
I smiled. “I have to shower first. Do you want me to get you something to eat?”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“If you need any—”
“Violet, go take a shower.”
I did as told, scrubbing my hair twice with shampoo.
A half hour later, I came downstairs and found Doc in the kitchen, leaning against the counter drinking a glass of lemonade. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
He gave me a look that silenced me on the subject of his physical health. “Did Addy and Layne even cross your mind when you raced into battle?”
I grimaced at the guilt his question kindled in my chest. I joined him at the counter. “No.”
“I wonder if that’s some sort of innate self-preservation in Executioners.”
“What do you mean?”
“You go into fight mode and nothing else matters.”
“Something else mattered.”
“What?”
“You.”
“Violet, you don’t need to try to win me. I’m already in your bed.”
“I’m serious. When I saw that creature lock onto you, I knew I had to stop it.”
“I was supposed to be protecting you, not the other way around.”
“You did protect me. Your bruised ribs are evidence of that.”
He grabbed my hand and tugged. “Come here.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to—”
“Now, Boots.”
I moved into his arms, careful of his left side. He smelled sweet and safe, like molasses cookies and home. I wanted to crawl under his shirt and hide there until all of this weird Slagton crap subsided. “Let me know if I’m hurting you.”
“Quit coddling me, woman.” He frowned at me. “You scared me today. If I’m going to continue hunting with you, I need better gear.”
“You think Cooper would lend you one of his Kevlar vests?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of a suit of armor.”
I laughed, resting my forehead against his shoulder. “What do you think is going on back in Slagton?”
“I don’t know, but I think it extends beyond the town limits.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t forget about Harvey’s ranch.”
I looked up at him. “What about it?”
“All of the odd crimes and bodies turning up there.”
“Oh, yeah. Those.”
“I have a theory,” he said.
“What is this? National Theory Day?”
“Maybe.” He pulled on one of my curls. “You know how Harvey’s ranch butts up against the mining company’s land outside of Slagton?” He shifted slightly, grimacing. “It’s essentially the last stage stop before entering the old mining town.”
“Last stage stop? Did you read that somewhere in the history books?”
“No. It’s my own observation. Think of it as a way station, if you will.”
“A way station for whom? Or what?”
“Others leaving and entering Slagton, like the bone cruncher.”
“Do we know the bone cruncher actually came from Slagton?”
“Not definitely, but Cooper told me a story about something digging up the graves back there and—”
“Eating the bones,” I finished. “I heard about that, too.”
“Don’t forget about those masks Harvey found in the floor of his toolshed. During our séance, Harvey’s grandfather said they were used by the others to disguise themselves.”
I leaned back with raised brows. “What are you saying, Doc?”
“What if these creatures that we’re running into back in Slagton aren’t hunters, necessarily? I mean they’re predators, but maybe they’ve been there for a while now, only whatever or whoever was keeping them tucked away is no longer around.”
“Do you think Cooper’s informant has something to do with them being loose?”
“I don’t know, but I’m afraid it’s going to take an experienced hunter to round them back up.” He lifted my chin, his gaze traveling over my face before stopping at my eyes. “Someone who moves as fast as they do and isn’t afraid to charge headlong into battle.”
Chapter Seven
“There’s nothing wrong with pumping my kid for a little information on an ex-client,” I told Aunt Zoe later that evening.
She stood next to me at the kitchen sink, drying the supper dishes I was washing. “Jeff Wymonds is more than an ex-client, Violet Lynn.”
I didn’t like what she was insinuating. Thankfully, Doc had gone upstairs to take a shower, leaving the two of us alone with Natalie, who’d made baked chicken tenders to dip in her mom’s infamous peanut curry sauce. Add the salad Aunt Zoe had tossed together and my belly was as happy as a puppy with two tails.
I stopped washing a plate and frowned at her. “Really? What do you know that I don’t? Besides that one time Jeff used his tongue to play bumper cars with my uvula, which I remind you was only because he’d been lured in by the smell of beef jerky on my breath, he and I have maintained a client–agent relationship.”
“He’s the father of your daughter’s best friend.”
“True, but—”
“And you’ve eaten meals with him on several occasions.”
“Not like on-a-date kind of meals, though.”
“And,” Natalie jumped into the conversation, “you’ve seen his bare ass flossed with a red G-string in the midst of football-themed kitchen counter sex.” When I glared over at the table where she sat drinking hot buttered rum, she raised her glass to me and then grabbed another piece of chocolate-covered toffee from the serving plate in front of her. “Just keeping it real, babe.”
“Don’t make me come over there and give you a wet noogie.”
“All I’m saying,” Aunt Zoe continued, “is if you want to know what’s going on in Jeff Wymond’s life, then you should put aside your pride and pay him a visit.”
“I don’t want to know what’s going on in his life, only what Tiffany has done to his house to prep it for sale. For business purposes.” I finished washing the plate and rinsed it before handing it to her. “There’s a big difference between the two, trust me. Knowing Jeff, if I try to talk business with him, he’ll tell me all about his love life in explicit detail and make it even harder to look him in the eyes.”
Natalie let out a snort of laughter. “If you’re making it harder for Jeff, I doubt he’ll care much about looking you in the eyes when you’re taking care of his business.”
Aunt Zoe and I both turned to stare at Natalie.
She wiggled her eyebrows at me in Groucho Marx fashion. All she was missing was the cigar. “If you know what I mean, jellybean.” She finished her drink, setting the glass down on the table. Thunk.
I l
ooked down at her glass. “How many hot buttered rums have you had so far tonight?”
She held up one finger. “And this was my third.”
I exchanged frowns with my aunt. Her counting was off.
“What’s going on, Nat?” I asked, rinsing the last of the silverware. I grabbed a clean towel from the drawer and dried my hands, joining her at the table. “Are the ghosts getting to you in the Galena House?”
She scratched at something on the table. “Yeah. It’s the ghosts,” she said in a flat tone.
Before I could shift into psychiatrist mode, the front door opened.
“Hello?” Cooper called from the other room. “Nyce asked me to bring him his laptop and a couple of books from his place.”
Aunt Zoe walked over to the archway leading into the dining room. “You can set them on the dining room table, Coop, and then take your coat off and come join us. I made some homemade toffee.”
“I can’t stay long,” he said, striding into the kitchen. He came to an abrupt stop at the sight of Natalie sitting at the table.
She seemed intensely focused on her fingernails all of a sudden.
It took Cooper a couple of beats to snap out of his trance. He dragged his gaze to Aunt Zoe. “I’m on call, but I’d love some of your toffee.”
I was of the opinion that Cooper could use a lot of sweetening up, so the more sugar we could cram down his throat the better.
“Give me your coat,” Aunt Zoe said, holding out her hand. “Certainly Deadwood can go a little while without a detective on a snowy Saturday night.”
“I suppose.” He unzipped his coat and handed it to her.
After she left the room to hang it up, Cooper grabbed a piece of chocolate-covered toffee from the plate and leaned against the counter. He snuck a glance at Natalie before focusing on me. “Have you killed anything since I saw you last, rookie?”
I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Are we in kindergarten, Parker?”
“You’re just mad because your bullets didn’t do anything.”
“Did you get hit in the head this afternoon?” He took a bite of the candy. “My bullet slowed the bigger bastard down so you didn’t have to take on two at a time.”
After supper, when the kids had disappeared to watch a Christmas show, I’d told Aunt Zoe and Natalie about the problem we ran into back in Slagton. Doc filled in the holes in my story, including the bits and pieces I couldn’t remember because of being in the thick of battle. He continued to insist the bruised ribs were his own fault when I tried to take the blame again. As far as I was concerned, though, he wouldn’t have been in the woods with me if I hadn’t been so gung-ho to follow the other mutant griffin into the trees.
