Four generations ago, Katrina's ancestors arrived in the mountains above Colorado Springs. Back then it was all about the gold, and her great grandmother mined for it in the crotches of men's pants.

Exactly how her great granny's profession led her to owning the Mammoth Goldmine had become discretely forgotten in family lore. But if the woman's blood possessed the same tint as her descendants', it probably involved seduction, greed, murder, and a hell of a lot of sex. Because that was the wholesome material Katrina kin came from. That or pond scum, or maybe they'd evolved from maggots. Either way, she'd been duped into being the heir to one hell of a nasty legacy.

A bright, high-altitude sun glared across the south side of Gold Mountain, stinging her eyes. The family mine stood rotting on one of the five desolate Gold Hills in the void between the touristy gambling town of Cripple Creek and the phantom-filled streets of Victor. Slopes speckled with rotting mines infamous for their withered underground wealth and shattered pasts.

Sweeping her long black hair to the side, Katrina grabbed the rusted gas lamp that waited by the lift cage inside the two-story wheelhouse. She wondered if it was the same lamp her great granny used when examining her prize. If so, thanks a lot, bitch.

She studied the lamp. With the price of gold these days, it could be time to reinvest in the actual mine versus the other activities that went on there. The idea of doing anything with the Mammoth left a sour taste in her mouth. Things would improve tremendously if she dropped dynamite into the shaft and was done with the whole cursed business.

"Nice day, huh, Kat?" Louis, her second cousin, anointed her with one of his oily smiles while he smoothed his graying hair. He wore a tailored suit and leather dress shoes—for God's sake. Exactly the kind of outfit one wears on a hike around the Rocky Mountains.

Tapping on his cell phone, he made a face at the apparent lack of a signal. Dumbass, where did he think he was?

He looked at his wristwatch—its gold band glinted in the sun—and shook his head like the process proved too taxing for his metropolitan fucking lifestyle.

The mine, and its tainted occupants, always profited for his side of the family. That's why her far-flung cousin could afford to be such a well-groomed fool. Whether the mine dealt in whisky stills in the twenties, LSD in the sixties, money laundering in the eighties, a meth lab, pot farm or whatever crime and this hole were inevitably linked. Basic house burglaries could be counted on as a money source between new vices.

Yup, all Louis and the family did was cook up dirty business, then leave Katrina and her mine crew to carry out their marching orders.

"What's it now, Louie, identity theft?"

He smiled, showing a full set of veneered teeth. "Only if your boys were lucky sweetheart."

Her tongue became tinged with an oily residue. Your boys. How sick was that?

Again the image of throwing dynamite into the mineshaft flashed into her mind. She could pack the inside of the mountain and level the damn thing. Just drop the ceiling on itself. Her boys would even set the explosives if she told them too, then stand around and wait for the earth to be cleansed of their vileness. Destroying the place was a pleasant thought. Going into the mineshaft, not nearly so nice.

Her eyes slid along Louis's arm to his shinny watch. How much did explosives cost? She knew a pawn store in town that paid well, if she got the opportunity.

She gave the engine's lanyard a couple hard yanks, and then waited for the lift motor to sputter to life. Motioning for Louis to join her, she opened the cage's lift. He made a face, but knew better than to pitch a fit. If he wanted her resources, fine. He didn't get out of the dirty parts.

With a click of the brakes, the lift lowered them into the mineshaft. Katrina gripped the cold rail to control the trembling of her hand while the blue sky shrunk to a mere pinpoint.

As a child, her mother would force her to go into the mine. When the light disappeared, she would cry until her mother slapped her, telling her to toughen up. One of the least terrifying memories she had of the woman. That, or when she'd found her mother passed out on the floor, immobilized by her consumption of bourbon. Katrina had never feared her then.

The light from the tenth level lit up the grate on the lift's floor. Almost there. With a kick to the brake, she listened as the whining gears stopped the lift at the ramp. The mine descended lower into the mountain, a thought so frightening it made her skin crawl. How much lower, she had no idea. This was close enough to hell for her.

In the shaft, the air hung cool and stagnant, invading her body when she breathed in its stinking filth. The rot consumed her, making her sputter, and she held her breath until she adjusted to the stench.

Along the wall of the tunnel, metal boxes holding halogen lights were looped from metal hooks. A gift from her mother to the mine's inhabitants. She knew the creatures didn't really need the light. They functioned just fine in the dark. A little too well on occasions. She shivered. If she didn't need to visit them, she would be happy to give them permanent dark.

The landing and connecting meeting room vaulted into a vast space. The hand-carved ceiling reached over two stories tall and a football field long from the extraction of gold. Now the crumbling black-walled room served as the perfect assembly space for the creatures gathered to serve her.

"Let's see what we got." Louis rubbed his manicured hands together. "Hope your boys got us some action."

Katrina bit the inside of her lip to control her boiling temper and made her way towards the waiting group. Glancing around the room at the gathered figures, she took stock. She didn't like calling them men. They might have been once, over a hundred years ago, but never in her lifetime.

In past years, when gold could still be found in these hills, there were more of them. She'd heard around a hundred and thirty. Only eighteen remained who could still do her work, and half of those were in poor enough shape that she couldn't let them be seen above ground. Last night, fueled by Louis's persistence, she'd sent out four small groups—far too great a risk. If one of the more decrepit things were to be seen...

Katrina gave herself a shake. Time to see if they were successful. Moving to the first group's leader, she held out her palm. Seventy-Six, its number stitched on the faded work shirt it wore, shuffled forward and handed her a rotting canvas bag full of documents.

She nodded. "Did you run into any problems?"

"No, queen," the thing mumbled, its eyes sliding past hers, never meeting her stare. The thing's body was a mass of tissue turned to stone in the chiseled shape of a man. A body lovely to behold, but only in darkness.

Katrina shuddered and motioned for it to take its place in line as she moved onto the other groups' leaders. Half of the things had bounty to hand over. Pathetic, but typical.

Fifty-Two ran the last group. He was her favorite of the creatures, if she had one. With the death of her mother, she'd performed the vile act and promoted Fifty-Two to overall mine leader.

The creature still resembled a man, and a very handsome one, if Fifty-Two never stepped into the sun or moonlight. A tall figure, especially for being born around the turn of the century, and a life of mining had sculpted its body to near perfection.

In the flickering light of the halogens, she could see its liquid-blue eyes and ebony hair, a physique completely uncompromised by the decades it had served her. Katrina's eyes skimmed its well-built form, and then glanced over to Louis's much older silhouette. She licked her lips, too bad that.

Fifty-Two shifted and caught her attention. A subtle change at most, but surprising that it could move without an order from her. The creatures were not really men. They did not shift about as people tended to do. She narrowed her eyes and motioned for Fifty-Two to step forward.

She grabbed its rotting canvas bag. By its weight and shape, she could tell the bag contained papers, his goal. Fifty-Two didn't fail when given a task. Nothing had changed there.

"Did you run into any problems, worker Fifty-Two?" She didn't wait for a reply, but handed the bag over to Louis so he could take a look.

The creature remained silent, a surprise since she'd asked a direct question. Katrina's gut clinched. This thing led the creatures, if she lost control over it...

"I said, did you have any problems last night?"

Again, silence.

She slapped Fifty-Two. The creature did not raise a hand to protect itself. None of the workers could react against her. When it straightened its head, she slapped it again, across the same cheek.

Pain could jar their shredded minds, make them fully bend to her will, and she never hesitated to use it. Rage flooded her veins. The creature would answer its queen. It would comply. There could be no other way.

Over Fifty-Two's shoulder, she caught Louis's raised eyebrows and a muscle pinched in her neck.

"I told you he would never be a good leader," he scoffed.

Katrina's shoulders bunched at Louis's poke at old, gaping wounds.

"Yes," Fifty-Two mumbled.

"Yes, what?" She stomped her foot at the creature and Louis's ever-irritating presence. She had to regain control, especially in front of her cousin. Only she could order the mines creatures about, and she couldn't afford for Louis to question her abilities. Especially now.

"Yes, queen," the thing murmured again.

Katrina punched Fifty-Two in her frustration. An act that didn't seem to affect it, but made her hand hurt. "Yes, queen what, you filthy thing? What problems did you have?"

Silence.

Katrina punched it again, despite her discomfort. This time she sent her fist into the center of its stomach.

"A witness," it whispered.

She stopped, her fist still raised in the air, her sides heaving. She whipped her sweaty hair from the side of her face. "Did you dispose of the witness?"

"No."

Katrina's mouth dropped open. "What?" It felt like a bucket of ice water splashed over her body. The creatures were ten times stronger than a normal man, they could run for days, nothing but blurs to the human eye—that's if they still had feet and could stand upright. Fifty-Two was one of the most intact members of the group. If anyone could have caught a witness, it should have.

"Did the witness escape?"

The creature nodded its head. Katrina kicked the thing, hard. It should not have failed her. She launched at it punching and ripping at its clothing, she would see it bleed. An arm snaked around her waist, and Louis pulled her away.

"Chill out, couz." He pointed to Fifty-Two's bag and grinned. "Your boy made us some major bank. There was nothing on the police scanner. Relax." Louis's voice around a profit turned as greasy as his smile. "He produced coin. That's all that really matters."

Katrina adjusted her plaid shirt on her boney shoulders. Her eyes slipped to the rusty gas can standing at attention near the lift. She kept it full, just in case. In seconds, she could use it to end any of the workers, should she decide to. And sometimes she did, especially when they faltered.

"This person. Did they see you in the light? Or was it inside?" She tried to keep her voice steady and her gaze off the greedy-eyed Louis. The creatures could be seen above ground in shadows, or indoors. No harm if it only carried out her orders to secure finances.

Fifty-Two remained a statue, and Katrina's hand flexed into a fist. "In the light, did a person see you in the natural light, Fifty-Two?"

It slowly nodded its head.

Shit, shit, shit.

"Fifty-Two"—she pointed at the creature—"You need to kill the witness. Do you understand?"

A line of sweat trickled along her side, making her shirt adhere to her skin. For almost a hundred years, the mine's creatures had remained a secret. If they were discovered, people might find out about her connection. Her breath squeezed in burning spasms.

"You need to make sure the witness is destroyed. Understand?"

The thing stood still, staring straight ahead like a piece of ore from the mine.

Katrina nodded. The creature might forget almost everything, but not an order from her. No, never that. If she gave a command, then it would be done. The witness would be taken care of. That was how the creatures worked. She ordered and the workers followed. Fifty-Two would never fail her.

She paused. And if things didn't go well, well, then nothing lit up the tunnel like a good fire.