BRIMSTONE
VS EPISODE #308
“Wolf Day Afternoon”
Written by Joel Rauch



The Empire State Bank in Manhattan occupied the bottom three floors of 1432 Third Street.  
Its clients ranged from minimum wage workers to investment bankers with multi-million dollar 
portfolios.  Its assets were in the billions of dollars.

Most transactions took place on the first floor.  The vaulted ceilings allowed enough of the 
early morning sunshine into the lobby to illuminate the area without the need for artificial 
light.  Two armed guards patrolled the interior perimeter.  

The second floor contained most of the bank offices, empty now.  Loan officers would not arrive 
for several more hours, along with upper management and more guards.  Safe deposit boxes were 
here, allowing patrons to store their valuables at what was reputed to be one of the safest 
banks in the city.

The vault, containing untold wealth in precious metals and paper currency, as well as stock 
certificates and bearer bonds, was housed on the third floor.  It was seven meters square, and 
almost three high, surrounded by reinforced concrete a half meter think.  The inside walls and 
ceiling were also lined with steel plate.  The single door was as think as the walls, layered 
as to be impenetrable.  

On the street below, North Ratare looked up and smiled.  It had been months since he and his 
crew had seen any action, not since New Year’s Eve.  A black eye patch still covered one eye, 
a reminder of his last encounter with Ezekiel Stone, and the importance of following Ash’s 
instructions completely.

People walking by might have thought of him as a cripple.  True, his left eye was damaged, in 
a constant state of destruction.  His right arm ended at the elbow, the result of car accident 
when he was just a boy in South Dakota.  He’d lived with the lost appendage for so long that it 
had become part of his self image, the way his escaped soul presented itself to the mortals on 
the planet.  He could regenerate the hand by concentrating, (but not the eye; although he had 
tried many, many nights) however it always reverted to the way he thought of himself - a man 
with one hand.

His team, no longer the dozen they had been at the time of the escape, were spread out around 
the area.  Every one knew what their job was, how they would quickly rob the vault, and return 
to the safe house to count the money.  They had no need for it - their employer, Ashur Badaktu, 
provided them with everything that they required.  But Ash’s cash reserves were low, drained by 
their months of inaction.  With the birth of her son impending, Ash wanted to make sure she 
would have all the resources needed to fight the upcoming battle.

Today’s exercise was hampered by a single missing person.  North looked around impatiently, 
waiting for the addition to his crew to appear.  It was twenty minutes of seven, and more bank 
employees would begin to arrive soon.  The plan called for them to be gone by then.  

Trying to appear casual, North strolled down the sidewalk to where Tyrone Donalds was waiting.  
The black man leaned against a signpost, giving every indication he was waiting for a bus.  
“Where the Hell is he?” North snarled.  

Tyrone looked around, slowly and informally.  “What happens if he doesn’t show?” he wondered 
aloud.  

North watched the morning traffic, thinking.  The plan called for six to infiltrate the bank, 
three in the cars, and three lookouts.  The only flexibility was in the vanguard, but without 
Wolf and his unique abilities, the planned intrusion point was inaccessible.  “We’ll have to 
call it off.”  Behind the two men, several birds landed on the sidewalk, searching for scraps 
on the pavement.

Luke Choi, driving a stolen taxi, stopped at the curb 10 meters away.  Aldo Cagliari and 
Caprice Bonheur got out, approaching North.  He glared at the pair - they were supposed to 
wait.

Glancing around, North jumped.  Standing directly behind him was Hector Runningwolf, more 
commonly known among North’s Dozen as Wolf.  The dark skinned man towered two meters high, his 
long black hair knotted into a intricate pattern that trailed down his back.  He stared down at 
North Ratare.  

Upon sight of the man, North felt a preternatural tranquillity spread over him.  “You’re late,” 
he said calmly.  

The Indian shrugged.  “I had other things to do,” Wolf said.  “We ready?”  North nodded.

Tyrone made a hand signal.  Leona Pride, from her watch point a block away, saw it.  She 
shouldered her silenced rifle, and fired three times at the bank building.  Her excellent 
marksmanship created a small, triangular hole in a third floor window.  With the breach 
created, she dropped the rifle and continued to scan the area for any sign of those who would 
interfere.

North looked to Wolf.  “Let’s go.”

			*		*		*

The Ravenwood Diner was a family owned restaurant.  An oak sign announced to the street that 
they were a ‘North Manhattan tradition since 1945.’  Mary Phillips and her husband had opened 
the eatery just after the war that had claimed the lives of her two brothers.  Even now, Mary 
still tended the cash register during the week.

Ezekiel Stone was seated at a table in the middle of the establishment with his friend 
Alexandra Gray.  She’d recommended the place, and had several suggestions for breakfast.  
“You’ve got to try the fruit preserves,” she insisted.  “They are so good, you won’t believe 
it.  I’m getting the blueberry waffles.”

Stone scanned the menu.  It all looked excellent, and there was a fresh $36.27 burning a hole 
in his wallet.  The waitress, Nancy Ravenwood, granddaughter of the founder, waited for his 
order.  “I’ll go for the pancake platter, orange juice,” he decided, “and an english muffin on 
the side.  Oh, and extra bacon.”

Nancy disappeared into the back, and Alex looked over to Stone.  “I’m glad you liked my 
friends,” she said.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been up all night talking.”  

Stone grinned.  “Me too.  They seemed like nice people.  I don’t understand why you all want to 
be lawyers.”  

“Hey,” she shot back, her words defensive but her tone light, “Someone has to make the big 
bucks.”

“So, does that mean you’re springing for breakfast?”  

She laughed.  “After graduation, Zeke, sure.  I’ll buy you breakfast.  But on a desk clerk’s 
salary, I sure can’t afford to feed you, not the way you eat.”  She got up from her seat.  
“I’ll be right back, I have to call the hotel real quick.  Don’t remember what time I have to 
work tonight.”

As she stepped away from the table, she was bumped into by a woman moving through the 
restaurant.  She stumbled back, jarring the table and knocking over their two cups of coffee.  
Alex groaned at the force of the collision.  “Excuse me,” Alex said.  “I didn’t see you.”


Stone quickly righted the cups, but coffee was already running off of the table.  “Are you both 
all right?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” the woman replied.  “I wasn’t paying attention, it was my fault.”

Alex threw napkins onto the puddle of dark brew.  “It’s no problem,” she said, “they have free 
refills.”  

“Let me make it up to you,” the woman said.  “I’m Arden Corvina, the manager.  I’ll take half 
off of your check.”  

Nancy appeared, clutching a handful of paper towels.  Arden repeated her promised discount to 
the waitress, and then headed towards the back after apologizing once more.  

Taking two cups from an adjacent table, Nancy poured two fresh cups of coffee.  “Aunt Arden is 
a great manager,” she explained, “but clumsy sometimes.  Seems like she’s always bumping into 
people.”

“It’s no big deal,” Alex told her, embarrassed at the amount of attention they were receiving.  
“Excuse me while I make my call.”  She left, this time glancing around carefully before 
stepping into the aisle.

Stone studied the restaurant.  For a Tuesday morning, business seemed good.  The restaurant 
founder, Mary Philips, smiled at him from behind the cash register.  He returned it.  Alex was 
talking animatedly on the phone.

From the back of the restaurant came a scream.

While the other patrons looked around, Stone rose quickly, and made his way to where a woman’s 
voice continued to cry out.  It was Arden Corvina.

“In there,” she quavered, pointing a thin finger at an office door.  It was solid metal, with a 
small window set at eye level.  Arden’s key’s were still in the lock, but the door’s inward 
swing was blocked by a chain.  

A puddle of blood could be seen at the edge of the door.

“Are you okay?” he asked first.  

“It’s Todd,” she wailed.  “He’s in there.”

Stone reached for his badge first, flashing it to the cooks and servers who had gathered.  He 
then filled his hand with his gun, and kicked the door open.

It flew open only a short distance before hitting an obstacle.  Stone flipped the light switch 
and got his first look at the room.

It was a small office, three meters square.  Seated at the single desk was a dead man, most 
likely Todd.  In his left hand, he clutched what appeared to be a bloody rag.  

Cause of death appeared to be a gunshot wound to the head.  The desk and floor were covered 
with blood, tacky now.  The rest of the room was taken up by file cabinets and shelves.  There 
were no windows, no way to enter the room, except by the door, which had been locked from the 
inside.

A new scream broke through his analysis of the crime scene.  Behind him, the elderly woman had 
seen the body.  “Todd!  No, it can’t be!” Mary Phillips cried.  “My son!”

Stone stepped out, and shut the door, painfully aware that the blood on his shoes marked his 
footsteps.  “Someone call the police,” he ordered.  

“Is it Dad?” Nancy asked fearfully.  Mary tried to push into the office, but Zeke held her back 
gently.  After a moment she stopped resisting, collapsing to the floor.  

“Damn,” Zeke swore, laying the limp woman on the floor.  “Call an ambulance, now!”

	I was a cop...
	Then my wife was raped.
	I caught the guy who did it, and I killed him.
	Two months later I died.
	I went to hell.
			(Evil laughter)
	113 of the most vile creatures escaped.
			They think they’ll beat the Devil.
			Nobody beats me.
	So, how am I supposed to send them back?
			The eyes are windows to the soul.
			Destroy the eyes, and the damned get a one-way
			ticket back home to Hell.
			But it’s not hell you should be scared of...
			It’s losing your second chance of life on earth.
	Time to give the Devil his due.

Act One

The paramedics zipped the body bags shut.  Young Nancy was sitting at an empty table, cradling 
her head in her hands.  Her father’s death was a shock, and her grandmother’s fatal heart 
attack was too much.  Alex was trying to comfort her.

Arden Corvina was talking to the police.  “I told you, Todd and I were the only ones with the 
keys to the office.” 

“Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt him?”

“No, Todd was a great guy,” Arden said.  “Everyone loved him.”

The police officer jotted something on his notepad.  “Okay, that’s all I have for now.”

Stone waited until Arden had stepped away.  He flashed his badge to the officer.  “So, are you 
thinking homicide?”

Officer Naugle appraised him coolly.  “How do you explained the door locked from the inside?”

“Still working on that,” Stone admitted.  

“If it’s a suicide, it’s pretty elaborate.”  Naugle leaned in, lowering his voice.  “Hard to 
believe he could have scalped himself.”

“What?” Stone said.  “Did you say scalped?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

				*		*		*

“What a haul!” Tyrone Donalds exclaimed from the back seat of the car.  “It was beautiful - in, 
out, no fuss, no muss.  Caprice, you should have been there.”

Sitting next to him was Caprice Bonheur, a young woman whose French heritage was reflected in 
her apperence.  She was good natured and easy to get along with.  

Caprice smiled back at Tyrone, amused at his enthusiasm.  “I make a better lookout than you, 
Tyrone.  People get suspicious when they see a black guy loitering around.”

Tyrone reeled in mock horror.  “I don’t loiter, that’s what honkeys do.  I hang out.”  The 
jokes about skin color were without malice; North’s Dozen was beyond such superficial things, 
having lived and worked together for more than a year.  

Lizzy Darke turned onto the expressway and merged into the early morning traffic.  “We’re not 
home yet,” she reminded them.  “Is Ash going to be there?” she asked North.

North shrugged.  “That’s up to her.”  He fingered the eye patch that he wore.  “Maybe now 
she’ll heal me,” he said to himself.

				*		*		*

Rosalyn Copper rested in her old bed in her mother’s house.  Susan King had insisted that she 
take a room on the first floor because of her condition, but her stubbornness had won out.  The 
stairs were good exercise.  She turned onto her side, listening to birds outside her window.  

There were two months left until her husband, Dan, would return from Brazil.  He’d gone there 
as a teacher, something he’d volunteered for long before they had become involved.  Even now, 
he didn’t even know she was pregnant.  Surely he suspected something was wrong, for her to 
leave her job and move back in with her mother in New York, but he’d never come out and asked 
what had changed.

She touched her swollen belly.  Her daughter was growing there, their daughter.  In their short 
time together, Dan had never expressed interest in having more children.  His children from his 
first marriage were grown now, the youngest having just turned 18.  Would he be anxious to 
start again?  Sleepless nights, late night feedings, changing diapers.  

She’d been procrastinating about calling him.  Even his emails from the last week had gone 
unanswered.  She’d planned to phone Dan this past weekend, but had ended up spending time with 
the neighbors, Arthur and Janet Miller.  Monday she’d been plagued by nausea, a convenient 
excuse not to contact Dan.  But it was Tuesday now, and she couldn’t put it off any longer.

She picked up the phone.  Reading from a scrap of paper on the desk, Rosalyn dialed Brazil.  
She felt her heart speed up, anticipating how she would frame her words, revealing to her 
husband how their future was shaped.

The phone rang twice before being picked up.  A woman answered.  “Hello,” she said in 
Portuguese.

Confused, Roz blurted the only name that came to mind.  Maybe it was Dan’s daughter who had 
answered the phone.  “Maya?”

The woman answered, again in Portuguese, “What?”

She tried anew, “Dan?  Is Dan there?”

The woman hung up.

Unbelieving, Rosalyn continued to speak into the receiver.  “Hello?  Hello?”

There was no reply from the dead phone, only an emptiness that was echoed by the feeling in her 
heart.

				*		*		*

At the Hotel Mezzanine, Stone entered the building to find Alex behind the desk.  He recognized 
the woman she was talking to.  It was Arden Corvina, from the restaurant.

He greeted her first, repeating his sympathies for the recent deaths in her family.  

“I hope you don’t mind me coming by,” she said, “but I was hoping you had a lead, or clues, or 
something to go on.”

“Not yet,” he said.

“Zeke, do you know what happened to their sister last year?” Alex asked.  He shook his head, 
and she looked to Arden, indicating she should elaborate.  

“There was a car accident,” Arden explained.  “About a year and a half ago, in New Mexico.  
Something in the road, they swerved to miss it.  Her husband, their two children, they were all 
trapped inside the van when it exploded.”

“And Nancy’s brother, tell him about what happened to him,” Alex directed. 

Arden continued, “He was killed in a hit and run accident last year.  There were no witnesses, 
they never caught the person who did it.  Detective, after yesterday, I believe someone is 
personally going after my family.  Nancy’s all I have left.”

“Arden, I’m sorry to hear that.  I’m not officially on the case,” Stone explained, “but I 
promise I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“I will too.” Alex gave her assurance as well.

“Thank you,” Arden said, “Thank you both.”


				*		*		*

Rosalyn floated in her mother’s pool.  She’d been spending a lot of time here, buoyancy 
relieving the extra weight that she was carrying.  The warm sun shone on her tanned shoulders 
as the cool water lapped at them, a tranquil existence that gave her time to think.

Foremost of her thoughts was the aborted phone call earlier today.  Had she misdialed?  Could 
her tension stem from the slip of a finger, or a crossed wire somewhere over the four thousand 
miles that separated them?  Could this all be an accident?

She’d believed in accidents sixteen years prior, when she learned of her first husband’s death.  
It wasn’t until last year that she’d seen Ezekiel Stone with another woman, in California.  It 
had all been a lie, a sham, and she’d fallen for it.  

Daniel had been gone for four months, almost as long as they had been married.  Their daughter 
had certainly been conceived right around the time of their nuptials, and he still didn’t know.  
In two months he would be back, but for what?  Was he cheating on her, as Ezekiel Stone must 
have been to abandon her?

She heard sounds from next door, and looked through the low chain link fence that separated her 
mother’s back yard from the Miller’s.  Janet had come out of the house.  Rosalyn waved.

Janet opened the gate and approached the pool.  “How’s the water?” she asked.  

“Just right,” Rosalyn replied, her arms tethered to the edge of her oasis, allowing the rest of 
her body to float.  “You’re welcome to join me.”  

“Maybe tomorrow,” Janet said.  “How are you doing?”

“A little bored, actually,” Roz admitted.  “I’ve been teaching because I wanted to, not because 
I needed the money.  But it leaves me with a lot of free time.”

“Are you planning on staying until after the delivery?”

“Probably,” Rosalyn hedged.  In reality, she had no plan.  What would happen when Dan came back?  
“We’ll see what happens.”

“So, we’ll finally get to meet Dan, when he’s done gallivanting around the world?” Janet said 
lightly.  

“I hope he’ll come here,” she said, but a note in her voice betrayed her anxiety.  Janet caught 
it immediately, but remained quiet, listening and allowing Rosalyn to frame her thoughts.

“I’ve lived alone for years,” Rosalyn began, drawn out by Janet’s silence, “I’ve been 
independent, self sufficient.  It’s been good, but empty.  I’d forgotten what it was like to be 
married, to come home to someone, to have a family.  It wasn’t fair for Dan to leave so soon 
after we got married.”

The older woman removed her sandals, and sat at the edge of the pool, dangling her legs into 
the cool water.  “Arthur and I were married for five years before he went off to Vietnam.  Your 
mother and I became very close while he was gone, and have been ever since.”

“How long was he gone?” Rosalyn asked.  There was another question that she wanted to ask, but 
couldn’t bring herself to be so blunt.

“He was hurt after 8 months, and didn’t come home until two months later.  That was the hardest 
time, knowing he was paralyzed, but not being to do anything.”

“While he was away...” Rosalyn started, then tried again, “Did you ever worry...”  Janet Miller 
waited patiently.  Roz took a deep breath, then explained, “When I called Dan this morning, a 
woman answered the phone.  She hung up when I asked for Dan.  It could have been a mistake, but 
maybe, maybe he’s... found someone else.”

Janet thought for a moment, then asked, “Did you call him back?”  

“No, not yet.  What if it’s true?”

“What if it’s not,” Janet countered.  “Don’t jump to conclusions, try to get all the facts 
first.”  Rosalyn considered, and Janet continued, “Arthur told me he was faithful the whole 
time he was gone, and I believed him.  Why wouldn’t I trust the man I love?”

“What if he abandons me,” Roz worried, “like Ezekiel did?  What then?”

Janet put a reassuring hand on Roz’s shoulder.  “Everything’s going to be fine.”

				*		*		*

Arden Corvina had an apartment just around the corner from the Ravenwood Diner.  It was on the 
second floor, above a barber shop.  It was small, but comfortable, and certainly affordable.  

She didn’t see her neighbors often, but Jessica Post happened to arrive home at the same time 
she did, and she found herself talking to the other woman, then accepting an invitation for 
coffee.

Jessica was in her fifties, born in the early days of the Baby Boom.  Having grown up in the 
optimistic years after World War Two, she had a refreshingly upbeat look on life.  After 
hearing what had happened in the restaurant, however, she had no easy answers.

“You think someone is after your family?” Jessica asked seriously.  Arden nodded.  “I know 
someone who might be able to help you.”

“He’s not a hit man, is it?”

Jessica laughed.  “No.”  She searched through a pile of papers on the kitchen counter.  “SHE is 
more like a psychic.”

“A psychic?” Arden asked, disappointed.  She’d known other self-proclaimed psychics in her day, 
and every one was a charlatan.

“Not so much a psychic,” Jessica clarified, “More of a mystic, a holy woman.  You should see 
her - I guarantee she can help you.”  From beneath the pile of papers, she pulled a sheet of 
loose leaf paper.  “This is her address.”

Arden accepted it doubtfully, “I don’t know.”

“It’s free advice,” Jessica said, acting indifferent to what Arden planned to do.  “Worth 
exactly what you paid for it.  But Pandora is who I would see if I was in your situation.  If 
I wanted to have any hope.”

				*		*		*

At their safe house, stacks of currency were piled up.  It was Lizzy Darke’s turn to cook 
tonight, and she’d made spaghetti, serving the rest of North’s Dozen as they waited for the 
evening news.

Aldo Cagliari, having grown up in Little Italy, wrinkled his nose at spaghetti sauce from a 
jar.  But Lizzy was his friend and sometimes lover, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.  
He resolved that when it was his turn to cook again, he’d demonstrate to all of them what real 
Italian food was.

Caprice Bonheur turned up the volume on the TV when the news came on.  “Our top story,” it was 
announced, “A daring bank robbery in the early morning.  Police say as many as six thieves 
gained access to the vault of the Empire State Bank on Third Street.  They left quickly, 
leaving more questions than currency.”  The group watched the rest of the report in silence, 
breaking into a cheer when it was over.  

North silenced them all with his strong voice.  “All right,” he said.  “We’ve all done good.  
But let’s not get cocky.  We’ll be doing this again soon, and chances are we won’t catch them 
off guard, like we did today.”

The front door opened, but no one panicked.  Their home held many rooms, and garage space for 
six cars, but the only people with keys were the members of North’s Dozen and Ash herself.  Any 
burglar foolish enough to invade their castle would regret it for the rest of their short life.

Jessica Post was at the door.  Lizzy met her friend with a hot dinner plate, and Jessica 
accepted it gratefully.  While eating wasn’t required for them, the nature of the ritual served 
to bind the group closer together.

“I made contact with her,” Jessica reported.  “I can’t say for sure whether it will work, but 
it should.”

North nodded.  “Good,” he said.  “Contacting Pandora is important to Ash.  If your friend is 
unsuccessful, we’ll have to try something else.”



Act Two

On Thursday, after a morning of scrounging for clues and coming up empty, Ezekiel Stone headed 
back to the Hotel Mezzanine

“Hey, Stone,” Alex said from behind the front desk.  She was talking with a young man in his 
early twenties.  “Come check this out.” Stone made his way over to the pair.  “Look at this 
thing.”

She held out what looked like a TV remote control.  “Okay,” Stone said, “What is it?”

“It’s a remote control that Robert invented,” she answered.  “It’s voice controlled.”

“I’m still working on it,” Robert said.  

“Watch this,” Alex said, pointing the device at the television set behind the desk.  
“Thirteen.”  The channel changed to 13.  “Isn’t that cool, Zeke?”

Stone was impressed.  “It’s no flying car, but somehow appropriate for the year 2000.  I 
wouldn’t mind having one.”

The TV flipped over to channel one, which was broadcasting nothing but static.  White noise 
flooded their ears.

“Oops,” Robert said.  

Alex explained, “It takes some getting used to.”

The TV switched over to channel two, treating them to an afternoon soap opera.  Stone grinned.  

“Still, you have to admit, it’s pretty cool.” Alex said, seeming slightly defensive.  

“What’s wrong with the remotes that we have now?” Stone asked Robert, “Other than the fact that 
they get lost easily.”

“Nothing,” Robert said.  “This is just something I was fooling around with.  I’ve got lots of 
little projects like this.  Most of them, people would have even less use for.”

When the station changed this time, it caught a news broadcast on channel four.  “Another bank 
heist this morning,” the announcer read.  “Similar to Tuesday’s robbery at the Empire State 
Bank on Third, it took place in the early morning.”

“Leave it,” Stone said, seeing Alex aim the remote at the television.  “I want to hear this.”

“Police believe this was the work of the same gang, with a half dozen organized thieves 
entering the building before it opened for business, the same MO as Tuesday’s robbery.  Four 
guards were killed in the hold up, twice as many as on Tuesday.  Ironically, one of the guards 
was brought in as additional security because of the first robbery.

“The police are still unsure as to how the gang is gaining access to the buildings.  Police are 
asking anyone with information on the bank robberies to call police at the hotline they have 
established.”  The announcer read the number.  

“I wonder how much they got away with,” Robert said.  “I could use an extra million.”

“No kidding,” Alex agreed.  “I’d just be happy with having law school paid off.”

“Well, don’t go robbing banks to get the money,” Stone chided her.  “You have to get the law 
degree BEFORE you steal from people.”

“Ha ha,” she smiled.  “I would never do something like that.  I’d be afraid of getting shot, 
feeling a bullet tear through me.”  She shuddered.  “No thank you.”

Stone considered that.  Fearless bank robbers.  He certainly knew some people in that category.  
Could this be the work of damned souls?

“Okay, I’m heading back upstairs,” Robert told them.  To Stone, he said, “Nice meeting you.”

“Thanks,” Stone replied as the young man picked up his invention.  “You too.”

Alex cringed as the television switched to channel two.


				*		*		*

The address that Jessica had given her was in Harlem.  Arden Corvina took the subway into the 
borough and walked the few blocks to the rundown apartment complex where Pandora lived.

A line of bass pounded through the neighborhood, a thumping presence so constant that all life 
seemed to move in time with it.  Arden walked in time to the beat, adapting herself to the 
local environment.  Children stopped their playing to watch this stranger, waiting to see what 
her destination might be.  

Arden knocked on the door of apartment 122.  There was a aroma of incense, so thick and cloying 
that she couldn’t help but notice a darker odor layered beneath.  It wasn’t quite the smell of 
gangrene, but it was the first connection that her mind made.

The pinprick of light in the peephole disappeared.  Arden waited, preparing her first words to 
Pandora.  Too long, her family had suffered.  Her hope had been rekindled by Jessica’s tale of 
this stranger.  

“Please,” she said to the person behind the door.  “I was told you could help me.”

There was silence for a moment, then a withered voice replied, “Go away.”

Arden noticed she had attracted the attention of the local children.  Down the hall, three of 
them were staring at her.  “Could I just talk to you for a minute?”

After a pause, the voice answered, “I never open my door to strangers.”

“My name is Arden Corvina,” she announced.  “I’m afraid Nancy will be killed if you can’t help 
me.  She’s only twenty, she’s got her whole life ahead of her.”

There was no response.

“Hello?” she asked desperately.  

Again, quiet was the only reply.

Arden looked around in frustration.  The children still watched her.  Nancy was just a child 
too, and she had to protect her.  She put her hand on the doorknob, determined to gain entrance.

No force was necessary.  The door swung smoothly open at her touch.  

The apartment was lit only by candles, dozens of them, spread out in bunches here and there.  
The decaying smell was stronger now, but she ignored it and stepped inside.  “My name is Arden 
Corvina,” she repeated.

“I know who you are,” came the reply.

Arden took her first look at Pandora.  Her face was old, a tangle of dark wrinkles that somehow 
made her look wise.  Her hair, which certainly must have been dark when she was younger, was an 
unkempt thicket of gray that had been channeled down her back.  Two thin hands protruded from 
the black robe that she wore.  

Pandora seated herself at the table centered in the room and motioned Arden to the opposite 
seat.  “His name is Hector Runningwolf,” she said.

Arden sat down heavily, waiting to hear what Pandora would reveal next.

“He stalks your family, looking to destroy the Ravenwood name forever.  Nancy is his next 
target, because of her great, great, great, great, great, grandmother’s actions.”  

Pandora’s eyes were a clear blue, alive and youthful, a jarring contradiction with her wizened 
frame.  Arden stared deep into her tranquil pupils, feeling the peace she saw there envelop her.  
“Where can I find him?” she asked, her voice sluggish.

“Don’t worry about finding him,” Pandora replied.  “He’ll find you.”

“I must stop him.”

Pandora reached out across the table, resting her hands on top of Arden’s.  Arden’s mind 
recoiled at the touch, but she didn’t move.  The smell of rotting flesh was overpowering now.  
“Runningwolf died years ago,” Pandora said.  “Only when his eyes are destroyed will your family 
be safe.”

Arden was unable to look away from Pandora’s piercing stare.  Her mind felt fogged, lethargic.  
She focused on her strongest thought.  “Nancy.  I have to protect Nancy.”

Pandora clamped down on Arden’s hands.  “You can’t save her,” she laughed cruelly.

The pain was a like a machete, Arden wielded it ruthlessly to hack away at the cobwebs in her 
psyche.  She forced herself into mobility.  “I can,” Arden insisted as she snatched her hands 
back from Pandora’s grip.  “And I will.”  

Her exodus from the apartment was a blur.  The next thing she remembered was a child tugging at 
her sleeve.  “Hey, lady, are you okay?” he asked.  “Nobody ever comes out of Pandora’s place.”

Arden looked around the hall.  The door to apartment 122 was closed.  She took a deep breath 
of the fresh air.  “The eyes,” she told the child, recalling what she’d gleaned from Pandora, 
“Destroy the eyes, and Nancy will be safe.”

				*		*		*

Mario’s was a quiet bar, not too crowded.  Almost every time Stone visited, Mario, the owner, 
was seated at a table in the back.  This afternoon, however, his usual table was vacant, making 
the establishment seem even emptier without his three hundred pound frame.  

Stone took a seat at the bar, ordering a beer as he waited for Detective Kane.  He still wasn’t 
much closer to finding Todd Ravenwood’s murderer, he wasn’t ever sure if it was the work of a 
damned soul.  

A copy of the case file was in front of him.  He’d had to steal it, but felt justified.  A 
disturbingly high percentage of the murder cases he’d been around had involved a damned souls, 
and this could easily be one.  The locals would have no chance at wrapping up this case without 
his help.  He opened the file, glancing briefly at the crime scene photos.  

Detective William Kane entered the bar.  It was late afternoon, and he had just finished his 
shift.  He spotted his friend, and sat next to him, noticing the photos that Stone was looking 
at.  “New case?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” Stone replied.  “I was there when the body was found, so it’s more of a personal 
thing.  How about you, you working the bank robberies?”

Kane signaled for a beer.  “Six people dead, and a lot of money missing.  Everyone’s working on 
it.”

“Any reason to think that our karmically challenged friends might be involved?” Stone asked, 
inventing the euphemism on the spot as the bartender approached with Kane’s order.  

“Nothing obvious,” Kane said.  “The vault hinges were melted in Tuesday’s robbery, but we’ve 
seen that before.  One thing, today.  Three of the guards fired their weapons.  But there’s no 
blood, no flattened shells like you’d find with a vest.  So either they all missed, or the 
bullets passed right through them.”

They considered that for a moment, then Kane continued, “It reminded me of a case I had, a 
couple years back, before I met you.  Aldo Cagliari.  He did a couple years upstate for bank 
robbery.  Got out, went right back to it.  First Bank, over on Lexington?  Got him on video, 
clear as day.

“He walks in, hands the teller a note.  While she’s emptying the till, security guard comes up 
behind him.  Bang!  He’s shot in the gut, turns around, takes out the guard.  He bolts, leaving 
the money and a trail of blood.”

“Sounds open and shut,” Stone says.

“You’d think.  We track him down, first thing in the morning, and he answers the door, real 
casual like.  Everything about him screams, ‘I did it’, but one problem - he’s not shot.”

“What?”

“Had to let him go.  His lawyer hollered when we wanted a blood sample, and the judge agreed.  
Never solved.  I know he’s the guy that did it, but it can’t be proved.”

“When did you say it happened?”

Kane thought it over.  “I’d say, about a month before the altar boys started disappearing.”

Stone considered.  “You know, that’s about when the escape occurred.” 

“What are you thinking?”

“You said it was a bad wound.  Think it might have been fatal?”

Kane finished the thought.  “If he’d died that night, and went to Hell.  If that was when the 
escape was, he could have been back before anyone knew he was gone.  And he’d be healed.”

“It’s possible.”

“Let me see if we have an address on him.”  Kane pulled his cell phone out and dialed his 
station house, asking them to check it out and call him back.

Stone flipped through his case folder, still looking for a piece of evidence that would point 
him in the right direction.  Nothing caught his attention.

Kane reached for one of the photos and examined it.  “You said, you found the body?” he asked.  
Stone nodded.  “What happened?”

“Todd Ravenwood,” Stone said, passing him a picture showing Todd as a smiling father at Nancy’s 
graduation.  “51, survived by one daughter.  He was working late, alone, in the family 
restaurant.  Nothing to indicate a struggle, or anything else out of the ordinary.  The guy was 
a Vietnam Veteran.  Apparently, military service is a strong family tradition.

“The people who opened the restaurant didn’t know anything was wrong, until his body was found.  
No sign of forced entry, so it could have been someone that he knew.  Or, maybe he opened the 
door for a stranger.”

“Anyone else have keys?”  

“Just the day manager, Arden Corvina.  She’s the one who found him, in their shared office.  It 
was locked, and his keys were taken, so the killer could have locked the door from the outside.”  
Stone caught Kane’s eye.  “But, the door was chained from the inside.  I had to break it open 
to get inside.”

“A locked door mystery,” Kane said.  “I’ve never had one of those before.  Think he locked it 
before he died, trying to keep the killer out of the room?”

Stone passed him another crime scene photo, showing Todd slumped forward over his desk.  “Cause 
of death, a single gunshot wound to the head.”

Kane took another look at the snapshot.  “What’s that in his left hand?”

“His scalp.”

“His what?  Like, cowboys and indians, scalp?”

“Yeah.”  Stone tipped back his beer.

“Okay, these are the main points as I see them.”  Kane raised a finger.  “One.  Looks like this 
was personal, so who wanted him dead?  Two.  How did the room get locked from the inside?  
Three, how did the killer get into the building?”

“Isn’t that the same question that you’re asking, in the bank robberies?” Stone observed.

“Think it’s related?”  Kane’s cell phone rang.  He answered it, and spoke briefly.  “No luck 
finding Cagliari.  Dropped off the radar after the First Bank robbery.  No known address.”

“Back to square one.”  Stone ordered another beer.  “So, how do you like the Yankees this year?”

				*		*		*

Rosalyn trembled as the phone rang.  She held the receiver pressed to her ear, hoping for Dan 
to pick up.  She’d given him the benefit of the doubt, and assumed that the woman from earlier 
was a mistake, not a mistress.

“Hello,” Dan said.  She couldn’t help but to smile at the sound of his voice.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she greeted him.  

“Roz?” he exclaimed.  After a pause, he asked, “Is everything all right?”

“Of course,” she replied.  

“I haven’t heard from you in a while,” he said.  “I’ve been worried about you.”

“I’ve been worried about you, too,” she admitted.  “How’s Maya?” 

“She’s fine,” Dan said.  “How’s Susan?”

“Mom’s good,” Rosalyn answered.  

No one said anything for a moment.

“I talked to Stephen this weekend,” Dan said.  “He’s doing fine, happy to finally be out of 
school.”  

“I called him for graduation,” she said.  

“He told me.”  Silence again.  “Roz, how are you?”  An innocent question, on the surface, but 
Dan waited fearfully for her answer.

“I miss you.  I know we were only married for a few months before you left, but I was happy.  
I wish you were coming home now.”

“I miss you too,” Dan replied.  “There’s no one in all of Brazil that can cook chicken 
casserole like you.”

Rosalyn laughed at that, and was surprised to find that tears were running down her cheeks.  
“I miss cooking for you.”

“Roz,” Dan asked slowly, “when I get back, will you come home to LA?”

“I can’t, not right away,” she answered.

“Oh.”

“But I was hoping you’d come out to New York, and meet my mother and my friends.”

“Anything,” Dan promised.  “Roz, I love you.  Anything I can do to make our marriage work, 
please, tell me.”

“It won’t be just for me that you’d be coming out here for,” Rosalyn said.  “It would be for 
me and our daughter.”

There was a clunk as Dan dropped the phone.  Rosalyn waited, her heart pounding loud enough 
that she could hear it in the silence.

“Roz?  Are you there?”

“I’m here, Dan.”

“Our... You’re pregnant?  We’re having a... A daughter?  Roz, that’s, that’s great!  When?  
When are you due?”

“August,” she answered.  “A month after you get home.  Please, come out here.”

“A daughter!”  Dan laughed, a happy sound.  “Honey, that’s great!  God, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Rosalyn confided, tears flowing openly.  She cupped one hand around her 
swollen belly, including their child in its first family conversation.  

				*		*		*

A phone call from Nancy woke him the next morning.  “Sorry to bother you,” she said.  “The 
police just found Dad’s keys.”  Her voice trembled.  “I thought you’d want to know, if you’re 
still helping investigate.”

“Thank you,” Stone replied.  “I’ll be right there.”

				*		*		*

Officer Naugle was on the scene again.  In the alley behind the restaurant, a half block away, 
yellow police tape marked the location.

“You again,” Naugle said when he caught sight of Ezekiel Stone.  “Don’t you have anything 
better to do?”  

“I’ve got a personal involvement in this one,” Stone replied.  “I heard you found the keys.”

Naugle sighed.  He held up a clear evidence bag.  Inside was a small key ring, with 4 keys, a 
black plastic fob advertising the Ravenwood Diner, and a rabbit’s foot.  Clearly, it hadn’t 
been lucky for its owner.  “One of the dishwashers spotted them on their way into work.  Miss 
Ravenwood called us immediately.  If we’re lucky, we’ll get a print.”

“If the perp dropped the keys as they were fleeing the scene, you should check the rest of the 
alley for the murder weapon.  It may have been dropped down a drain, or tossed over the fence.”

“We’re working on it, Detective.  Believe it or not, we do know how to run an investigation.”  

Stone held up his hands in apology.  “I just want to see this guy caught.”

“Then let me get back to work,”  Naugle told him, turning away.

Stone looked over the scene again.  The back door of the Ravenwood Diner was clearly visible 
from here, but over a hundred feet away.  He reached in his pocket, removing his own key ring.  
What if the keys had been thrown?  It was farther than most humans could, certainly, but for 
him...

No one was watching, and Ezekiel drew back his arm.  The keys landed within a few feet of the 
back door.

As he walked the distance to the keys, he considered.  If the keys had been thrown from back 
door, maybe the murder weapon had been as well.  Wind resistance had certainly slowed the keys 
down.  He was sure the weight of the gun would allow him to throw it farther.  Stone hefted his 
gun, estimating distance on the same vector the keys were on.  

				*		*		*

Farther down the alley, he easily leaped over a fence into a backyard.  The right side of the 
yard was decorated with a series of small bushes.  Stone searched behind them.  

There was a 9mm pistol resting on a bed of needles.  “Bingo.” Stone said, allowing himself a 
smile as he picked it up.


Act Three

The gun turned out to be registered to Benny Barboda, of 3482 17th street, apartment 507.  It 
was a corner apartment in the middle class part of town.  The halls were clean, but a good coat 
of paint would vastly improve the decor.  

Stone knocked on the door, his gun ready but out of sight.  From inside, he heard a chair 
scrape, and footsteps approach.  The door swung open.

The man holding the door towered over him.  He was Native American, dressed in simple clothes 
and wearing his long hair behind him.  Something in his expression hinted at recognition of the 
man who’d approached his apartment.

“Hold it right there,” Stone ordered, raising his weapon, but Hector Runningwolf moved just as 
quickly, closing the door.  Stone kicked at it before it could close all the way.  He tracked 
left and right with his gun as he followed after Wolf.

The apartment was empty.

The window in the bedroom was open, the curtain flapping in the breeze.  Stone looked down at 
the street below.  There were a few people out on the sidewalks, but none that appeared to be 
fleeing the scene.  

Stone toured the apartment again, but there was no sign of the man he’d seen.  His quarry had 
vanished.

With a sigh, he went back to close the front door and begin a search of the apartment.  The 
food in the refrigerator was expired and beginning to spoil, except for four new cartons of 
orange juice.  In a cookie jar on the top shelf, he found a wad of twenties, totaling four 
hundred dollars.  

The living room was dirty, with litter all over the floor.  The windows there faced the alley, 
with a fire escape just outside.  They were both unlocked.

In the back bedroom, he found conclusive evidence that this was the creature stalking the 
Ravenwood family.  It was disturbing.  A family tree was posted on one wall, starting with Mary 
and Mark Ravenwood, who were married in 1868.  The tree that grew from their union was pruned in 
many places over the years, predominately in years that the United States was engaged in wars.  
Arden had told him that military service was a strong family tradition.  

Nancy was the lowest remaining branch on the tree.  Apparently, her oldest brother had died in 
the Gulf War a few years back.  With her youngest brother dead in the car accident early this 
year, she was best hope for carrying on the Ravenwood bloodline.

There was a knock on the door.  Stone hurried to the front door and peered through the peephole.  
He was surprised to see he recognized the young woman.

It was Lizzy Darke, who he had met New Year’s Eve on the roof of the Edison Hotel.  He’d 
suspected she was part of North Ratare’s team.  If that was true, and if the same group was 
responsible for the bank robberies, this was an excellent opportunity for him.

But how to get information from her?  On the roof, he’d been able to appeal to her conscience, 
and get information to prevent the Times Square bombing.  While a million deaths was still 
abhorrent to her, the casual murder of bank guards was probably not interrupting her sleep.

Subterfuge was the only choice here.  It might not work, but he had to try.  Concentrating, he 
recalled the image of the man he had just seen.  He’d been able to change his shape before, 
with limited success.  Stone recalled the series of images that Ash had taught him.  The a 
priori montage was a blur, but generated the necessary hatred for him to focus his Hell Powers.  
One face caught his attention for a brief moment, but it was gone before he could place it.

His point of view began to raise until he was a foot taller.  The hand he reached out to the 
doorknob was dark skinned and clearly not his own, but the tattoos that peeked from underneath 
his sleeve were easily recognizeable.  There was no time to find a mirror, he had to hope for 
the best.  Besides, he always had his gun if he needed.

Lizzy Darke stared curiously at him when she saw him.  “Wolf?” she asked.  At least he had a 
name now, or part of one.  He motioned for her to step inside, not trusting his voice.

She got right to the point.  “North sent me to tell you that we’re hitting the bank that you 
wanted tomorrow, just like you asked.”

Stone nodded his understanding, mentally cheering.  Proof that the robberies were the work of 
damned souls.  But he still needed the name of the bank, and a time.

“North said you better be on time, too,” Lizzy told him.  “Why doesn’t he like you?  Did you 
know him... before?”

Stone shook his head.

“He gets so pissed, but only when you’re not around.  It’s weird.”

She was getting ready to leave, he could tell.  He’d never heard Wolf speak, and didn’t think 
that his changed appearance covered vocal cords, or whatever he had that passed for them.  
Still, he had to try.
“Go over the plan with me again.”

Lizzy looked at him strangely.  “I told you, it’s the plan you wanted.  North said this is the 
only time, though.  Don’t think your abilities give you the right to dictate to the rest of us.  
Whatever.  I’m out of here.”  

She stepped to the door.  Stone got out her way, trying to think.  If he pressed too hard, 
spooked her somehow, the robbery might be called off.  

In the hall, Lizzy turned back and again looked at him oddly.  Staying in character, Stone 
closed the door.  

He went to the living room window.  The alley below was deserted.  Already, his shape was 
reverting to the image he had of himself.  Stone stepped out onto the fire escape, his self 
esteem taking a mild hit as he lost the increased height Wolf’s appearance had brought him.

				*		*		*

He fell five stories in a few seconds, slamming into the pavement with enough force to crack 
the concrete.  Once again he marveled at the damage that he could take without impairment.  
Being undead had its high points.  

Stepping out onto 17th street, Stone looked for Lizzy Darke.  Taxis were sparse, and Lizzy 
walked toward him.  Stone ducked back into the alley, biding his time.

When she went by him, he grabbed her and flipped her into the alley.  Her flight took her into 
the side of a dumpster, which she rebounded off of with a metal twang.  Stone had only closed 
half of the distance to her before she was on her feet, her wavy brown hair a tangle.  Her eyes 
blazed with hellfire.  

“Lizzy Darke,” Stone said, drawing his gun.  “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?  Robbing those 
banks, killing those guards.”

“Zeke Stone,” she replied.  “How’d you find me?”

He ignored her question.  “You helped me before,” he said.  “If it wasn’t for you, Ash would 
have killed all those people in Times Square.  Make it a new beginning.  Tell me where the next 
target is.”  

“Can’t do it,” she said.  

Again, he tried to appeal to her.  “Ash is still trying to bring the end of the world.  To 
destroy Heaven.  How can you help her?”

Lizzy’s eyes scanned the alley, looking for a route to run, then flicked back to the gun that 
Stone held on her.  “YOU helped her too,” she replied, meeting his gaze.

Stone flinched.  He’d suspected as much, but this was the first confirmation he’d had.  “She’s 
pregnant, isn’t she?”

“You didn’t know?”

His gun wavered a little as he tried to regain his composure.  “It was a moment of weakness.”  
He had to keep her talking, so he revealed more of his story.  “My... widow... was getting 
remarried that night.  She was the reason I came back from Hell, and I missed my chance with 
her.”  

“You think God cares about motives?” Lizzy challenged.  “My boyfriend wasn’t perfect, but I 
still loved him.  When he got arrested, I gave him an alibi, even testified to it in court.”

“Thou shalt not bear false witness,” Stone said softly.

“So when he got let off, the police found a new suspect,” Lizzy continued.  “It was this guy we 
knew, Kevin Hood.  All he had was a public defender and no alibi.  He got three years in 
prison.”  She looked away for a minute.  “He never made it out alive.”

“He must have been guilty of something, right?”  Stone said.

“You pig,” she snarled.  “All you cops are the same.  Always thinking the worst of people, 
always thinking everyone’s guilty, thinking you’re so perfect.  But you’re not, are you?  You 
went to Hell, just like me.”

“Lizzy,” he said, “I don’t think the worst about you.”  She calmed slightly.  “This is your 
second chance at life, and I think you can do better this time around.”  He gave her a moment 
to think it over.  “Tell me where I can find Ash.”

“No,” she said simply.

“Give me North, then.”

“No,” she repeated.  “I’m not giving them up, so you might as well go ahead and shoot.”

Stone sighed.  He had a backup plan, something he’d arranged for an opportunity like this.  
With his free hand, he removed a business card from his wallet.  “Here,” he said, tossing it 
towards Lizzy.  

She didn’t move.  “What is it?”

“A message service.  If you change your mind, you can call them, and they’ll contact me.”

“You’re going to let me go?” she asked, unbelieving.

Stone thought back to the woman he’d met six month’s earlier, and how depressed she’d seemed at 
the thought of bombing Times Square.  Sure, Lizzy had made mistakes, but he was confident that 
her connection with humanity still had life in it.  “Take the card,” he said.

She did.

				*		*		*

Sophia D’Amato was the last to arrive; William Kane and Ezekiel Stone were already there.  
“What’s going on?” she asked.

“The bank robberies,” Kane said as she sat down at the table.  “We’ve got a tip on where the 
next hit is going to be.”

“I found the murder weapon from another case,” Stone explained.  “I followed the registration, 
and found the owner had suddenly moved away.  According to the caretaker, my suspect is 
subleasing the place... but it sure doesn’t look like the other guy moved out.”

“What does this have to do with us?” she asked.

“He’s in on the bank robberies,” Stone said.  “It’s a whole team of damned souls.  I’m asking 
for your help, because I think we can ambush them.  If I go in myself, they’ll recognize me.  
Not to mention outnumber me.”

“Isn’t this a little dangerous?” she said.  

Stone nodded.  “For all of us.”

D’Amato sighed, brushing a rogue strand of hair back.  “Where at?”

“Well,” Stone hedged, “we’re not really sure.  But I’ve got an inside connection with one of 
them.  I’m hoping that she’ll call me, and let me know.”

“And how are we supposed to take on a half dozen of those creatures?” Sophia demanded.  “Don’t 
get me wrong, I want revenge for my father.  If you have a good plan, I’m in.  But I’m not 
going to throw my life away on a half assed attempt.”

Stone unfolded his scheme.

				*		*		*

It was midnight.  Hector Runningwolf had been by Nancy Ravenwood’s apartment once before, to 
verify that she lived there.  He was a patient man.  In the two years since the escape from 
Hell, he had eliminated almost the entire Ravenwood family.  The old woman this week had just 
been a bonus, he couldn’t have planned that.

He was a patient man, but understood his increased role in Ash’s war put him at greater risk.  
Sooner or later, the spirit hunter from this afternoon would find him again.  His mission must 
be accomplished before he died again, so tonight must be Nancy’s night.

It was his unfinished vendetta that had kept him from joining his ancestors in the afterlife, 
he knew.  This time, when it was complete, his spirit would join theirs.  

He’d been a hunter in his tribe in his younger days.  As he came of age, he remembered the 
white men who had moved into the Osage lands.  He remembered their migration to the lands of 
the Kansas tribe, where representatives of the white man had promised them good land forever.

For a time, all went well.  But as he grew older, and left the hunting to younger braves, 
white men again appeared on their land.  When he became one of the tribe’s leading medicine 
men, he was often called on to heal the wounds from the white man’s guns.  

Some things could not be tolerated.

He focused on the spirits of his ancestors, recalled the animals that served the Great Spirit.  
All things did, in their own way, and he began to share other attributes of the Great Spirit.  
Instead of his human form, he called on the spirit of the mouse, and took its shape.

His arms and legs diminished the most, becoming disproportionate to his body.  His neck swelled, 
his clothes changed from denim to a white fur.  he sprouted a tail, thin and hairless.  His 
thumbs disappeared, while the rest of his fingers shrank to minute nubs.

In the power of transformation, Runningwolf let out a roar.  In his new form, it came out as a 
squeak.

Tiny now, Hector easily slipped under the front door of Nancy’s apartment as easily as he had 
exited Todd Ravenwood’s office.  Once inside, he thanked the Great Spirit, and resumed his 
familiar shape.  From inside his vest, he removed the knife that he always carried.  Blade held 
high, he prowled towards Nancy’s room.

				*		*		*

The June night was cool, but humid.  Nancy Ravenwood’s air conditioner kept the temperature 
cooler than average, at 70 degrees.  The window unit was in her living room so the door to her 
bedroom was wide open to encourage circulation.  

Wolf moved silently into her room, his steps as quiet as if he were tracking a deer through a 
forest.  Any whisper of noise was easily drowned out by the AC.  

The form under the sheet in her bed lay still.  Hector watched it a moment, savoring the 
moment.  This would be his ultimate triumph.  But something was wrong.

He swept the dark sheet off of the bed, revealing a mannequin underneath.  He had just enough 
time to realize he’d been tricked when the flashbulb went off.  

				*		*		*

“Hey Alex,” Robert said, coming into the hotel lobby.  “Did it work?”

“Don’t know,” she answered.  “Zeke will tell us tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, disappointed.  “It’s the first invention I actually sold, and it was 
really simple too.  I just took the trigger from a panic alarm, and hooked it up to a flash 
bulb.  What did Zeke want it for, anyway.”  

“I don’t know,” Alex replied.  “Ask him in the morning.”

“Okay,” Robert said.  “I’m just taking a break from the other project, I’ve got to get back to 
it.  See you later.”

“My shift is over, I’m officially off duty,” Alex said.  “Just one quick stop before I head 
home.”

				*		*		*

When the bright light flooded the room, Zeke came alert in the closet.  He hadn’t heard any 
sign of entry into the apartment.  That was the first part of the trap, to let him know when 
Wolf was in the room.

He’d rigged the bi-fold doors to the closet, so they swung only on one hinge.  They burst open 
at his touch, and he aimed the gun at the man standing over Nancy’s bed.

The second part of the trap had worked just as well.  Wolf was temporary blinded by the 5,000 
candlepower flash.  He was still rubbing his eyes when Stone fired his first shot.

It went high, and Wolf’s attention snapped into focus on his attacker.  Wolf reached down and 
gripped the corner of the bed, flipping it up and towards Stone.  The mannequin flopped off of 
the mattress, tumbling to the floor, where its head popped free.  

Wolf ducked down as the bed hit Ezekiel Stone in the wrist.  His gun fired again, going high 
over the vertical bed frame.  Stone swiveled his aim and squeezed the trigger twice more, 
firing through mattress in hope of hitting Wolf. 

Hidden from sight, Hector Runningwolf took the form of his namesake.  With a growl, a silver 
wolf sprang six feet in the air and over the bed frame, his leap intersecting Ezekiel’s arm.  
The canine sank his teeth into Stone’s flesh, twisting him to the ground with his weight.  
Stone dropped his gun, striking out at his assailant.  As they thrashed around, the bed frame 
fell over on top of them.

Wolf stuck at Stone again and again, impaling him with his fangs.  Stone struggled, trying to 
push the lupine figure away.  He finally succeeded, forcing Wolf out from under the bed frame 
that still pinned him to the ground.

Even as Wolf was thrust away, his shape reverted to bipedal form.  Stone kicked away the 
rectangle that held him down, launching it into the far corner of the room.  Hector Runningwolf 
drew his blade, and stepped towards Stone.  Stone rolled away, lifting himself into a standing 
position as he grabbed the only item at hand to block Wolf’s knife strike; the plastic leg of 
the mannequin.

Stone swung out with the appendage, his eyes casting frantically for his firearm.  Wolf lunged 
with his weapon, only to have it turned away by Stone’s prosthetic.  While the Indian was off 
balance, Stone shoved him backwards after planting the plastic foot into his chest.  

His gun had ended up near the doorway, Stone dove for it.  His hand complete again, he pointed 
it at Wolf just as the larger man jumped on top of him.  Two shots to his torso slowed him for 
only a second before he crashed down onto Stone.  

Stone found himself flat on his back as his hands were pinned back.  Wolf head butted him twice, 
causing a flare of pain in his nose and skull.  Dazed, Stone looked up helplessly as Hector 
Runningwolf gave a low growl, showing his teeth.

				*		*		*

Alexandra Gray knocked softly on the door of room 409 in the Hotel Mezzanine.  “Nancy?” she 
asked softly.  It was just after midnight, but Nancy’s light was still on.  

Nancy opened the door, wrapped in a robe and clearly wide awake.  “Alex,” she said, “Hi.  Is 
everything okay?  Did you hear from Zeke?”

“No,” Alex told her.  “I just wanted to make sure you were all right before I went home.”

Nancy opened her door wider, inviting Alex to come inside.  “I can’t sleep.  It’s hard to 
picture someone trying to murder me.”

“I’ll bet,” Alex replied, sitting down in a chair.  

“I wish Jake could come over,” Nancy said wistfully.  “But he’s working tonight.”

“Still going to work tomorrow?”

“Of course, if I can ever get some shut-eye.  Aunt Arden said she’d come by to check on me.”  

“She seems like a nice woman,” Alex said.  “Having family there to help you is a wonderful 
thing.”

“She is a nice woman,” Nancy agreed, “But she’s not actually related.  We just call her Aunt 
Arden because she seems like part of the family.”  Nancy looked to the clock on the wall.  
“It’s after midnight.  I wonder where she is?”

				*		*		*

Arden Corvina watched the struggle in Nancy’s room.  She knew there was no chance the detective 
could win, but he had served his purpose, distracting Wolf.  “The eyes,” she whispered, 
repeating the mantra that Pandora had given her.  “Nancy will be safe.”  Arden raised the gun 
she had brought with her and fired, striking Hector Runningwolf in the left eye.

He howled, an unearthly cry that chilled her to the bone.  An explosion of blue light spewed 
from the punctured socket.  Arden stepped back, unprepared for the sight.

Ezekiel Stone took advantage of the distraction.  He pushed Wolf backwards, scrambling for his 
own weapon to finish off the wounded creature.

				*		*		*

Wolf landed on all fours, his discipline allowing him to maintain focus even with the pain to 
his soul.  Sacred to his people, the mighty bison had always benefited the tribe with every 
part of its soul; from the skins which fortified one against winter nights, to the sweet taste 
of the hump, even the bones could be formed into tools.  Now, Hector Runningwolf channeled the 
spirit of the bison into himself.  

The animal transformation was more painful then usual, but Wolf bore it stoically.  The 
contortions of his soul were worth the agony.  Wolf tossed his head, feeling the tremendous 
muscle in his neck, the horns on his head, the liquid fire that traveled through his veins.  
The woman fired at him repeatedly, and he felt the stings of hot lead, but did not allow it to 
distract him.  Directly in front of him was his first target, still laying on the floor.  
Runningwolf charged.

He trampled the man, bringing his hooves down in as many places as he could.  Without 
sacrificing speed, he tore down through the short hallway into the living room, widening the 
door frame as he passed.  Arden continued to fire, aiming just right of the blue blur that 
presented itself to her.  Wolf lowered his head.  

She was still firing when he struck her, his right horn slipping into her.  He flung her 
through the air, her useless gun falling to the floor.  An involuntary scream escaped from her 
lips, so great was the pain.  An armchair broke her fall, and she collapsed backwards on it, 
her spine bent at an obtuse angle.  She fell silent.

The bison slammed into the opposite wall, the sturdy construction halting his rampage.  Unfazed, 
he turned back to face Ezekiel Stone.  The fire in his left eye still flared.  

				*		*		*

Ezekiel pulled himself up on one knee.  His gun felt heavier than usual.  Sharp pain stabbed at 
him where the hooves had punctured him.  One shot was all he needed to send this creature back 
to the fires of Hell.

The room seemed quiet now, with Arden’s aborted scream still ringing in his ears.  He could hear 
each breath the bison took, watching its great nostrils flare in rhythm.  With a snort, the 
creature charged toward him.  

Stone focused on the beast’s remaining eye.  It was as if everything was happening in slow 
motion.  Before he even pulled the trigger, he felt the rightness of his timing, confident of a 
direct hit.

Just behind his surge of certainty, but prior to squeezing the trigger, Hector Runningwolf 
disappeared.

				*		*		*

Nancy’s apartment was structured exactly like the one below.  In the middle of the living room, 
there were no walls beneath the floor for added support.  The floor, already weakened from the 
first charge of the bison, gave way without protest as Wolf passed over it again.  

The beast fell into the apartment below, landing on a loveseat that was perfectly positioned.  
His weight crushed it, but he quickly reverted to his human form.  

Wolf stood, looking up just in time to see Ezekiel Stone aiming his gun downwards.  He bolted, 
running forward, trying to get his bearings.  

				*		*		*

Before he jumped into the hole in the floor, Stone gave one last glance at Arden Corvina’s 
still form, her shirt torn where she had been gored, her limp body bent backwards over the 
armchair.   There was no time to reflect on it, and he followed after his prey.

Wolf was running into the dining room.  Stone landed in a crouch, and watched in amazement as 
Wolf leapt through the window without breaking stride.  Stone made it there just a moment 
later, just in time to see Runningwolf slough off his human shape for something more 
appropriate.  An eagle took wing, and flew off into the night as the blue flare from its eye 
finally died away.  

Sirens were already cutting through the quiet night.  Disgusted, Stone turned away from the 
window.  It hadn’t been a good night.

				*		*		*

It was late when he made it back to the Hotel Mezzanine.  Rob, a young guy with glasses and a 
beard, was on the desk.  Stone nodded hello as he walked through the lobby.

Alex had gotten a room for Nancy Ravenwood on his floor, and he saw that her light was still 
on. In the stillness of the late night, he could hear voices coming from her room.  He knocked.

Alexandra answered the door.  “Zeke, hey,”  she greeted him, letting him into the room.  

Nancy looked crestfallen when she saw him.  “Hi, Zeke.  I was hoping you were Aunt Arden.”  

Stone recalled the last view he had had of Arden Corvina.  “Sorry, no,” he told her, unable to 
give her the bad news.  “How are you holding up?”

“Still alive,” she joked, but her heart wasn’t in it.  Silence hovered, chased away when Nancy 
yawned. 

“You should get some sleep,” Alex told her.  “We’ll leave.”

“You’re not planning on working tomorrow, are you?” Stone asked.  

“I have to,” Nancy answered.  “Friday is bank day.  Have to make sure there is money to cover 
paychecks.”

Something clicked.  “You go to the bank every Friday?” Stone asked.

“Always,” Nancy answered.  

“Tomorrow,” Stone said, “I think you’re going to have an escort.”


Act Four

“I don’t like it,” Aldo Cagliari said.  “Why are all the blinds down in the bank?”  

“I don’t know,” North replied, standing next to him on the street corner opposite North 
Manhattan National Bank.  “Go check it out, hang out in there for a few minutes.  We’ll be 
right behind you.  If anything looks suspicious, come out immediately, and wave the whole thing 
off.”

“Okay, boss,” Aldo agreed, crossing the street.  North watched him go.  He disliked that Hector 
Runningwolf had set up this robbery, hell, he disliked just about everything about the man.  
But there was nothing wrong with the plan; just a straightforward theft.  

There was no sign of Wolf, he was late again.  Too bad, North thought.  We’re going ahead 
anyway.  

It was one minute to ten.  Two cars pulled up to the curb near the bank.  Caprice Bonheur got 
out of the first one.  Tyrone Donalds and Kineta Xiao got out of the second one.

“Let’s go,” North muttered to himself.

				*		*		*

Inside the bank, William Kane and Sophia D’Amato waited in the security office, watching the 
people who came in over the closed circuit TV.  “I know him,” Kane said, pointing at a man who 
appeared to be filling out a deposit slip.  “That’s Aldo Cagliari.  He’s in on this, I know.  
Let’s get ready.”

“Look who else is here,” D’Amato said, pointing at the screen displaying the front door.  Nancy 
Ravenwood appeared on the monitor.

Kane put on a baseball cap with a pair of binoculars on the front of it.  There was a strap on 
the hat, and he locked it in place, holding it securely to his head.  Besides the two eyepieces, 
there was a box on the brim, making the contraption front heavy.  “How do I look?” Kane asked.

D’Amato had hers on as well.  “Very sexy,” she replied.  Kane laughed.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

				*		*		*

North Ratare was the next one to enter the bank.  He’d timed his approach to the building as to 
arrive just after Tyrone Donalds, who held the door for him in a casual manner.  Tyrone 
continued to hold the door for Kineta Xiao and Caprice Bonheur.  Before he entered, they were 
joined by the final member of their party - Hector Runningwolf, ensconced in the spirit of the 
eagle, flew through the doorway with a loud screech.

The bird gave a loud cry as it circled through the lobby.  Bank personnel and patrons all 
focused their attention on it, no one suspecting it was a distraction.  North Ratare reached 
into his jacket with his left hand and pulled out his pistol.  “Late again,” he muttered.  

Tyrone and Aldo were in charge of crowd control.  Both men brandished their weapons, Aldo 
firing off several rounds.  “Everyone down on the floor!” he demanded, punctuating his sentence 
by firing a few more shots.  

Caprice and Kineta leaped over the counter, knocking down several tellers.  Caprice stopped at 
the sight of two figures between her and the entrance to the vault.  “Who are they?” she asked 
Kineta.

Blocking their path was one man and one woman, each wearing a strange device on their head.  
Each wore the badge of New York’s finest, and carried their service pistols.  The man had a 
small box clipped to his belt, and held it in his hand, thumb hovering over a button there.  

The woman’s eyes were visable through two open tubes on her hat; Caprice made eye contact with 
her.  “Will,” the woman said, “Do it.  Now!”  Caprice raised her weapon as William Kane 
triggered the device.  Sophia D’Amato’s eyes remained locked onto hers.  Suddenly, metal 
shutters swung down in the tubes, blocking Sophia’s eyes.

All the lights in the bank lobby went out.  With the blinds drawn, it was quite dark in the 
room.  Emergency lighting kicked in, giving the room a soft glow.  At the same time, a network 
of strobe lights and flashbulbs went off, blinding everyone whose eyes were unprotected.

				*		*		*

Click.  

The shutters on her goggles flipped open.  Sophia had two targets right in front of her in the 
dimly lit room; one had been raising her weapon before being blinded, now she had her arm up, 
covering her violated retinas.  

It was no trick to aim at her eyes even though they were slightly obscured.  Caprice was a nice 
looking woman, Sophia thought, just like Lisa Kay Napoli had been.  This was her first chance 
to avenge her father’s cold-blooded murder, and Sophia took it without hesitation.  

She fired twice, destroying the windows to Caprice’s soul.  She glimpsed the blue explosion 
before it was time for the next pulse of light.  The shutters fell into place, blocking her 
sight.

Click.

				*		*		*

North rubbed his right eye with his left fist, still clenching his pistol.  It was an ambush, 
that much was clear.  He would need all of his resources; he ran through the mental subroutine 
to regenerate his right arm.  With Caprice’s screams still echoing in his ears, he looked 
around... just as the next flash went off.

				*		*		*

Click.

Kane had aimed roughly in Aldo Cagliari’s direction while he was blind.  Now that he had his 
vision back for a few seconds, he sighted in on the bank robber’s eyes.  Aldo had dropped his 
gun the last flash, and had both eyes covered with his palms.

Aldo’s involvement with the First State Bank robbery couldn’t be proven, not in a court of law.  
But Kane had seen the video tape, and knew the man in front of him was the same one who had 
gunned down a bank guard two years ago.

Likewise, he had no proof that Aldo was a damned soul.  The circumstantial evidence was high, 
and fit all the facts, but there was nothing conclusive.  He recognized that if he was mistaken, 
he would likely face life imprisonment.  

Sometimes risks had to be taken, especially in a war such as this, where the stakes were all of 
Heaven and Hell.  Anything he could do to help win this battle, he would do.

William Kane became judge, jury, and executioner; firing once through Aldo’s palm into his eye 
socket.  He held his second shot for just a moment, waiting for the spurt of blue to issue 
forth.  Blinds swung down, covering his eyes.

Click.

				*		*		*

Hector Runningwolf was blinded by the flare of light as he tried to circle through the bank 
lobby.  It must be the same work of the soul hunter who had attacked him the night before.  His 
second chance at life was almost over.  The spirit of the eagle had served him well, but now 
something else was needed.  

Runningwolf took the form of a bat, the only creature he knew of that could navigate in the 
absence of light.  As the bat’s essence filled him, he instinctively began to navigate around 
the crowded room without any input from his eyes.  

He knew the form of his final target, the only person who stood between him and completion of 
the vendetta he had sworn one hundred and thirty years earlier.  When he killed Nancy Ravenwood, 
he would be able to join his ancestors, instead of returning to the place of torments.  

Nancy’s shape was easily identifiable in the room, because it was one of the few that was not 
on the floor.  Wolf homed in on it, and sunk his talons into her hair, gripping tightly.  

				*		*		*

Click.

Sophia regained her sight, expecting to see Kineta in front of her gun.  But the Asian woman 
was gone, moving out of her line of fire to an unknown location.  

The device that she wore on her head protected her from the regular flashes of light in the 
bank.  Her vision was clear, but not unhampered.  She had no peripheral vision, could see 
nothing nearby except what was directly in front of her.  

Fear struck her.  Kineta Xiao could be right next to her, and she wouldn’t know it!  She 
struggled to breath, with claustrophobia pressing down onto her chest.  She spun around 
frantically, trying to find some bearing.  Seeing Kane next to her made her feel safer, but 
her restricted vision still tortured her.  The metal shutters swung down to block her sight.

Click.

				*		*		*

As soon as the flare ended, North flipped up the eye patch that protected his injured left eye, 
using his reformed right arm.  It hurt like Hell, but he could still see from it.   Images were 
blurred, but he was able to navigate across the room.

He blamed one person for leading them into an ambush.  Wolf was easy to spot, transformed into 
a bat.  North grabbed his animal form with both hands.  He felt the leathery flesh squirm in 
his grip. 

He shut both of his eyes, anticipating another burst of blinding light.  Immersed in self 
inflicted darkness, he twisted at the creature in his hands, attempting to break as many bones 
as he could.

He compressed the shape into a ball, and threw it blindly as light pressed through his closed 
eyelids.  That should teach the damn Indian a good lesson.  

He opened his eyes, seeing mostly with the damaged one, but still not believing.  Gone was the 
young woman who he had rescued from Wolf.  In the same place stood the source of his damaged 
eye - Ezekiel Stone.

				*		*		*
Click.

Aldo Cagliari still had his hands pressed to his eyes.  Kane waited for any glimpse of blue 
light, any sign that his soul was escaping.  Had he missed?  Was Aldo alive after all, but in 
league with the gang of damned souls?

Stone had transformed out of his disguise, he saw, and was preparing to fight with the leader.  
The eye patch that North Ratare had been wearing was flipped up, exposing an eye that slowly 
leaked blue energy.  

Kane fired immediately at Aldo, his subconscious squeezing the trigger as his conscious mind 
put it together.  Of course he hadn’t seen any sign of damage to Aldo after the first shot - 
Aldo had had a hand over the wound, hiding the destroyed eye.  His hands remained whole, 
undamaged as the bullets passed through them.  

Aldo slumped over.  A scream escaped from him as he fell forward, his body losing cohesion as 
it headed downward.

Click.

				*		*		*

“You...” North snarled, a minatory expression twisting his features.  “You’re going to pay for 
this.”  

Ezekiel Stone lunged at him.  He knocked North on his back, straddling him and reaching for 
North’s eyes.  He expected another flash any second, and predicted that facing the floor would 
protect his vision.

North screwed his eyes shut, thrashing wildly underneath his enemy.  He lashed out at Stone, 
hitting him several times.  

The two men had fought last year in Los Angeles, and on New Year’s Eve here in New York.  Each 
time, Ash had interrupted, stopping them before there was a clear winner.

This time, she wasn’t even in the same state.

				*		*		*

Click.

“I can’t see anything,” Sophia cried, paranoia getting the better of her.  “Where are they?  I 
can’t see them.”

“By the door,” Kane directed, focusing on Tyrone Donalds.  Tyrone had the good sense to move, 
but in the dim light he tripped over a potted plant.  Kane aimed, but before he could pull the 
trigger, the shutters swung down and blocked his vision.

Click.

It was too much for Sophia.  The repeated decent into darkness pushed her too far, and she tore 
the device from her head, desperate to get her bearings.  There was no sign of Kineta before 
the strobe lights flared.

“Damn,” she swore, trying to blink away the bright spots in her vision.  “Kane, shut it off!  I 
can’t see.”

Click.

Kane had his sight back.  Tyrone Donalds was going for the front door, in full retreat now.  
Kane fired twice, missing both times, and Tyrone made it safely outside.  

There was still no sign of Kineta Xiao.  Frustrated with his own restricted vision, Kane 
quickly thumbed the strobe lights off and knocked his headgear aside.  

The emergency lighting revealed people lying on the floor everywhere, frozen in fear from the 
gunshots and flashing lights.  Kane scanned the room for Kineta.  He had only a few seconds 
until the damned souls realized that the flares had stopped. 

Something went wrong.  There was one more pulse in the system, and in caught him totally 
unprepared.  Unable to see, he ducked down and pulled Sophia with him.  It was all up to 
Ezekiel now.

				*		*		*

Driving down the street, Luke Choi saw Tyrone Donald stumble out into the daylight.  He 
accelerated, turning the wheel sharply to the right, steering past Tyrone, directly through the 
glass doors into the bank.

				*		*		*

The car plowed into the lobby, spraying glass everywhere.  Stone looked up at it, and North 
took advantage of the distraction.  He twisted underneath the detective, finding enough 
leverage to roll on top of Stone.

North punched him several times in quick succession.  He hated Ezekiel Stone, for the injury to 
his eye, for spoiling the New Year’s Eve plan, for sending back so many members of his team.  
Stone struggled beneath him, but momentum was on his side.

Luke honked the horn, warning him it was time to go, but this was too important.  North pinned 
both of Stone’s arms with his right hand and waved his left in front of Stone’s eyes.  

A smile burst across his face, he was the happiest he’d been in months.  The price had been 
high, but worth it to send Ezekiel Stone back to Hell.

He glanced up, wanting to see who would witness his moment of triumph.  Luke was waiting in 
the car, and Kineta right next to it, impatient to leave.  There was no one else to be seen... 
except for Hector Runningwolf, stumbling away from the far wall.

North felt his anger drain away on sight of the Indian, as though someone had put a straw in 
his mind and sucked it out.  His right arm, a figment of his concentration, shriveled and 
disappeared.  Stone was no longer pinned down, and easily pushed him away. 

Kineta jumped out of the car, rushing to North’s side and helping him up.  Stone got to his 
feet just as Wolf hit him, knocking him back down.  “Where is Nancy?” Wolf demanded, kicking 
him in the midsection.  “Tell what you did with her.”

“She’s safe,” Stone said weakly.  

The car shifted into gear.  North, Kineta, and Luke drove out of the bank.  Wolf kicked Stone 
again.  “Is she at the diner?”  he asked.  “I will find her, and wipe the Ravenwood seed from 
the earth.”  With that, he turned and ran out the hole in the wall, transforming into an eagle 
as he did.

Kane and Sophia came out to help him up.  “Call Nancy,” Stone said.  Tell her to get out of 
there.”

				*		*		*

Nancy burst out of the Ravenwood Diner’s back door.  Her breath came in great panicked gulps as 
she ran down the alley towards her car.  She fumbled with her keys, unlocking the car door 
crawling behind the wheel.

A large eagle settled on her hood.

Nancy honked the horn, hoping to scare it off.  Instead, it hopped forward and tapped on the 
windshield with its beak.  She started the car, revving the engine.  

The eagle spread its wings, warning her to stop.  When she pulled forward from her parking 
space, it jumped up to the roof.  Nancy drove down the alley.  

A large dark skinned fist broke her window, reaching in to grab her.  She screamed, losing 
control of the car and slamming into the side of a building.  Wolf flipped onto the hood of her 
car, releasing his grip.  He recovered quickly and scrambled to his feet.  

“Nancy Ravenwood,” he intoned.  Nancy tried to restart the car, but with no luck.  “You are the 
last of the Ravenwood line.  With you gone, justice will be served.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Nancy wailed.  Wolf ignored her, reaching inside the window and pulling 
her out of the car.  Nancy kicked him in the crotch, and struggled, but Wolf ignored her 
attempts at escape.  “Help!” she cried.

“No one can help you now,” Wolf said cruelly.

“I can,” said a new voice.  Nancy repeated her pleas, hopeful when she saw who it was.  Wolf 
turned.

It was Arden Corvina.

“I killed you,” he said.  He threw Nancy across the hood of the car.  She struck her head, and 
fell silent.  

Arden laughed.  “I didn’t think it would be you, not again.  But when I heard your name, I 
knew.”  She drew a gun from behind her back.  “If anyone deserves revenge, it’s me.  Coming 
home to find my husband and children dead.  You haven’t paid, not nearly enough.  Another 
millennium in Hell will get you a little closer.”

Before Wolf could protest, Arden fired twice.  At close range, she easily destroyed both of his 
eyes.  Stoically, Hector Runningwolf stood silent and tall as he disappeared back into the 
earth.

Arden watched him go.  She spit on the blackened patch of asphalt that marked his descent.  
Then, calmly, she bent over Nancy, setting her gun down as she did.

Ezekiel Stone picked it up and moved out of reach.  She turned and saw him.  “Zeke,” she said.  
“Help me move Nancy inside.  She’s had an accident, and...”  Her voice trailed off as she saw 
the gun that was pointed at her.

“I’m glad Nancy is okay,” he said.  “But you’ve still got to go back.”  

“You’re the hunter?” she asked.  Then she laughed, amused at the irony.  “Just my luck.”

“You were the reason this whole thing started, weren’t you?” Stone inquired.  “What did you do?”

“My family was murdered!” she exclaimed, “What we did was justice.  Those savages had to be 
taught a lesson.  That was all it was.”

“I have an image of you in my head,” he told her.  “It’s something that Wolf saw while he was 
alive.”  He stared through her, recalling the a priori scene.  “You’re on horseback, riding 
with soldiers, two dozen of them.  They’re firing into his camp.  There are dead bodies 
everywhere, men, women, children.  His children.”

“What about my children?  Those redskins needed to learn not to interfere with us.”

“But you didn’t know who had killed your family, did you?” Stone pressed on.  “You just judged 
them all guilty.”

“I traveled three days on foot to make it to the fort.  If they’d found me, they would have 
killed me too.”

“He looked at you with such hate,” Stone told her sadly.  “Even Ash thought it was worth taking 
notice of.”

“I don’t believe you’re taking his side over mine,” Arden taunted.  “Put my gun down, and I’ll 
fight you, fair and square.”

“No,” Stone said, “It ends here.”  He snapped the gun up, aiming and pulling the trigger in one 
smooth motion.  He fired again, destroying the other window to her soul.  

Gently, he carried Nancy inside.

				*		*		*

“That son of a bitch,” North Ratare swore.  “I’m going to kill him myself.  God damned Ezekiel 
Stone!  He’s mine.”  He slammed his left fist into the dashboard of their car.

“Okay, boss,” Luke Choi said soothingly, steering the car through the early morning traffic.  

Kineta Xiao, however, wasn’t content to let things go so easily.  “What happened?” she asked.  
“You had him, why’d you let him go?”  Even Luke thought that was a fair question.

“Ash put some kind of block in my head,” he explained.  “It’s those damn Indians.  I used to 
want to hurt them, every time I saw them.  She didn’t think that was good for me,” he said 
mockingly.  “So I can’t get angry at them anymore.  It’s her fault!” he decided.

Kineta put a hand on his shoulder.  “What do you have against them?  They were here first, 
weren’t they?  We’ve put them on reservations, treated them like crap.  If anyone should be 
enraged, it’s them.”

North held up his stump.  “How do you think I lost this?” he asked.  

“You told us a car accident, when you were 12,” Luke answered.

“And who do you think was driving the other car, drunk off his red ass at 8 in the morning?  
All those people are the same, worthless.  Wolf couldn’t even show up on time.  Only us real 
Americans have any work ethic.”

“It’s all right,” Kineta said.  “Take it easy.”

“Ash’ll never heal me now,” he said.  “I’m going to have this damn patch until we win the war.”

“Cheer up,” Kineta told him.  “We still took plenty of money in the first two robberies.  Ash 
has to be happy with that.”

“And the sorceress,” he recalled.  “We found her.  You’re right, we did accomplish something, 
but not as much as she wanted.”

				*		*		*

“So it was like Bang! like the sun right there in the room,” Tyrone Donalds explained to Alexis 
Salem and Jessica Post.  Lizzy Dark was driving this car, with Casey Butler and Leona Pride in 
the third car.  “And there were these cops, they were wearing these funky masks, and they kept 
shooting.  Took out Aldo, took out Caprice.  It was an ambush, Wolf led us into an ambush.”

“You think he knew?” Alexis wondered.

“It was his plan, wasn’t it?”  Tyrone countered.  “Of course he knew.”

“Anyone get any money?” Jessica asked.

“I told you, that light kept blinding us.  Couldn’t see a thing.”

Lizzy Darke remained silent as she directed the car through traffic.  She still had the card 
that Stone had given her.  There was no reason to contact him now, but it might come in handy 
in the future.  

				*		*		*

“Thank you all for coming,” Nancy said adressing her friends who had gathered in the Ravenwood 
Diner.  The bruise on her forehead had healed almost fully.  “It’s been a difficult time the 
last few weeks, and you’ve all helped me to soldier on.” 

She looked around the resturaunt before continuing.  “This place isn’t the same without Dad, 
and especially empty without Grandma.  But this resturaunt will stay open.  We’ve been open 
since 1945, and we’re going to be open until 2045.”

Next to her, Jake Green stepped forward.  “I’d also like to say something.”  Nancy smiled at 
him.  “This afternoon, I asked Nancy to be my wife, and she accepted.  I know nothing can 
replace the family that she has lost, but we promise to start one of our own right away.”

The group applauded.  Stone and Alex exchanged a grin.  As friends of the happy couple pressed 
forward to give their support, Stone caught Alex’s arm.  

“Did you know?” 

“I know something else, too,” Alex admitted.  “She’s pregnant.”  Stone raised an eyebrow.

The Ravenwood line would live on.



The End