Deadwood Shorts: Fatal Traditions by Ann Charles

Author:Ann Charles [Charles, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Deadwood Shorts: Fatal Traditions
Publisher: Ann Charles
Published: 2019-10-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

“Do the gladiators ever win in that book?” I asked as I moved my token a whopping three spaces on the board.

Doc collected the dice and handed them across to Aunt Zoe. “It’s not all doom and gloom while battling demons, devils, and sharp-toothed beasts on the pages.”

I pshawed. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“He’s right.” Layne watched Aunt Zoe roll the dice and move her token out of the haunted hotel where she’d guessed and been proven wrong while I was upstairs. She counted spaces toward the creepy, rundown school, not quite making it inside. “Aunt Zoe, tell Mom the story about the gladiator who teamed up with another from the north to conquer some navia.”

“What are navia?” I took a sip of my drink. Doc had refilled it upon returning from talking me through my bathroom panic attack. “Are they happy-go-lucky spirits who grant wishes and hand out Hawaiian leis when they show up to a party?”

Aunt Zoe chuckled. “Not quite. Navia is a generic name in early Slavic mythology for demons that are born from the souls of those who died prematurely or tragically, typically females.”

“When you say ‘prematurely,’ do you mean they were children?”

Her face tightened on one side. “More like young, pretty girls. But the myths vary and also include sorcerers, drowning victims, murderers and their victims. Like I said, it covers a broad range.” She pushed the dice toward Cornelius, who was flipping through pages of our family book while tugging on his goatee.

“So what are these navia girls like, Zo?” Reid stood over at the counter, munching on crackers and cheese.

“Hostile, jealous of the living, mostly unhappy and not afraid to show it in one way or another.”

Reid and I shared smirks. “Sounds like a fun group of demons to have over for a slumber party,” I said. “What do they do to the living?”

“Some are believed to be bloodsuckers,” Doc answered. “Others cause plagues and spread disease.”

“It shows a bird here on the page,” Cornelius said, pointing at a drawing in the book. “A blend of a demon with a sharp-clawed raptor would be my guess.”

Aunt Zoe leaned over and peered at the book. “I believe the southern Slavs speak of them being in bird form.”

Doc’s arm slid along the back of my chair, his fingers resting on my shoulder. “I’ve also read about them appearing in the form of beautiful dancing maidens who lure men to their deaths.”

“Dancing maidens are always a nice vision.” Reid lifted his glass of whiskey, grinning at Aunt Zoe over the rim. “Remember that night you danced for me under the full moon, Zo?”

She threw a cookie at him, missing her mark only because he dodged it. “Stuff that in your bucket mouth, Martin.”

He laughed, picking up the broken cookie pieces from the counter behind him.

“Do they wear belly dancer outfits or frilly tutus?” I joked, nibbling on another slice of cheese—a nutty Swiss this time.

Doc’s gaze dipped below my chin. “A man destined for death can hope for one of those jingling coin, velvet bras.

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