Dan glanced at her, his beady eyes staring into hers. “I won’t forget the way he’s treated you, baby. Eventually he’s going to get his.”
Locke was almost touched. She and Dan were sexual partners but she’d never loved him and never would. She didn’t think he really loved her either but he knew a good thing when he saw it and was willing to go to great lengths to have their affair continue. In a sorry place like Sovereign, that was sometimes the best you could hope for. “Don’t let your mouth write checks that your body can’t cash, Danny boy. Hiroshi doesn’t take lightly to backtalk.” She reached up and touched her bruised neck. “I ought to know.”
Dan yanked open one of the car doors and raised his voice. “Let’s go, boys. Place should be empty but we ain’t takin’ no chances. We’ll kick the door down and start ransacking it until we find what we’re looking for.”
“And what’s that?” one of the men asked.
“You’ll know it when you see it. It’s a Silver Skull.”
Several of the goons exchanged looks but Locke thought they were mostly laughing to themselves. Let them, she reasoned. The less they knew about how important The Skull was, the better.
AMAZINGLY, THE INTERIOR of Hendry Hall was even more foreboding than the exterior. The heavy oak door had resisted the group’s attempts at breaking it down, finally succumbing only after two of the men had grabbed hold of a heavy log and turned it into a makeshift battering ram.
Locke and Dan led the way, finally ordering the men to spread out. The house was quiet, the long shadows giving everything a supernatural air. This was worsened by the fact that the décor seemed chosen for the express purpose of frightening visitors: an Egyptian sarcophagus was propped up in the hallway; a series of shrunken heads were displayed in a shadowbox mounted on the wall; and there was a painting of what looked to be androgynous spell casters placed above the fireplace in the study.
Dan was staring at the painting so intently that he failed to notice The Silver Skull that was sitting on the desk. Locke caught sight of it and gasped aloud, drawing her partner’s attention. He followed her gaze and let out a whistle. The ugly grin that spread on his face did nothing to improve his appearance.
“This is going easier than I expected it would!” he admitted.
“Something’s wrong here.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, looking around. All was still quiet and dark.
“This is too easy.”
“Nobody’s home. It’s supposed to be easy.”
“Their friend gets gunned down in the middle of the street and they all take off, leaving The Silver Skull sitting out like this? It’s not even in a box, Dan! Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”
Quick Dan paused, a frown starting to form on his face. “Okay, that is a little bit weird…”
It was then that the screams began.
IT WAS THE men known as Slick Phil and Screwball who first felt the deadly presence of Gravedigger.
The two men, longtime friends, were creeping up the stairs when they heard a rush of movement behind them. Screwball, so named because of his bald head, whirled about with gun at the ready. He never got to fire it because Gravedigger was rushing up the stairs, sword in hand. She wore her full uniform, her masked face half hidden by the raised hood over her head. In the dim lighting, she looked like a demonic figure come to life.
She jabbed her blade into Screwball’s belly and yanked upwards, disemboweling him. By the time Phil was reacting, her sword had cut deep into his throat, nearly decapitating him. They both hit the stairs and began to roll down into the foyer.
Leaping over their corpses, Gravedigger ran down one of the dark hallways, where three of the other men were just reaching Mitchell’s first-floor bedroom. She came upon them with amazing speed, cutting the arm off one of the men before she drove an elbow into the face of another. The third man gave a surprised shout even as his one-armed friend began howling in pain. Gravedigger silenced them both with a quick set of thrusts that sent the point of her blade digging deep into their hearts.
The man whose face had been on the receiving end of Gravedigger’s elbow had recovered enough to put some distance between himself and her blade. Backing up down the hall, he raised his gun and pulled the trigger.
Gravedigger dropped to the ground, avoiding the bullets. She slid across the recently waxed floor, squeezing between the bodies of the men she’d just killed. With her sword extended upward, she went right through the legs of the gunman. The blade caught in his groin, prompting him to howl in a high-pitched manner.
Yanking her weapon free, Gravedigger sprang back to her feet. Now behind the wounded man, she grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head towards her. A second later, her sword slit his throat. After shoving the dying man to the floor, Gravedigger saw three more men entering the hall. The cramped fighting ground seemingly made her a sitting duck as they opened fire but she managed to lower her shoulder and throw herself against the door to her left. It opened under her weight and she rolled into Mitchell’s room.
Scrambling back up, she saw the first of the men swing into the doorway. He yelped as her sword whipped out and took off the tip of his nose. As his hands came up to cover his wound, Gravedigger raised her weapon with both hands and brought it crashing down atop his skull.
Grabbing hold of the dying man’s collar, she shoved him back into the hall, propelling him ahead of her like a shield. His friend’s bullets slammed into the man but failed to reach Gravedigger. When she was close enough, she gave a mighty heave and the bloodied figure bumped against one of the other men, knocking him off-balance.
Flush with excitement, Gravedigger raised her right hand and activated the small device that controlled her mini-crossbow. The bolt flew forth, embedding itself in the eye of the closest of the gunmen. A fresh bolt automatically slid into place, moving up from a small quiver held under her wrist.
By the time the other gunman had freed himself from the bloody embrace of his former friend, it was too late. Gravedigger’s sword whistled through the air and sent his head bouncing off the ceiling.
In less than two minutes, eight men had died but Gravedigger knew that they were not the only ones who had entered her home. She strode quickly towards the study, pausing as she neared the door. The gunfire and sounds of battle would have attracted not only the attention of the other criminals but also her aides, who were no doubt on the way back to the house now. Knowing Mitchell, he would have kept the engine running for just such an emergency.
Keeping her back to the wall, she paused just outside of the open door and said, “I saw two of you go into this room and I’m betting that both of you are armed. Toss your weapons out into the hall and I’ll let you both live. I give you my word.”
About twenty seconds later, a single handgun flew to the floor next to Gravedigger’s foot. It landed with a thud and Gravedigger kicked it far down the hall before saying, “I don’t believe that you only have one gun between the two of you. Where’s the other one?”
Alerted by some sixth sense, Gravedigger dropped into a crouch. The act saved her life as a bullet passed right through the wall above her. If she’d remained standing, it would have hit her in the back of the neck.
Springing into the room, Gravedigger took quick aim with her mini-crossbow. She’d calculated where her attacker would have been standing, based upon the height, velocity and placement of the bullet that had gone through the wall. She’d judged accurately, as Quick Dan was standing right where she’d guessed. Just behind him, a lovely young woman was standing with The Silver Skull clutched between her breasts.