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.”