Illuminated by her light was an old man, sitting in a plush-backed chair. He wore a dark suit and a white shirt that was open at the collar. His glasses had reflected the light back at her. He had thinning hair and a white beard that framed a wide mouth. His right hand was balanced on a walking stick and a large red ruby adorned his ring finger. “My name is Josef Goldstein. But I think you might know that all ready, yes?”
Charity had sighed, lowering her weapon. She wasn’t averse to violence when it was necessary but she wasn’t prepared to come to blows with an old man. If it meant another stint in the lockup, she would take her medicine. She had been in and out of the prison system over the last couple of years and it didn’t scare her any longer.
“Cat got your tongue?” Goldstein prodded.
“What can I say?” Charity had answered. “You caught me.”
“And that’s all you have to offer? No explanations? No pleas for leniency?” Goldstein stood up, his bones creaking. “You look like a child.”
“I’m older than I look.” Charity had moved the light away from his face, letting it fall against his chest. “Why are you here in the dark?”
“I like the dark. A man can sometimes see more in the dark than he can in the light.”
Charity had put away her knife, her shoulders sagging. “Should I wait here while you flag down a police car? They usually patrol this street every twenty minutes or so.”
“No. I don’t think we’ll need to involve the authorities.” Goldstein stepped past her, moving slowly towards one of the boxes she had opened. It contained a number of old books but nothing that had caught her eye as particularly valuable. “Do you believe in the afterlife, Charity?”
“I used to read the bible but I don’t… Wait. How did you know my name?”
Goldstein bent over and rifled through the box, pushing aside the books. “Once I was like you,” he continued, ignoring her question. “I lived my life, obsessed with things of the physical world. I broke the law repeatedly, under the misguided belief that I was simply doing what I had to do to survive. And then one day I met an old woman, who showed me the secret path.”
Charity glanced back towards the window. If she fled now, she might be able to get away with this. No cops, no prison… Of course, he did seem to know her name.
“My dear?”
Charity shone the light upon Mr. Goldstein. He held a gun in his free hand. “Mr. Goldstein,” she began, suddenly realizing that this old man was more dangerous than she’d first thought. “I’m sorry… I just thought I could make a little bit of money off some of your things! I wasn’t going to take much!”
Goldstein smiled toothily. “Well, now, that sounds more like what I was expecting.” He tilted his head to the side. “I apologize for this. It will seem very cruel but when next we meet, you’ll understand what a great gift I’ve given you. It’s why I came here, out of all the places in America. I came here because of you.”
Charity had screamed as Goldstein pulled the trigger. His weapon spat out death and it struck home in her chest, knocking her back.
She was dead before her body hit the floor.
The Voice awakened her. Lying scared in a pine box, she had listened to its strange offer… and she had eagerly accepted it, preferring any kind of life to a certain death.
She had fought her way free, calling upon strength that she never knew she possessed. Up, through, the earth, fingers bleeding, she had pushed onward, until finally her hand had broken through to the surface. With a long, low grunt, she had pulled herself up and out, sprawling onto her back, taking massive breaths of air.
How long she lay there under the stars, she didn’t know. Eventually, she became aware that someone was with her and she pulled herself up to a kneeling position. She wasn’t surprised that it was Goldstein, leaning heavily on his cane. He was smiling, showing his mouthful of perfect teeth.
“I knew you would accept the offer,” he said. “You’re a fighter.”
“Water,” she gasped, rising unsteadily.
Goldstein reached into his expensive jacket and pulled forth a silver flask, of the kind that men might carry liquor in. He passed it to her and nodded as she unscrewed the cap and downed the water in three massive gulps. “We should go back to my home. You’re welcome to live there with me but if you prefer, it can be a temporary thing.”
Charity looked around at the rows of grave markers. This was Sovereign City’s largest cemetery and it was rumored that the pink-tinged mist that clung to visitors’’ ankles was actually caused by all the evil of those buried here, seeping up through the ground. Charity had always thought that was nonsense but now she wasn’t so sure. She did know that Doc Daye buried the corpses of his worst enemies in this cemetery, which tended to lend credence to the old wives’ tale.
“You said you came to Sovereign because of me,” Charity said at last. “What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like, my dear. Remember when I told that you I’d been in your situation once? I, too, was a Gravedigger. And now it is my responsibility to find others who could benefit in the same way that I did.”
“Gravedigger?” Charity remembered what The Voice had said: You will put them into their graves and shovel upon them the dirt that symbolizes their eviction from the mortal world. “Is that what I am now? A Gravedigger?”
“Yes. The first woman ever to hold such an honor.”
“I’ve been in fights before… but I’m not Lazarus Gray or somebody like that. I can’t do those things.”
“Yes, you can. You fought your way out of the ground, didn’t you? You’re stronger, faster and tougher than you were before. And you should be fearless. You know that you’re not going to die, not for at least another three years.”
Charity looked down at her ruined clothing. “I can’t go through town like this.”
“You won’t have to. I have a car parked just outside and there is a change of clothes for you inside. You don’t have to worry about whether or not they’ll fit. They’re yours.”
“You went into my apartment?”
“My associate, Mitchell, did. That’s him over there.”
Charity squinted through the gloom, where she saw a broad shouldered black man standing in front of a large oak tree. He wore a dark suit and his head was shaved bald but his expression was one of openness. She turned back to Goldstein, studying him closely.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“You killed me. I’m just wondering why I’m not angrier about that.”
“You’ve been through a lot. And there’s more to come, I’m afraid. Mitchell and I will be in charge of training you. We have so much to do… and only three short years to do it in.”
“Gravedigger,” Charity said, letting the word roll around in her head.
Goldstein looked sad for a moment, as if the word evoked memories that were painful to him. “Yes.”
“I’m going to kill a lot of people, aren’t I?”
The old man’s expression changed, becoming one full of dark humor. “Oh, yes,” he chuckled. “But they’ll deserve it, each and every one.”
“I just don’t know if I can do that. I’m not a murderer.”
Goldstein shook his head. “My dear girl, you would be shocked at the things a person can learn to do.” Changing the subject, the old man said, “I know about your father. I know about your dreams. So much that belongs to Samantha Grace could have been yours. And now you’ve been given a chance to seize the brass ring! To change your entire world!”
“And I’ll do this by killing people?” Charity asked, her heart hammering in her chest.