The Adventures of Gravedigger (5 page)

Max Davies stepped off the train, adjusting his
hat as he did so. He cut a dapper figure, with his handsome face, olive
complexion and slightly wavy hair. At thirty-seven years of age, he could
easily pass for a man ten years younger.

The son of a crusading newspaper magnate, Max’s
fortune was ensured from an early age. His good looks combined with his wealth
to make him Atlanta’s most eligible bachelor for a period, though he had
recently given up that status in favor of marriage to the actress Evelyn Gould.

Max flashed a winning smile to a couple of
newspaper photo-jocks. They were eagerly taking his picture, shouting questions
about what business had brought him back to Sovereign. He moved on without
answering, knowing that the gossip columns would be buzzing with guesses of
their own, no matter what he said.

What they didn’t know was that Max Davies was more
than just a philanthropist. He was also the masked vigilante known as The Peregrine,
driven by visions sent from beyond the grave by his dead father. Using those
oft-unpredictable bouts of precognition, The Peregrine had battled monsters
both human and demon for well over a decade. During that time, he’d met many
important people, some of whom became his close friends.

Just two years prior, he’d visited Sovereign for
the first time. The incident had led to a partnership with Assistance
Unlimited. Since then, he and Lazarus Gray had maintained a steady contact.

But it wasn’t Lazarus Gray who had brought him
away from his new bride.

This time, it was Josef Goldstein.

Max had met Goldstein in Germany back in the early
1930s, before the rise of Hitler. Their mutual interest in justice united them
and they became fast friends, calling upon each other periodically when the
occasion arouse.

Unfortunately, that would never happen again.

Stepping out to the street outside the train
station, Max’s eyes scanned the rows of cabs waiting for their fares. When he
caught sight of Mitchell standing next to Josef’s old car, he buttoned his
overcoat and headed over, a sad smile on his face.

“You look like marriage is treating you well
enough,” Mitchell said, shaking Max’s hand.

“It’s made a new man out of me.” Max slid into the
backseat of the car when Mitchell opened the door for him. “I’m glad you called
me.”

“I’ve spent most of the day making those kinds of
calls. Hasn’t been easy, mate, I’ll tell you that.”

“I’m just glad I had business in this part of the
country – the train ride only took a couple of hours.”

Mitchell got behind the wheel and within seconds,
the car was navigating the rain-slicked streets of Sovereign. “Charity is
expecting you,” the Englishman said.

Max stared out the window, his gaze sweeping all
the way to the docks. He could see
The Heart of Fortune
anchored just
offshore and he reminded himself to take Evelyn to the gambling vessel
sometime. “She doesn’t mind me being here?”

“She wants to find the man who killed Mr.
Goldstein. She’s willing to take any help she can get.”

Turning to look at the back of Mitchell’s head,
Max asked, “Does she know the truth about me?”

Mitchell smiled to himself. It never failed. Every
masked vigilante in the world liked to believe that the mask was their true
face, while the one they were born with was nothing more than a façade.
Sometimes that was true enough but for the most part, it was nothing but a
conceit.

“I only told her that you were part of the network
of informants that Mr. Goldstein sometimes called upon.”

Max nodded, pleased with the response. He closed
his eyes, calling up the memories of what he’d seen on the way over. The
painful wave of visions had nearly caused him to double over in his railway
car, their intensity so strong that it had shocked him.

He had seen the woman that he knew must be
Charity, garbed as The Gravedigger. She had been standing amidst a wave of
demons, their gnarled bodies dripping with gore. A man dressed all in black was
standing nearby, his face hidden beneath a placid ivory mask. Another figure
was there, as well, a shadowy male presence that seemed vaguely familiar to
Max.

Hovering over all was a vague foreboding, a sense of
imminent danger, as if all of Sovereign – if not the world – might be at risk.

***

Charity was wearing a turtleneck sweater and beige
skirt, accompanied by calf-high brown leather boots. She looked beautiful and
young, though Max saw in her eyes that she had what his mother would have
called ‘an old soul’. She was standing in the same study where Josef Goldstein
had been murdered, her hands clasped behind her back.

As Max stepped into the room, followed by
Mitchell, she moved forward and extended a hand. “Mr. Davies. It’s an honor.”

Max smiled, accepting the handshake. “Perhaps I
can be of assistance?”

“I’m sure you can.” Charity offered him a seat and
Max noted that she took the one that Josef had preferred. He’d seen that same
chair in the old man’s German home. “I think that Josef was killed by a man
named Arthur Meeks. My first inclination is to go to his home and question him
– harshly. I know that he’s involved in terrible things. I found… a creature…
in his home.”

Max leaned forward, amused that Charity had cut
immediately to the chase. She wasn’t exactly being rude but it was obvious that
she wasn’t looking to make friends – she needed Max to make her job easier. “So
why haven’t you?”

“He’s not at home,” Mitchell said, drawing up a
chair and sitting backwards in it. He rested his arms across the back of the
chair. “I asked a friend of mine who drives a taxi to go by – there’s no sign
that he’s been back there since last night. Given what’s in the papers this
morning, I’m not surprised.”

Charity reached down into a small magazine holder
beside her chair. She passed a copy of
The Sovereign Gazette
to Max, who
studied the headline: CURATOR’S DAUGHTER ATTACKED! MUSEUM RANSACKED! Then in
slightly smaller print: LOCAL BUSINESSMAN WANTED FOR QUESTIONING. The article
recounted the stories given by Kelly Emerson and the security guard,
identifying Arthur Meeks as the man who had stolen a priceless Roman urn.

“I’m sure he didn’t want this to happen,” Max
said. “All this publicity totally ruins his ability to operate in the open.” He
looked up at Charity. “You were in his house last night? Did you find the
book?”

“I didn’t see it.”

“Then that makes it very likely that he has it
kept in some secret location – probably the same lair he’s holed up in now,
knowing he can’t return home.”

“The police have searched his house, too,” Charity
added. “How come there’s no mention of that… thing… that was in his basement?”

Max gave a shrug of his shoulders. “It may not
have been there by the time they got there. I’ve found that most supernatural
creatures fade away over time – it’s one reason why the whole world doesn’t
believe in them. There’s not enough physical evidence left behind when those
things die.”

Charity ran a hand through her hair, looking
suddenly tired. “How do I find Meeks?”

“You used to be a thief?”

A flush came to Charity’s cheeks. “Josef told you
that?”

“No. Mitchell did. Is it true?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still have any contacts who might be good
for sniffing out a missing person?”

“I can’t go to them,” she said. “Charity Grace is
dead, remember?”

“No reason you have to visit them without your new
face on.”

Charity considered that and nodded. “I know
someone.”

“Then get started on that.” Max set the paper
aside and stood up. “Tell them to keep their ear to the ground. Nobody can
vanish completely. If Meeks is still in the city, someone knows where.”

Charity reached out and grabbed his arm. “Wait. I
want you to teach me some things before you leave town. If I’m going to be
Gravedigger without Josef, I need to know how to build up a network. I don’t
have the first clue about –”

“You’ve already taken the first steps in making
your own connections. You have Mitchell. You have me. And now you’re about to
go recruit someone to serve as your eyes and ears on the street.” Max stared hard
into her eyes, liking the steel that he saw reflected in them. “You can do
this. The Voice chose you for a reason. The minute you start doubting your
abilities or the rightness of your mission is when you’ve already lost
everything.”

“But what if we don’t have time for all this? I
was hoping you’d have a suggestion that could help me find Meeks within a few
hours.”

“I’m not a miracle worker.” Max lowered his voice.
“I know a thing or two about mystic rituals, though. Whatever he’s planning to
do with the book is connected both to Josef’s ring and to that urn. I’m going
to be spending the day piecing together what that could be. Whatever it is, he
won’t be rushing into it. Screwing up on a black ritual could be catastrophic.
With luck, we’ll be ready to move on something tonight.”

***

Less than an hour later, Gravedigger was jumping
from one rooftop to another. The overcast day seemed to match her mood and as
her feet landed in a puddle, she paused, looking out over the city. She was in
the Chinatown district and the entire ambience was different from where she had
grown up, despite the fact that the areas weren’t more than a few miles apart.

Gravedigger peered over the edge of the rooftop.
Clouds of smoke drifted up from beneath the manholes below and a few men were
riding bicycles through the crowded streets. A dog was barking somewhere and
the sounds of a man and woman arguing in Chinese rang out loudly from one of
the overcrowded noodle restaurants.

As she looked around for the girl who had brought
her here, Charity couldn’t stop wondering about Max Davies. There was certainly
far more to him than his role as a wealthy businessman and advisor to Josef
Goldstein. The way he moved… it was like he was a panther, possessed of a
dangerous grace that was both captivating and a little bit frightening.

Beneath her mask, Charity’s face broke into a
grin. Here she was, musing about the attractiveness of a married man. Still,
she wondered at what his story truly was.

Down below, a young Chinese-American girl stepped
out from an incense shop. She wore a red and gold Oriental wrap that flattered
her figure and accentuated her raven-black hair. In her late twenties, she
retained a youthfulness that helped snag appreciative glances from every man
she passed.

Gravedigger hurried to the fire escape and
sprinted down it, taking the stairs three at a time. She landed in the alleyway
just as the girl was passing by. “Psst!” she whispered, ducking back into the
shadows.

The girl paused, staring into the gloom. Just as
Gravedigger had known she would, the lovely young woman moved forward, heedless
of the danger. “Is someone in there?” she asked, speaking flawless English.

Li Yuchun was very smart but she was possessed of
two dangerous traits: insatiable curiosity and fearlessness. Charity had grown
to appreciate that in the girl though it had also led them both into trouble on
numerous occasions.

“Li… it’s me.”

Li stopped, her eyes widening. She recognized the
voice instantly but it was too impossible to believe. “Charity?”

“Please don’t attract attention.” Gravedigger
moved into view, letting Li stare in shock for a moment before continuing. “It
really is me.”

“Why are you dressed like that?”

“I figured you’d ask ‘why aren’t you dead?’”

“That, too.”

“It’s a long story.”

Li nodded. “So start telling me!” she exclaimed,
moving closer. Rather than showing any kind of anger or fear, she was not only
embracing the sudden return of her friend but genuinely excited.

Charity gave a quick summary of recent events,
starting with how she broke into Goldstein’s home. When she got to the part
about waking up in her own grave, summoned back by a voice from beyond, Li
looked a bit dubious but didn’t interrupt. She then sketched out the history of
the Gravediggers as best she knew it and finished by telling her that Goldstein
had been murdered.

Li laughed, covering her mouth to keep anyone from
overhearing. “You’re going to be one of those crime fighters, aren’t you? Like
Doc Daye or The Peregrine!”

“Sort of. I don’t think they’re fighting to save
their soul, though.”

“You really believe that? How do you know
Goldstein didn’t hypnotize you or something?”

“I woke up in a box.”

“So he buried you underground. Still doesn’t mean
you died.”

“Trust me. If you’d been there, you’d believe it,
too.”

Li crossed her arms over her chest. “So why are
you here? Are you going to kill me so I don’t tell anyone?”

“No!” Gravedigger replied. “Don’t even play like
that.”

“Have you killed anyone yet?”

“Well… yes.”

“I knew it! I’ve heard stories about a woman with
a sword. You killed those two brothers, didn’t you? The ones that they think
were involved in the little girl’s disappearance.”

“That was me,” Gravedigger admitted. “That’s in
the past, though. I need your help.”

“With what?”

“Did you read about that Arthur Meeks character?
The one who broke into the museum last night and attacked the curator’s
daughter?”

“Yes. I’ve met him before – he would sometimes
come to visit old Bingwen in his shop. The few times I was in there when he
arrived, he flirted with me a bit and then Bingwen would push me out of the
shop so they could talk in private.”

“Well, I think he’s the same man who killed Josef.
And given that Bingwen is known for selling occult items, it doesn’t surprise
me that Meeks knows him.”