by Barry Reese
Thinking that the box might pose a threat, Mortimer began to open it. What he found inside was enough of a surprise that he merely stood there looking into the package’s interior for nearly a full minute. Finally reaching in, he pulled out a wonderful carved replica of a human skull, one that was made completely out of silver. The weight of the thing assured him that it wasn’t hollowed out and as he brought it close to his face. Peering at its many fine details, he saw that tiny emeralds were affixed to the back of the eye sockets. The light caught these gems, giving the eyes an artificial glow.
Mortimer set the skull aside so that he could finish its examination of the package. He felt along the interior of the box and felt a slip of paper that had become wedged along the side. A less thorough search would not have detected it, as it was hidden so well that it almost suggested that it was unintentional.
He yanked it free, seeing that it had a series of strange symbols written in ink on one side. They looked almost like Norse runes. Turning the paper over revealed more writing on the back, this time in English: Pandora Rises.
The incongruity of Norse runes being used on the same slip of paper as a reference to an ancient Greek myth was not lost on Mortimer. According to the original stories, many of which had received considerable embellishment over the years, Pandora was the very first mortal woman, formed out of clay at the command of Zeus himself. Endowed with beauty, grace and wisdom by the Gods, Pandora was offered to Epimetheus as a bride. Shortly after being brought into his home, Pandora’s curiosity about a strange jar led her to open it, unleashing a swarm of evil spirits that would plague humanity from that day forward.
Though some cast Pandora as malicious or unintelligent, the truth was that she had merely succumbed to curiosity, which was hardly the worst of sins.
What connection that story could have with a silver skull and some Norse runes escaped him.
Deciding that the skull posed no immediate danger, Mortimer placed it and the slip of paper back in the box. He carried it down to Charity’s room and set it on the floor outside her door.
After taking one last walk around outside Hendry Hall, Mortimer felt he’d done his due diligence as far as the silver skull was concerned. Whoever had left it was long gone and the box’s contents would hopefully make more sense once Charity had examined them.
He had no idea that a terrible evil was about to descend upon Sovereign City.
WARDEN JOHNNY MATTHEWS1 had a lovely wife and three adorable children. He was a church deacon and frequently took part in charitable activities throughout Sovereign. It was sometimes whispered that he took bribes in his position as Warden but in a place like Sovereign, this was hardly unusual. In fact, many of those who gossiped about such things would have argued that he did it out of a desire to provide for his family, which was hardly a terrible thing.
A stout man with an unsightly complexion, Johnny had married above his station in terms of physical appearance. His wife had curves in all the right places and was a warm-hearted person and a good mother.
He lived, to all who knew him, the perfect life.
Which would have made it all the more surprising to his friends and family to know what Matthews was up to now.
He was lying nude in a motel room rented under an assumed name. And the lovely brunette who was checking the strength of the ropes that bound his ankles and wrists was most definitely not his wife.
Sandra Locke wore a black negligee that emphasized her slim, athletic figure. Her high heels clicked on the floor as she moved away from Matthews, examining her handiwork with a smile. “Johnny, you look good enough to eat.”
Matthews laughed, a mixture of nervousness and excitement making his voice higher than normal. “Never done anything like this before. You’re gonna be gentle, right?”
Locke pursed her lips but she said nothing. She wandered over to a nearby chair and bent over to retrieve something from her purse. Matthews admired the view, licking his lips in anticipation. He’d spent the past two weeks wining and dining this woman and he was eager to sample her wares. He didn’t mind if she was a bit kinky. Truth be told, he had a few desires that he’d never dare broach to his wife. Maybe Miss Locke was the sort of woman who wouldn’t mind indulging in those fantasies.
“I found myself thinking about your work the other day, Johnny. You oversee so many hardened criminals, all locked up tight in that prison of yours. I bet you keep a close eye on the most dangerous ones, don’t you?”
“Hell, yes!” He laughed, thinking that this wasn’t the first woman he’d met who was turned on by the perceived dangers of his job. Truth be told, it did take some bravery to stare down some of those hardened killers.
“What do you know about Jonah Craig? Is he one of the ones you keep a close on?”
Matthews blinked, the question taking him by surprise. Locke was standing up again, a bullwhip held in her hands. She cracked it expertly on the floor, making him jump. “Hey, now! Nothing like that,” he said. “I don’t want anything that hurts.”
Locke pouted, swinging her hips as she approached the bed. “Johnny. Answer my question.”
Matthews took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, I know him. Skinny little big brain who got caught trying to steal some stuff from the Sovereign Museum. What about him?”
Locke crawled onto the bed, settling her hips just above the councilman’s excited member. “I want to play a game. You offer me something and then I offer you something. Interested?”
Matthews stared into the valley between her breasts. “Whatever you want.”
“I want you to get me in to see Craig.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?” she asked, reaching back to grip him with her left hand.
Matthews grunted. “Sure. I can do that. As long as you’re not gonna try and break him out.” He smiled broadly. “Now what do I get?”
Locke removed her grip, using both of her hands to stretch the whip’s lash into a tight coil. She quickly looped it around the warden’s neck, tightening it until he was gasping for air. “You get to live,” she said with a cool smile. “Now I’m going to tell you a few more things that I want and you’re going to agree to give me each and every one of them. And if you say no to even one of them, I’m going to hurt you.”
When he felt her hold loosen slightly, he whispered, “Crazy bitch! I’m going to see your ass in jail for this!”
Locke reached between her breasts, pulling forth a vial of lipstick. She applied it to her lips before leaning forward and pressing her mouth to his. He resisted for a moment before the chemicals took hold, weakening his will.
The lipstick would have been enough to get what she wanted but Locke enjoyed the domination/submission game, so she made sure that Matthews could still offer some resistance.
Matthews stared at her blearily. “Are you going to have sex with me?” he asked, sounding like a little boy pleading for candy.
“We’ll see. Depends on how happy you make me.” Locke slapped the side of his head, hard enough that he saw stars. “I think you and I are going to become very good friends, Johnny. You’re going to help me right some serious wrongs.”
“Don’t hurt me,” he whimpered.
Locke tightened the noose again. “Ah,” she said with forced regret. “Now that… that I can’t promise.” Her pink tongue darted out, slowly traveling over her full red lips. “In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that it’s going to hurt more than a little. I like it that way.”
THREE HOURS LATER, Locke smiled at the hotel doorman and stepped into the passenger seat of a green sedan. The man behind the wheel wore a black suit and gloves. The brim of his fedora was pulled down low, partially obscuring the mean features of his face. His name was Daniel “Quick Dan” Nunn and he was well known to the authorities, having been arrested nearly a half dozen times in the past few years alone. It was only because his skills had been utilized by so many in the underworld that he’d avoided ending up in Matthews’ prison for any rea
l stretch of time.
“How’d it go?” he asked, pulling out onto the street.
“The Warden agreed to help me.”
“Heh. I bet he did.”
“I told him I’d be at the prison tomorrow afternoon at two. He’s going to take me in to see Jonah then.”
“And you don’t think he’ll come to his senses before then?”
“That’s not the way the chemicals work and you know it. They stay in his system for up to two weeks – longer if I give him another dose. He’ll do whatever he’s told until then.”
“Good news,” Quick Dan said with a nod. “I did my end of it, too. Dropped the parcel off at Hendry Hall and then hightailed it out of there. Nobody saw a thing.”
Locke ran a hand through her hair. She smelled of booze, cigarettes and sex. It made her long for a bath. Unfortunately, they had one stop left before she could indulge in relaxation.
Quick Dan pulled into the Chinatown district, navigating the narrow streets with familiarity. He parked behind a small shop that had once belonged to a man named Bingwen but the crafty old man known for selling occult relics had died several months ago, killed by a maniac who dubbed himself Thanatos2.
Locke was already out of the car before Quick Dan had killed the engine. She strode to the back door of the shop and knocked. When no one answered, she discovered that it was unlocked and entered, Quick Dan right at her heels. She felt his hand go around her waist, pulling her close.
“You gonna tell me all the details?” he hissed into her ear.
Locke resisted the urge to laugh. Sometimes she thought Quick Dan enjoyed hearing all the ‘gory little details’ more than he did taking part in sexual activities himself. “Maybe later,” she teased, pulling away from him. He groaned in disappointment but she didn’t want to play one of their games right now. She was tired and she had business that had to be attended to.
They strode into what had once been the heart of Bingwen’s store: a large room that had previously been lined with display cases and shelves. All of that was gone now, leaving nothing but peeling wallpaper and dusty floors behind.
The sole occupant of the room was currently wielding a katana, spinning about as he slashed at a series of wooden figures that were mounted in a semi-circle around him. Of Japanese descent, the man was undeniably good-looking, with somewhat longish black hair and dark eyes. His lips and cheekbones were almost feminine but he retained the slim physique of well-toned athletic male. Dressed in black pants, dark boots and a white shirt, Hiroshi Tamaki cut a dashing figure as he performed a series of expert maneuvers with his weapon. His training session came to an end when he delivered a blow that removed the head from one of the wooden figures.
He straightened, flipping his hair back out of his eyes, and turned with a smug smile to face Locke and Quick Dan. He bowed low, speaking with only a faint trace of accent. “I trust that you have both performed your assignments?”
Quick Dan spoke first, living up to his name. “We did. Right now, the silver skull is at Hendry Hall.”
“You examined it and the box to make sure that nothing but the skull was present?”
“Of course. All the paperwork that was with it I took out and left on your desk.”
“Good. I want them to follow the trail I’m leaving for them but I do not wish them to learn more than that.” Hiroshi’s smile broadened as he looked at Locke. He stepped towards her, tipping her chin up. “And you, my lovely flower. You have gotten your meeting with Mr. Craig?”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” she replied.
“You have both done very well.” Stepping back, he placed his sword into a scabbard he wore on his back. “We are well on our way to achieving all of our goals.”
“I still think it’s dangerous to involve Gravedigger in this,” Locke said. She ignored the warning glare she was receiving from Quick Dan, feeling that she had to get this off her chest. “I mean, I know it’s not like we’re dumping the skull on Assistance Unlimited or Doc Daye but she’s dangerous, right?”
“She’s far more dangerous than those others you mentioned,” Hiroshi answered. “She serves an ancient force, one that has empowered many great heroes.”
Forging ahead, Locke asked, “So why possibly alert her to our presence?”
“Because there are secrets to that skull that have eluded me,” Hiroshi admitted. “And I have the utmost faith in her that she will be able to unlock them. Once she has, we’ll use that information for our own purposes.”
Locke nodded, knowing that pressing any further could only be a dangerous proposition. “Thank you for answering me, my lord.”
“Emperor,” Hiroshi corrected. “Soon enough, it is how everyone in this city, this country and this world will know me…” He spread his arms wide and looked upward, as if addressing a large crowd that only he could see. “Emperor Tamaki!”
Chapter III: Questioning the Dead
Mortimer woke up early, washed his face in the sink and brushed his teeth. He had bathed before bed as was his habit, so he went ahead and got dressed in a casual suit and trudged downstairs to make breakfast. As he passed by the small office that had been claimed by Charity as her workspace, he noticed that the lights were on in the room.
Pausing in the doorway, he saw that she had unexpectedly returned and was now seated at her desk, the silver skull and its odd accompanying paper resting before her. The desk and some of the other furnishings in this room had been moved from Josef Goldstein’s home once the decision had been made to relocate her activities to Hendry Hall.
Charity wore her Gravedigger uniform, though the mask was gone and her hood was pushed back, revealing her lovely features and dark hair. Mortimer paused as his eyes moved admiringly over her full lips and he wondered for the thousandth time what it would be like to kiss them.
Without looking at him, Charity said, “Come in. I assume you know about this?”
“Someone left it on our doorstep,” Mortimer said, taking a seat across from her. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and gave her the smile that had broken a hundred hearts over the years. “I didn’t expect you back so soon. Not that I’m not happy to see you.”
Charity looked up at him, her eyes searching his. Her words were somewhat cruel but the way she delivered them undercut their painfulness, making it clear that she was just being honest. “You’re a handsome guy, Mr. Quinn. But I’m not in any way interested in flirting with you. You’re here because I consider you a resource. With Josef dead, you’re the only other former Gravedigger around.”
Trying to hide his disappointment, Mortimer shifted the conversation back to the skull. “What do you make of it?”
“The skull is carved from pure silver and the gems that are implanted in the eye sockets are genuine. I asked Cedric to estimate its worth and he says it could go for several thousand dollars to the right collector.”
“But why is it here?”
“Good question. If it was left for me, then that begs the question of who knows about Gravedigger, which could pose all kinds of concerns for us.”
“True,” Mortimer admitted. “So you don’t really know anything, then?”
“I didn’t say that.” Charity stood up and stretched, arching her back in a manner that made Mortimer truly sorry that she wasn’t attracted to him. She picked up the skull and tossed it to Mortimer, who caught it with both hands. “Mitchell did some digging through Josef’s papers and he found a reference to it.”
“And?”
“It’s very old, dating back at least to the 9th century.”
“You’re kidding!” Mortimer stared at the skull, marveling that anything could have endured so long.
“Supposedly, it was the creation of a Norse wizard and it housed a demonic entity that granted dark powers to whomever held it.”
Mortimer frowned and set the skull back down on the desk.
Charity walked over to a small decanter and poured herself a glass of water. She took a sip, her gaze focused on
something that only she could see. “A warrior named Grimarr3 recovered it after a tremendous battle and from that point on it mostly vanishes from the historical record, only popping up every few centuries – usually in the hands of someone wanting to tap into its power.”
“The Norse stuff at least explains why there are runes on one side of the paper,” Mortimer said. “Have you been able to translate them?”
“Not yet. I’m going to take it into town and see if someone at the museum can do that for me.”
“What about this reference to Pandora? Where does a Greek myth cross over with a 9th century Norse object?”
Charity looked over her shoulder at him, the twinkle in her eyes suggesting that she’d mulled over that very same question. “I have some ideas about that… but I don’t want to tempt fate by talking about them just yet.”
Mortimer grunted, having expected nothing less from her. During his own time as Gravedigger, he’d kept his cards close to the vest. There was something about knowing that you only had three years to prove your worth that made you a bit paranoid. He stood up and said, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“To be honest with you, I’m not sure.”
Mortimer exhaled, pleased in a way that it had finally come to this. He moved towards her, trying to ignore how good she looked in that uniform of hers. It looked like it was meant for a woman to wear despite the fact that she was the first to do so. “I’m here to give you advice. I think you know that. But I can help you on missions, too. I’m tired of staying in this house. Put me out in the field.”
“Here’s my problem,” Charity said, placing her hands on her hips and facing him directly. “Li, Cedric and Mitchell, they all know their place on the team. They answer to me. But you, you’re a former Gravedigger. You’re used to operating as the person in charge. You balk at my commands and that challenges me in front of the others.”
“I’d never—”
