Authors: Elizabeth Einspanier
I rubbed my neck, remembering how strong one vampire had been.
“I’ll get my gun,” I said.
***
As the two of us approached the Lucky Lady, I saw that above the humble little building wheeled a black cloud of wings and feathers—more crows than I’d ever seen in one place in my life. My heart leapt into my throat at such an unnerving sight. For his part, Wolf let out a low growl and broke into a loping jog.
“What is it?” I panted, trying to keep up.
“They’re his,” he responded, not sounding out of breath at all.
“The crows?’ I asked.
He nodded once, and then we were up the steps to the Lucky Lady and in the front door.
Gib was behind the counter as we burst in. He didn’t have the same finesse at cooking that his wife did, but he could fix up a serviceable meal.
“Doc!” he exclaimed, maneuvering himself out to meet us. “Something’s been happening with May!”
“What is it?” I asked, stopping in front of him.
“It was the strangest thing,” he said. “May kept trying to get up out of bed all through the dinner hour. Said she had to sweep the upstairs hallway.”
“Is the rice still there where you scattered it?” I asked.
He nodded. “It was, last I checked, but I had to tie her to the bed to make her rest. What’s going on?”
“He was trying to get out,” I said. “You did well.”
“Won’t last long with those crows out there,” Wolf said. “Which way to the lodgings?”
“Upstairs,” Gib said, and Wolf bolted up the stairs two at a time.
“Stay down here,” I told Gib. “There’s nobody else staying here, is there?”
He shook his head.
“Good. We’re going to—”
Just then a spate of cursing exploded upstairs. Both Gib and I looked in that direction, and I sprinted up the stairs to see what was wrong.
Wolf leaned against the doorframe at the end of the hall, teeth bared in a snarl of frustration. The rice was still scattered on the floor at his feet, but the door to Russeau’s room was open. I joined him and peered in.
The room was empty, and the pine box was open, revealing that all it contained was a thin layer of dirt. Russeau and Kimimela were both gone, but at the far end of the room, a crow perched on the sill of the open window and cackled at us. I half-imagined it was mocking our failure.
Wolf aimed one of his revolvers at the damnable bird and cocked the hammer, but it flew off, still cackling.
Wolf watched it fly off, and a few seconds later he slammed his fist into the doorpost and straightened up, his face set in a mask of determination. “The hunt is on,” he said.
“Do you have any idea where to start?”
“He’s going to go after people he hasn’t marked,” Wolf said. “First, though, we need to make sure he can’t come back to this lair.” He pulled out a vial of holy water, uncorked it, and poured the contents all over the earth inside the pine box. It smoked and hissed, as before. He strode down the stairs, and I trailed behind. “The next thing we need to do is eliminate this place as a hiding spot for him at all. Usually it don’t work with a public building, but I have an idea. Gib!” This last was a shout, and Gib looked up. “If that varmint Russeau comes back, make it clear that he ain’t welcome. Tell him to his face. Him and his lady ain’t welcome here.”
“What if they try to come in anyway?” Gib asked.
“They won’t be able to if ya’re clear they ain’t welcome, ya got it? It’ll be like slamming the door in their face.” He looked around the common room, even up at the ceiling. “With Miss May out of commission ya’re the one in charge, right?”
Gib nodded, looking pale.
“So ya don’t have to let him in. Keep a crucifix handy in case he tries to press the point. Ya understand?”
“I understand,” Gib said. He shot a glance out the window—it had been full dark for some time now, and he looked like he expected a boogeyman to come in any moment. “Be careful, ya two.”
“We will,” I assured him, though I was not looking forward to hunting vampires in the dark.
***
Wolf and I circled around to the side of the Lucky Lady, to a point just under the open window from Russeau’s room. I saw no balcony or ladder that might have facilitated his escape from this direction, but I did see that several dozen of the crows had settled on the roof above and were now watching us keenly. Wolf fired one of his revolvers at them, and they scattered in a flurry of wings, cawing, and bird droppings.
As I took off my hat and inspected the white splatter left on its crown, I said, “Now what?”
In response, Wolf stepped closer to the wall below the window and touched the wood. I looked closer as well, and saw marks in the wood, clustered at regular intervals, as though gouged by the claws of a man-sized beast.
Wolf nodded with satisfaction. “Thought as much,” he said. “They waited until the crows had et up all the rice, and then climbed down the side of the building. Look.” He pointed at the ground nearby, and I could see impressions in the grass. Wolf dropped to a crouch, his nostrils flaring, and then craned his head off to his right, looking for all the world like a hunting dog on point. “That way.” He wrinkled his nose. “The stink of vampire is faint, but still there. They ain’t been gone long. Come on.” He straightened to a half-crouch and started following the trail that apparently only he could perceive.
“What’s the plan?” I asked, jogging to keep up.
“We take them out one by one,” he replied. “If they’re together, we get one of them alone. Kimimela first.” His voice tightened at the mention of Kimimela’s impending destruction, and I couldn’t help but imagine how difficult this would be for him, even if it amounted to a mercy kill.
We continued in tense silence for the better part of an hour, darting in and out of shadows like thieves, pausing to listen for cues that only Wolf could interpret, and then plunging headlong into the light of the full moon. I jumped at every noise that I would ordinarily have dismissed as just part of the night, and in every shadow I imagined a fiend lay in wait to feed on our blood. At one point the trail split in two as Russeau and Kimimela apparently went their separate ways, and we continued following Kimimela.
My nerves were wound like mainsprings as the hunt continued into midnight, so that when Wolf put his arm out to stop, I nearly yelped in surprise.
“What is it?” I whispered.
“She’s just up ahead,” he whispered back, and then drew a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with.” He straightened up and rounded the corner, with me fast on his heels.
Kimimela was a dusky specter in white, resembling the
bean-sidhe
of Irish myth. She turned as we approached, and at first her unearthly beauty took my breath away. The sensation of the agate turning cold against my chest brought me back to sanity, however, and I remembered how close Rosette had come to killing me. I stoutly refused to make the same mistake again.
“Kimimela,” Wolf said, and his voice was ragged with emotion. He levelled his crossbow.
Her gaze flickered down to the weapon and back up at him.
“Wolf, what are you doing?” she asked. I was initially surprised that she’d spoken in English, but later on I concluded that she’d become fluent through her travels with Russeau.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to protect ya, Kimimela,” Wolf said. “I’m sorry this happened to ya. I’m sorry this has to be done.” Tears glistened in his eyes as his finger tightened on the trigger.
Kimimela leapt like a wild cat, her claws extended and her mouth of fangs gaping in readiness to tear one or both of us apart. Wolf fired his crossbow at her while she was still in midair. Her momentum carried her into him, driving him onto his back with her atop him in a bizarre parody of a lover’s embrace.
For a few breathless moments none of us moved. I stepped gingerly closer, prepared to throw myself back if it turned out that Kimimela’s fangs had struck home. Then Wolf pushed her off him and sat up, breathing hard. I ventured closer and saw only the fletches of the quarrel protruding from her chest—not square over her heart, but apparently close enough to have pierced the organ. She slumped bonelessly onto the ground like a marionette with its strings cut, but her mouth still moved sluggishly, slowly gnashing her teeth. He wiped at his eyes, sniffled, and bent over the impaled vampiress that had been Kimimela. I was discreet enough to turn my back, allowing him some privacy.
“Kimimela,” he whispered raggedly. “I’m sorry. I never wanted it to end like this. I hope ya find some peace now.” He started the rhythmic chanting that he had pronounced over Rosette before, and I crossed myself.
However, because I had turned my back on the scene, I was in the unique position to see a shape rise up on a nearby roof. It appeared at first to be a great wolf, but then it shifted and straightened up into the form of a man, backlit in the silver gleam of the moon.
Then its eyes gleamed red, and the bottom fell out of my stomach as I realized what I was looking at.
Russeau.
I have never been so afraid of any single man, before or since, as I was of the looming figure of Alexandre Russeau perched on the rooftop. I knew exactly what he was, and he’d come close to killing me that morning, when he ought to have been at his weakest. I could only imagine what he was likely to do to me now.
I tried to call out to Wolf, but my throat had closed down to a pinhole, and the only sound I could manage was a thin wheeze. Behind me, the chanting continued. I racked my brain, trying to figure out if he was getting toward the end of the chant, while above me Russeau lowered himself into a crouch that put me in mind of a cougar getting ready to pounce.
“Wolf?” I finally managed to squeak.
Behind me, I heard a gun’s hammer cock back with a soft
click
over the sound of the chant. I risked a glance over my shoulder, and saw that Wolf had fixed Russeau with the most venomous stare I had ever seen in my life—not anger, but pure, boiling hate. One revolver was ready to fire. He finished the last few syllables of his chant and drew the other one.
“So,” Russeau said, his voice every bit as smooth and charismatic as ever. “You finally found her, did you?” The agate was painfully cold against my skin, and beneath this sensation I felt something trying to wash over my mind like a flooding river. It felt like he was trying to drown me in myself, but couldn’t quite find purchase in my consciousness.
“Aye, I found her,” Wolf growled. “And now she’s free of ya. Ya can’t get yar hooks in her anymore.”
“And what of this one?” Russeau asked, turning his full attention on me. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out that horrible stare, but I felt the full weight of his will pressing down against mine. The agate might be keeping him out, but he was still powerful.
I had to keep him out. I had to protect Salvation from his predations. I had to perform my duties as a doctor to keep this town healthy.
I couldn’t let him in.
I didn’t want to let him in.
I refused to let him in.
Sweat prickled on my brow, and sharp pain lanced through my head, like someone was hammering railroad spikes through my temples.
“Get. Away. From. Him.” Wolf bit off each word as he spoke.
“Or what?” Russeau’s voice echoed through my head as well as in my ears. Seconds later, however, the horrible crushing pressure eased, and I sagged to my knees. “No matter. I have other options for brides.” He let out a low chuckle, and I squinted up at him through watering eyes. His teeth gleamed uncannily as he grinned. “And in two days it won’t even matter.”
Then he was gone like a wisp of smoke in a sudden breeze.
My stomach rolled over, and I vomited on the ground.
“God Almighty,” Wolf said, “Are ya all right?”
All I could make was a hollow croaking noise.
“I ain’t never seen someone stare down a master vampire like that, Doc. Not since I been hunting Russeau. Either ya got an uncommon amount of grit, or ya’re plumb crazy.”
I was abominably tired after this latest confrontation, and I wanted nothing more than to wash my mouth out with peppermint tea and go to sleep. My head throbbed in time with my pulse.
“Come on, Doc,” Wolf said, hauling me to my feet and slinging my arm across his shoulders. My knees felt like rubber. “I suppose it’s nothing short of a miracle that ya’re even still conscious. Even with that agate I gave ya he might have battered ya till yar mind broke, just trying to beat yar door down.”