PROLOGUE
From a missive sent by former Pinkerton Detective Agency man George Thiel from the Texican “ghost county” of Perdido — abolished in 1858 — to fellow ex-agent Frank P. Geyer, whereabouts unknown. To save paper (and create a crude cipher), sentences are cross-written, first from the bottom left-hand corner to the upper right-hand, then from the upper left-hand corner to the bottom right:
My dear colleague,
I write you this from the shelter of Texas, where fresh disputes w. Mexico are hotly brewing. Though we cannot be sure, repts. indicate a great host ready to march on N. Mexico at the whim of Emperor Maximilian. Said host is composed of Imperial soldiers, Carlotta colonists (who would have ever thought any American, defeated secesh or no, likely to change his citizenship on promise of undisputed slave ownership alone? Yet it has happened, it is happening) and other, even less desirable elements. A second Schism seems almost imminent, and all because cultists conflating Hex City’s devilish doyenne with Mary, Mother of God are streaming up over the Border and making their way to throw themselves at her bony feet, there to gash themselves with stones.
As one might expect, the Hapsburg considers this hexacious seduction of his citizenry further aggression from the United States, moving perilously close to an outright act of war. The Carlottas, in turn, have been ghosting up through Texas to catch and return as many as they can, which doesn’t make our allies happy. Thus far, President Johnson has gotten ’round it by claiming Hex City no longer part of the United States per se, thus implying he has allowed it to secede from the nation — which perhaps explains why he sent Capt. Washford and his Negro brigade down to help Pinkerton in the first place; i.e., so as to not encourage other only recently reintegrated parts of America to backslide. Texas, for example, where civilian government was only restored two scant years back.
One way or the other, our former mutual boss knows neither what he sows nor what the country at large will yet reap, as a consequence. The Texicans, a hot-headed race (to say the least), are poised to meddle, but without information, I fear this would be a fool’s game. So please tell me soonest what has come of your own quest, and address if you will all correspondence to the home of mine inestimable host, Texas Ranger Leander McNelly. Since I have no notion of where you presently reside, I send this via Apache scout. Awaiting further word, I account myself yr. most obt., etc., etc.
From Frank P. Geyer to George Thiel, one week and three days later:
George,
Since Pinkerton’s war on Hex City still rages apace and all notion of intelligence gathering seems frankly to have fallen by the wayside, I write to you directly. I am still wandering the wilderness like Elijah in exile, seeking after those ladies I told you of earlier — Mrs. Marshal Kloves (née Experiance Colder), a Spiritualist of some degree, plus the renegade squaw known as The Night Has Passed and that phantom shamaness she calls “Grandmother” or “Spinner,” who returned from the dead during Sheriff Love’s final battle with Chess Pargeter at Bewelcome.
Rumour has it that the Celestial sorceress “Songbird,” once Pinkerton’s confidante, may also be in their camp, making it the fullest roster of hexation-inclined females we might possibly hope to encounter. But since those same rumours imply she may yet be suffering from what other hexes fallen subject to Doctor Asbury’s vampire methods call the Little Death — i.e. been emptied of her reserves, down to the dregs and after — the prospect of her participation in any sort of revolt against our former boss may be considered moot.
As previously discussed, we have engaged a source inside Bewelcome itself to make contact with Ed Morrow, and possibly gain his observations from inside Camp Pink (since, loyal as I know him to be by nature, I suspect his true allegiance may lie elsewhere). While I fear the man in question essentially unreliable, I yet trust utterly in his ambition, as well as his skills at rhetorical politicking. I will retain his name for now, ’til next we meet in person.
Meanwhile, for all that Chess Pargeter remains supposedly dead, his influence — like that of his former paramour, Reverend Rook — seems to have infected the very landscape around us, altering it almost beyond recognition. Each night and morning, the weather witches of Hex City brew storms, lashing Bewelcome like a second Deluge; monstrous rumours abound, trumpeting creatures unrecognizable by any report. The Red Weed, too, still ranges apace, impinging on settlements with hideous results. What steadholders remain have resorted to routine self-exsanguination in order to drive it back, which in turn only serves to further establish the presence of that thing currently wearing Pargeter’s shape: Lady Ixchel’s sibling and rival, a black god which styles itself our whole world’s Enemy.
This entity roams the battlefield, appe
ars in dreams to voice cryptic warnings, even pops up here and there to “help” one side or the other (its aid, like hers, bought always at the price of fresh-shed blood), before making itself once more scarce. Yet just as its overarching goals remain mysterious, its thirst for the same substance that powers the Lady’s soul-hungry Machine renders the very notion it might be somehow more trustworthy, laughable. Tezcatlipoca is, after all, the god of Chaos, Night, and Magic . . . as much a hex as any other, though writ so much dreadfully larger.
Reverend Rook and his kith aside, George, we are rolled like toys between two opposing devils — one angry, one amused. And increasingly, I cannot any longer begin to decide whose victory frights me more, as a prospect.
Your friend and ally,
Frank.
From a representative agglomeration of newspaper headlines recently filed by San Francisco Californian correspondent Fitz Hugh Ludlow for his series Notes on a Tenth Crusade: At the New Aztectlan Front, with Allan Pinkerton and the 13th Louisiana Regiment of Infantry (African Descent) —
THE HEXACIOUS — THEIR LATEST DEPREDATIONS EXPOSED
Fresh and Exciting Report
of how a Combined Battalion of Pinkertons and Negro Troops
Liberated, at Great Personal Cost,
23 Captives of No Magickal Skill,
Enticed and Enslaved by the Hex-Horde!
HORROR IN THE MOON-LADY’S STRONGHOLD
True Testimony of Victims Reveals
how Men, Women and Children of all ages, all races
Continue to Suffer Imprisonment, Assault (and Worse).
While Pinkerton and his Compact struggle
Vainly against Incalculable Odds,
Innocent Americans still fall Victim to the
Barbarous Old Mexican Practice of
Human Sacrifice!
FRESH NEWS OF THE HEX-WAR’S MAJOR PLAYERS
Agent Edward R. Morrow, Fully Reinstated
After his Flirtation with Outlawry,
while Professor Joachim Asbury,
Pinkerton’s Witch-Finding Weapon Master,
is even now Employed in Discovery of
New Anti-Hexological Methods;
In Bewelcome, Widow Sophronia Love makes no effort to Disguise her Disappointment over the Sad Fact that
Mrs. Kloves, Vigilante Murderess of Sheriff Mesach Love,
Remains, as yet, Un-apprehended.
Pinkerton’s Response: “We have more
Pressing Matters to Worry Over.”
And finally, a notice published in Bewelcome Township’s own Daily Letter:
All citizenry to assemble as of Four O’clock Sharp at the Nazarene Hall for Town Meeting; grievances aired and debate heard.