Devlin's Curse (9 page)

Chapter Twelve

Blood Flower

S
windling Boots was easier said than done. He might look like a washed up old goat but underneath his shabby façade he was sharp as a tack. As Leonard bought him whisky after whisky Boots wondered just what a polecat like Leonard White might want. 

After about the fifth round Leonard spilled it and Boots got his answer.

“So, Boots, I hear tell you are sittin’ on a dead claim? I am prepared to make you an offer for it right here and now.”

Boots downed his shot and squinted hard at Leonard. He’d seen that carpetbagger flappin’ his gums around town. And he was mighty curious as to what he was after.

“Yeah I sure do, the Lily Ann, she ain’t producin’ right now but I knows she will. So how much are ya offerin’?” 

Leonard rubbed his hands together. “I am prepared to offer you a hunnert dollars, in gold.”

Boots laughed. He slammed his glass down on the table. “A whole hunnert? Sheeeet! Mister, fill her up.”

Leonard grabbed the bottle and filled Boot’s glass to the brim.

Boots snagged it then hesitated. “You ain’t gonna drink to it?”

Leonard filled his and they both downed their shots. Boots slammed his glass down again.

“Another,” he said.

Leonard poured two shots. Again and again Boots called for more until Leonard was pie-eyed and the room was tilting. He closed his eyes grasped the edge of the table and tried to steady himself. Quick as a flash a small female form in a red ruffled skirt whisked over to him. She passed her lace gloved hand over his glass. Then she snapped her fingers in front of Leonard’s face. He blinked then swayed towards Boots. 

“Well, wada ya say…do we have a deal?”

Boots paused in mid gulp tossed back his shot then he turned his glass over and pushed away the bottle.

“I had me a son that died in Vicksburg, fighting you no good murderin’ Yankee trash. I’d sooner eat the ass end out of a skunk than sell ya my mine.”

Leonard stared, mouth open, flabbergasted at Boots’ words. He lurched up from the table, swayed, and then grasped the edge of it in an effort to stand up.

The same female form came forward out of the shadows to lead him away.

Later in his rented room, Dahlia looked over at Leonard with disgust as he lay belly up in his faded red long johns, his mouth hanging open. She rifled through his pockets. The coins and bills she pocketed but she guessed there was more. She looked around the dingy room but saw nothing of interest. She looked under the bed. There she spied a worn carpetbag and pulled it out and popped it open on the bed. Inside it was a Pandora’s Box, a true rat’s nest, full of everything from forged mining claims to Chinese lottery tickets. She found a small leather bag, looked into it, and then stuffed it into her low-cut bodice. She dug deeper into the carpetbag and found some small vials filled with liquid; they were hot to the touch.

Now that’s something that her
Lord might find interesting,
she thought.

She dug around some more felt a thin piece of silky material. It was an emerald green ribbon. She stuffed it into her bodice as well. She closed the bag tucked it under her arm then slid off the bed. As she closed the door behind her she caught a final glimpse of Leonard stripped to his soiled underwear and snoring like a wild swamp pig. She headed out to the boardwalk and down to E Street and the railway terminal.

Back at his railcar, Devlin and Walking Ghost had been playing cards for what had seemed hours. Devlin had resisted the urge to visit Esmeralda. He needed to clear his head and the blood, provided by Dahlia, had sharpened his senses. It was as if the fog over his brain had lifted. It had done nothing though for his emotions. They were in a wild array that he purposely tamped down through whiskey and cards.

A scratching sounded at the door of the railway car. He exchanged glances with a Walking Ghost then placed his gun on the table. He called out to his Chinese servant.

“Hong, see who it is?” 

Hong bowed then went to open the door. Seconds later he was back. “Mister Devlin, a missy comes. She says she must see you, chop-chop.”

Devlin frowned. “What the Hell?” He scraped back his chair and strode over to see Dahlia’s flushed face. She gripped a grimy carpetbag to her chest. “Dahlia you should not be here, our association is ended.”

“Mister, please, I’ve brung ya something,” she pleaded. 

“What is that?” Devlin replied.

She held the bag out to him. “It’s from that blue belly, that lowdown carpetbagger, Leonard White. Ya got’s ta take a look.”

Devlin took the bag from her and then stepped aside to let her in. He seated her at the table then opened the bag. He shifted through the contents until his fingers made contact with the vials. Gingerly he pulled them out and held them up to the lamplight. “Holy water.” He chuckled. Digging further he found a box of bullets. He dumped them on the table. “Holy water and silver bullets, it looks like Leonard White has done his homework, what else was he up to and how did you get this?”

Dahlia told them about Boots, the mining claim and how she drugged White. At the end of her tale Walking Ghost spoke to Devlin. “This pale flower might have saved your life, when he notices it gone he will come after her.”

“Did you hear that Dahlia? You just might have poked a hornet’s nest by crossing Big Jim and his plans.”

Dahlia blinked. “I ain’t afeared a him, I got me a derringer I’ll plug him good.”

Devlin took her hand in his. “Walking Ghost is right, you need to leave town.”

Dahlia shook her head. “No Mister I can’t leave yet, not till I get me a stake.”

“What do you need a stake for Dahlia?”

She smiled and sat up straight, diamond tooth winking. “I aim to go back home to New Orleans, get me a fine riverboat to run gamblers up and down the Mississip.”

When Leonard awoke, stripped, on his lumpy bed he was madder than a shaved cat. He scrambled for his carpetbag and found it gone. Faint, blurry images flashed in his mind.  “God damn split tail whore!” He cursed. He fumbled for his scattered clothes and pulled them on. He could just feel her throat under his thumbs. The little bitch had rolled her last john, he vowed as he got up and slammed out the door. Out on the boardwalk he paused. He needed some coffee and a shave. He turned out his empty pockets and cursed again.

Dahlia had not lied to Devlin. She had a dream of owning her own riverboat. She was also not yet ready to leave Virginia City. Her Lord had been kind, let her rest overnight in his railcar but she had slipped out before dawn. She needed to speak to the Madame at her former place of employment, the Rising Moon, plead with her and the other Vampires to help Devlin. So far they had remained neutral watching from the sidelines as things played out between Devlin and his enemies but she aimed to change that.

She looked from side to side then crossed over to D Street, her cloak covering her head. She had almost reached her destination when she was grabbed by the nape of her neck and flung backwards. The red furious face of Leonard White Loomed for a split second before his fist smashed into her face and she was dragged into a nearby alley.

“Where is it you friggin’ whore?” Dahlia tried to twist out of his grasp and he punched her in the stomach. “My bag, where is it? Tell me or Goddamit will choke the living shit out of you.”

Dahlia gasped, she looked up at him with her one good eye then spit in his face. “Poltroon…Son of a Bitch…I curse you…”

Leonard saw red. He showed no mercy as he pummeled and kicked her into the dirt. Then he wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed.  Like a setting sun the life began to sink out of Dahlia. Before she breathed her last the vise grip on her neck suddenly vanished. Devlin, her Lord, stood over her and in his hand he held his gun the butt of with which he had just smashed against Leonard’s temple. He bent down and picked up her broken body.

Across the street the door to the House of the Rising Moon opened a crack and the Madame looked out. She saw Devlin their dark eyes met in silent communication and she opened the door wider as she summoned her black doorman. Minutes later Devlin lay Dahlia down on a silken coverlet and felt for a pulse. It fluttered with a faint irregular beat.

A dazed mumbling Leonard White was also brought in. Unlike Dahlia he was dumped roughly into a chair where the silent black man tied him securely. When he finished, Devlin nodded to Ligea and unspoken words passed on a psychic level between them.

I leave this to you, but I remind you that you have brought this into my house.

Devlin brushed past her.

I don’t have time for words, Ligea. Leave us.

Ligea and her doorman both backed out from the room. Devlin grabbed the water pitcher from the bed stand and flung its contents in Leonard’s face. “Wake up you human filth.”

Leonard blinked and gasped. “Mister, no! I ain’t got no truck with you.”

“Oh but I have with you, Leonard White. Dahlia was under my protection and you put your dirty hands on her and for that you must pay with your miserable life.”

Leonard shook his head. “No, no, please …”

Devlin ignored him. He reached into his vest and took out a small razor sharp dagger. Leonard’s eyes bugged out he squirmed against his bonds. Devlin went over to him and slashed one of his wrists. Blood spurted and Leonard whimpered. Casually Devlin took a wine glass from a small table and filled it with Leonard’s blood. “You are going to Hell, White, and by all accounts you are past due.”

Devlin toasted him then drained the wine glass.

He set it back down on the table and returned to Dahlia’s side. She was barely alive, the air rattled in her chest, where a broken rib had pierced her lung. Devlin took her in his arms, tore the front of his shirt and with the small dagger he made a cut in his own neck. He placed her torn lips upon the wound. Like a newborn kitten Dahlia suckled, weakly at first, then hungrily. Presently her eyes fluttered open and her bruises began to disappear.

“Drink little flower, the blood of eternal life. You are now bonded with me forever.”

After a few minutes he gently pushed her away.

By then Dahlia’s cheeks had taken on a rosy hue, sharp incisors graced her new smile.

“I hunger my Lord,” she said.

Devlin gestured towards the now horrified Leonard.

“Our feast awaits us.”

With an unearthly grace they rose from the bed and fell upon Mr. Leonard White. Their teeth slashed his throat open and they proceeded to drain him as dry as an empty cornhusk.

When they were well and truly satiated they lay down together side by side on white sheets. Devlin took her small hand in his. Day marched into the night and they rose from the bed. Devlin looked down into the changed eyes of Dahlia.

What was done was done
, he reckoned.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a pouch of gold nuggets.

“Take this gold Dahlia and leave Virginia City. Buy that fancy riverboat and never look back.” 

Dahlia nodded.

A single tear rolled down her cheek.

Chapter Thirteen

Spider Woman

J
ust like the demonic Beast that lurked in its dark cavern between worlds, Spider Woman, also known as Annie, existed behind the thin veil of the here and now. From that vantage point she saw the struggles of the people she loved. In her former life she had lived peacefully in a tiny shack on Witch Creek just outside of the town of Red Bluff. When Esmeralda, Devlin and Walking Ghost had sought refuge with her she had joined their fight against a similar demonic evil, one that now stalked Virginia City.

Devlin could see her, of that she was certain, but he chose not to acknowledge her. She knew that Esmeralda sensed her and even talked to her but there was one to whom she could fully materialize and that was Walking Ghost. 

As a wise woman in life she had worked with roots and possessed many magical talents. To him she was Spider Woman, the grandmother goddess that possessed the secrets of the underworld. The dark forces that lurked in the mine had not only drawn to it willing sycophants like Big Jim and his hired guns. It had attracted a Dark Angel in the form of Devlin Winter, and no matter what her personal feelings were towards him, she knew that he was the only hope to defeat it.

Her friend Walking Ghost sat down before a small fire with his eyes closed softly chanting. He had disappeared before Devlin returned from D Street and had walked straight up Taylor St. and into the hills. He opened his eyes and took his pipe out of his leather satchel. He lit it and saluted the four cardinal points air, fire, water and earth.

  “Great mother, Father Sky open my eyes, clear my thoughts and let Spider Woman in.”

He took a deep draw on his pipe and blew a plume of smoke into the dark night. The smoke swirled upwards then parted to reveal the bent figure of Annie his Spider Woman. 

“Howdy, Injun,” she said. “Mind if’n I rest these old bones?”

Walking Ghost nodded and gestured to a fallen log opposite him.  “You are welcome, grandmother.”

She sat down and then squinted hard at him. “Hmmph…ya must be in quite a bag o’ nails to call me here.”

Walking Ghost blew smoke from his pipe. “I want to know what you see in the shadow land.”

Spider Woman chewed on the end of her corncob pipe. “Devlin is blinded this time. My ancestors have shown me the danger of this demon, one so gol’ darn evil even he cannot kill it, an’ he’s the most confounded, stubborn bloodsucker I ever did meet, he ain’t happy dead or alive!” She chuckled.

The firelight illuminated her face; it was wrinkled and wizened like a dried apple where dark eyes, like raisins, peered out at him. “There’s things in nature on both sides that ain’t supposed ta be messed with, upsets the natural balance. The Beast, well it’s one of them, he guards a doorway to a place that ya wouldn’t want ta go in your worst nightmare.”

“What can Walking Ghost do to help?”

Spider Woman touched a soft leather pouch tied to her waist. She reached in and pulled out a handful of dried roots.

“Spikenard, it might help, that and your buffalo lance, whatever form the Beast takes it has a soft spot sumwhere’s between its eyes.”

Back in her parlor on B street Esmeralda dealt the cards. Dressed in a form-fitting gown of emerald green satin she smiled and flirted with the men at her Monte table though inside she was a bundle of nerves. Devlin had not visited her salon these past two nights, nor had she heard from him, and a sinking feeling of dread pervaded her soul.

By the same token the clients that visited her backroom made her feel unsettled. Last night a young girl, barely fifteen, gave birth to a two-headed baby with reptilian scales down its back. Fortunately it had been almost dead at birth. It gasped twice then went still and they had to use all of their skills to save the life of the young mother.

Afterwards, her assistant Kuong had wrapped the dead baby in a cloth and taken it to be burned on a secret pyre in Chinatown.

When she finally lay down to sleep at night, her own dreams became more vivid, and she felt as if an invisible force beckoned her and encircled her like an evil sticky web. Devlin had chosen to stay away at a time when she needed him the most. She did not lie to herself either, the image of him embracing the cloaked figure in the alley after he had left her bed still stung, but neither had it devastated her. Her only consolation was the absence of Leonard White and his oily stares. The carpetbagger had been a permanent fixture in her salon from the day she’d first opened the doors for business. He was like a droopy hound that watched her as if she was a meaty bone. She was mildly curious at his absence these last few days but had much more on her mind than to wonder where he had gone.

She pushed those thoughts away and continued to deal the cards. The night wore on.

Shortly before midnight she felt tension fill the room and looked up to see the corpulent figure of Big Jim Diamond enter the room. He looked around, nodding greetings here and there, and puffed on his fat cigar. He then headed straight to her Monte table. She continued her deal refusing to be rattled. He stood and lurked polluting the air with his cigar smoke. Uncomfortable, one by one, the other gamblers rose and took their winnings.

“Miss Esmeralda Jones is it?” He plunked down on one of the vacated chairs. “I’ve been hearing a lot about you and this place.”

Esmeralda lifted her chin. “Oh, is that so? And what have you heard?” 

Big Jim grinned. “Just that you’ve been keeping company with that fancy Black Leg gambler, Devlin Winter and that you’ve been chiseling a lot of folks from their gold.”

Esmeralda frowned. “Are you accusing me of cheating? Here in my own salon?” She slid her hand under her skirt and reached for the pepperbox. 

Big Jim chuckled. “Yes. I’m accusing you of cheating and whoring with that gambler Devlin Winter.”

At his words the color rose in Esmeralda’s face. She pulled back the hammer of her gun with a distinct “Click”. She stood back from the table and pointed her gun in the middle of Big Jim’s chest.

“If you accuse me of cheating you had better be able to back it up. And whom I choose to keep company with is none of your business. Get the hell out of my salon or I will shoot you where you stand.”

Big Jim got up, straightened his coat, and smiled.

Jimmy and Kuong materialized at Esmeralda’s side. “Escort Mr. Diamond out of the salon,” she ordered. 

At her words he backed away, chuckling. 

Miss cool as a cucumber lady gambler has shown her hand. And I just got myself an ace in the hole,
he thought.

At a quarter past midnight Esmeralda went up to her rooms. Once inside she sat down on the bed. Her hands trembled and she felt chilled. After that nasty pimp of a man, Big Jim Diamond, had left she had continued her play as if her insides were not all tied into knots. She’d felt violated by his visit, sick to her stomach. The tainted aura that surrounded him was foul. His beady eyes had crawled over her like slugs and she could see he’d baited her about Devlin to draw a response and he’d succeeded.

She reached for the champagne in the bucket by the bed and poured out a glass. She drank it thirstily and wished it were something stronger. Afterwards she lay down on the coverlet, fully dressed, and closed her eyes.

Where was the beauty in this world?
she thought.
Where had the innocence and the truth gone?

Even though these past few years, moving from town to town, had opened her eyes, she still believed in the inherent goodness in her fellow man; no matter how much it was obscured by a steaming pile of horseshit. Well, one thing was certain; Annie was having a good laugh from the other side at her expense.

Emotionally exhausted she dozed restlessly. Finally she got up and struggled out of her dress and corset. By lamplight she sat at her vanity and combed out her hair. When it had been brushed to a scarlet sheen she put down the brush. A carved silver box stood next to her toiletries. She opened it and scanned the contents. Several faded photographs looked up at her. One in particular caught her eye. It was a picture of a handsome older man sitting in a chair. Standing next to him was a fragile looking blond woman holding the hand of a young girl, Robert and Lavinia Snow, her parents.

Her mother was long dead by the time that she was twelve years old and her father had been cut down and burned alive by a murderous cattle baron. The farm and her life there felt like it was a hundred years ago. She had buried those memories deep never to be thought of again except in her dreams. Nightmares, in which she had grasped his worn hands and tried in vain to pull him out of their burning farmhouse. She took a deep breath then looked up into the mirror. The bent figure of Annie materialized behind her shoulder.

“Annie I am so glad to see you”

“You too, Gal, you been heavy on my mind.”

“Oh, Annie, Devlin is here and he and I have become lovers,” she said.

“Was bound ta happen. You and he are entwined in this lifetime and in another before.”

Esmeralda stared into Annie’s eyes. “You know something? Tell me? He won’t speak of it. I can’t go blind into this anymore. I need to know why. Why this is happening again and why do I feel like bait in a wolf trap?”

Annie squinted hard. “You remember that card? The one that flew out of yer deck?”

Esmeralda nodded. “The High Priestess?”

“Well Gal, that card is your answer. She represents Divine Love, a woman’s power and the courage to sacrifice that love to protect others.”

Esmeralda sighed. “Thank you Annie, as usual you can see right through me.”

Annie disappeared like a wisp of smoke and she was left alone to contemplate her dilemma. Warning Devlin would be a colossal waste of time. Warnings often fell on deaf ears especially those stubbornly focused on revenge. What use was it to have the gift of precognition? After all it had failed to save her own mother’s life.

Her mother and father had come by wagon train to California travelling the Oregon Trail through the treacherous desert to reach Red Bluff. From their own sweat they had carved out a decent hundred-acre farm. She remembered her mother as a beautiful woman with delicate features, a voice like an angel, and a backbone of steel. Her father was the runaway scion of a tobacco planter who had spent his days during the war as a riverboat gambler. As a result Esmeralda, when she was just a young child, had learned every card game known to man.

The day her mother died she had begged her not to go to town. The night before she had had a dream in which the wagon her mother drove was overturned. She had cried and pleaded and told her mother about her dream but to no avail. Her mother had called her dream ‘stuff and nonsense’. The next time she saw her alive was when two farmhands carried her mother’s body into the house. The doctor from town was called and when he arrived he took one look and shook his head. Her mother’s spine had been broken when the wagon had overturned on top of her. There was no hope for survival. Her father held her close with tears streaming down his face as she struggled to breathe.

When the doctor left it was Annie who came down from Witch Creek and that gave her mother a posset that calmed her, taking the pain away so that she slept and in sleeping, slipped away. 

From that day on her father withdrew from her and the world working from dawn to dusk behind the plow developing a cough that eventually was diagnosed as consumption.

It was Annie again who took her hand then raised her to womanhood teaching her to develop and use her gifts.

Teacher and protector, from the other side, it was Annie with her bent figure and ever- present corncob pipe that met Devlin when later that night he materialized on Esmeralda’s balcony. She stood there leaning on her cane in front of Esmeralda’s door.

He paused when he saw her. “Step aside old woman.”

“Haven’t you done enough to the poor gal? Mark my words, ain’t nothin’ but heartbreak if’n you go down this road.”

“Don’t you think we should let Esmeralda be the judge of that?”

Annie drew a bead on him with her eyes “ I don’t suppose I could convince ya ta abandon this here quest of yorn?”

Devlin hesitated he knew the old witch was right, it would be the gentlemanly thing to do; to turn around and refuse to involve Esmeralda in more of his sordid business. He knew he was acting like a selfish prick, but he could not seem to control the desire he had for his Angel. Whatever shred of decency he still possessed told him he should turn around and go back into the endless night. However, before he could contemplate agreeing to Annie’s request, a chill wind blew through the lace curtains and Annie was gone.

The door to the balcony was flung open. Esmeralda stood before him, naked in the moonlight. She did not smile.

“Devlin, I heard voices,” she said.

She did not invite him in. Her body, slim and lush, taunted him like the very devil.

“Let me in,” he demanded. All thoughts of chivalry vanished, blown to high heaven.

Esmeralda looked up for a moment and they stared into each other’s eyes. “No Devlin, not this night or any other night to come.”

Her words stunned him. “Don’t do this, Angel,” he pleaded. “Please let me in.”

“Leave, Devlin, please leave.”