Meanwhile, Back in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 6) (47 page)

There it was, that crunching sound that had been driving me nuts since I’d closed my eyes back in the barn. I winced with each bite, the sound reverberating in my eardrums. Why was it so damned loud? Was that my clue? Was I supposed to take on this vile creature and execute it? Why couldn’t it look like a Care Bear, for crissake, so that all I had to do was rip out some stuffing and dropkick the thing into the trees?

Grunting, it threw what remained of the skull to the side and tugged on a leg bone, tearing it free of a pant leg.

What had Harvey been telling me that bright summer day so long ago? Something about the sheriff’s crew, which had included Cooper back then, finding a bunch of the graves dug up, coffins opened, bones chewed on? Why did it eat the bones? The marrow would be long decayed. It didn’t make sense. Then again, neither did the séance, Harvey’s hooch-guzzling grandfather, or me standing here in some graveyard that just appeared out of the dark.

Scratch, scratch, CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

Moving at a snail’s pace, I faced it head on, taking care not to disrupt its late night need for munchies. Then I realized something—I still held the sawed-off shotgun.

Bullets won’t kill it.

So what, I told the know-it-all voice in my head. Having the weapon in my hand made me feel less like peeing my pants.

Something off to the side of the graveyard caught its attention. Then I heard it, too—twigs breaking underfoot. Someone or something was coming.

The White Grizzly lowered the femur it was chewing, its head cocking slightly as it stared out across the graves. I followed its gaze but saw nothing under the moonlight: just tombstones, wrought-iron fences and gates, and dark pine trees.

When I looked back, the thing was staring right at me.

Oh. Hell.

I turned to marble, trying to camouflage myself with the other gravestones behind me.

A guttural growling rumbled from dark lips pulled back in a snarl. Dropping the femur into the grave, it rose up on its hind legs.

And up and up.

Holy fucked up freaky-ass shit!

That must be why they called it the White Grizzly and not the White Sorta Big Weasel. It was huge! I wished it really was just a bear. I took a step back, my feet already putting Operation Run-Like-Hell into effect.

It took a few lumbering steps toward me, sniffing the air in my direction. Its growl grew louder. “
Scharfrichter
,” it said in a gravelly voice.

I blinked in surprise. Had it just spoken?

While I was still trying to decide if my mind was playing tricks on me, it dropped down onto all fours.

Uh oh. That couldn’t be good. Was this really happening? I clutched the shotgun tighter.

It twisted its head from side to side. Its movements were slow and deliberate, a true hunter stalking its prey.

And I was the deer in its sights tonight. What in the hell was this grotesque monstrosity? More importantly, what was it doing in my distorted dream? Or had I invaded its spine-chilling world?

I lifted the double barrels, widening my stance. Bullets might not kill it, but maybe they would give it a good limp and give me a solid head start. As my jacket sleeve slid back, Aunt Zoe’s charm bracelet flashed, the silver and mirrored glass reflecting the moonlight.

The creature screeched as if in pain, the sharp sound piercing my ears. I cowered back another step, half in fear, half in pain.

“What—the—fuck—is—that?” Cooper enunciated from behind me off to the left.

The sound of the detective’s voice jarred me out of my concentration on the creature. My gaze whipped in his direction. Behind him were Harvey’s outbuildings, the chicken coop not sixty feet away. I glanced around, realizing the tombstones had changed, many disappeared. The cemetery had shrunk. Realization struck—I was back on the ranch, standing knee high in the grass back in Harvey’s family graveyard.

And Cooper was there, his gun raised.

Unfortunately, so was the White Grizzly, its guttural growling even noisier. My anxiety rose along with its volume, my heart and pulse racing in a dead heat.

“Parker, get behind me,” the detective ordered, his handgun out and aimed at the White Grizzly.

“Cooper, that gun won’t stop it.”

“Six bullets might damned well slow it down.”

That was a nice theory, but I really wasn’t looking forward to testing it. The beast took a step in Cooper’s direction.

With my gaze still on the White Grizzly, I spoke to the hard-headed man. “Christ, Cooper, listen to me. Put the damned gun down and let me handle this.”

“Bad idea, Parker.” He pulled the trigger, a gunshot exploding in the clear night air.

That mule-headed son of a bitch!

The bullet hit the creature with a thick-sounding thud. It looked down where it had taken the shot, seeming more surprised than hurt. It glared back at Cooper and let out a roar that shook me clear to my boots.

“Way to go, Johnny Ringo,” I said to him, closing the distance between us with several quick strides. “Now you’ve managed to piss off both of us.”

The White Grizzly bared its fangs at Cooper and lunged.

Everything happened so fast, my brain didn’t seem to keep up.

Cooper held his gun steady, unloading five more rapid shots into the beast before it reached him. The bullets didn’t seem to faze the creature at all. It moved with lightning quickness, pouncing and knocking the detective onto his back. They rolled on the ground as Cooper struggled to throw it off, grunting and cussing the whole time. The beast gained the upper hold, pinning the detective down with its weight, its sharp claws sinking into his leather coat. Cooper shouted in pain. When it raised one front leg, its claws fully extended, I saw my window of opportunity.

Flipping the shotgun around, I gripped the double barrels and went in swinging. Babe Ruth had nothing on me.

My first swing caught it along the jaw with a solid
thwack
, sending it rolling sideways from the detective. Before it could recover, I leapt over Cooper and spun round quickly to increase my momentum, bringing the stock of the shotgun down on its skull with all the strength I could muster.

Something cracked and the beast staggered several gravestones to the right, shaking its head while snarling and whimpering. Then it let out a snorting growl and stood up on its hind legs, towering.

“You okay, Cooper?” I kept my focus on the beast.

“I think so,” he said from behind me. I heard the grass rustle as he got to his feet. “What in the hell is that thing?”

“That’s your White Grizzly you told me about.”

It hulked menacingly, roaring at me.

“Jesus, I always thought that was an old wives’ tale used to keep kids from screwing around in graveyards.”

The creature shook its head a couple of times.

“You really rang its bell,” Cooper told me. “Did you look into those milky eyes? I saw some fucked up shit there for a minute.”

Ol’ milky eyes
… This beast was what Harvey’s grandfather had been talking about earlier. It was what had hunted down and defaced the dead guy.

I heard a small clinking sound next to me but didn’t want to take my eyes off the beast. “What’re you doing?” I asked Cooper.

“Loading my gun.”

“I told you that bullets don’t work.”

“They make me feel better.”

I knew that exact line of thinking, but I couldn’t resist a jab. “Next time we hang out in a graveyard together, I’ll be sure to bring your binkie and favorite blanket along.”

“Shut the hell up, Parker.”

The beast lowered onto all fours, getting into lunging position again.

“Don’t even think about it, you ugly motherfucker,” I heard Cooper say, raising his firearm again.

I repositioned my hold on the shotgun, knowing what I had to do. “Cooper.”

“Yeah?”

“If you shoot me by accident, I’m going to come back and haunt your ass.”

Before I could chicken out, I raced at it, circling around to the side, trying to catch the hunter by surprise. It tried to adjust and lunge at me, but I was able to cut sideways and dodge out of its path, jabbing the shotgun toward its face like it was a lance. The end of the barrel connected, nailing it in one of its milky eyes.

The roar that followed was a mix of rage and pain.

The momentum from my dash and jab sent me spinning, my boot connecting with a small gravestone sticking up out of the ground. I tried to catch my balance but stumbled. The shotgun whacked into a crumbling headstone, jarring it from my grip as I staggered further and fell onto my hands and knees. My chest just missed being pierced by a rusted metal rod stuck in the ground decorated with a circle and star midway down.

The creature recovered more quickly than I did, undoubtedly fueled by the need to rip my face from my skull, too. It sprung toward me while Cooper unloaded more lead into it.

I rolled onto my side and reached for the shotgun, but the White Grizzly beat me to it, knocking it aside.

It circled me, its teeth gnashing, its remaining milky eye sizing me up. The smell of its breath reminded me of roadkill, making me gag. It shook its head again, my earlier blow still giving it grief.

A sudden coolness spread through my limbs, a euphoric feeling almost. Somehow, someway, I was going to kill this nasty son of a bitch tonight and put an end to its reign of terror.

“You wanna dance?” I heard a voice ask, and then realized it was mine. Before I knew it, I was up on one knee, poised like a runner on the starting block, ready to go head to head. “I’ll teach you the Two-step.”

The White Grizzly snorted at me. I could hear its breath rattling in and out, every click of its teeth, each scratch of its claws in the dirt as it circled me.

“Violet!” Doc’s voice cut through my focus.

“Stay back, Doc.” This bastard was mine.

I glanced off to the side for the shotgun, but it was not to be seen, hidden in the tall grass.

“Here kitty, kitty,” Doc taunted from off to my left.

The White Grizzly looked his way, the low growl starting up again.

I glanced in Doc’s direction, too, wondering what in the hell he was doing. Not ten feet away, he stood next to a crooked tombstone, the charm Aunt Zoe had given him dangling in the moonlight.

“Doc, are you trying to get yourself fileted?”

“Just buying you time, Killer.”

With the shotgun out of reach, bludgeoning it to death was off the table. I needed something sharp, something to bury in its ugly hide.

The beast snarled at Doc, taking another step closer.

Doc was acting as bait, and if I didn’t find something to kill this vile thing real quick, he might end up as a meal.

Then I remembered the rod that had almost impaled me. With a solid tug, I pulled it free. The end that had been in the ground was pointy, not as sharp as I’d like, but it would do in a pinch.

The creature leaned back on its haunches, getting ready to lunge at Doc.

Without a sound, I attacked first, moving like my boots were on fire. It dodged too late, unable to escape me as I drove down hard with the rod, trying to penetrate its wide back. Its hide was thick, withstanding the pointed metal for a split second. Doubling my efforts, I put my weight into it, shoving harder with a grunt. Finally the rod plunged through, sinking into the beast with a swift, sickening ease.

The White Grizzly roared, rolling onto its side, taking me with it while its claws swiped wildly at my face, arms, and chest, almost catching me once or twice

I rolled off of it, scrambling to my feet again.

“Violet,” Natalie yelled from behind me. “Catch!”

I raised my hand without thinking as I turned her way, plucking the old shotgun from the air as it flew toward me. Just as my dad had taught me years ago when I was learning how to belt a softball into the outfield, I choked up on the barrels and tightened my grip. Striding over to where it writhed in the grass, I stood over it just as its claws reached around and tugged the metal rod free. A dark fluid coated the white fur around the wound.

It hissed at me, lunging upward with snapping teeth.

I easily dodged the attack and then planted my boots firmly on the ground. “Go back to whatever hell you came from, you nasty son of a bitch.”

It bared its teeth again.

I didn’t wait for further invitation and swung, catching it square in the side of the head.

The crack reverberated up through the gun barrels, making my hands sting with pins and needles. The stock splintered, a chunk of wood flying off into the darkness, making it a ragged, wooden dagger.

The White Grizzly slumped to the ground, looking up at me through its one milky eye, its breath wheezing. A whimpering sound rose from its chest, sounding human-like.

“Say goodnight, Gracie.” I raised the shotgun again, this time with the double barrels pointed skyward, and buried the splintered stock into the beast’s chest.

The milky eye rolled up, its jaw sagged open, a black tongue lolled out.

All was silent.

The job was done.

“Goodnight,” I whispered.

Someone grabbed me by the shoulders, pulling me back and away from the dead beast. “You’re bleeding,” Doc said, turning me to face him. He lifted my arm. For the first time, I noticed the gashes in my coat sleeve.

Holding his rib cage, Cooper walked over to the beast, prodding it with his boot and then leaned over it when it stayed dead. Then he jumped back. “Jesus! It’s moving.”

Doc pushed me behind him.

“Wait,” Cooper said. “Actually, I think it’s melting.”

“What?”

We joined him, staring down at it. He patted his pockets and then pulled out a flashlight from an inside one and shined it on the beast.

Cooper was right. It was melting like an ice cream cone on a sun drenched sidewalk, leaving a white gooey mess on the grass.

“What in the hell was that thing?” Natalie came up beside me, grabbing my arm as she stared down at it.

“The White Grizzly,” Cooper muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“I thought that was just an old wives’ tale,” she said, echoing Cooper’s earlier words.

Within seconds, the notorious White Grizzly was nothing but a big puddle of goo. Then the goo began to darken, turning into a black tar like substance that bubbled once or twice before sinking down into the earth. Within minutes, nothing was left but a stain on the grass.