Demon Hunt, page 18
Rhi shuddered as she examined the small gold insignia on the breast pocket of the black fatigues Pearl wore under her mink trimmed cloak. “Designers make fatigues?”
“Of course. A black outfit for every occasion, darling. Can we go to the Saint Nicholas now? I need a cocktail - I drank aura from a construction worker this morning and I feel polluted. I did talk him into going back to college for his doctorate, though.”
The other two women had no adequate answer for her, so they headed down the hill to their vehicle.
“There’s a picture I didn’t need this morning,” Rhi whispered to Pam.
“Stay away from my neck, Mistress of the Dark,” Pam replied a bit shakily.
“Did you drive here?” She asked Pearl, ignoring Pam’s jibe.
With a toss of her head, Pearl loosened another scarf and several more gossamer strands of hair escaped. “No, I flew. But I’ll ride with you girls to the hotel, if you don’t mind. The wind is mussing my hair.”
“It’s broad daylight! Didn’t anyone see you?”
“Do you realize how few people look up anymore? These people live with one of the most beautiful views of the Sangre de Cristo mountain range available and they’re too busy counting how many nickels they’ve gotten out of the poker machine at the bar to notice.”
While the vehicle rattled along, Pam turned to face the creature lounging in the backseat, her sword at her side. Pearl sat at ease on the worn bench seat, not bothering with a seat belt.
“Would you like us to drive you past the ‘Old Homestead’ for old time’s sake?” asked Pam, referring to Pearl’s original brothel from which the madam ran her girls in the days of yore. The large building still stood on Myers Avenue - a sturdy old whitewashed storefront festooned with architectural garland and filled with lavish turn of the century European furnishings. The present owners had converted it into a museum.
“Heck, no! I’d get irritated about them not selling me back my Edison phonograph. It was the first thing I bought when I decorated the place. It’s bad enough I’m going to the Saint Nicholas. I’ve avoided the place for decades.”
“Why?” Rhi queried.
“The Sisters of Mercy who ran the hospital when the building was the St. Nicholas hospital knew me well. I lost count of the trips there with my clients and girls. Plus, I let my ‘dead’ body be carted there for pretend embalming.” Pearl glanced at Rhi’s pale profile. “Does the Saint Nicholas bother you, Rhi? Is that why you are so pasty? You need a bronzer. Rough night?”
“What do you think? And why would the Saint Nicholas bother me?”
The other woman shook her head knowingly and Pam’s eyes widened. “She thinks it would bother you to, Rhi - because you died there. Didn’t she?” she asked Pearl.
The madam’s expression turned grim. “The place worked up a pretty good body count in those days. You might want keep that in mind, Rhi. This isn’t a game of chance.”
“I have to disagree. This seems to be one big craps game and I’m the dice,” Rhi pointed out, dismissing Pearl’s words as they rounded the drive towards the pitched roof of the Victorian hospital turned hotel. “Warning me off is rather stupid, don’t you think? After all it’s not like I’ve got any choice in the matter.”
She swallowed the urge to stare back at the cemetery behind them and wonder where her past self lay in the ground, cold and rotted under a lichen covered gravestone.
Should she order another spot for herself? Could she get a cut rate since a part of her being was already parked there? Rhi shook her head to dispel this train of thought and swore she would never ask where Raven’s remains lay.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The whitewashed 2-story front porch of the hotel appeared at the end of the road, framed like a postcard in the pines. A crowd had gathered, waiting to get into the post funeral festivities.
Rhi grimaced. Walking through a crowd was not something she would be comfortable with at the moment.
Pam grinned at her in sympathy in the rearview mirror.
“Hey, we saw a dragon and a hot dude fly last night. Plus, you got laid. The day could be worse.”
Rhi parked and climbed out as Pearl chirped, “She got laid? Well, maybe Jack will be in a better mood now, thank God. Saving the world with a crab-ass is no fun at all. I’ll bet he hasn’t dated since the eighties.”
Rhi looked back at her in surprise.
“What? Do you honestly think a guy like Jack Blackthorne has been celibate for 100 years? But I must admit that the women he’s been involved with over the years have all had one thing in common: dark hair, green eyes and a smart mouth.” Pearl rewrapped her head in her black silk scarves, her gaze coolly observing Rhi’s reaction.
Rhi shrugged, pretending that she was unaffected by the statement. She wasn’t surprised to hear Jack Blackthorne lived his life while she floated around in the afterlife, but that didn’t mean she wanted to hear about it. “That would be ridiculous, expecting a man to be true to a dead woman. No love is that strong.”
“No love except maybe a true one,” Pearl replied with a knowing look.
“True love doesn’t exist, Pearl,” Rhi told her. “Of all of the people I’ve met in my life, I’d figure you would know that.”
“For a girl who has faced demons, vampires, changelings, and dragons – you’re awfully sure of what does and doesn’t exist.” Pearl replaced the expensive sunglasses over her unearthly gaze as she descended from the truck..
Rhi chose not to answer, instead concentrating on the graceful building ahead.
“I just realized something. I thought you couldn’t go out in the daylight,” Pam said.
“I can tolerate the sun, but I don’t like it. I never have. It ages the skin.”
Rhi snickered. She was feeling nasty towards Pearl after finding out for certain her soul mate hadn’t pined after her, celibately, for over a hundred years. “What? You’re 140 years old and worried about sun damage?”
“One hundred and twenty nine,” Pearl replied as she posed for effect near the front of the truck. She tossed a length of scarf over her shoulder and sashayed towards the hotel, leaving the other two women to trail in her wake.
“If I’d known we were escorting the queen, I’d have worn more bling,” Pam muttered, trudging through the slush of the parking lot. “This high drama is getting on my nerves.”
During this exchange, a shadow fell over them and Blackthorne was there, looking every bit the hero. He wore a black leather duster, designed for horseback riding in rough weather and useful to immortal knights who needed to carry a sword in public. Rhi suddenly felt better about Blackthorne’s lack of celibacy in her absence.
Houston stood nearby, attired in his best black cowboy hat, a barn jacket and jeans starched so heavily that they could have stood up on their own without the help of the man’s spindly legs. He removed his hat and ducked his head at Pearl.
“Ma’am.”
Pearl took his arm. “Honestly, cowboy, if you don’t stop calling me ma’am, I’m going feel compelled to suck your blood and I don’t do that kind of thing. It makes me feel so …”
“Old?” Pam supplied helpfully.
“Shut up.” Pearl shot back at her as she pulled the hapless man along behind her.
Rhi craned her head up to meet Blackthorne’s gaze. He winked and leaned down to cover her mouth with his in a lingering kiss telling everyone within range exactly who belonged with whom.
She grinned and took his hand. “Would Pearl really kill Houston?”
“Only if he stops worshipping her.”
Pam fell into step with the pair. “I think they’re cute.”
“Cute like a piranha eyeballing a catfish,” Rhi muttered.
“So does that make him a piranha?” Pam jerked her head towards Blackthorne.
“If he bites me, I’ll just drive a stake through his heart.”
“Do you two mind?”
They had entered the double doors of the hotel, where Batty Betty, wearing several tie-dye scarves over her coat, stood digging in her purse.
“Gonna kill your husband, girlie?” Betty cackled. “Do it! I killed mine years ago, best thing I ever did for myself.” The old lady teetered down the steps towards the parking lot. Her jewelry rattled with each wobbly stride.
Rhi raised a questioning eyebrow. “Is everyone in this town mental? Is this what the prolonged exposure to high altitude does to your brain pan?”
“Oh, that’s Betty. She always says that.”
“Has Chief Boyd considered checking into her story?”
Pam shrugged. “Naw … Earl blew himself up trying to get rid of some big stumps on his property with dynamite. Even if she did it – well, Earl was kind of a jerk. Can we go make small talk with Marie’s family and raid the food table now? Her dad’s a rancher and I hear there’s fresh meat.”
Blackthorne narrowed his eyes. “By the way, I’m hard to kill.”
“Don’t worry. If I decide to off you, you won’t see the stake coming. Besides, we aren’t married in this life. We’re just fooling around.” Rhi took his hand. “Now, did someone say fresh meat?”
Inside the hotel, Pearl examined the cheerful sounding gathering in the bar and wrinkled her nose. “Can they not bury anyone in this town without throwing a party? Oh, look! Martinis!” Off she went after the waiter.
Pam and Houston excused themselves to express their sympathy to Marie’s family, who gathered near the fireplace with their plates and glasses and grief. Rhi stayed in the double doorway turning about to examine the hotel like never before. Blackthorne hovered nearby, examining the crowd. Satisfied, he turned to watch as she examined every bit of plaster and molding.
The Saint Nicholas Hotel never bothered Rhi – she’d stayed in the establishment during her first days in Cripple Creek while she searched for a rental. But as she stood in the hallway in the afternoon with the comforting rays of the sun shining through the aged glass of the single paned windows, a shiver ran up her spine.
“Are you all right?” Blackthorne took her hand, and she followed him blindly to the crowded bar. The bar patrons parted like the Red Sea for the couple, who took possession of two strangely empty barstools.
“My old friend Jack,” a high-pitched, whiny voice caught Rhi’s attention. Manius Black’s weasel assistant swiveled to face them. He was dressed in pressed khakis, a button down and cashmere sweater but still conveyed a sense of trashiness in the insolent stare he fixed on her body. “Why, I haven’t seen you since that night a couple of years ago when you bought me drinks here at this very bar. Remember?”
Blackthorne stared at the interloper as Pam forced her way through the crowd to join the group. A muscle twitched in his cheek and he ground Rhi’s fingers in his grip.
“What do you want?” Rhi demanded once she found her breath. “Since I am sure your master is responsible for this shindig in the first place, I think it’s wildly inappropriate for you to be here, don’t you?”
Troy’s lips stretched hideously over his teeth, which were suddenly as sharp and as vicious as a rodent’s. “My master? Oh no, sweetie. I think you need to talk to your master about the responsibility here. After all, he’s the one who talked me into digging up the grave. I drank enough vodka to kill Stalin that night and I needed cash, bad. So why not dig up an old grave and steal the dead guy’s jewels, your buddy here suggested. He told us where to find just the right one. After all, it’s not like the body will sit up in the coffin and ask what you’re doing.” Horror flashed across the man’s face before the rodent took over again. “I lost the best lay I ever had that night. After all, Cassie was yummy. And I lost my soul. Your boyfriend let a monster loose, not me.”
His voice lowered to a hiss as Rhi’s head begin to pound. No, no, no, no….
“I’ve seen things and done things that’ll damn me forever, but who told me not to take out the stake in Manius’ heart, knowing that is the first thing a punk like me would do? Who let him out - who killed Marie? I went to school with her, you know. A few years ago, I could have cried over her. Now I wonder why all of her meat was wasted to make a public statement - the master’s pets would have enjoyed chewing that piece of ass, literally.”
Rhi whirled on Blackthorne as Pam, yanked Troy out of his seat and threw him on the floor. She placed a booted foot on his neck.
“You wouldn’t tell stories, would you, Troy? God, I didn’t even recognize you in the Elk the other night,” Pam snarled. “It must be all the Dippity Doo in your hair.” Ignoring the crowd, she kicked Troy in the stomach. The crunch of her boot connecting with his ribs was audible, telling observers that she’d probably cracked a few ribs as well as damaged his digestive system. Troy curled up into a ball, moaning and then began a weak effort to crawl away. Watching his face, Pam ground one heel into his calf muscle for a moment before allowing him to slip into the crowd.
Pearl, martini in hand, and Houston joined the crowd, who chattered among themselves, waiting for the next part of the entertainment.
Rhi found her voice. “You let him out.”
Blackthorne’s face was cold. “Yes.”
“And people are dead because you let him out.”
“Yes.”
She pushed herself up from her barstool. “I’m trying to think of a nice way to tell you to go to Hell, Blackthorne, but I have nothing. So go to Hell, Blackthorne.”
“I guess you aren’t calling me ‘Jack’ anymore, huh?”
“No.” For the first time in a long time, Rhi called up the dreadful, plastic expression she had worn so often during her marriage. Her nails bit into her palm.
Without another word, Blackthorne turned to thread his way through the crowd. The bar crowd returned to socializing amongst themselves, the weird subject matter of the fight forgotten thanks to Pearl, who performed a mysterious pass with her hand and muttered a few words. None of the general public would remember the argument, Rhi was sure.
Pearl leaned on the worn edge of the bar, drained her glass and nibbled on the olive. “Turning your back on him, Rhi?”
Houston stood nearby, his weathered features running through a variety of emotions.
Rhi slid back into her seat and grabbed the bartender by the hand. “A shot of tequila.”
She gulped down the shot the bartender sat in front of her before speaking. She didn’t meet Pearl’s gaze.
“Did you know?”
The beautiful face of the woman didn’t twitch. “No. I was aware that Manius was loose. And these days there are so many monsters loose. I try to focus on the ones nearest to me. There’s too much of a past with me and Manius. Those bastards wouldn’t let me kill him until they were ready.”
“He let him out,” Rhi repeated hoarsely. “They let him out. That’s why Blackthorne was running all over the world cleaning up his brother’s messes. He let him out. After what he did to her … to me …”
“I wonder how many women he’s killed since he got loose, Pearl. Do you care?” Pam towered above Pearl. “Or are all of those years piling up making you numb to the man who killed your sisters?”
Houston edged closer, his hand in his jacket.
Pam’s harsh question lit a low flame in the other woman’s face.
“Of course I want him dead,” snapped Pearl. “I want him to suffer and then burn in Hell. But I didn’t know they let him out on purpose. I’m sure there was some kind of bullshit reason why it was done, Rhi. Nothing’s black and white or even lavender in this battle. And you’re naïve if you believe otherwise.”
“I believe standing idle while a vicious bastard like Manius Black runs loose for a few years until time for the Brotherhood to put him to good use – that’s a dark thing, Pearl. I guess I am a naïve little girl. And you’re one of them.” Rhi hefted the shot glass in her hand to test its weight and eyed Pearl speculatively. Houston hovered behind the madam. Like I could do anything to the witch, Houston.
“I’m a woman first,” replied Pearl, one eye on the glass. “I’ll always be a woman first. That’s why they didn’t tell me.”
The glow of happiness from the night before had faded from Rhi’s face faster than a retiree could drop twenty dollars in a dollar slot. Pale and choking back the tide of tears threatening to break free, she grimaced.
“At least the sex was good.” She tossed a couple of bills on the bar. “I’m going to go to work. And then I’m going home and packing. I’m dropping out of your game. Make it one big crapshoot. Key West is nice this time of the year.”
Pam nodded. “I’ve always believed working on one’s tan is a high priority. We can escort you down the pass in the morning. Hightail it outta here from out on the prairie … you’ll already be halfway to Kansas. Nothing’s going to happen without you here to make it happen.”
“You can’t run from fate, ladies. It will come back on you hard if you run. If you face things head on, at least you can prepare” Pearl still sounded annoyingly calm. But her delicate eyebrows were knitted together and a fine line appeared between her brows.
“You’ve got a wrinkle between your eyes, Pearl. You ought to get that thing Botoxed.” Rhi moved to stand nose to nose with the vampire woman, blatantly invading her space. “Be careful or you might start looking your age.”
Houston pushed between the two women and spoke into the hostile silence. “You can’t be serious about going to work tonight, Rhi. Let’s get you out of here.”
“I don’t want to drive down Ute Pass in the dark and I don’t want to vary from my routine, Houston. I’d also like to say goodbye to Katie. We’ll go in the morning and the town will be safe.” Rhi rose from her stool. “Manius can wait another hundred years for all I care.”
Pearl grabbed her arm. “You don’t get it, do you? Your doom will find you. You’re the one who’ll be the first to finally destroy one of the gates but it must be on a certain date and a certain time. The ten thousand-year anniversary of the gate’s existence. The day after tomorrow, the opening day of Winterfest. The gate can’t be destroyed every day. When the final battle comes, one less doorway for the bad guys to come through is a thing worth dying for.”
