Dead of Winter

by Lee Collins

  "Who are you?" Wash asked.

  "I am a master of life and death. I hold eternity in my palms. I am a true child of the night, chosen by those before me to carry our dark standard forth into this great, untamed land." His eyes flashed in the shadows. "I am the one that will grant you eternal life and the power to slay your enemies. You will walk the night as one of us, immortal, omnipotent, a dark god upon the face of the earth."

  "What should I call you?" Wash asked.

  "I am nosferatu, a king of the undead. My name, such as it is, is Fodor Glava."

  "Fodor Glava?" Wash tested the name on his tongue. "That's an odd one."

  "I make no apologies."

  "Shouldn't need to, I say," Wash said, looking at the vampire's polished shoes. His mind was racing. This man, whoever or whatever he was, hadn't killed him yet. Even more, he was offering to make Wash into something he'd never heard of before. It sounded powerful, like he would truly become a god among men. Nobody, not even Cora Oglesby, could stand up to him then. She would be the first of many defeated opponents, many helpless victims swept away by his power.

  He looked back up at Glava. "So you're going to make me into one of you?" The vampire nodded. "Why?"

  "It is our law," Glava said. "The line of nosferatu must not go extinct, so upon each awakening, we must select a mortal to receive our gift, raising them above mere slaves to join the ranks of the true undead. In that way, we ensure that the world will never see our end."

  "But ain't you immortal?" Wash said. "What's this talk about keeping the line going?"

  "We are not impervious," Glava said, his face placid. "We are powerful, intelligent, and cannot die of old age or disease, but we may still be killed."

  "How's that?" Wash asked. If a vampire could still be killed, maybe he didn't want to waste his time becoming one after all.

  "You will learn in time. For now, be content to know that there are those among your kind that actively seek our ruin." A hint of anger crept into the vampire's voice. "They study our weaknesses. They pursue us like hounds. They prepare traps and lie in waiting, eager to claim our lives should we take but one false step. All this because they refuse to accept the truth."

  "What truth?"

  "That we are the future," Glava said. "It may take a thousand years or more, but we will overcome their pitiful weapons, their paltry schemes, and their powerless gods. We will assume our rightful place as rulers of the earth."

  The golden eyes flashed at Wash's upturned face. "Do you wish to have a seat among us on that day, Washington Jones? Will you cast aside the weakness of your humanity, your mortality, and embrace true power?"

  Wash jumped to his feet. "Yessir, I will!" His blue eyes were bright with lust. This was better than he could have imagined. He would never grow old, never die of pneumonia or tuberculosis. He would be free to do whatever he wanted, and eventually, he would become a king. Maybe these nosferatu would let him rule over Colorado or even all of the West. He could have the best whiskey, the finest cuts of beef, and all the women he wanted.

  A smile spread across Glava's handsome face, revealing a pair of pointed teeth. "So be it." The vampire's cold hand clamped onto the back of Wash's neck. Glava pulled him close, twisting his head back to expose his neck. "Prepare yourself for the taste of death."

  Wash felt the man's teeth punch through the skin on his neck, and fear seized him. He flailed his arms and legs, trying to break Glava's grip and escape, but he might as well have been trying to pry open a grizzly's jaws. Searing pain coursed through him as his lifeblood flowed out of his body. A scream erupted from deep within his lungs.

  The burning in his limbs began giving way to a warm haze. His muscles relaxed, and he even managed a smile, his eyes closing on the last light he would see as living man.

  Fodor Glava let the corpse fall to the floor with a thud. He pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped lingering beads of blood from the corners of his mouth. As he tucked the handkerchief away, he sneered at the fallen gunman.

  "When next you wake, Washington Jones," he said, "you will be one of us. You will share our power and our lust." He crouched down next to Wash's head, black locks framing the pale skin of his face. Leaning over his victim's ear, he whispered, "And you will share our curse."

  THIRTEEN

  Cora leaned back in the saddle and surveyed the motley bunch assembled before her. The men slouched in their saddles, shoulders hunched against the cold wind blowing down from the mountain. Snow swirled around them in silvery whirlwinds, catching the sunlight like a thousand glass shards. Next to her, James Townsend sat atop a brown stallion, looking unhappy.

  Sighing, Cora lifted her Colt from its holster and dropped it back into place. She didn't like bringing this many men, but it couldn't be helped. They were riding against a small army of vampires; they needed all the help they could get. Standing up in her stirrups, she pulled the bandana down to her chin.

  "All right, gentlemen, this is how it is," she yelled over the wind. "We're about to charge into a dark, dusty mine that's filled with undead monsters." The men exchanged glances. "I know King George here filled you all in on what's going on up there, so don't act like you ain't in the know. I see your crosses and your garlic, so I know you're prepared.

  "The good news is you ain't going to be doing much of the fighting your own selves. That's what me and George are here for. All you boys need to concern yourselves with is keeping them from rushing us all at once. Ben here will stay with you and show you how it's done, so keep your wits and you'll do fine.

  "But," she added before the men could relax, "that don't mean it ain't going to be dangerous. We're riding into a nest of demons, and maybe not all of us will be riding out. Stay frosty, stay loose, and above all, stay where you can hear me." She looked each of the ten men in the eye, one at a time. "As far as you're concerned, I'm the Queen of England. What I say is law, on account of I know what I'm doing and you don't. I'm the big damn hero here, and don't you forget it."

  Cora drew her saber and let it flash in the afternoon sunlight. "Now then, let's go win us back a mine."

  The men gave a half-hearted cheer through their bandanas, raising their crosses in the air. Cora waved her saber in a circle over her head, then sat down and turned Our Lady of Virginia toward the mines. Ben and James rode on either side of her, and the rest of the men filed into two columns behind them.

  "Ten men is the best you could scare up?" Cora asked, giving James a sidelong glance.

  "It isn't as though Lord Harcourt keeps a standing army of vampire hunters living at his private retreat, Mrs Oglesby," James said. "I had to make do with what I could find."

  "What did you find?"

  "Stable hands. Butlers. Whoever had a free afternoon," James said.

  Cora turned her head to stare at him. "You ain't serious?"

  "Of course," James replied, returning her gaze. "Why wouldn't I be?"

  "Because we can't take a bunch of stable boys into a nest of vampires. Ain't you got hunters or hounds or something a little more able? Ain't you and Harcourt into hunting like that other British lord feller up there in Estes Park?"

  "Oh my, no," James said. "Lord Harcourt finds hunting rather distasteful, and I must say I share the feeling. We both find scholarly pursuits much more rewarding."

  "That don't sound familiar at all," Cora said, tossing Ben a look. "I swear, I don't know why I came out here without my bottle. Killing vampires with a pair of uptight schoolteachers ain't sober work no matter how you cut it."

  "Ain't like you done it before," Ben said. "When was the last time you hunted sober?"

  "In the farm fields when I was just a sprout," Cora said. "Hunting grasshoppers for my pa."

  "What's that?" James asked.

  "I was just reminding Ben here that I ain't been sober since I was about ten."

  "Are you serious?" James asked, the shock in his voice clear even through his scarf. "You've been a tippler since you were a child?"
<
br />   "Why, sure," Cora said. "I learned good and young that there ain't no point to fighting sober. I shoot straighter after I've had me a few, anyhow."

  "At least until you start seeing double," Ben said.

  "Why, I'll still hit both of them between the eyes," Cora said.

  "Both of what?" James said.

  "Hush up if you ain't going to pay attention, George," Cora said. "Just keep riding that pretty carriage horse of yours."

  "I beg your pardon," James said. "This is a thoroughbred hackney from pedigree stock, I'll have you know. The Prince of Wales himself couldn't ask for a finer horse."

  "I don't reckon he could," Cora said. "Them's a fine breed for hauling rich folk around all day, but it ain't no riding animal. You'd be better off on a mule."

  "Forgive me if I'm not accustomed to riding the same commonplace animals you content yourself with, madam, but my standards happen to be slightly more refined than all of that. It's hardly my concern if you're so consumed with jealousy that you must fall to insults."

  "Let's stop fighting, girls," Ben said. "We got other things to worry about."

  "You heard what he said about my horse," Cora said. "You think I can just let that go?"

  "You will if you want me to hold them boys together," Ben said. "I ain't riding into no mine with a pair of hunters that can't get along for more than half a tick."

  "All right, have it your way," Cora said. "I just figured old George would be more grateful for my pulling that vampire off his neck this morning. He ain't said a word of thanks."

  "A vampire that we never would have encountered had you not ventured past the barricades," James said.

  "Enough!" Ben said, his voice rising.

  Cora shot him a look, but rode on in silence. James dropped the argument as well, and pushed his hat down over his ears. The hackney brown held his head high as they rode, his mane shining in the afternoon sun.

  Cora turned her head and looked at the line of men following them. They were silent, their eyes forward. She felt a twinge of pity for them. Here they were, a ragtag gang of butlers and stable boys riding toward a nightmare of terror and death. She hadn't been bluffing when she'd told them that not all of them might be riding back out of the mine, but that was before she'd known they weren't even fighters. She thought James could have found a more capable army, even if that meant pulling from the mining crews. Miners were tougher, at least, and they would have known the tunnels better than Harcourt's house staff. The thought had probably never crossed James's mind, though.

  Soon, the dark face of the mining facility crept into view. Cora pulled back on Our Lady's reins before she crossed into the building's shadow, looking the place over as James dismounted. It seemed as though nothing had changed since the morning, yet she felt uneasy. A gust of wind blew snow down from the roof into her face. She cursed and raised her arm, trying to shield herself from the freezing shards. She nudged her mare forward, keeping her head low as she rode toward the front door.

  "Cora," James called. Something in his voice made her look up. He was standing by the door, bent over so his face was level with the knob.

  "What is it, George?" she asked, dismounting.

  "Have a look at this," he said.

  Cora approached the door. "Well, I'll be damned," she muttered, looking at the shattered ruins of the lock. "Looks like somebody had a hankering for some of your silver, after all."

  "So it would seem," James said. He pushed the door open and peered into the darkness. "I wonder if the poor soul is still alive."

  "As something, no doubt," Cora said. "I doubt that poor soul of his is still here, though."

  James gave her a correcting look, then turned and took a few steps into the building. "Fetch me a lantern, would you, dear?"

  "Get your own," Cora said, pushing her way past him. She went over to the desk and picked up one of the lanterns from that morning. She lit it and surveyed the office. "Nothing looks different here."

  "Are you sure?" James asked. "I could have sworn I placed the two lanterns side by side when we left this morning."

  "Ain't much of a thief that comes through a silver mine and only takes a lantern," Cora said. "Maybe he didn't even get past the office before he got spooked and humped it back to town."

  "I reckon he was too busy dragging something through it," Ben said from the doorway. He crouched down and ran his fingers over the floor. "Floor's all scratched up."

  "Let me see," Cora said, moving over to crouch beside him. In the yellow glow of the lantern, she could see several parallel scratches along the wooden floor of the office. "Wasn't that big, whatever it was."

  "Whatever what was?" James asked.

  "Whatever that fellow dragged out of your mine," Cora said.

  "You found something?"

  "Ain't you been listening?" Cora said. "Somebody dragged something out of here."

  "Are you sure?" James asked. He stepped around the desk and knelt down to inspect it himself. "Well, isn't that interesting?"

  "Anything in there that could make tracks like this?" Cora asked.

  "Not that I'm aware of," James said. "Of course, these tracks don't mean anything was stolen."

  Cora looked at him. "The evidence is right under your boots."

  "I see the tracks," James said, "but they could have just as easily been made by something being dragged inside."

  Cora blinked, then looked back down at the scratches. "Never thought of that."

  "I know," James said. "It would also seem that you haven't yet thought to invite the rest of the team inside."

  She looked at Ben. "Ain't those boys your responsibility?" she asked him.

  "Hardly," James replied before Ben could say a word. "You're the combat expert, and we are taking them into combat."

  "Button your lip," Cora said, glaring at the scholar. She turned toward the door and cupped her hands around her mouth. "All right, boys, pile on in here!"

  The men shuffled through the door in single file, their faces red from the cold. Once inside, a few of them pulled their bandanas down and blew into their gloves. One volunteer almost looked too young to shave. Cora shook her head as she watched them, praying that they would live to see the next morning.

  "You boys ready?" she asked.

  They nodded, shuffling their boots. Some of them had lanterns hanging from their belts. Cora held up hers and pointed to it. They took the hint, holding them out for her to light. She lit each in turn, and the small office was soon awash in the warm glow.

  Suddenly, something slammed into Cora's back, knocking her forward into the group. The lantern fell from her hand and smashed apart on the floor, spilling flames into the dust. A chorus of surprised hollers filled the room as the men instinctively covered their heads. Cora fell facefirst into their boots, the weight behind her pinning her down. She felt cold hands grab her elbows and yank her arms backward. Pain exploded in her shoulders, sending waves down her arms and across her neck. Her spine popped as the creature pulled. Each breath became a battle. A moment later, she heard a sharp hiss and felt the scraping of razor-sharp fangs against her neck.

  The hands suddenly released her. She flopped forward, but caught herself before her face smashed into the floor. Forcing air back into her lungs, she pushed herself onto her hands and knees. Somewhere behind her, she could hear banging, scraping, and hissing. Her fingers curled into fists as she pulled herself to her feet and turned toward the sound.

  James was grappling with the vampire against the far wall. His right hand held a wooden cross in a death grip, and he kept trying to press it against the monster's chest. The vampire growled and snapped at him with jagged fangs, trying to shove the cross away without getting too close to it. James pressed his attack, always keeping the cross just beyond the reach of those cold fingers.

  Seeing an opening, he thrust the cross into the undead face, and the vampire recoiled in fear. James took advantage of the brief respite and reached for something at his belt. Not feeling wha
t he was looking for, he glanced down. The vampire seized its chance, throwing itself into him. He tumbled backward, and the cross flew from his grip. He fell to the floor with a heavy thud and screamed as the monster pinned his arms down. Pale lips drew back from the mouthful of jagged teeth. With a hiss of anger, the vampire's head descended on the scholar's neck.

  Thunder filled the small room, causing dust to stream down from the rafters. The vampire reeled from the bullet's impact, and Cora fired again. The second round punched a smoking hole clean through the undead skull, and the monster collapsed.

  Everyone stood in silence for a moment, waiting for the harsh ringing in their ears to fade. Blue smoke hung in the air. After a few seconds, Cora lowered her revolver.