Concerning a Questionable Trade

The Shadow Man was tall, thin and very black. He wore a broken beaver fedora that might once have been grey and a collage of jackets, torn shirts and blankets. He had a small fire and a scattering of sputtering candles when Tupelo arrived, sliding down the muddy embankment.
"Mr. Tupelo," the Shadow Man said in a deep whiskey rasp, and in his voice Tupelo could hear the cry of distant trains and forgotten kingdoms. "We did have a bargain tonight."
Tupelo sat down across the fire and passed over a very dead pigeon and a half bottle of Admiral Nelson. "Kitty Rollins is dead," he said. "The King just told me, said to tell you."
The Shadow Man raised one hairless eyebrow. "Interesting. She has lived long time. Now, her power passes on." He handed Tupelo a cassette Walkman with great ceremony from the mound of junk behind him.
"The Silver Lady?"
"Yes," the Shadow Man said thoughtfully, as he cut off the pigeon's head with a rusted steak knife. "Or another, if they find her spirit first."