The Adventures of Gravedigger (14 page)

Charity woke up, her head pounding. She opened her
eyes, finding herself in a well-furnished room that was not her own. Even
without any other evidence, she could guess where she was: 6196 Robeson Avenue,
home of Assistance Unlimited. Housed in a former luxury hotel, the building
still retained that old feeling.

Mitchell sat on a second bed in the room, flipping
through a battered copy of Bram Stoker’s
Dracula
. He tossed it aside
when he saw Charity pushing off the mattress. “Sleeping beauty awakens!” he
said, smiling broadly.

“Are you okay?” she asked, rubbing her temples.

“I’m fine, luv. My own headache faded after a bit
and yours will, too.”

“I can’t believe they caught us. Josef must be
rolling his eyes in heaven.”

“We’re going to be okay.”

“How do you figure that? We’re prisoners.” Charity
looked up at him, annoyed that he was still smiling. “At best, they’re going to
keep us on a leash. At worst, we’re going to jail. I’m going to spend my three
years making license plates.”

Mitchell swung his feet off the bed, facing her.
“If they wanted to turn us over to the police, they could have done so. We were
as helpless as babes. The fact that they didn’t makes me think that they have
other plans – and I don’t think they’re going to keep us around at all.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, we just need to make sure they contact The Peregrine.
He’ll vouch for us.”

“I namedropped him. Doesn’t mean they’ll forget
all the bodies I’ve left in my wake.”

“Max is pretty persuasive and I think he has a
good rapport with Lazarus Gray.”

Charity stood up and wandered over to a mirror.
She looked tired but otherwise unharmed. “I wonder if they’re listening to us
right now.”

“Probably. If I were them, I would be.”

“Do you think she knows who I am?”

Mitchell’s smile faded and he became more serious.
“Probably. I know you didn’t meet her during that whole blackmail scheme of
your boyfriend’s – but I’m sure she knows your name.”

Charity sighed. “I’m more afraid of talking to her
than I am of facing Lazarus.”

“Why?”

“Because a part of me is jealous of her! And now
she’s going to be superior to me – again. She’s a hero, I’m a killer. It’s like
all my worst nightmares come to life.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Charity laughed coldly. “Oh, please. You mean
besides the criminal record and the murders? Not to mention the fact that she’s
gorgeous and I’m… I’m me.”

Mitchell turned her face towards his. “Are you
joking? You’re absolutely beautiful. And you’ve done things that you needed to
do to survive. You weren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth the way she
was.”

Charity stared at him, her eyes widening slightly
as he leaned closer. His lips parted and she knew what was about to happen
though she wasn’t certain how she was going to respond.

She was saved from making that decision by a
rapping at the door. Charity turned away and asked, “Yes?”

Samantha stepped inside, looking nearly as
uncomfortable as Charity felt. It occurred to Charity that she hadn’t given any
real thought to how Samantha would take this meeting.

“Lazarus wants the two of you to come down to the
briefing room,” Samantha said. She addressed those words to both Charity and
Mitchell but it was Charity alone who received her glance. “I’ve always
wondered what you were like.”

“You could have found me,” Charity answered,
immediately regretting her tone. “Sorry. I shouldn’t treat you like the enemy.”

“I thought about looking for you,” Samantha
replied. “But I wasn’t sure how big a role you played in the blackmail scheme.
And my father refused to talk about you or your mother so… I was scared, I
guess. It was bad enough that I learned my father wasn’t the perfect figure I’d
grown up believing him to be. To then learn that he had another daughter… I
wasn’t sure I wanted to draw any comparisons between us.”

Charity looked stunned. “But you had everything!
Why would you be scared of how I turned out? Nothing I accomplished was going
to hold a candle to what you’ve done.”

“My life hasn’t been all sweetness and light.”

Charity stepped towards her, hands clenching into
fists. “I don’t know how to speak to you,” she admitted.

Samantha smiled shyly. Up close, she didn’t look
nearly as perfect as she seemed in the newspaper photographs. She was gorgeous,
yes, but she was very human. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t know,
either. But we are related by blood… and from the looks of things, we both have
a penchant for getting into trouble. Maybe we should get to know one another.”

Charity resisted the urge to respond
sarcastically. It was part of her nature to do so when upset but she sensed
that Samantha was being sincere… and, deep down inside, she wasn’t against the
notion of having a family again. She’d been alone for a very long time – she’d
started to think of Mitchell, Li and Cedric as a family of sorts but she was
hesitant to commit too deeply given how easily any of them could be killed.

“I… I’d like that,” she said at last.

***

Charity was relieved to see that her uniform and
weapons were lying on the table when she entered the briefing room. She wanted to
grab hold of her sword, desiring its comforting weight in her hands, but she
held off.

Lazarus Gray was standing at the head of the
table, his handsome face drawn and serious. Seated on either side of him were a
glowering young Korean whom she recognized as Eun Jiwon and a man in his
forties, with a perfectly tailored suit and a small, well-tended moustache.
This was Morgan Watts, a former criminal who had joined the side of the angels
thanks to Gray’s intervention.

Charity spoke first, wanting to take control of
the situation. She knew that Mitchell was at her side and out of the corner of
her eye, she saw Samantha taking a seat. “Are you ready to let us go?” she
asked.

Morgan grinned at her audacity but her words had
the opposite effect on Eun. The Korean’s frown deepened and he obviously would
have responded if not for a glance from Lazarus.

“We are, actually,” Lazarus replied. “But only
with certain conditions.”

“Like what?”

“Well, The Peregrine vouched for you, as I’m sure
you knew he would. He also corroborated your story about some sort of mystical
form empowering you.”

Thank you, Max
, Charity thought to herself.

Lazarus crossed his arms. “But he and I are in
agreement that you’re going to get yourself in hot water if you keep murdering
criminals. He’s found himself the target of law enforcement before and has
recently taken steps to curb the number of deaths associated with his
investigations. I want you to do the same.”

“Take it up with The Voice,” Charity responded. “I
was told to ‘shovel the dirt’ onto their graves. The Voice didn’t give me much
leeway about that.”

“Nevertheless, I think you’re putting too much
emphasis on the killing aspect of what The Voice said. From what I understand,
you’re also supposed to become a better person. I know from personal experience
that it’s hard to do that with blood dripping from your hands.”

“I second that,” Morgan said.

Mitchell cleared his throat. “We can stop
killing.”

Charity looked at him in shock but Mitchell
pressed on.

“But we don’t want to feel like you’re watching
over us like spies or something. You have to trust us, mate.”

Lazarus paused and then nodded. “Fair enough. But if
I hear that Gravedigger is killing again, I’ll come knocking – and this time,
I’m not going to go easy on you.”

***

“What the hell was that about?!” Charity shouted,
as soon as they were back in the car. Her equipment was thrown into the back
seat, leaving her free to stare down Mitchell.

He started up the car and began driving before he
answered. “I lied.”

“You lied?”

“That’s what I said, luv. I told them what they
wanted to hear so they’d let us go free.”

Charity shook her head, chuckling. “Lazarus is
going to hate us.”

“I think we should abandon Josef’s house.”

“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.

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, you’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.”