Deadsville

by C. L. Bevill

  Barastyr laughed again. “Goodness, you humans. You take a little information and make it into a novel of epic proportion. Stephen King long. I don’t think that man ever learned how to cut a line out of a book.” He adjusted the jaunty angle of the ten-gallon hat. It looked wrong on him. It was like Genghis Khan was trying to be John Wayne, which was ironic considering that John Wayne had once played that very title character in a movie, and that hadn’t worked very well, either. “I never said I gave you a choice.”

  Tavie didn’t like the way this was playing out. She was about to learn something she didn’t want to know. More cheeses. Blank. Nothing. Zero.

  “Thana was the one who gave you a choice,” Barastyr finished with a little flourish of one hand. “Of course, she couldn’t give you everything. That wouldn’t have been fair, and we do enjoy our games, don’t we?”

  Tavie stepped back, nearly a stumble. Pudd whined and leaned against one leg. She didn’t know what to say. “This has all been some kind of game?” she gasped. “The GOTDs are just bored silly and need something to occupy their time?”

  Barastyr shrugged. “I did try to warn you.”

  “It’s not a game to me,” Sternstein said violently.

  “You don’t have to do this, Patrick,” Tavie said and mentally shook herself. She could come to terms with what it all meant later. “This can end here and now.”

  Sternstein shook his head and started the prayers again, or perhaps it was some kind special incantation. Tavie didn’t know or care. She might have been used and prodded into where she was at the present moment, but Nica and Coco didn’t deserve their utter elimination.

  MAYTAG BLUE! WATERLOO! ADOBERA!

  “Gee whiz, I had no idea the humans had so many types of cheeses,” Barastyr said with palpable impatience.

  Tavie launched herself at Sternstein. If the former priest was unconscious then he could no longer say whatever the words he was using to complete his mission. She planted hands on the back of a pew and tossed herself over, completely intent on taking Sternstein to the ground and making sure several lines of duct tape were wrapped around his mouth until she could figure out what else to do.

  With a jaw-snapping abruptness, Tavie was jerked backwards. She found herself lying on the floor of the church, looking up at Tom Mix, er, Barastyr, staring down at her. The cowboy/showman/GOTD was clearly amused with her determination.

  “If I wanted you to stop poor Patrick, then I wouldn’t have disabled your weapon,” the god of the dead said with utmost matter-of-factness. “All the deadies have heard about your big gun with the large bullets.”

  “You’re not supposed to mess with the living,” Tavie snarled.

  “But you’re not alive, sheriff. You’re dead. Patrick is dead. Coco is dead. Even your dog is dead. Nica is dead, a long time dead, and you’re subject to my laws.” He spread his arms wide to indicate the width and breadth of the church. “This is the domain I have made; it’s made with my rules and I get to enforce them.”

  “If you’re not allowed to mess around with the living, then how did Patrick know to bring the crucifix and the bible with him, how did he know he was going to die?” Tavie asked urgently. “Patrick! Dammit, you’re being used!” she yelled again, hoping it might get through his head.

  “There are always loopholes,” Barastyr said as Tavie scooted out from between his legs. “For example, your dog isn’t supposed to be in Deadsville, but there he was, and here he is.”

  Pudd had lost most of his courage and was backed into the corner of a pew and the wall, his tail between his legs.

  Tavie sprang to her feet while Barastyr was looking at Pudd. Gruyere! Neufchatel! Wellington! Some other types! She gripped the broken arm of a pew and swung it with all of her strength and nailed Barastyr in the side of the head. His eyes rolled back into his head and he tilted over sideways.

  “No one ever said anything about hitting gods of the dead!” she shrieked. While he was down she twisted and leapt over the pew again in the most direct line for Sternstein. Sternstein’s eyes went wide as he tried and failed to continue his litany.

  Tavie heard a growl behind her and glanced to see the giant dog preparing to leap for her. She skidded to the side and the dog plowed past her, knocking pews apart like the pins at the end of the bowling lane. He snarled and came back for her.

  Waiting for the second leap, Tavie planted her feet and thought, Marble! Kugelkase! Chevre! The dog’s powerful back legs tensed and prepared. His jaws opened wide and wider. It wasn’t the jaws of a normal dog. She didn’t know what he was or wasn’t, but the teeth looked like something out of the Jurassic Age. He leapt and Tavie took the moment to use his momentum against him, and tossed him in the same direction that he was going. The animal crashed into more pews and spread them apart like an insane snowplow.

  Sternstein was frozen in place. Clearly, he had forgotten what he was doing as he watched the charge of the animal on Tavie. The large dog crashed into the rock wall and shook his head. Tavie slued to one side as she continued her plunge toward the former priest.

  Nica was silent, but Coco continued to wail.

  The giant dog came to his feet a second later and Tavie screeched to a stop, unwilling to have her back to the creature. “Idaho Goatster! Tillamook! Tyning!” she yelled.

  The massive animal snarled again and it was answered with another snarl. Pudd pushed to the front and growled heavily at it. The terrier/Chihuahua mix bared his teeth and inched forward. The growling came out high pitched as he advanced on the much larger animal. Pudd’s scruff was up and he was visibly prepared to do a battle-royal, anything to protect his mistress.

  Tavie spun again and Sternstein saw the writing on the wall. He shot around the side of the pulpit and stood by Coco. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a silver knife with an eight-inch long blade. He held it high so that the silver glinted in the candle’s light and Tavie could see not only was it inscribed with ornate crosses, but that it dripped with ectoplasm. It likely would be used to carve the Latin word or words into the deadie’s flesh.

  “Stop!” he cried.

  Tavie ground to a halt. She didn’t know what would happen if he stabbed Coco with the knife. It was possibly she would come back, but this wasn’t Deadsville and Tavie didn’t want to take the risk.

  Tavie heard movement behind and she risked a glimpse. What she saw there made her hesitate. Then she looked back at Sternstein and watched as he comprehended what was happening. The reapers were moving through the portal and they were bringing deadies in with them. Most of the deadies were the ones from the narrow black creek, the ones who were against the gods of the dead, but there were a few others that Tavie recognized, such as Maximillian and Lillian.

  When Tavie looked back again, they had crowded into the back of the church and their eyes focused on Sternstein and the knife he held. Then they saw Barastyr and the great dog cornered by the little dog, and gave them all a wide berth.

  Barastyr clambered to his feet and retrieved the white ten-gallon hat, placing it carefully on his head. He wiped bits of wood from his face while shooting Tavie a brief intense glare. “Now what, deadie?” he asked her. “I think you’ve reached a stalemate.”

  Tavie looked back at Sternstein. He was struggling with the issues. She didn’t need to be a mind reader to know he wanted to complete the prayers and make sure that Coco and Nica were gone forever for their perceived crimes. However, he couldn’t do that with Tavie about to jump on him.

  “‘Pop quiz, hotshot,’” Tavie quoted. Longhorn. Hoop Cheese. Feta. “I can take out you or I can take out Sternstein. What do you do?”

  “Who’s Sternstein?”

  ​Chapter 23

  Death when it comes will have no denial.– English Proverb

  ~

  “I always wanted to do that.” – Enoch on the last bit of time spent in the world of the dead

  ~

  “I mean Patrick,” Tavie said immediately. Swiss. Swiss. Swiss.
I can’t think of any other cheeses.

  Barastyr watched Tavie. He laughed. “Oh, I like you. It would have been so much better if you had been on my side. You’d make a wonderful goddess. All fire and resolve. It you hadn’t done that one little thing with the pedophile we wouldn’t even be talking.”

  “If I go after you, I’m clawing your eyes out,” Tavie warned. “I’ll rip them so far out an optometrist will have to go to the next dimension to do an examination.”

  Barastyr waved one hand and abruptly Tavie couldn’t move. Her arms felt pinned to her sides and her feet were stuck in cement. Only her head and neck worked. “It’s like magic,” the GOTD said. “I can even make buildings vanish. David Copperfield’s got nothing on me.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m sure people wouldn’t pay to see you perform,” Tavie snarked, “not with that big stick you have up your…”

  “I’ve got you where I want you now,” Barastyr said with an evil leer. He winked at her, and then giggled. “I always wanted to say that. Maybe if you beg.”

  Tavie glanced at Sternstein. He was staring at Barastyr and Tavie, the knife in his hand was lower, as if his arm couldn’t quite support it.

  “So what happens now?” Tavie asked.

  “Yon Patrick does his evil thing. The worlds of the living and dead converge because the one in charge couldn’t handle her job. There will be a thousand years of pure hell on earth. Humans will suffer. Some other stuff.” Barastyr waved both hands in the air. “You know, I don’t really know what will happen. It’ll be bad. We probably won’t have cable anymore.”

  “You’re really one of them,” Sternstein said, gazing at Barastyr.

  Tavie nearly sighed with relief. Something finally got through to the former priest.

  “You didn’t do this because it’s the right thing to do,” Sternstein went on.

  “Of course, it’s not the right thing to do,” Barastyr said. “When is murder and exorcising souls to limbo ever the right thing to do? Haven’t you ever heard of the old saying, ‘Two wrongs don’t make a right.’? Well, five wrongs doesn’t add up to rightness any more than two do.” He put his fingers up to demonstrate. “Not one wrong, not two, not three, not four. And most absolutely not five.” He pointed to his thumb with the other hand.

  The hand holding the knife dropped to Sternstein’s side. “Tavie was right,” he said. He looked at Nica and Coco. “How can this be?”

  “Well, that’s not working for you, Barastyr,” Tavie said. “If Patrick doesn’t do them in, then no end-of-the-world, right? I’ll bet you can’t do them in because of nasty little rulsies and all that.”

  Barastyr’s lips flattened. He tilted his head and appeared to think about the matter. “You have to go through with it, Patrick,” he said. “You agreed. I brought you to Deadsville to wait for all the perpetrators to appear after their deaths and you agreed to exorcise them all. The doctor, the lawyer, the police officer, the psychopomp, and the girl who actually killed your wife. I arranged it all. You owe me three more. Him— ” he pointed to Nica “— her— ” he pointed to Coco, “— and her.” He pointed at Tavie. “You owe me.”

  “You don’t owe him anything,” Tavie snarled to Sternstein. “He wasn’t supposed to make a deal with you while you were still alive. What Barastyr did was wrong.”

  “Hush,” Barastyr said to Tavie and waved one hand again. Suddenly she was standing in a knot of snakes. They wrapped around her unmoving limbs and slithered through her feet. One slid across her shoulders and its forked tongue tasted her cheek. One slid up her pants leg and wrapped itself around the calf of her leg.

  Memories of a single snake assailed Tavie. It hadn’t been particularly dangerous. The gopher snake hadn’t been venomous, but simply scared of her, as scared as she had been of it. But all of that hadn’t helped her phobia about snakes. It was a good thing that her colleagues in the police department hadn’t known about that particular horror or she would have been awash with rubber snakes in her desk and patrol car.

  “They’re not real,” Tavie told herself. She closed her eyes and attempted to push deep the helpless panic threatening to drown her. “They’re not real and I’m already dead, so they can’t do anything to me.” One slid over the curve of her ear and into her hair. She bit her lower lip so she wouldn’t scream and tasted the copper tang of blood. However, it wasn’t really blood, it was ectoplasm, and the surprise grounded her. “I’m not the same person I used to be. I’m not here to worry about myself.” A moment of clarity beset her. It was true and incontrovertible. She wasn’t in the world of the dead to worry about herself. She had come to Deadsville to save Charlie Solomon. She could do a little bit of good while she was here. But it would never be for herself, it would be for others.

  The snakes began to drop away and Barastyr said a word in a language Tavie didn’t recognize. Then her hand moved and she pulled a thick python away from her neck. It dropped to the floor and disappeared into a hole left by a warped wooden plank. The others followed.

  “It isn’t going to be like that,” Tavie said and reached for the Glock. However, she remembered that the Glock didn’t work because of Barastyr. She reached for it regardless. Her eyes took the weapon in for a moment. It weighed 29.3 ounces unloaded. Loaded it was over two pounds. It was like a brick. She cocked her arm and aimed. No one had ever taught her how to throw a weapon, much less her service weapon, but it flew true, and conked Barastyr in the side of the head, in the same spot she’d hit before. He lost his ten-gallon hat as he keeled over sideways.

  Pudd still had the massive dog cornered by vicious snarls and expressive demonstration of how well his doggie chews cleaned his teeth. The great dog snarled viciously and the smaller dog leapt for his throat. Amazingly the fifteen pounds of terrier/Chihuahua mix took the big one down and growled while he held his throat. The larger animal froze in place.

  Three steps later and Tavie had the knife out of Sternstein’s hand. He didn’t put up a fight. He simply collapsed on the floor and put his arms over his head. Tavie didn’t want to feel compassion for the man but it was there all the same. It must have been pure hell to be on the cusp of obtaining revenge, and then have it jerked away in the name of some dead god’s game playing.

  Using the same knife, Tavie sliced down the side of the duct tape on Nica. She slid between the table and his body, in order to avoid cutting him.

  She turned toward a hysterical Coco to do the same when two hands grasped her shoulders, lifted her, and tossed her across the room. Tavie felt a moment of weightlessness and then impacted into pews and several people. Everyone went down and she ended up on her back on the opposite side of the room. She had no idea where she had dropped the knife and every part of her body screamed with protest at its cavalier treatment. Upside-down she stared at a livid Barastyr. The side of his head was caved in in the shape of a Glock, but his eyes were like the reapers, ablaze with anger.

  Everything that was the ancient Mongol warrior was coming to the forefront of his persona. He still wore the Tom Mix outfit sans the hat, but his face was terribly distorted with rage. All he needed was a curved saber to complete the picture. “You dare to strike me?” he roared.

  “Twice even,” Tavie said. She twisted to one side, feeling bruises upon bruises but nothing seemed broken, thanks to the bodies of the people who had been convenient. She jumped to her feet, willing herself to ignore aches and pains. One hand went for the OC spray at her belt. One finger opened the snap on the holster and she pulled it out. With a thumb she popped the top of the canister and armed it.

  Barastyr stared at her, steam practically coming out of his ears. He wasn’t stupid but she didn’t think he could see what she had pulled from her belt. He knew it wasn’t her Glock, but he didn’t know exactly what it was.

  “Come on, god of the dead,” Tavie taunted. “Show me what an antique like you can do. So far I’m not impressed. I’ve got a niece who can toss me like that and she’s ten years old.” She took a breath and adde
d, “Pussy.”

  Barastyr roared again and charged her. Tavie stepped to the left, aimed and let the stream of pepper spray go, raking back and forth over his eyes and face. Startled, he stopped and began to shriek while clawing at his eyes. “Sure, they didn’t show pepper spray in those old cowboy movies,” she said and reversed direction in order to go after him. The spray canister was like a club in her hand as she clipped him in the jaw and then brought it back around to knock him in the other direction. It was followed by an uppercut and a solid shoulder into his gut. The last movement caused them both to sprawl into the midst of shattered pews. His hat went flying.

  The god of the dead desperately scratched at his eyes while delivering a long litany of words that Tavie thought were curses from his original language. Her eyes were watering and her nose was running, as well, because she’d gotten a dose of the spray when she’d gone after him. She leaped upward and gave herself a little space for the next round, wiping her nose with her sleeve. She could see Nica trying to free Coco while she continued to writhe on the table.

  “What insanity is this?” Barastyr growled. “What witchery have you used upon me?”

  “I’m going to throw everything I have at you,” Tavie vowed. “I don’t care who you are or how many people you’ve escorted to the seventh dimension of hell. You can’t have Coco, and you sure as crap can’t have Nica!”

  Barastyr crab-walked backward, away from her voice. He blinked his eyes desperately, to trying to get the spray from his eyes. He didn’t know it but nothing could wash the chemical off. It was going to burn until it wore out or until his natural tears washed the stuff out of his eyes.

  Tavie crouched instinctively. The unknown part of her equation was that Barastyr was a god. Maybe he could shake off the effects of oleoresin capsicum spray with a snap of his fingers.

  Sternstein took that moment to launch himself to his feet and run for the door. Tavie’s first instinct was to let the former priest go. But there was a thought that ran through her head. Sternstein could do it to some other deadie, someone who chewed gum the wrong way. And then there was, Sternstein could tell some other deadie how it could be done, and then murder might become commonplace in Deadsville.