“Stay here,” she said. “Monitor my fight and if it looks like I’m going to lose, you contact Fortune McCall or Doc Daye. Understand?”
Cedric nodded. All the angry fire was gone from his eyes now, having been burned away by the adrenaline induced by the current situation. “Charity, be careful.”
“I will.” She drew her sword and it gleamed dangerously in the light. “He’s the one who needs to worry.”
Mr. Death dropped through the rooftop, coming down in the bedroom that Lazarus Gray shared with his wife. The young woman was at her father’s home for her own safety, having been directed to stay out of sight until the current crisis was over.
Mr. Death was unaware of Gray’s recent marital bliss or else he would have been disappointed by her absence. He delighted in causing pain and the mere thought of killing a new bride would have made him giddy. Thankfully, this was not to be the case. He did, however, take note of the perfume that lingered in the air and the ladies’ garments that still lay across the bedspread. He chuckled, wondering if Lazarus Gray had certain inclinations that might be useful to know. He’d known a sergeant once that had worn women’s’ underclothes beneath his uniform and the man’s chagrin at being discovered was still worthy of a chuckle.
He moved to the door, eager to find The Unnervum. He could feel it humming in his bones, amplifying his madness. He was certain that it was grooving to his own ambient psychic energies, too. They were going to make a great pair. So good, in fact, that he might hesitate to share it with The Mother of Pus or her masters.
Time for thoughts of betrayal at a later date, he mused. Focus on the task at hand and there will be plenty of opportunities for murder and mayhem in the future!
He was thinking such happy thoughts when he stepped out into hallway and came face-to-face with Gravedigger. The sword-wielding vigilante wasted no time with pleasantries — she swung her weapon with deadly intent, the blade cutting through the villain’s bony neck. His head was lopped off and the skull spun about in the air before tumbling down, where it was caught by Mr. Death’s gloved hands.
Gravedigger took several steps back as Mr. Death placed his skull back atop his shoulders, screwing it back-and-forth as if reattaching it. Then the lower jaw opened and the glowing of the eye-sockets resumed, none the worse for wear.
“Nasty little bitch, aren’t you?” he laughed. “I like a woman who plays rough!”
“You’re not human,” she whispered, realizing just how dangerous this encounter could turn out to be.
“And you stink of the supernatural, toots, so we’re equal.” Mr. Death spread his hands wide and asked, “Want to see what I can do?”
Gravedigger braced herself and it was a good thing that she did because Mr. Death attacked with astonishing speed. He lunged for her, blades springing out from below his wrists. The knives were attached to some sort of hidden spring mechanism that was hidden by his dark attire but their sharpness was undeniable. The metallic clang they made upon connecting with Gravedigger’s blocking sword was quite loud.
The two of them began a delicate dance, one that would have been almost beautiful if not filled with deadly intent. They moved quickly, parrying each other’s blows and constantly seeking the weak spot in their opponent’s defenses. Twice Mr. Death’s knives drew long streaks of crimson on Gravedigger’s sides and three times did her sword dip into the madman’s body, though the thick black goo that oozed from the wounds was unlike any blood that she had seen before.
The confined space of the hallway limited them somewhat but both proved capable of making the most of the area and their own abilities. Gravedigger ducked and weaved like a prizefighter, once sprinting up the wall and diving back down at Mr. Death, who barely escaped with his skull intact. She was no longer looking to merely slice his head off. Now she was looking to crush the bones into tiny pieces.
Mr. Death, meanwhile, was able to convert his form into mist as needed, allowing him to quickly dart behind her. This proved to be a powerful skill and Gravedigger found herself tiring from being forced to spin about so often.
“You’re slowing down,” Mr. Death said. “And while I normally love to hear a lovely lady breathing heavy, in this case I think it’s starting to get a bit boring.” He stepped back, as if ready to stop the battle. “How about you surrender and I’ll go easy on you. Make it nice and quick.”
Taking a deep breath, Gravedigger hissed, “You’re insane.”
“I prefer to think of myself as incorrigible.”
Gravedigger stabbed once more with her blade but Mr. Death allowed it to pass through his body. He solidified with the sword embedded in his body, trapped so it was difficult for her retrieve. He grabbed hold of her wrist and twisted until she was forced to release her grip on the hilt. He then shoved her away from him and went intangible again, allowing the sword to hit the floor.
“Poor baby. You lost your weapon,” Mr. Death said.
Without missing a beat, Gravedigger pointed her wrist-mounted crossbow and activated its controls. The bolt flew straight and true, lodging in Mr. Death’s right eye socket.
He staggered, gripping the sides of his head and wailing in agony. Abruptly, he stopped and asked, “How much longer are we going to do this? You. Can’t. Hurt. Me. Understand? I’m immune to physical pain!”
“Then it’s a good thing that I can hurt you in more ways than just that,” Gravedigger replied. She reached into one of the pouches on her belt and pulled forth an unusual looking polished stone. Mr. Death paused in his rantings, obviously concerned by the sudden change in his opponent’s tactics. “This,” she said, raising the stone in front of her. “Is called the Devil’s Eyeball, a powerful relic dating back to the 1300s. It can only be used once but it contains enough demonic energy to banish you to the deepest pit of Hell.”
“Somehow I don’t think that’s normally part of your repertoire.”
“It’s not. But Lazarus Gray has lots of these little toys lying around and if you know anything about him, you’ll know that’s the truth. So are you willing to test it?”
Mr. Death reached up and yanked the crossbow bolt from his eye socket. He tossed it aside and asked, “Is this where we finally get down to bargaining?”
“This is when you turn tail and run. Stay and I’m going to destroy you.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Then call me on it and we’ll see what happens.”
With a mad laugh, Mr. Death lunged towards her. He spread his arms and for a moment he seemed to hang in the air like some ghoulish gargoyle. Then Gravedigger pushed The Devil’s Eyeball in his direction and squeezed it with all her might.
A beam of emerald energy shot forth, enveloping Mr. Death. The mad villain gave a surprised squawk and vanished. She had no idea if he had really been sent to Hell. The placard on the display had been more than a little obscure on that point. Still, as she tossed the now useless relic to the floor, she felt a small twinge of satisfaction. Gray had thought she’d pillage his headquarters while he was away… and he’d been absolutely correct.
And it had saved the day.
“Take that, Lazarus,” she whispered.
Cedric’s voice came through the building’s PA system. “What the hell did you just do?” he asked.
“I’ll explain later. Did The Dark Gentleman return?”
“He just did, and he’s got the cowboy with him. Some idiot named Nimrod.”