Sheep's Clothing (13 page)

I wasn’t entirely sure how I managed it either, though a theory was developing in the back of my mind—a crazy theory, to be sure, but it seemed to fit with everything else that had happened the past few days.

It was, after all, just possible that my desire to protect Salvation gave me enough focus to fight him off.

I shook my head. I didn’t know, and I couldn’t properly concentrate on caring. All I could think about was that Sarah would be safe tonight.

My headache was mostly cleared up by the time we got back home, though I still felt fuzzy-headed and my mouth tasted foul.

“What I want to know,” Wolf said as he shut and locked the front door, “Is how ya did that. He might have turned ya into a drooling idjit—” he snapped his fingers. “—just like that.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I just… I was thinking about what would happen if he took over. That I had to stop him, no matter what.” My stomach clenched anew. “And I’m pretty certain he’s going to want to go after Miss Sarah now that we’ve destroyed both of his brides.”

He was silent for a long time. “Ya fancy her,” he said finally. I looked up at him, startled—of course it was true, but I didn’t see what that had to do with anything.

“I want to protect her,” I said. “I want to protect this town, but I don’t know how. I don’t want to get a mob together—who knows how many of them he’s likely to kill now that it’s just him?”

Wolf nodded. “Whelp,” he said, “I reckon we need to figure out what’s going to happen in two days.”

I rubbed my forehead. I didn’t know how keen my reasoning skills were just then, and I said so.

“Think, Doc!” Wolf was relentless. “Miss May told ya about Russeau when I sent ya to the Lucky Lady that first day, right?”

“She did,” I agreed. She was eager as always to pass on gossip about him.

“Did she happen to say why he chose Salvation?”

I shut my eyes, clutching at my aching head. She had—I
knew
she had—but I had to rack my brains to remember what she’d said. Finally the memory came.

“Land,” I said. “She said he was going to buy land somewhere around Salvation.”

“Around or in?” Wolf probed.

“Nearby, I think. She said it would be a real boon for Salvation.”

Wolf scoffed. “I doubt that very much. Where’s the deed office around here?”

I looked up, curious.

“We need to find out what land he’s after. I wouldn’t put it past him to buy up the whole town as his own private larder.”

I sagged and opened my mouth to protest any further vampire hunting activities at this hour, but he put his hand up.

“In the morning,” he conceded. “Nobody’s going to be there right now anyway. Ya get some sleep tonight.”

I glanced at the clock and, seeing the late hour, despaired at getting any proper rest. Wolf was right, though. I wasn’t going to be good for anything—medicine or investigation—if I didn’t get any sleep.

I nodded, tired to my bones, and went to bed. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

***

              In the morning I awoke relatively refreshed, though not nearly as well-rested as I would have liked. Wolf was already up, looking as though he’d had even less sleep than I had. Then again, he’d had to kill Kimimela just last night. That’s not something one can get over in only a few hours.

             
He looked over at me as I entered the kitchen. His expression was hollow, as though the previous night had taken everything out of him. Beside him on the table was my bottle of brandy. It had been almost full after I’d tangled with Rosette, but now only an inch or so remained.

             
“I’m sorry about Kimimela,” I said. It seemed woefully inadequate, but I had to say something.

             
He sighed. “Had to be done,” he said, but something still seemed to be bothering him.

I sat across from him and pulled the remnants of the brandy out of his reach. It was entirely too early in the morning for him to be getting pickled, especially with everything that needed to be done. I was probably too late to head off his drunkenness, but I did what I could.

              “Something wrong?” I asked.

             
He grimaced and looked away. “I don’t know everything about vampires, Doc,” he said. “I know what it takes to hunt and kill them, and I know how they work, but…” He bared his teeth in frustration. “Last night, when I saw Kimimela… I don’t know. I got this little itch of doubt in the back of my mind. Like…” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

             
I decided to voice my suspicions. “You thought maybe she was still in there.”

             
His head snapped around, and I knew I’d guessed right. His eyes fairly glowed in the light of early morning, and his nails convulsively dug parallel furrows in my table.

             
“When I looked at her,” he said, “For a split second I saw her—the woman I’d loved. The woman I thought was gone forever after he took her. The woman I thought he’d destroyed when he’d turned her.” He dropped his eyes. “I’ve killed my share of vampires since I started hunting Russeau. I thought I knew everything there was to know about them. Now…” He shook his head. “Now I’m wondering if there was a way to save her.”

             
Unease coiled in my stomach as I watched him. This was the man who’d taught me that vampires existed, and whose help I would need to save Salvation from Russeau. I had a fair idea where he was coming from, having seen people who had to shoot a beloved hunting dog because it had caught rabies—but this was miles beyond that.

             
“Wolf,” I said, “You told me that vampires were cunning creatures. Predators. You said that they made people see what they wanted people to see, right?”

             
He nodded, once.

             
“It’s possible that you saw what she wanted to you to see—a glimpse of what she used to be—to try to save her own life. I have a fair idea how much you loved her, and I won’t say she’s in a better place now because I don’t know that much about your beliefs and it would just ring hollow anyway. But as near as I can tell, you freed her from Russeau. That’s all you knew how to do, and maybe you’ll get to see her again someday.”

             
He looked up at me again, his face grey. He studied me at length, and then knocked back the last swallow of brandy in his glass. He glanced at the bottle that I’d taken from him, but ultimately didn’t reach for it.

             
“Ya sure got a way of putting things, Doc,” he said, and belched.

“I’ve comforted enough loved ones in my day,” I said. “I’d be lying if I said it gets any easier, though.”

He nodded and stood up. “Best keep busy till this is over, then,” he said. “Can’t go moping around while Russeau’s still on the loose.”

I stood to meet him. “Where can he go?”

“There’s only one place left he
can
go.”

Then I remembered. “The Cavanaugh manor,” I said numbly.

“Exactly. But we’re gonna need to find out what he’s up to first. Ya go to the deed office and see if he’s got any purchases in the works.”

I nodded. “If he does, this should give us a better idea what he’s up to,” I said.

              Wolf nodded. “And then even if yar mayor don’t wanna believe in vampires, we can show him that Russeau’s up to other nasty business.”

We had two days to solve this before Russeau was in for good, one way or another. As isolated as Salvation was, outside aid wouldn’t reach us until well after the deadline passed, and I didn’t much look forward to seeing the consequences.

“What will you do in the meantime?” I asked.

“I’m gonna have another chat with DuPont, see what he knows.”

I wasn’t entirely certain how much tar DuPont had left for Wolf to beat out of him, but desperate times called for desperate measures. There was a good chance he knew what we needed to know.

“I’ll meet up with you around noon, then?” I asked.

He nodded sharply. “Or before that, if either of us finds anything.”

“All right.”

We left on our separate errands.

***

              The first thing I noted was how many residences had seeds and grains scattered across their front porches. Although I was briefly relieved by the evidence that Gib had shared this technique for keeping vampires away, I kept thinking about the crows that Russeau had with him, and how fat they would be likely to grow eating up the Salvationers’ thin barrier of protection. I couldn’t allow myself to dwell on this, however. There was too much to do and too little time to accomplish it.

             
I made a beeline for the deeds office. I didn’t realize what a flustered state I was in until I saw the expression that crossed the face of the young man behind the counter.

             
“Grady, isn’t it?” I asked. He nodded, looking as though I’d walked in splashed with blood. “I need to find out if Alexandre Russeau is buying any property in or around Salvation. It’s urgent.”

             
“Doc, are ya all right?” he asked. “Ya look awful.”

             
“I’m okay,” I said, then considered. “... Relatively speaking. I don’t have time to explain. Has he filed any deeds lately?”

             
“I can go check. He’s been here less than a week, hasn’t he?”

             
I nodded.

“Then it should be right over here.” He crossed to a small, encouragingly thin stack of deeds. “These are the ones that still need the mayor’s approval. What’s this all about?”

“I need to make sure Russeau doesn’t get a permanent toehold in town,” I said, grabbing the stack and leafing through it. “He’s a monster. He’ll kill the place.”

“Well,” Grady hedged, “I thought he was nice enough. Gib says he’s bad news, but what does he know?”

I looked up at Grady, chilled by this statement. Gib and May tended to know everything of importance about anyone in the area, and their news was generally trusted by everyone in town.

Grady was idly scratching at the inside of his wrist, pushing up the cuff slightly. I caught enough of a glimpse of a bite-mark to let me know I had to leave as soon as possible. I forced myself to finish leafing through the deeds, carefully searching until I found one that bore Russeau’s name. I pulled it out of the stack and looked it over, horribly aware of Grady’s eyes on me.

My blood ran cold as I saw how large an area Russeau intended to claim as his own. A glance at the map on the obverse only confirmed my suspicions.

Russeau intended to purchase the entire town of Salvation.

Where he found the money, I could only imagine—such an unscrupulous monster clearly had every opportunity he could possibly want to gather the funds he needed to purchase a town as small as Salvation without beggaring himself.

“I need to borrow this for a bit,” I said, and walked out in a hurry before Grady could do much more than open his mouth. I kept walking—albeit at speed—until I’d rounded a corner. I looked at the deed again, more carefully this time, to confirm what I’d seen before.

It was no less true on a second viewing. My heart sank. I had no great desire to see Russeau as owner of Salvation—he couldn’t possibly hope for a more convenient larder.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when a big leathery paw of a hand closed on my shoulder. I whirled around to find, to my relief and annoyance, that it was only Wolf, but I didn’t have time to relax.

“DuPont’s dead,” he said.

“Russeau plans to buy Salvation,” I said at nearly the same time, but then added, “Dead? What—”

“Neck was broken,” he said shortly. “Head twisted right around backwards. Don’t know of any men strong enough to do that, not even yar sheriff, and he looked as surprised as I was.”

My stomach twisted with conflicting emotions. I didn’t much like DuPont, all things considered, but I couldn’t quite convince myself to rejoice over his death.

“Now, what’s this about Russeau wanting to buy Salvation?” Wolf asked.

“It’s all right here,” I said, showing him the deed and its associated map. “See?”

Wolf growled. “Buying up his own little larder, is he?” he asked. “Doesn’t look like the mayor’s signed it over, though. We still have time.” He folded up the deed for the town and shoved it into my inside coat pocket. “Now, let’s see if we can’t convince the mayor before it’s too late.”

***

              The Cavanaughs’ house servant met us at the door.

             
“I need to speak to the mayor immediately,” I gasped, out of breath from my mad dash.

             
He nodded. “I’ll see if he’s available, sirs,” he said. “Have a seat in the parlor.”

             
We both sat, though I had to resist the urge to pace as the servant ambled away. According to the huge grandfather clock in the corner he was only gone for three minutes or so, but in my agitation it felt like an eternity.