I lay on the ground groaning, hoping he wasn’t coming to kill me with his giant scythe. I couldn’t have used my two-way radio if I had it with me. It didn’t work with my costume so I’d left it at dungeon. Still, I hoped my death (or serious dismemberment) would teach him a lesson. I hoped he’d never be able to love anyone again after letting me die in such a tragic, yet heroic, way.
Death stood over me. I couldn’t move. He looked down into my face, his hood blacking out whatever lurked inside his robe. I closed my eyes, ready for my final scene in Renaissance Village. Who knew it would end this way?
“Hello, lady.” Death had a kind of wimpy voice for someone so big.
I opened my eyes a little and he waved at me. It was a pinky wave where you just move your fingers.
“Are you hurt? ”
“Am I hurt?” I mimicked, obviously too terrified to think.
“Did you hurt your head? You sound kind of funny. Do you need me to get help? ”
Of all things, this was not what I expected. The words to answer him wouldn’t come out of my mouth. I just stared at him until he moved closer and his form blocked out everything but his black robe. He picked me up like I was a toothpick, weighed no more than a small child, holding me across his arms with them extended from his chest so I didn’t lie against him.
“I’ll take you to get help,” he promised in that same little-boy voice.
“Are you sure you’re Death? ”
“Yeah. I was working here as an ogre. I took my brother Ross’s place when he was killed to try and figure out about what happened to him.”
His brother? My brain hurt, but I knew that couldn’t be right. “Ross’s last name was DeMilo. Chase said your last name is Van Imp.”
He shrugged. “A stage name. I wouldn’t want all my fans finding out I was working here.”
I looked up into his large face as we walked by a street-light. He had black curly hair and a large nose that looked like a piece of flesh-colored Play-Doh plastered to his face. His hands were huge, too. He probably could’ve crushed me with them.
“Do you know anything about my brother’s death? ” he asked me.
“Not really. Probably not more than you know. No one really seems to know anything. The police think it wasn’t an accident, but they’re not sure. Sorry I can’t be more help.”
“That’s okay. I’ve been watching everyone the last few days. There are a lot of crazy people here. I think maybe one of them, the one who killed Ross, will make a mistake and I’ll have him.”
It sounded like a plan to me. “Why were you following me yesterday? Why did you put your scythe on my bed? ”
“I was following you because I thought you might know something. Then I realized you didn’t know anything. Then I was following you because you seemed to be the next target for the killer.”
“And the scythe? ”
“I didn’t do that. Why would I? ”
“I thought you did it to scare me. Like the skeleton hand.”
He finally put me down on my feet as we reached the first aid station behind Merlin’s Apothecary. He pulled out the plastic skeleton hand and waved it. “And did it scare you? ”
“Yeah. I guess. What about all those warnings,
Death shall find thee
? ”
“I don’t know. What does it mean? Wasn’t that what they said was on my brother’s robe when he died? ”
I tried to judge him by looking into his homely but amiable face. Was he telling the truth? He didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d bother lying. I mean, the man was a tank. He sure wouldn’t be afraid to tell me anything he wanted me to hear. “Well, that’s just great.”
“Why? ”
“Because I thought
you
were the killer. Now, I don’t know.”
“Thank you. I don’t like people to think I’m a killer.” He smiled at me and shook his big head.
“But you’re Death. How much more of a killer could that be? ”
“Maybe. But that’s only the character I’m playing. Inside, I’m a lover, not a fighter. I like poetry and those little boxes full of sand that come with tiny rakes.”
Before I could answer (just as well, what would I say to that?) the door to the first aid station opened and Wanda LeFay, the only registered nurse in the Village, looked out at us. “Jessie? Is something wrong? ”
“No!” I started to hobble away from her. I must have twisted one of my ankles when I fell. Every step was agony. No wonder movie heroines always fall to the ground and scream when they turn their ankles. “I’m going back to the dungeon now. Good night.”
“But you’re hurt,” Death argued. “See? You can’t even walk straight. You need help.”
“Not from her,” I mumbled. I sure didn’t want Wanda’s cold, blue, fish eyes looking me over and finding something else she could hurt. “No,” I said louder. “I’m fine. I’ll deal with it.”
Wanda glanced at Death. “Bring her inside, will you? Let’s just have a little look-see.”
Wanting to help, Death scooped me up again and deposited me in Wanda’s infirmary, otherwise known as her house of horrors. No doubt she didn’t have to do much of anything for Halloween. She’d once given me a tetanus shot after an injury and the needle had broken off in my arm. We’re talking serious, life-threatening terror dispensed with a pleasant, real-life British accent, one of the few real ones in the Village.
“I’m fine, Wanda. Really.” I struggled to escape, but Death held me in place with one hand. Maybe he really
was
destined to kill me.
“Stop fussing!” Wanda commanded. “I believe you’ve got a small sprain. Nothing to get upset about. I’ll just wrap it nice and
tight
. That’s all it needs.”
Death’s colossal figure blocked my view of what Wanda was doing, but I could feel her nice-and-tight bandage technique cutting off the circulation to my foot. All I could do was wince in pain and hope it would be over soon. As soon as I escaped from Wanda’s evil clutches, I’d take off the bandage—hopefully before I needed an amputation.
“There we are! Good as new. You take it easy for a few days and you’ll never even know it happened.” She stood back to admire her handiwork.
When Death moved aside, I knew I had to get out of there before she decided to fix something else. I also knew I couldn’t hobble away fast enough. I needed a diversion.
“Maybe I should take your temp, Jessie,” Wanda said thoughtfully. “Don’t want you to run a fever with your sprain, do we? I only have a rectal thermometer, but that should do.”
“What’s that? ” I pointed out the back window that gave a view of the small patch of ground between the first aid station and the wall around the Village. “I think I saw someone spray painting the wall. I’ll bet it’s the same person who’s been going around the Village putting graffiti on everything.”
It was a strategic maneuver: I knew Death would be interested and Wanda, Queen of the Rules, would rise to the bait. And I was right. Both of them hurried into the back after Wanda picked up her extremely large stun gun. I mean, what did she plan on bringing down with that thing, an ox?
I didn’t care. I hobbled out the front door and hid in the shadows against the apothecary wall. I could hear Wanda swearing in her native tongue, which sounded nothing like American swearing, and Death lumbering around looking for me. My ankle was killing me, but that was only a metaphor; I feared Wanda was capable of the real thing if given the chance.
After a while, their noise died out and I heard the crowds begin leaving the castle after the feast. I wished I knew where Chase was, but I was going to have to make it back to the dungeon on my own.
I scooted out into the light and another large shadow fell across me. Death had found me again.
“That wasn’t very nice,” he said. “She was trying to help you.”
“Yeah. But the Inquisition was trying to help, too.”
“She made your foot better. See? You’re walking good now.”
“There you are!” Chase crept up on us. “Are you okay, Jessie? ”
“I’m fine.” I made a fast move to his side and wrapped my arms around him. I was really glad to see him and was surprised by how small he looked compared to Ross’s brother. “Chase, this is Death. Death, Chase.”
“You know that it hurts for someone to call you names,” Death said. “You could use my real name.”
I couldn’t remember his real name and looked at Chase, hoping he could. Lucky for me, he picked up on my distress and held his hand out to the giant. “Hi. I’m Chase Manhattan, the Village bailiff. You must be Bart. It’s nice to meet you.”
Bart smiled hugely and reached his hand out to Chase. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too. Do you know who killed my brother? ”
W
e sat around a wooden table at the Lady of the Lake Tavern discussing what happened to Death’s (I mean, Bart’s) brother. Bart was actually a very nice man who was fiercely loyal to his brother and determined to figure out who killed Ross.
“I thought if I took this job, whoever killed Ross would come after me. No such luck.” He wrapped his huge hand around a tankard, making it look like a toy.
“At least not yet,” Chase said. “This could be dangerous, Bart. I don’t think your brother was singled out, unless it was because of the irony.”
Bart stared at him, apparently not taking his meaning.
“He means somebody got a kick out of killing Death. You know?” I hoped that explained it. “If that’s the case, you could be next in line.”
Bart finished his drink and wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s why I’m here. I want them to come at me. The police don’t know who did it. They don’t even have a suspect.”
Chase shrugged. “There were more than two thousand people here at the time Ross was killed. Unless you have someone in mind who had it in for him, I’m afraid it’s gonna be like getting those people off Gilligan’s Island.”
“I know.” The giant smiled. “But I think they got home in that last movie.”
“Really?” Chase asked. “I don’t think I saw that one. I always thought the professor would die before he made it back. Again, the irony.”
I didn’t think Bart understood
that
irony either. I leaned forward and put my hand on his. My God! It was huge. “Did your brother have any enemies? ”
“No! He was lovable and helpful, just like me. He trusted people. Maybe too much. No one would want to kill him, lady.”
“Jessie,” I corrected. “You can call me Jessie.”
He nodded. “I saw you fight. You’re a good fighter.”
“Thanks.”
Chase looked at me, then looked back at Bart. “I’m sorry I don’t have better answers for you. I wish I knew what happened to him. The honest answer is, it could’ve been any of those two thousand visitors here that day or any of the five hundred or so residents. I don’t like thinking it could be someone who works here, but I don’t know for sure.”
The tavern was quiet and empty around us as the owner, Ginny Stuart (no relation to Mary Stuart, as far as I know), and her workers cleaned up for the next day. The smell of pine was very strong. I looked out the window and saw the
Queen’s Revenge
sitting at anchor close by. Not much worry about marauding pirates after the Village was closed.
“How will we ever find out who killed Ross if he didn’t have any enemies and we don’t have any suspects? ” I asked over the swish of the mop on the wood floor.
“Maybe it’s whoever’s writing on the walls.” Bart shrugged his massive shoulders. “Since that same thing was on Ross’s robe, maybe the killer has something else to say.”
“I’ve thought about that, too,” Chase agreed. “But again, all those people saw it and it was on TV, so another hundred thousand or so people saw it. Detective Almond thinks it’s probably a copycat. I kind of agree with him.”
“I don’t think so,” Bart said. “I think whoever killed my brother is still here. Maybe he plans to kill me, too. For the irony, right, Jessie? ”
Neither one of us could disagree with him. It was a complete mystery. I could see Chase’s point about someone targeting Death to die. But what would be the point if no one had a grudge against him? If it was someone who had something to say, it seemed like they would’ve taken responsibility.
Figuring out what happened and why was on my to-do list now that Mary and Roger were back together. I wasn’t sure where to start, but looking at Bart’s plain but sweet face, I knew he needed closure. He needed to know what happened. Myrtle Beach PD would probably never know. It was up to me and Chase.
But right now, I was exhausted. Too exhausted to think anymore. I wanted to lay my head down on the wooden table and fall asleep like a drunken sailor. My ankle throbbed when I thought of the long walk back across the Village. The ale helped some, but most of me didn’t want to move.
“Ye scurvy slugs better be gettin’ on outta here,” Ginny said in her usual colorful language. Obviously she’d spent too much time with Rafe and the other pirates.
She was a rough-looking, white-haired woman who always wore the same green dress with her large bosom nearly pushed out of the neckline. She’d owned the Lady of the Lake for as long as I’d been coming to the Village. Believe me, no one ever argued with her.
“We’re on our way out,” Chase told her with a smile guaranteed to melt the hardest heart.
Ginny grinned, showing her gold-capped teeth (another pirate necessity). “Lord love ye, Sir Bailiff. Ye could charm the ravens out of the Hanging Tree.”
Chase shook her hand as he walked by, but apparently that wasn’t enough for Ginny. She goosed him before he could get out of the tavern.
I wasn’t stupid enough to question it. Ginny could split my gizzard (her words a long time ago) without breaking a sweat. Besides, I wasn’t worried about
her
. Not like Princess Isabel or the sex-crazy fairies/wraiths. There were way more dangers in the Village than Ginny. At least as far as Chase’s body was concerned.
We walked outside and stopped dead in the shadow of the old Hanging Tree. In the hour or so while we were inside talking about Bart’s brother, Village decorators had come up with another brilliant Halloween idea.