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It was in the hills behind the White Palace, beyond the old golf course and the bridle paths. I’d heard it mentioned now and again as the destination of the Reaper-fodder in the Coal Country. If nothing else, I could mark the location of bodies. I gauged the sun as I approached; I had only a brief time to talk before the early winter twilight descended.
The quarry was a sort of horseshoe-shaped indentation in the hillside where limestone had been cut at some point. A pond, swollen with the winter weather temporarily into a lake, lay in the center of the horseshoe, lapping up almost to the sheer walls of some parts of the cuts. Mossy boulders with black and dead growth indicating the high-water mark stood like islands in the lake. I wondered if, during the worst of the summer heat, the lake shrank to a mud hole. How many bones were exposed?
A little dock extended out into the lake not far from the path I used to approach the quarry. A rust-flecked bucket and a tangle of fishing line waited in the cold afternoon breeze. Did someone fish here for a dinner? What sort of Gollumesque* lurker would want corpse-fattened catfish lurking in the lake?
“Show yourself, Maynes,” I shouted. “I give you my word on the graves of my ancestors and children, that I will not harm you, directly or indirectly. I only want to know.”
The Reaper with the missing lower lip stepped out from the tumble of rocks on the far side of the lake. It looked even more fleshless than usual.
“I’ll be more comfortable with my shotgun on my lap, if I’m going to be speaking through that,” I said, extracting my gun. “My promise still stands. I won’t hurt your surrogate, either.”
I sat down, at least twenty feet clear of the water. Who knew what might come surging out of that dead pool. The Reaper in a combination of wading and walking came around, passed the dock, and approached.
“That’s close enough,” I said while it was still out of jumping distance. I wished in vain for a Quickwood stake. “Thank you for speaking to me.”
“you are the first person i’ve seen in days,” the Reaper said. A little saliva ran out of its mouth when it talked, thanks to the missing lip.
I tried to summon some of Maynes’s sardonic bravado. “Were you expecting bathers in the middle of winter?”
“the firemen have not come,” the Reaper said.
“Have you not kept up on current events? The firemen are mostly dead, fled, or hiding behind as many locked doors as they can manage.”
“i do understand there’s been fighting. i have not dared send my mouthpiece down to the white palace. has it been occupied yet?”
“Only by hungry raccoons,” I said.
“pity. this used to be such a pleasant part of the country.”
“You are the first Maynes? The judge from the Old World?”
“i am.”
“So why are you speaking through a Reaper?”
“it is a privilege granted to few. i have become an immortal. as an immortal, it’s wisest to deal with mortal man through surrogates.”
I had been told such things were possible but only half believed it. The general of the Twisted Cross had been far more useful to the Kurian Order than I could believe this living waxwork ever was.
“Do you sometimes go out and ride horses in the middle of the night?”
The Reaper blinked and yawned. Had Maynes briefly broken contact? “it’s one way to get around the coal country. safer than you would think. until the troubles started, i rarely saw anyone but trooper cars out. i suppose you saw me during one of my rides.”
I found myself wishing I’d steered straight into him that night. Maybe that would have just hastened all that had happened since.
• • •
I turned and walked away, putting the shotgun over my shoulder. Quick steps followed. I swiveled the gun so it pointed directly behind me and fired, then spun.
I’d caught the Reaper in the shoulder, but it was still coming. I emptied the shotgun into it. No effect.
It was on me and crushing, biting. I managed to wiggle one arm up under its chin. The lashing tongue struck me about the face, drawing blood. One eye suddenly went blurry.
My other arm, around its waist just below the ribs, held it fast as I pushed back, back. I reset my feet to get more leverage. It began to thrash back and forth like a snake.
With a kraak! the Reaper’s back broke. I dropped it and it flopped around like a fish, the legs working at counter-purpose to the upper torso. It kept folding and opening itself like a living jackknife.
I kicked it in the ear to get its attention. “You broke the agreement, Maynes. I’m not about to be harvested. Not after everything you’ve put me through.”
