Low Midnight (Kitty Norville 13)

He didn’t show the surprise he felt. What could these two biddies possibly need his help for?

Judi said, “Let me tell you a story, Mr. Bennett.…”

* * *

“IN 1895, a man named Milo Kuzniak came into Manitou claiming to have found gold in the hills west of town. No one believed him—people had been looking for gold in the area for going on fifty years, any gold to be had was already found. The rush was over. He persisted, filed claims, bought equipment, camped in the hills, ran off passersby with a shotgun, and bragged in town about what he would find. Generally made a nuisance of himself.”

They’d retreated to seats in the back of the store. Customers came in at one point, and Frida helped them when they bought some candy. She came back with a teapot and refilled their tea.

“Then some strange things started happening. Horses shied away from his claim. A photographer hiking with his equipment in the area fell and broke his leg, and the men and burro sent to carry him back to town became hopelessly lost. Moans and screams were heard from the land late at night, but no one ever saw mischief afoot. Those who went to investigate didn’t find anything, but they felt a powerful dread the further into Milo’s claim they went. A point came when most men refused to go there at all.

“Milo started telling wild tales, that he’d found a book of spells and was now a powerful magician, that he’d summoned ghosts to do his bidding and guard his territory. He had otherworldly traps and torments designed to repel intruders. This must have been intriguing as well as frightening, but no one had any way of proving it. The stories grew more sinister as time went on. The people of Manitou loved nothing more than a good scary story, and this was a whopper.”

You ever hear about this guy? Cormac questioned Amelia.

No, I never did.

Judi continued. “Then local gentleman Augustus Crane decided to do something about Kuzniak and his tall tales. He was a great believer in magic, held séances in his house, was well known in Spiritualist circles. The town held him in high esteem, because he brought such a scientific gravity to his proceedings. One could not help but take him seriously. It was, he decided, up to him to stop this magical menace before he did real harm. The area wasn’t big enough for two self-proclaimed magicians. He studied his books, asked advice of the great Spiritualists of his day, organized the spell he would use to put Milo Kuzniak in his place. Then he went to Kuzniak’s claim, where the man had camped out.”

I have heard of Augustus Crane, Amelia said. People were still mourning him when I arrived in town.

“They had what might be called a wizards’ duel, a showdown at midnight under a full moon. Some of the folk from town, ot

her members of Crane’s Spiritualist circle, came with him to witness. None of them could say exactly what happened. Crane challenged Kuzniak. Kuzniak refused to give way. So Crane cast a spell that was designed to weaken Kuzniak, remove his magic—remove his will to antagonize the town. Crane believed the spell would weaken him to the point of sickness and drive Milo back to wherever he’d come from. But that didn’t happen. None of that happened.”

The flair for storytelling Judi had brought to the walking tour came through here. “Milo stood unflinching before him—at a loss, observers said. Not even bothering to work a magical defense. But this was a ruse. Milo had made preparations before Augustus arrived, and he was very well defended when Augustus cast his spell. As soon as he did, Milo’s defenses came to the fore, and rather than defeating his opponent, Crane himself was struck dead where he stood. Some claimed they saw a bolt of lightning strike him from the clear sky. Some say the burst of electricity traveled up from the ground and electrocuted him. Others say the power came from Milo Kuzniak’s eyes, or his outstretched hands. Whatever it was, Augustus Crane ended up flat on the ground, dead.”

“You left this story off the walking tour,” Cormac said.

Judi ignored him and made the mystery at the heart of her story plain. “To this day, no one knows what killed him, only that it was magical. Mr. Bennett, Frida and I want to know what Milo Kuzniak did to kill Augustus Crane. Was it something in the land? Some spell or artifact? Crane might not have been Merlin, but he knew what he was doing, and still Kuzniak was able to not just defend himself, but kill Crane on top of it. No one’s been able to figure it out.”

Over a hundred years, and the incident was still a mystery—what made them think he could track it down? Ah—because he had a hundred-year-old magician along for the ride. Maybe he was better equipped than most. Call it magical archaeology.

He asked, “What happened to Kuzniak? Did anyone go after him for killing Crane?”

Judi shrugged. “He left town and disappeared. No one could prove that he’d done anything to kill Crane, but Crane’s friends in town knew he must have done something and weren’t at all happy. Lynch mobs still happened in those days, and ultimately his mining claim wasn’t worth sticking around for. He died of a heart attack in Glenwood Springs about ten years later. Unrelated, near as anyone can figure.”

Frida scowled, as if she could dismiss the whole thing, but she remained tense and stayed close to Judi. She said, “This area’s full of ghost stories and tall tales. Some of Crane’s friends were more than a little crazy—table-rapping Spiritualists. Crane may have just dropped dead of a heart attack, and they came up with this wacky story to make his death seem strange and mysterious. Do wizard duels like that even happen outside of books?”

“They do, once in a while.” He’d been in a couple himself. He’d almost rather face off with six-shooters at high noon.

Judi said, “This would all just be a historical curiosity, but we’re pretty sure someone’s been poking around Kuzniak’s old claim site. I leave the story off the tour for a reason—I don’t want someone thinking they can learn what happened to Crane and maybe use that power themselves. You say you want what’s in Amy’s book to keep anyone else from getting hurt, and I believe you, Mr. Bennett.”

“Call me Cormac,” he said, because it seemed like the right thing to say. He didn’t feel much like “Mr.” anything.

“All right, Cormac. We’d like to learn what Kuzniak did in that duel, and what killed Crane, before someone else does. To keep anyone else from getting hurt, like you said. As someone who believes in fate, I can’t help but think you came along for a reason.”

“Yeah,” he said, quirking a wry smile. “To ask about Amy Scanlon.”

“You see? We can help each other.”

He felt like he’d been tricked by a couple of grandmas, but couldn’t figure out where the gotcha was. And really, he could just turn around and walk out.

They are setting us to investigating a murder that’s over a hundred years old. Can we even do this?

We can try, he answered. What’s one more mystery to take on, on top of all the others?

I’m not sure I trust them.