by Ann Charles
Devil Days in Deadwood
“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” ~William Shakespeare
Violet Parker knows better than to play with devils. They always cheat, especially when lives are at stake. Deadwood’s charming, troublemaking, and soul-sucking devils are no different, and they’re biting at her heels.
But the clock is ticking and Violet has no choice—she must risk her life to save her treasured Aunt Zoe. With any luck, she might be able to trick the devils and beat the old terrors at their own game. If not, Deadwood could end up short one Executioner.
“Executioners don't duck, they swing.” ~Violet Parker
Table of Contents
Start Reading
Dear Reader
Cast
About the Author
Contact Information
More Books by Ann
Acknowledgments
Copyright
Chapters
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25
Epilogue
Dear Reader,
During the writing of this book, a pandemic occurred. How crazy does that sound? I was halfway through the story when the state of Arizona went into lockdown and the news reports turned extremely grim. At that time, I decided to bury my head in Violet’s world and wrote, wrote, wrote until I hit the end.
What is going on throughout the world is wild. Change is often difficult, and we are neck-deep in it right now, but we still have each other. The same is true in Violet’s world. She now accepts what she is—an Executioner. That doesn’t mean this change from what used to be normal is easy for her to handle. There are times she wants to stay home and hide under the bed, the same as many of us during this period of uncertainty (and me after every book release). But she has to step up, do her part, and keep humanity going … at least in her version of Deadwood. The same goes for all of us in our world, no matter our role.
This book picks up where Fatal Traditions (Deadwood Shorts 5) left off in early January. Natalie, Cooper, and Harvey have returned from Arizona and their visit with the Morgan sisters (if you haven’t read In Cahoots with the Prickly Pear Posse, you’re missing out on exciting times with Nat and Coop), and Violet is back to her new “normal”—trying to sell real estate when she’s not protecting those she loves and fighting for her life.
I hope you are as happy to hang out with Violet on the page as I was to escape into her world! Now, go forth, read, and be merry … or rather, be careful, because it’s devil days in Deadwood.
“Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.” ~English Proverb
Ann Charles
www.anncharles.com
Also by Ann Charles
Deadwood Mystery Series (Book #)
Nearly Departed in Deadwood (Book 1)
Optical Delusions in Deadwood (Book 2)
Dead Case in Deadwood (Book 3)
Better Off Dead in Deadwood (Book 4)
An Ex to Grind in Deadwood (Book 5)
Meanwhile, Back in Deadwood (Book 6)
A Wild Fright in Deadwood (Book 7)
Rattling the Heat in Deadwood (Book 8)
Gone Haunting in Deadwood (Book 9)
Don’t Let It Snow in Deadwood (Book 10)
Devil Days in Deadwood (Book 11)
Short Stories from the Deadwood Mystery Series
Deadwood Shorts: Seeing Trouble (Book 1.5)
Deadwood Shorts: Boot Points (Book 4.5)
Deadwood Shorts: Cold Flame (Book 6.5)
Deadwood Shorts: Tequila & Time (Book 8.5)
Deadwood Shorts: Fatal Traditions (Book 10.5)
Deadwood Undertaker Series
(written with Sam Lucky)
Life at the Coffin Joint (Book 1)
A Long Way from Ordinary (Book 2)
Jackrabbit Junction Mystery Series
Dance of the Winnebagos (Book 1)
Jackrabbit Junction Jitters (Book 2)
The Great Jackalope Stampede (Book 3)
The Rowdy Coyote Rumble (Book 4)
In Cahoots with the Prickly Pear Posse (Book 5)
Jackrabbit Junction Short: The Wild Turkey Tango (Book 4.5)
Dig Site Mystery Series
Look What the Wind Blew In (Book 1)
Make No Bones About It (Book 2)
AC Silly Circus Mystery Series
Feral-LY Funny Freakshow (Novella 1)
A Bunch of Monkey Malarkey (Novella 2)
Goldwash Mystery Series (a future series)
The Old Man’s Back in Town (Short Story)
For Les
I’ll miss seeing your smiling face every time I visit Lead and Deadwood.
**KEY: Character (Book # in which they appear)—Description**
Violet Lynn Parker (1–11)—Heroine of the series, real estate agent
Willis “Old Man” Harvey (1–11)—Violet’s sidekick and so-called bodyguard
Dane “Doc” Nyce (1–11)—Violet’s boyfriend, medium
Detective “Coop” Cooper (1–11)—Deadwood and Lead’s detective
Zoe Parker (1–11)—Violet’s aunt and mentor in life
Layne Parker (1–11)—Violet’s nine-year-old son
Adelynn Parker (1–11)—Violet’s nine-year-old daughter
Natalie Beals (1–11)—Violet’s best friend since childhood
Jerry Russo (4,5,6,7,8,9,11)—Violet’s boss, owner of Calamity Jane Realty
Mona Hollister (1–9,11)—Violet’s coworker and mentor in realty
Ray Underhill (1–9)—Violet’s ex-coworker and nemesis at work
Benjamin Underhill (1–9,11)—Violet’s coworker
Jane Grimes (1–9,11)—Violet’s previous boss
Cornelius Curion (3–11)—Violet’s client; so-called ghost whisperer
Reid Martin (2–11)—Captain of the fire dept., Aunt Zoe’s ex-lover
Jeff Wymonds (1–9)—Violet’s ex-client; dad of Addy’s best friend
Prudence (2–9,11)—Ghost who resides at the Carhart/Britton house
Zelda Britton (2,4–9,11)—Owner of the Carhart house in Lead
Tiffany Sugarbell (1–9,11)—Rival Realtor; Doc’s ex-girlfriend
Susan Parker (1–10)—Violet’s evil sister; aka “the Bitch from Hell”
Quint Parker (1–3,7–10)—Violet’s brother; Layne’s hero
Freesia Tender (5–9)—Owner of the Galena House
Stone Hawke (5–9,11)—Coop’s ex-partner on the force in Rapid City; detective called in to solve cases
Rex Conner (3–9,11)—Biological father of Violet’s children
Rosy (6–9)—Camerawoman from TV series called Paranormal Realty
Eddie Mudder (3,6–9)—Owner of Mudder Bros Funeral Parlor
Dominick Masterson (4,7–9,11)—Previous client of Violet’s old boss, Jane, and well-known Lead businessman
Mr. Black (2–4,6,8,9,11)—Mysterious, pale-faced Timekeeper
Ms. Wolff (5,8,9)—Previous resident of Apt. 4 in the Galena House
“This thing doesn’t want to show itself, it wants to hide inside an imitation. It’ll fight if it has to, but it’s vulnerable out in the open. If it takes us over, then it has no more enemies, nobody left to kill it. And then it’s won.”
~R.J. MacReady, The Thing
Chapter One
Friday, January 11th
Lead, South Dakota
“What dumbass thought catching a Hungarian devil made of smoke and shadow was a good idea?” I scowled up at the crumbling brick Sugarloaf Building, which had been perched on a hillside looking across at the Homestake Mine in Lead for a cent
ury … and then some.
The sun was hiding behind a thick bank of clouds, making mid-afternoon feel more like early evening. Old Man Winter hit the Black Hills with a frying pan every year, knocking it ass-over-teakettle into short days and frigid temperatures.
The other old man in my life, Willis “the Mongoose” Harvey, grabbed my elbow. “If memory serves me right, Sparky, that’d be you.” He tugged me toward the rickety metal steps leading up to the building’s second floor.
“That was supposed to be a rhetorical question.” I paused with my foot on the first step, which had a dusting of snow in the corners in spite of the rusty, corrugated tin roof overhead. Did I really want to go up there after the shitstorms that had gone down the last two times I’d been here? Not to mention what might be waiting for us up in those haunted rooms.
“My grandpappy had a sayin’ about stupid questions,” Harvey said, butting into my moment of indecision.
“It wasn’t stupid.” Unlike the deal I’d made months ago with the Hungarian devil’s keeper.
“Never miss a good chance to shut up.” He nudged me up the steps in front of him. “Now giddy up before my twig and berries freeze solid and break clean off. It’s cold as a witch’s tit out here.”
I stopped midway up, adjusting my purse strap on my shoulder. “Why is a witch’s tit supposed to be so cold? I mean, witches are human.” At least I always thought they were. “And in my experience breasts are rarely ever that cold.”
Harvey cocked one bushy eyebrow. “How many breasts have you handled in your thirty-five years?”
“Well.” I pondered that for a second. “Two. Mine.”
He pshawed. “I’ve fondled way more than that in my time.”
“Yeah, but have you touched them daily like I have?”
His grin split wide, showing his two gold teeth above his silver-streaked beard. “No, but I could start a daily routine along with you if yer stallion doesn’t mind.”
“Parker!” Deadwood’s favorite surly detective barked at me from the top of the steps. Detective Cooper’s face was rigid. His blond hair stuck up in tufts, looking like pointy glass shards lining a concrete wall. “Would you two fruitcakes stop gabbing about your nail polish and get your asses up here. Some of us have actual work to do today.”
“Calm down, Detective Pissypants,” I growled under my breath, stomping up the stairs. “Aren’t you supposed to be relaxed after your trip to Arizona?”
Cooper’s gray eyes narrowed as I joined him on the small landing at the top of the steps. He shot his uncle a hard glance before asking, “Why do you ask that?”
“Because you took a much-needed vacation to the Sunshine State over New Year’s.”
“Arizona isn’t the Sunshine State, Sparky.” Harvey squeezed in behind me. “That’s Florida.”
“I know that. I’m just saying Arizona gets a lot of sun.”
“What’s your point?” Cooper prodded, literally, with his pointer finger jabbing my shoulder.
“Ouch,” I complained, leaning back into Harvey. “Never mind, you big bully.”
I looked at the door to the second floor of the old building. The lock and chain put in place by the captain of the fire department months ago to keep curious troublemakers from sneaking inside now hung loose, the metal quaking in the frigid breeze along with Harvey and me. Cooper had stayed true to his agreement to help me take another peek inside the building that had imprisoned the lidérc, aka the elusive Hungarian devil I had to find if I wanted to keep my aunt Zoe free from a life of a harem-type servitude.
Harvey grunted as another blast of wind rattled our bones. “It’s as cold as a cast iron commode out here.”
“Let’s get out of this wind.” Cooper pushed the door open, hesitating on the threshold. “Parker, is there anything I should know before I step inside?”
“Uhhhh.” I sent a pair of raised eyebrows in Harvey’s direction, trying to think of something fitting for the moment. A phrase I’d heard long ago popped into my head. “Oh, I know. Never give the devil a ride. He’ll always want the reins.”
“And never drop your gun to hug a grizzly,” Harvey added, playing along.
Cooper cursed at us both, and not very nicely either.
“Kiss your mother with that mouth?” I asked, scowling back at him.
“He’s been kissin’ someone, that’s fer sure,” Harvey mumbled.
The pointed glare Cooper shot at his uncle would have left holes in a thinner-skinned target, but Harvey’s hide was so thick that dirty looks, cutting insults, and sharp-toothed remarks bounced off of him.
I, on the other hand, liked my head stuck smack-dab in the middle of my shoulders and not bitten off, so I ignored Harvey’s intriguing comment about Cooper playing k-i-s-s-i-n-g … for now.
Cooper turned back to me. “I meant anything I should know regarding this place and the whacky shit you and Nyce wade hip-deep in when you’re not doing all of that lovey-dovey crap together.”
I lifted my chin. “Doc and I aren’t doing lovey-dovey ‘crap,’ thank you very much. We are building a long-term relationship based on trust, respect, and communication.”
Boy howdy, that sounded as stupid out loud as it had in my head when I’d read it in a women’s magazine while waiting at the dentist’s office the other morning. The truth about our relationship was much more raw and messy, involving a lot of blood, sweat, and tequila.
“Don’t forget about the hot sex,” Harvey added.
“And that, too,” I confirmed, even though discussing my romantic life in front of the bristly detective and the old buzzard made my cheeks warm.
“Jesus, Parker. Can we not talk about your sex life for five whole minutes?”
“Hey, you and your uncle brought it up, not me.”
Harvey snickered. “Coop’s just jealous. When’s the last time you dipped your stinger in the honey, boy?”
Cooper’s cheeks darkened. Without another word, the detective stepped inside the building.
“What was that about?” I asked Harvey.
He shrugged. “You’ll have to prod Coop for answers. He swears he’ll shoot me if I get to sufferin’ from jawbone diarrhea.”
We followed Cooper inside the building, pulling the door closed behind us. The dark clouds outside made for an interior laden with ominous shadows. Our breath steamed around our heads. The wind whistled through the large windows, their wooden frames dry-rotted long ago. I quivered, my nerves jittery about returning to the place where I’d battled not one, but two troublemakers before.
Nothing much had changed from the last time I stood inside the large open room. A layer of dust still covered the old floorboards. The smattering of footprints were most likely leftovers from the last time I’d crept around up here in the dark. The air smelled stale in spite of the cold.
Cooper stood across the room, shining his flashlight down what I knew was a narrow hallway leading to four rooms: two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen.
“This ward looks newer than the others,” Harvey said, aiming his flashlight at the square that was painted next to the door.
I stepped closer to the collection of symbols used to “ward” off trouble—or in this case, seal it in. Harvey was right. Someone had slapped white paint over the old version. Next to the patch of white paint, a fresh ward had been drawn on the wall in something dark red and thick. I touched the edge of the ward. It was sticky, like blood mixed with something thicker. Maybe tar? Cringing, I wiped my finger on the wall next to it, leaving a smeared fingerprint.
Inside the ward’s square edges was a combination of what looked like rune symbols, along with a rough sketch of an eye, two triangles, and entwined forks. At least that was my take on the ward. Aunt Zoe would probably be able to dissect the ward using Latin words for each part, but I only took two years of Spanish in high school and cheated on my final exams by writing verb conjugation charts on my arm, so I was useless. I pulled out my cell phone and snapped a picture of it quick, in
case Doc wanted to take a look at it later.
Pocketing my phone, I glanced around. There were similar wards painted onto the walls next to every window, which I assumed were meant to keep a Hungarian devil trapped inside the building indefinitely. Unfortunately, a few months ago, a pissed-off bitch with a penchant for carving humans into pieces had figured out how to breach one of the wards and free the lidérc that had been held prisoner here for decades. Now it was my job to find that dodgy devil and bring it back here.
“I wonder if Masterson did this,” I said to myself as much as Harvey.
Dominick Masterson owned the building, more than a century old. He was also the one with whom I’d made the dumb deal that had me trying to catch a lidérc on this frigid winter day so that I could keep my aunt from ending up as Dominick’s concubine.
I took a step back from the wall, my heel coming down on someone’s toe.
“Damn it, Parker!”
I jumped sideways. “That’s what you get for sneaking up on me, Coop.”
“That’s ‘Detective Cooper’ to you and you know it.”
“What about Christmas?”
Cooper’s gift to me had been permitting me to call him by the nickname everyone else on the planet was allowed to use.
“Christmas is over. You and I are back to square one.”
I harrumphed. “We haven’t been at square one since I broke your nose.”
His lips thinned. “Let’s get this damned sightseeing trip you had to take done so I can get back to the pile of paperwork sitting on my desk.” He limped toward the hallway.
I frowned after him. “You’re the one who ran off to Arizona on a whim, so quit taking your post-vacation blues out on me.”
Harvey eased up next to me as Cooper disappeared down the hallway. “You’re stirring up hell with a long spoon this afternoon, girl.”
“He started it.” I shrugged off my purse strap, letting my bag dangle and swing in my grip.
“It takes two to dance. What has me scratchin’ my noggin is why he’s on the prod in the first place.”
“I think something happened while he was in Arizona.” I turned to Harvey. “Or something didn’t and now he’s doubly frustrated and using me as his punching bag.”
