“That was their idea, yes.”
“And how did you come to know about all of this?”
“I was investigating the disappearances of their victims. I found their lair and made them talk… they finally told me what they had done and what they intended to do.”
“You killed them?” Shelley asked, turning to face her. He seemed to be regarding her with renewed interest.
Gravedigger nodded. “Oh, yes. Just like I’m going to do with you.”
Shelley spread his arms. “I’m afraid that won’t be as easy as you think. I have already died and returned. That changes a man.”
“I know all about resurrection and the changes it brings.” Gravedigger took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’ve waited long enough. Let’s dance, shall we?”
Before Shelley could respond, Gravedigger had fired off one of her crossbow bolts. It buried itself in the big man’s neck, the point extending out the back of his throat. A black fluid, like the ink from a pen, oozed from the wound but there was no blood.
Even as Gravedigger swung her blade, intending to decapitate her foe, Shelley was recovering from his surprise. He twisted away from her attack and drove an elbow down atop Gravedigger’s head, knocking her off-balance.
Shelly reached out and grabbed hold of Gravedigger’s hood, using it to yank her towards him. He then placed a strong hand about her throat, lifting her off the ground. She gasped, unable to breathe, and Shelley said, “All you’ve done is assured that you’ll be my first morsel. But there will be many more to follow. I’ll turn these waters red with the blood of my meals. And then I’ll return to Sovereign City and build my cult anew.” His sunken eyes flashed with a dark fury. “You really are a stupid little cow if you thought you could stop me.” With every word that Shelley said, the dark fluid that leaked out around the crossbow bolt grew thicker.
Gravedigger was seeing stars appear before her eyes. Thankfully, this wasn’t the first time in her life when she’d been in this position. She’d trained herself to function without oxygen, able to hold her breath as long as an Olympic swimmer. She raised her weapon and used all that was left of her strength to stab it straight into Shelley’s forehead.
The big fellow howled in pain and dropped her to the ground. He placed a hand over the injury. He hissed, his voice now filled with anger. “I’m going to cut you open from throat to crotch! I’m going to scoop out your insides with a spoon!”
Gravedigger scrambled back to her feet. She reached into a small pouch secreted alongside her belt and yanked free a silver vial. She used her thumb to push out the stopper and then poured the clear fluid within onto her sword. The rest of the stuff she flung at Shelley’s head and shoulders.
The revived figure screamed, his body sizzling wherever the liquid had touched. He looked at her in confusion, the ink-like fluid that was his life’s blood staining his face. “What have you done?” he demanded.
“Just a little water — blessed by Father Nelson of St. Joseph’s Church.”
Shelley roared like an injured bear, rushing at her with both fists raised. He no longer looked like a lumbering, tentative brute. He had recovered enough vitality to move like a blur and Gravedigger barely rolled aside as he barreled past her.
Dropping low, Gravedigger swept out with her blade. She caught Shelley in the hamstring, slicing right through it. He toppled over, groaning as he hit the ground. Though his body was no longer the same as a living man’s, it was similar enough that Gravedigger could lay him low.
“There’s no need for this,” he said, rolling onto his back. His face was contorted with pain but she knew it was temporary — give him a taste of human flesh and he’d be healing up again like the injury had never happened. “We can work together,” he said, forcing himself onto his elbows as he looked up at her. “A woman with your skills… you would be the perfect guide to this new century for me. And I have money hidden away in places where no one would have looked!”
Gravedigger flipped back her hood and then removed her mask. She shoved it into her belt and allowed Shelley to examine her bare face. It was obvious that he was surprised to see her youth, not to mention her beauty. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun but several curls had spilled free and now danced about her neck.
“There’s nothing you could offer me that would stay my hand. I’m The Gravedigger, servant to The Voice. I do this not just for my own redemption but because it’s the right thing to do…”
“You’re not a murderer,” he argued, raising one hand as if he could ward off her blow.
“I’m not killing you,” she countered. “You killed yourself long ago, when you decided to toss away all that was good and just in your soul. All I’m doing is shoveling the dirt on your grave.”
Shelley howled in indignation, crying about the unfairness of the situation. He had suffered so much, he said, in the name of his immortality.
Gravedigger barely heard the words. She raised and lowered her blade again and again, the black fluid that ran through his veins flying into the air. It soaked her uniform and dripped from her face but still she hacked at him, not stopping until his limbs were severed and his body was a ruined mess, barely recognizable as anything human.
Finally ceasing her assault, Gravedigger backed away, panting from her exertion. When her breathing had finally slowed, she used a cloth to clean her blade. After it was sheathed, she pulled her mask back into place and crept towards the entryway.
She thought about what she’d said to Shelley — about how she did these things not just for her own personal redemption but because it was the right thing to do. She desperately wanted that to be true. She wanted to feel like a hero and not someone who had changed her life only because she’d been given no other real choice.
Covered with gore, it was hard to feel particularly heroic.
She had saved lives, though, no doubt about that. And her friends had never even been called upon to evacuate the ship. They could enjoy the rest of the cruise and take a much-needed vacation.
Pausing at the door, she looked back at the grim scene she’d left behind.
“This is the right thing to do,” she said aloud. She repeated the words, more firmly the second time. Confident that she was really starting to feel that way, she pulled the door shut behind her… and vanished into the shadows of the ship.
Chapter II: The Silver Skull
It looked like something torn straight from a nightmare — an old house that loomed against the moonlit sky. It was a massive pile of ancient stone, fine woodwork and dark shadows. The impression that it gave was that it was almost a living thing, this isolated mansion known locally as Hendry Hall — a living thing that was just waiting to sink its fangs into the bodies of all those unlucky enough to cross its doorway.
Hendry Hall was known to all in Sovereign as a cursed place, full of mysteries and death. That description was still applicable now that it belonged to Cedric and was the headquarters for Gravedigger’s war on crime.
With the rest of the group away onboard the Geischler, the house was empty save for one singularly unusual soul. Mortimer Quinn appeared to be a man in his mid-thirties but he had been born in the year 1761. For most of his life, he’d been an investigator, generally working for The New England Insurance House. It may not have sounded like an exciting vocation but Mortimer had found himself at death’s door on numerous occasions. During one trip into the Appalachian Mountains, he’d located a woman named Mary Owen, only to stumble upon a black bear and her cub while on the way back home. The animal had assaulted him and left him for dead. He’d managed to drag his bleeding form all the way down the side of the mountain and though the scars sometimes terrified the women he took to his bed, he was proud of them. They reflected his tenacious nature, he thought.