I had a suspicion.
Draug.
I got a lamp.
I didn't want to see what I saw. That thing on the stair was something nobody ever wants to see, and whoever made it least of all.
It was a corpse. One that had been immersed in a swamp. What folklore called a draug, a murdered man who could not rest in death while his killer went unpunished. There are a million stories about draugs' vengeance but I'd never expected to be a player in such a tale. They're apochryphal, not concrete. Nobody ever really saw one.
Funny how the mind works. The thoughts you'd expect didn't come to me. All I could think was: why me? This shot hell out of my simple case.
Peters yelled, "What do we do, Garrett?"
Besides puke? "I don't know." You can't kill a draug. It's dead already. It would just keep coming till it wore them out. "Try to cut it up."
Dellwood did upchuck. Chain shoved him aside, flailed away with the ax part of a halberd. A couple of fingers came wriggling down where I stood. They didn't lose their animation.
"Hold it there. I'll come around the long way." I backed down to the balcony.
As I retreated to the stair to the first floor, I spied the woman in white watching from the top balcony east, from a spot where she wouldn't be seen by the bunch above me. She looked more interested and animated than usual. Like she was enjoying herself. I tried to sneak up on her but she wasn't there when I got there.
I wasn't surprised.
I crossed through the loft, went down. The guys were hard at work, poking and hacking and stumbling over each other. Peters said, "This is getting old, Garrett."
"I'll buy that. Who's it after?"
"How the hell should I know?"
"Who did the screaming?"
"Jennifer. She ran into it down there somewhere. It followed her up here."
"Where is she now?"
"In her suite."
"Hang in there. You're doing a great job." I started down the hall. Then came back. Kaid and Chain cursed me. I asked, "Who was it when it was alive?"
Peters bellowed, "How the hell should I know?" He needed to work on his vocabulary. He was in a rut.
"Catch you in a minute." I headed for Jennifer's suite, which was identical to her father's, apparently, one floor below. I tried the door at the end of the hall. Locked and barred. I pounded. "Jennifer. It's Garrett."
I heard vague movement sounds. They stopped. She didn't open up.
I wondered if I'd have the nerve, considering all the tricks the stories say draugs and haunts try.
I tried again. She wasn't receiving callers. I rejoined the boys. They were hanging in there. Chunks of corrupt, stinking flesh were everywhere. And the draug kept coming. Stubborn cuss. I found a spot from which I could kibbitz. "Figure out who it was yet, Peters?"
"Yeah. Spencer Quick. Disappeared two months ago. The clothes. Nobody dressed like Quick. Lots of black leather. Thought it made the women swoon. You bastard. You just going to stand there?"
I rounded up a five-foot broadsword, the kind they'd used in knighthood days to bash each other into scrap metal. I tested its edge. Not bad, considering. I took up position out of the way, behind where the thing would emerge onto the balcony. "Let it come."
"You're crazy," Kaid told me.
Maybe. "Go ahead. Back off."
"Do it," Peters said, trusting me way too much.
They skipped away.
The dead man came in a cloud of stench, dragging what was left of him, lurching into the wall. "What're you waiting for?" Wayne shrieked at me.
I was waiting for the draug to jump its murderer, that's what. But it didn't.
Of course.
They all panicked, grabbed axes and swords, and started swinging. Six of them in a crowd like that, it was a miracle they didn't kill each other.
I stood back and watched to see if anybody took advantage of the confusion to eliminate another heir.
Now that they had room, they carved the draug into little frisky pieces. Didn't take them long, either. They were motivated. Wayne, Tyler, and Dellwood kept hacking away long after that was necessary.
They backed off finally, panting. Everybody looked at me like they thought I ought to be next. I got the impression they weren't satisfied with my level of participation.
"Well, then. That takes care of that. Be smart to collect up the pieces and burn them. Peters, you want to fill me in on this Quick? Who was he and how did he happen to go away without anybody thinking that was strange?"
Chain exploded. Before he could get out a coherent sentence, I said, "Chain, I want you to come with me and Peters and Tyler. We're going to backtrack that thing."
"Say what?" Chain gulped air. "Backtrack it?"
"Yes. I want to see where it came from. Might tell us something useful."
"Shit," he said, and started shaking. "I want to tell you, I'm scared. I don't mind admitting it. All my years in the Cantard I wasn't scared like I am now."
"You never ran into anything like this. Not to worry. It's done."
Peters said, "We have some other men missing, Garrett. Suppose more of those things turn up?"
"Doesn't seem likely. Draugs don't run in packs. Usually." I recalled a couple of stories. There was the Wild Hunt, a whole band of dead riders who hunted the living. "You saw how slow it was. Stay alert. You can outmaneuver them. The thing to remember is, don't get excited. We might have wrapped this mess up if we'd let the draug go after whoever killed it."
"Shit!" Chain swore. "It didn't care. It just wanted to get somebody. Anybody."
"Maybe. So let's hit the trail." I tried to sound perky. "Another glorious night in the Corps." I didn't feel perky, not even a little. I was scared stiff. "Arm up if that makes you feel better. And get lanterns."
Peters grumbled, "I hope you know what you're doing, Garrett."
I didn't have the faintest. I was just rattling around, hoping something would shake loose.
19
"Tyler, move out to the left about ten yards. Chain, you go to the right. I don't see much of a trail. Keep an eye out." I disposed myself and Peters between them so we spanned thirty yards. We started from the base of the front steps. "Let's go."
Peters said, "It was walking when it came. Wouldn't leave much of a trail."
"Probably not. You going to tell me who Quick was before we carved him up?"
"We?" Chain bellowed. "Will you listen to that shit?"
"Calm down," Peters told him. "I know what he was doing. He was right. You should have told us, Garrett."
"And warn the villain?"
"He's pretty well warned now."
"Safe, too. Oh. Add a name to the victim list. Somebody did it to Snake."
Peters stopped, held his lantern overhead, glared at me. "You aren't kidding. Snake? Why the hell Snake?"
I tried to recall who'd been sitting where when I'd let Snake out that door. Hell. Anybody with good ears could have heard. He'd used a stage whisper. Maybe he'd wanted the killer to know. Maybe he'd had something planned and it had turned in his hand. I wouldn't let a known killer get close enough to put a noose around my neck.
"Here," Chain said. We moved over. A strip of rotten leather hung on a bush. We redeployed.
I said, "You going to tell me about Quick?"
"I can't," Peters said. "I didn't know him. He was almost as spooky as Snake. Stayed to himself, mostly. You had to use a pry bar to get three words out of him. He did fancy himself a lover. You want to find out about him, talk to the gals at the Black Shark. All I can tell you is he was somebody the General knew and thought he owed. Like all of us."
I'd passed the Black Shark on the way to the Stantnor place. It was an evil-looking dive. I'd been considering taste-testing the house brew. Now I had business reasons to visit.