Sam Harlan (Book 3): Damned Cold (18 page)

“Of course,” she whispered back.

Randy stood and stuck out his hand. “I’m sorry, Mr. Harlan. I truly am. These hard times have turned us to desperate measures.”

I glowered at him until his hand dropped to his side. “Don’t thank me. If Meriwether has a vampire, it’s my job to kill it.”

* * *

The sun had just set, but there was still a faint glow to the west that lit up the clouds a deep shade of purple. The temperature had slid back below freezing, and Callie was pulling at her jacket for warmth as I led her outside.

Callie limped heavily but managed to walk without my assistance. When we reached the end of the gravel driveway and were well out of earshot, she turned to me and said, “I’m going with you.”

“You’re in a lot of pain,” I said.

“I don’t care.” She circled me, staggering as she did. “See? I can walk.”

I sighed. “Yes, you’re walking. That’s a good sign—”

She snorted. “You’ll be lost without me.”

I smiled. Callie was beautiful, even in the dark. Then she winced in pain and I felt a surge of anger that made me want to hit things. “You’re hurt,” I said, clenching my teeth. “I’m not taking any chances. If Meriwether has a vampire, I’m not going to risk your life.”

“But you don’t think he has a vampire.”

I was amazed by how well she could read me. “It just doesn’t make sense. Everything I’ve seen says Meriwether’s not like that. Let’s get real. Jodie’s coven had the only vampire we’ve seen.”

Callie took my hand in hers, an eerily familiar gesture that brought up a mix of emotions I preferred to ignore. “They’re afraid. Fear makes people do crazy things.”

“More Church wisdom?”

“No,” she said, smiling. “Just common sense.”

I pulled my hand away. “I suppose you think that’s why I don’t want you to go. You’re right. I
am
afraid of you getting hurt. You shouldn’t be putting yourself in more danger.”

She grunted and turned away. “Fine, but you’re not going alone. Take Father Jameson or Father Mosley. Their faith will protect you.”

“Worrying about me, Mom?”

She spun on wobbly legs and slapped my arm. “Don’t be silly. You don’t stand a chance without God’s protection.”

“Ouch,” I said, placing my hand over my heart. “That hurts.”

She shook her head, all humor gone, and put her hands on my shoulders. “Take one of them with you, Sam. If Meriwether does have a vampire, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

I started to make a smart-ass remark, but the worry in her eyes made me reconsider. “It
is
a good idea.”

“See,” she said, slapping my arm again, “you’re not as dense as you seem.”

We waited in
the Kormans’ kitchen for Randy to retrieve Jodie’s Prius while Janice and the rest of the coven finished working on Callie’s legs. It didn’t take long for Mosley and Jameson to come to a decision.

“Ethan will go,” Jameson said, pointing to the young priest.

“Really?” I asked.

Mosley was five foot six, at most, and didn’t look like he could punch his way out of a wet paper bag. In a fight with a human, he’d lose every time.

With a vampire? It would be a slaughter.

Jameson, on the other hand, was closer to my six-foot frame, but thicker through the arms and legs. He looked like he had spent time doing hard labor. In a fight, Jameson was the one who might actually provide some assistance.

Father Mosley didn’t bother hiding his surprise. “I don’t have the experience—”

“Wouldn’t you be a better choice?” I asked Jameson skeptically.

“Nonsense,” he said. “Ethan’s faith is strong. Besides, I’m needed here. Mrs. Gary is distraught. I’ll comfort her as best I can—”

“I can provide comfort,” Mosley said, glancing down at his feet. “I—I think I might be better suited to providing comfort…”

“Nah,” I said. “You come with me. I think the Father wants to poke around.”

Mosley looked taken aback. “Is that true?”

“I’ll comfort the widow Gary,” Jameson said, then dropped his voice to a whisper to add, “
and
poke around. Maybe I can discover what is really going on.”

“You don’t trust them,” I said.

Jameson nodded toward the living room. “Magic is never as it seems, and witchcraft is
never
without consequences. I’m not sure they’ve been completely honest.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll take Ethan. Snoop around, but make sure they don’t do anything weird to Callie.”

Jameson nodded, and there was concern in his eyes. “Watch yourself, Samuel. These people may have abused the truth, but they
are
afraid of Meriwether.”

I clapped the priest on his shoulder. “Be careful, Father. They were willing to cage a vampire.”

“God go with you,” Jameson said.

There was a heavy clomp-clomping up the porch steps and then Randy opened the door, stepped inside, and handed me an old cloth sack. “I reckon you’ll be wanting this back.”

I looked inside the sack and withdrew my Kimber, still in the Galco shoulder holster. “There’s my baby.” I checked to make sure it was still loaded with silver ammunition and that it was cocked and locked, then strapped it under my left arm.

I was glad to have it back. I still had the silver Bowie knife, but I felt a lot safer with the Kimber.

Randy’s eyes never left me as I checked the gun, and he finally said, “You think that peashooter is gonna protect you?”

“Silver bullets tend to grow holes in vampires, and if that doesn’t work, I can always count on the Lord.” I pointed to Mosley. “Right, Father?”

Mosley swallowed hard. “Of—of course.”

“See? We’ll be fine,” I said. “Where’s my truck?”

“A coven member owns the town’s garage,” Randy said. “He’s working on it. Trying to make it right. He said he’s replaced the radiator and some other parts and done a realignment. The body needs work—”

“We’re lucky
our
bodies don’t need work after crashing into that ditch,” I said, with a little more heat than I’d intended.

“Sorry about that,” Randy said, “I truly am.” He frowned and leaned in close and handed me a set of keys. “Take my van and remember what I said about the boy. You don’t got to believe me, son, but you keep an eye peeled. Understand?”

“Yeah, we’re on it,” I said. “C’mon, Father. Let’s go knock on the Devil’s door.”

* * *

I pulled Randy’s Dodge van between the brick columns that guarded Meriwether’s house. It was shortly after six, and the nearest streetlight did little to beat back the night. The trees in the park across the street looked like crooked black skeletons. As I pulled up to the house, I noticed just how menacing the place appeared at night.

Get a grip
.

I stopped the van in front of the house, turned off the engine, and tapped Mosley on the arm. “You feel anything?”

Mosley was craning his neck, trying to look everywhere at once. “What?”

“Do you feel a vampire?”

“No. I mean—wait, let me…” He grabbed for the heavy silver crucifix around his neck and rubbed at it with his thumb. “I don’t
know
.”

I sighed. Mosley was a good man, and very sincere, but I didn’t
need
sincere. I
needed
a badass servant of the Lord. “Calm down, Father. Just take a moment and breathe.”

Mosley gulped for air and managed to bring his breathing down to that of an old steam train. “Thank you.”

“I don’t feel it, either,” I offered, “so I think we’re good.”

“That
doesn’t
make me feel better,” Mosley said.

“It’s not supposed to,” I said. “Look, don’t freak out, but don’t stop listening to that voice in the back of your head that tells you you’re in danger. If you feel
anything
, take it seriously. I didn’t sense the vampire at the Korman farm until I was right on top of it. I don’t think the coven is right about Meriwether, but it would suck to be wrong.”

I just hope if I’m wrong, it doesn’t get anyone killed like it did in Marshalltown.

Mosley squinted at me. “I
pray
that you’re not wrong.”

“You and me both, Father.” I opened the van door. “Just follow my lead.”

Mosley followed me up the steps to Meriwether’s front door, pulling his brown wool coat tight to protect himself from the chill. I pushed the doorbell and waited. There was the sound of footsteps from within, and then the door opened and Meriwether greeted us. “What cockamamie story does Jodie have you chasing now?”

“Can we come in?” I asked.

Meriwether turned to the priest and smiled, exposing a pearly white set of teeth that probably netted him a boatload of insurance policy sales. “Who is this?”

Mosley stuck out his hand. “Ethan Mosley. I’m the priest at St. Michael’s Church in Bement.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as Meriwether stared at Mosley’s outstretched hand. Mosley finally let his hand drop and Meriwether said, “Nothing personal, Father Mosley, but I’m feeling less charitable as the day wears on.” He turned to me and frowned. “What? I’m not allowed to be upset? How many accusations will that woman hurl at me?”

“You’re right,” I said. “She’s a chore, I’ll agree, but she provided some new information.”

There was another awkward silence before Meriwether opened the door and beckoned us in. “Fine.”

We followed him down the hallway and into his gigantic living room. Meriwether pointed to the sofa. “Have a seat.” He removed a crystal carafe from a small mahogany table next to the fireplace and poured a glass. “Would you gentleman like a drink?”

“No, thanks,” I said.

Meriwether raised the tumbler of dark liquid to his lips. “Suit yourself.” He drained the whiskey in a long swallow and smacked his lips together. “Smooth. Sure you wouldn’t like one?”

“We’d like—we’d like to talk,” Mosley stammered. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Meriwether, but if we can just—”

“Fine, fine,” Meriwether said, taking a seat on the couch across from ours. “What crime has Jodie accused me of
this
time?”

“It’s personal,” I said. “She claims that Dorothy is Nicky’s mother.”

Meriwether’s expression never changed. “It’s true, of course. I won’t even bother trying to deny it.”

His acknowledgment wasn’t surprising. Every time I had questioned Meriwether, he’d been more than reasonable, offering solid explanations for his behavior.

“You knocked up Dorothy all those years ago and dumped her when you found out,” I said.

He leaned back against the couch, watching me thoughtfully. “I’m sure that’s how she remembers it, but let me offer a different explanation.”

I glanced at Mosley. “We’re listening.”

He sighed heavily and removed his glasses, rubbing at a spot above the bridge of his nose. “Family has a magical power all its own.”

“I don’t follow.”

“My father has been in the ground for thirty years,” Meriwether said. “Thirty years, and he still somehow has the ability to influence my decisions.” He chuckled bitterly. “Let’s say Jodie’s version doesn’t quite place the events in the correct order.”

“You didn’t dump her after she got pregnant?”

“As I told you earlier, she broke things off with me.” He sighed again. “I made the mistake of bringing her home to meet my father. He was a … complicated man. And, if we’re being truthful, he was also a cruel bastard. We dined together and my father insulted and belittled Dorothy throughout the meal. After that, she wanted nothing to do with my family. I didn’t blame her. Dorothy couldn’t understand how I put up with him.”

“You were a young man,” Mosley said, leaning forward. “He was your father.”

“Of course,” Meriwether said. “I knew he was uncouth, but he was the only father I had. Dorothy didn’t appreciate that. Then she came to me one night and told me she was late. She’d missed her period. I was the father, of course. She hadn’t been with anyone else. I thought … that I might have another chance with her. We could get married and raise our child.”

I caught myself leaning forward, as well, all concerns about the vampire gone. “Your father didn’t agree.”

Meriwether nodded, his expression turning ugly. “I made the mistake of telling him as soon as I’d found out. He was an ambitious man. He thought we could regain our status among the wealthy Chicago families. I didn’t care. My life here was more than enough for me. We were the wealthiest family in Monticello, the big fish in the little pond, so to speak. Why give that up?” He shook his head. “No, I was happy here. Then he…”

“He what?” I asked.

“He made comments about Dorothy. How he could … have his way with her.” He licked his lips and there was a tremble in his hand as he put his glasses back on. “He could make her do things she would
never
do.”

“He threatened to rape Dorothy?” Mosley asked, clearly horrified at the thought.

“Worse,” Meriwether said. “He would charm her. Subvert her will. Make her think it was her idea. Then, when it wore off, she would realize what he’d made her do. The mind reacts by going into shock. It can lead to dramatic changes in personality. It can make someone suicidal.”

“You’re right,” I said.

Meriwether raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“Your father
was
a cruel bastard.”

“You have no idea,” he said. “I didn’t seek Dorothy out again. I told my father she left me, then I went back to school. I met Annette shortly after that. She was warm and loving and beautiful, but mostly she was from a wealthy family. My father strongly approved. We were soon married and Annette became pregnant.”

I knew what was coming next. “It didn’t work out.”

Meriwether shrugged. “Life is cruel, Mr. Harlan. She became quite sick. As I told you earlier, I tried to use my gift to heal her, but healing is something I have no talent for. I watched her fade away, until one night she collapsed. I rushed her to the hospital, but it was too late. She died. So did our unborn son.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I was devastated. I slept late. I drank heavily. I quit bathing. I … was a mess.”

“Then Dorothy gave birth,” Mosley said. “You found out that she was giving up the child.
Your
child.”