by Barry Reese
“I don’t see why….”
“Because they know it’s our base!” Mitchell glanced over at her, ignoring the way a driver going past honked his car’s horn. It was one thing to see a black man driving a white woman around when it was obvious he was nothing more than a chauffeur – but with the two of them sitting side-by-side in the front seat, the societal boundaries were being blurred and not everyone appreciated that. “We should move into Hendry Hall. Cedric’s new to the group and they may not even know he’s working with us. Besides, the place is huge – there’s more than enough room for all of Josef’s books and for us, too.”
“I don’t know if Cedric would appreciate us moving in.”
“Of course he would. He wants to impress Li and that means impressing you.”
“Moving to a new house in town isn’t going to keep them from finding us.”
“It’ll slow them down for awhile. And in the meantime, we can plan how to deal with them in the future.”
Charity glanced at him. “So were you going to kiss me back there?”
Mitchell smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar. You were definitely going to kiss me.”
“Luv, I hate to break this to you – but you’re not even my type.”
“Oh, really? And what is your type?”
“I like a girl with a creamy cocoa complexion. And a big bosom.”
Charity rolled her eyes and laughed. “Ah, I fail in both regards, then.”
“Well… your bosom is okay.” Charity pinched him. “Ouch!” he said, chuckling.
A silence fell between them but neither seemed to mind. It was good to be with someone who knew all your secrets, Charity realized.
Chapter IV: Endings and Beginnings
Charon stood at the head of the table, cloaked in his hood. Just off to the side and behind him was the Headless Horseman, whose mood seemed somewhat lighter this morning. Nipper knew that the murders would only slake the Horseman’s need for violence for a short time, so it was best to make the most of this.
Facing Charon was a fit young man named Morrissey. He was a third-rate goon from the looks of him, with a taste for narcotics and cheap whores. “So I know it’s not really big news but do you think you can use it?” he asked, licking his lips nervously. A large cold sore seeped painfully from the corner of his mouth.
“I wanted details about the city’s vigilantes,” Charon said, each word hissed from between clenched teeth. “But you bring me details about a shipment of drugs.”
“I know, I know – but this is a lot of snow, we’re talking about. The Ten Fingers are trying to horn in on the Sovereign City action, spreading out from Chinatown and into the rest of town. I figure that a guy like you would want to know about it.”
Charon moved around the table, his robes shifting with each step. He put a skeletal hand on Morrissey’s shoulder and drew him close. “Tell me again – what time are they arriving?”
“The boat’s supposed to come into the harbor at midnight.”
“And you’re certain that there won’t be much in the way of security?”
“Nah. They paid off the cops so they won’t be around. And besides the guys on the boat, there’s only gonna be two or three guys waitin’ to unload the stuff. It’s easy for the takin’!”
Charon patted the man’s back. “Thank you, my friend, for telling me this. Though it is not the sort of information that I would normally seek out, I will see that you are handsomely rewarded.”
“Thanks!” Morrissey gushed. He looked very eager as he asked, “I was thinking that maybe instead of money, I could get a sample of the take….”
“The cocaine, you mean?”
“Yeah! I’d really appreciate some of the snow, if you wouldn’t mind….”
“Something can be worked out, my friend. Have no fear.” Charon steered him towards the door. “I will be in touch.”
When he was gone, Charon turned to the Horseman. “We need to be there tonight. We’ll bring some gunmen with us.”
The Horseman shifted. “This does not sound like a challenge.”
“Not everything has to be.” Charon pulled his hood back, revealing his disguised face. “Look – remember the deal,” he said hotly. “You get to kill and I get rich.”
The Horseman backhanded Charon so hard that the villain flew across the tabletop. He landed on the floor, rising slowly.
“You will not speak to me in such a tone,” the Horseman warned. “The next time that you do, I’ll kill you. Do you understand?”
“I’m well aware of the true nature of our alliance,” Charon replied, wiping away a trail of blood that was leaking from his upper lip. “Forgive me. I’m just anxious to start getting what we both want. If we steal these drugs from The Ten Fingers, they’ll want retribution. That will lead to that war you want so badly – but I’m counting on you to protect me and to kill all of them!”
“I will not be stopped by the weapons of this age… bullets, knives, explosives… all are too little to halt my progress.”
“Good. ‘Cause these boys play for keeps. Now, as I was saying, we’ll be there to night with some of our goons. We’ll take the drugs and then we’ll make a killing on the open market, selling it for less than the Ten Fingers would ever do. It’s all profit for us and it’ll get us a foothold into the drug running biz. Once we’ve done that, we’ll start buying our own supply.”
The Horseman said nothing and Charon took his silence as acceptance of the plan. Personally, Charon was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t some way he could rid himself of the unearthly guardian at some point – but not too soon, he cautioned himself. He still needed the Horseman to solidify his hold over the underworld.
Tonight, he mused, would be another step closer to that dream.
***
“How do you feel? Bloody wonderful, I bet!” Mitchell grinned as ‘Morrissey’ stepped into the foyer of Hendry Hall.
‘Morrissey’ reached up and peeled away the fake cold sore that adorned his lip. “It was thrilling,” he admitted, “But I was terrified, too. That Horseman… I kept picturing him killing people like he did that night!”
Mitchell nodded, knowing that Cedric was still new to the dangerous lifestyle that they had all embraced. “Nobody tailed you back here?”
“I’m positive they didn’t. Charon didn’t act like he had any inkling that I wasn’t who I appeared to be.”
The two men entered the study, where they found Charity and Li waiting for them.
“The man’s a natural,” Mitchell said.
“So they took the bait?” Charity asked, looked relieved. She’d been very worried about Cedric’s safety – but he and Li continued to emerge unscathed from the worst of situations.
“Definitely! Charon tried to pass it off as not being the sort of thing he went in for but I could see his eyes light up!”
Charity smiled. They’d used the information she’d gained from Dash to get a message to Charon – when the crime lord had sent word that he wanted to meet with Morrissey, she’d formulated a plan to use Cedric as their mouthpiece. “Good work,” she said.
Cedric took a small bow. “My mother wanted me to be an actor, you know.”
“A shame you’ve wasted your thespian abilities trying to seduce women,” Li said with an amused grin.
“There are worse ways to spend an evening,” he countered.
Mitchell looked at Charity, who had crossed over to a table where an array of weapons had been laid out. “The boat’s ready whenever we are. I have it anchored far enough offshore to avoid detection.”
“We’ll stick with the plan, then. I want you and Cedric onboard and in disguise. In the dark, you can both pass for members of The Ten Fingers – I don’t plan to let anyone get close enough to tell the difference.”
“What about me?” Li asked.
Charity looked at her. “You’ll be here, manning the phones. If we don’t make it back by morning, y
ou’re to call Lazarus Gray and then The Peregrine. Tell them that something’s gone wrong and pass on all the info we have on Charon and the Horseman.”
Li looked disappointed to be given phone duty but she also recognized the meaning behind Charity’s words: she was basically leaving Li as the person who would continue their work if they all ended up dead.
Turning back to the weapons arrayed on the table, Charity picked up a sword and tested its weight. “I’m going to finish what you started, Mortimer. You have my word.”
***
Sovereign City Harbor was one of the busiest parts of the metropolis but it was also amongst the seediest. Wharf 18 was the worst of the worst and most honest sailors avoided the area like the plague. Nobody wanted to be associated with it. Back in ’34, Doc Daye had temporarily brought about its closure, after busting a white slavery ring that was taking girls into and out of the city via the shipping lanes. But by late ’35, it was operational again – and was once again home to the vilest trafficking imaginable.
Charon stepped out of the back seat of a black sedan, joined quickly by five of his best men. The Horseman arrived a moment later, the clop-clop of his steed’s hooves sounding very loud on this quiet night.
“I think I see the boat,” one of the men said, squinting off into the distance. “Can’t wait to fill those chinks full of lead. Thought of them horning in on our city drives me nuts.”
“It may be a cesspool but it’s our cesspool,” Charon muttered under his breath. The men didn’t hear him, which was fine – he preferred to keep up his bluff of being some sort of occult figure. It was usually easy enough to do, given the presence of the Horseman.
The Horseman dismounted and the steed vanished in a shadowy mist. “Something is not right,” the Hessian said.
“What do you mean?” Charon asked sharply, having learned to trust the instincts of this killing machine.
“I sense a familiar presence.”
“If it’s Cord, he’s going to regret it,” Charon whispered. “That bastard busted me a few years back – then laughed at me when I tried to bribe him! That’s why I wanted his name smeared.”
“It’s not the police officer,” the Horseman replied. His shoulders turned, as if his non-existent head was looking for the source of what he felt. He jerked as something whizzed past him, landing in the back of a goon’s neck. It was a crossbow bolt and the other gunmen unleashed a torrent of obscenities as their friend fell to the ground, bleeding out.
“Up there!” one of them shouted and all eyes turned to the rooftop of a nearby warehouse. The silhouetted figure of Gravedigger stood there, which prompted the men to begin firing all of their guns in her direction. The bullets riddled the figure and finally knocked it down but there were no cries of pain, as would have been expected.
“It’s a trap,” Charon whispered. “That was a dummy or something!”
As if confirmation of this, two more crossbow bolts flew into the mob, taking two more men down to the ground. From the shadows, she jumped, sword whistling through the air. It swiped down, removing the head of the group’s resident racist. As she landed in a crouch, she shoved the weapon back behind her, gutting the last of the gunmen.
In less than thirty seconds, she had killed five men, leaving behind only Charon and The Horseman.
“Kill her!” Charon shrieked. He shoved the Horseman’s back, trying in vain to push the undead warrior towards Gravedigger.
“No.”
Charon stared in fury at the Horseman. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“I wish to see what she will do to you. And then I will finally face someone worthy of me.”
Charon’s head whipped back around. Gravedigger was walking towards him, sword in hand. A coil of intestine dangled from its tip and she shook it off with a quick flick of her wrist.
Charon started to run but his shoe caught on the hem of his robe, causing him to stagger. When he regained his footing, Gravedigger was upon him.
“Aren’t you going to use your mystic powers to stop me?” she asked.
Raising his hands protectively, Nipper began the final scene of his life. He gesticulated in the air, chanting nonsense words in the hope that she would be frightened away.
Instead, Gravedigger laughed merrily, an insane sound that left Charon wailing in terror. Then her sword cut – once, twice and then a third time. The villain tumbled back, blood spurting from his wounds.
“He was beneath you,” she said, turning back to The Headless Horseman. He had drawn his blade now and his stance indicated that he was excited by the prospect of combat.
“I agree. But I needed assistance in finding a place in this world. Having seen more of it, however, I realize that nothing has truly changed. Man is still motivated by greed and lust. I can flourish here.”
“I’m afraid you can’t,” she answered. “You’ve shown no inclination to be anything less than an unrepentant killer. That means I’m going to have to stop you.”
“I am immune to death.”
“I hurt you back at Hendry Hall. That’s why you fled… and that’s why you’ve been stopped before. Maybe all I’ll do is drive you back into whatever hellish dimension you call home until you’re summoned again… but I’ll take that.”
The Headless Horseman loomed over her, the foul odor that emanated from his wound intensifying. “You and I are not so dissimilar. We both crave the violence. And we both enjoy the kill.”
“I only slay people who need to die – criminals and scum.”
“No one is innocent. All men are fated to die.”
“Let’s agree to disagree, then.” Gravedigger dropped into a battle stance. “Only one of us is walking away from this.”
The Hessian drew his sword. “You are a brave woman – the bravest I have ever faced.”
“Flattery’s going to get you nowhere.”
Gravedigger struck first.
***
“I hate this.”
Mitchell didn’t bother looking at Cedric. He knew what the other man meant and shared the sentiment. Instead, he continued watching through his binoculars, silently cheering as Charity stabbed The Hessian through the midsection. The blow wouldn’t fell the undead warrior but it might slow him down, nonetheless.
“Seriously, can’t we do something?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know – hurry the boat to the dock and join in? Or just start shooting from here?”
“We’re still too far away – we’d just be wasting ammo and attracting attention. And even with the engines opened up full blast, the fight’s liable to be over by the time we get to shore.” Mitchell lowered his binoculars. “Charity has to do this by herself. She thinks she screwed up with Meeks and with the Hendry Hall affair. She needs a straight up victory.”
Cedric lit a cigarette and exhaled. His nervousness was palpable. Despite the fact that Mitchell hid it well, he was just as bad. He thought of Charity as a close friend – and maybe, just maybe, a little bit more besides.
“You got a spare?” Mitchell asked.
“Didn’t know you smoked.”
“I don’t. But I think I’m going to start.”
***
Gravedigger grunted as The Horseman’s blade crashed down upon her own. His strength was incredible and even with all the skills she had to draw upon, the battle was looking a bit one-sided. Her only hope lay in wounding him in his weak spot – the gory wound where his head had once resided. But reaching that spot was proving harder than she’d anticipated.
“Surrender, girl… and I’ll make it quick.”
“Please. You’d be so disappointed if I did that, you’d probably torture me for days just to spite me for ruining your fun.”
“This is true.”
The Hessian swung his weapon in a wide arc, allowing Gravedigger to duck under the blow. She grabbed the hilt of her own sword with both hands and drove it forward with all the strength she could muster. The blade sliced through his geni
tals and scraped against the pubic bone.
The Horseman’s reaction was to grunt and strike her on the side of her shoulder with a closed fist.
Gravedigger grimaced. Her entire arm was tingling now. She sprang back from him, executing a series of flips that would have been the envy of any gymnast. She came to a stop just short of Charon’s sedan. Leaping atop it, she tensed as The Horseman barreled towards her.
The villain’s weapon whipped towards her but Gravedigger jumped upwards, over the attack. She then raised her weapon and speared it into his neck. The effect was immediate, as The Hessian snarled and backed away, gloved hands reaching ineffectually for the embedded sword.
Gravedigger drew a dagger, planning to continue her assault before he managed to rid himself of the painful implement. She spun the knife through the air and stabbed her foe. The Horseman grunted and twisted his body, preventing the weapon from striking his neck wound. It ended up in his shoulder, where it spent only a few seconds before Gravedigger yanked it free.
The Horseman caught her with a kick to the midsection, following it up with a punch to the top of her head. She staggered under the blow and was unable to avoid his sword, which caught her in her right hip. Blood flowed freely from the wound and Gravedigger knew that she was in danger of blacking out soon.
“I am more powerful than you,” The Horseman said. He proved the point by punching her hard across the chin. The blow knocked her to her knees and left her ears ringing. He grabbed hold of the back of her hood and yanked her head up. His sword flashed against her throat, stopping just short of drawing blood. “I admire your bravery, however. At the last moment, even my stoutest of enemies have the flash of terror in their eyes. Sometimes they even beg. But you are different.”
“I’ve died already,” she hissed. “There’s nothing you can do that’s going to top that.”
“Let’s see, shall we?” The Horseman asked. There was undeniable glee in his voice.
Gravedigger drove her elbow into her enemy’s stomach but it failed to dislodge his grip on her. Desperate to prolong the battle, she slipped a hand into the top of her boot, grabbing hold of a small porcelain egg-shaped object. Yanking it free, she swung her arm up and slipped the object into the Hessian’s pocket.
