It was one of Nipper’s favorite passages from Washington’s Irving’s works — and to his amazement, it seemed to give the Horseman pause.
“Why did you say those words?” the Horseman asked, though he had no mouth with which to speak.
“You look like the Headless Horseman… and those are words from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.”
The Horseman reached out a gloved hand and placed it heavily upon Nipper’s shoulder. “You seem like a smart man. You know of this world and its mysteries?”
“What… do you mean?”
“I am free for the first time in decades but I have no knowledge of this place or its customs. And my appearance will make it impossible for me to hide myself. I will need assistance. If you can give it, I will let you live. If not… then I will take out my frustrations upon your flesh.” To punctuate his words, the Horseman yanked free his sword and held it to Nipper’s throat. The action was so quick that it took Nipper several seconds to realize what had happened.
Nipper blinked in horror, knowing that what he said next would determine whether he lived or died. But despite his sins, Nipper was a consummate actor. He closed his eyes briefly and when they reopened, he sounded confident as he spoke. “I can do all that and more. You tell me what you’re after and I’ll make sure you get it. All it takes is somebody who knows how to work the system.”
The Horseman stood back, removing the sword from Nipper’s neck. A thin trickle of blood ran into the collar of the man’s shirt but Nipper ignored it.
“So,” Nipper said, adjusting his stained and dirty clothing, as if he were a king about to greet his subjects. He knew the importance of acting confident — don’t give the audience a chance to believe that you’re less than the role demanded. “What do you want, Mr. Headless Horseman?”
“I want… a war. That’s the only time that I’ve felt completely at peace. I want to kill. I want to hear my enemies scream. But most of all… I want to remain free.”
Nipper nodded. “Then you need to tell me how and why people are able to contain you. Then we kill everybody who might do so.” He smiled. “And if I help you, you help me, right?”
“I would be agreeable to that,” the Horseman said.
Nipper was thinking about his first meeting with the Horseman when the undead warrior entered the room. Nipper didn’t bother turning around — the stench alone made it clear that his companion was approaching.
“I grow restless,” the Horseman stated.
Nipper resisted the urge to sigh. He knew that the Horseman had a short fuse when he was like this. Forcing a smile, the actor slipped easily into his role. He turned to face the Hessian and patted him on the arm. “You want me to have some girls sent up? I’ll make sure nobody misses them.”
The Horseman backed away and Nipper grew cautious. “You promised me blood and mayhem but all I have seen so far are groups of cowardly blowhards preening before us! I am tired of killing helpless women and whimpering fools. Where is this war? Why have we not struck at the men and women in this city who might actually challenge us? This Doc Daye… or Fortune McCall! Instead, you wear a costume and I hover nearby, like a sword waiting to be unsheathed!”
“I’m working on that. You said you didn’t want to go back to being anybody’s slave, remember? If we’re going to hit this town hard, we have to be smart about it. Charon is a spooky figure and I can use that to keep these goons in line. As for you being unsheathed… How about I set something up for you? It’ll be what you want.”
“When?”
“Tonight.” Wagging a finger at the Horseman’s chest, Nipper promised, “You have my word.”
Chapter II: Death Rides In Silence
Cedric knelt in front of the fireplace, stirring the dying embers with a poker. Hendry Hall was a chilly place at the best of times but on nights like this, when Sovereign was damp and temperatures fell, the house was a veritable icebox.
Since inheriting the estate, he’d spent a good bit of money making alterations but it was never going to be described as welcoming and Cedric was okay with that.
“This wine is delicious.”
Cedric looked over at Li, who was curled up in one of the oversized chairs in the room. She wore nothing but a robe, which gapped open in the front to show the curves of her breasts. In her right hand was a mostly empty glass of red wine.
“Would you like some more?”
“My head’s already buzzing.”
“Is that a no?”
Li smiled and downed the last of her drink. She then held out the glass. “It’s definitely a yes.”
Cedric laughed and moved to get her a refill. “So why haven’t you told Charity about us?”
“There’s no us,” she said pointedly. “We’re friends.”
“We’re lovers,” he countered.
“That implies some sort of romantic feelings.”
“We make love.”
“We have sex.” Li looked at him with something akin to pity. “I know that men have trouble differentiating between the two but sex and making love are not the same.”
Cedric shook his head. “I think it’s usually women with that issue.”
“Regardless, I don’t love you and you don’t love me. But Charity has enough things to worry about — if she knew you and I were doing… this… it would only distract her.”
Cedric knelt in front of her. He set her wine down on the table next to Li’s chair and grasped her hands. He looked very earnest. “I’ve never known a woman like you, Li! I’ve had my share of lovers and never did I have feelings beyond the physical for them! But you excite me in ways that they never did!”
“Don’t confuse me being really good in bed with being a special kind of woman,” Li said. “I think you’re being really sweet but I don’t believe you if you say you’re in love with me. I’m a challenge to you, that’s all. If I ever gave you what you’re saying you wanted, you’d lose interest.” Li leaned close, her expression becoming catlike. “Do you know how I know that?”
“How?”
“Because I’m the same way.”
Cedric stood up, an expression of amusement on his face. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“But what a way to go, eh?” Li teased.
Gravedigger stood at her own grave, ignoring the pink-tinged fog that clung to her ankles. The name on the tombstone — Charity Grace — seemed to hover in the air above the mist, as if taunting her. Someday you’ll be here for good, it promised, only your soul will be rotting in Hell.
Charity reached out and traced the letters with her fingertips and then turned away. She spotted Josef’s grave and quickly looked away, still feeling guilty for the way she’d treated him.
She’d taken only a few steps when she noticed that she wasn’t alone. Standing about twenty feet away from her was a figure that she recognized all too well — Lazarus Gray, leader and founder of Assistance Unlimited.
He was also the employer of Samantha Grace, Charity’s half-sister.
His mismatched eyes — one a startling emerald, the other a dull green — stared at her with authority. His athletic physique seemed barely contained by the suit and tie that he wore. Despite her ambivalent feelings for him, Charity had to admit that he cut a dashing figure.