Dead of Winter

by Lee Collins

  Cora looked at him in shock. "Why, he's been with us all afternoon." Looking over at the group of men by the door, she searched through their faces, but couldn't find Ben's. "He must have gone out to see to the horses just now. I swear I introduced the two of you when we talked to Harcourt, or even on the train back from Denver. He was asleep on the other bench, remember?"

  "I'm afraid I don't," James said, "though I must admit I wasn't entirely sober that day. Still, you must introduce me when we get outside. I feel rather sheepish for having ignored him all this time."

  "Well, he's easy to ignore," Cora said. "Why, I forget he's in the room half the time when he's into one of his books."

  "Books, you say?" James asked, a smile spreading across his face. "Your husband is a bibliophile?" Cora gave him a blank look. "A book lover."

  She laughed. "You got that right."

  "I beg your pardon." The voice came from the cluster of men by the door. "Might this conversation be continued elsewhere?"

  James turned and looked at the man who spoke. "Getting impatient, are we, Edward?"

  An older man nodded. "Yes, actually."

  "I suppose it is getting late," James said, examining his pocket watch. "I hope Constance remembered to put the kettle on, or tea will be late."

  "Can't have that, now," Cora said. "All right, boys, go get your horses. Let's get out of here."

  The men jostled one another as each fought to be the first out the door. Cora took one last look around the office. The rest of the vampires could still be lurking somewhere in the shadows beyond the door, watching them leave. They could rot there for all she cared. Night would bring them swarming out of the mine like ants. Leadville was quite a few miles away, and she didn't think they'd roam so far after losing half their numbers. Still, if they had a mastermind driving them, predicting their movements would be impossible. They wouldn't behave like normal animals.

  "Shall we?" James asked.

  "Shouldn't we put up a cross or something?" Cora said. "Try to keep them bottled in?"

  James shook his head. "They have a human accomplice now. We'll need to find and eliminate him before we can move against the nosferatu." He turned and walked out the door.

  "Whatever you say," Cora said, tossing up her hands and following him outside. Although she walked in the shadow of the building, she still had to squint against the afternoon sunlight glimmering on the peaks around them. Most of the men had already mounted and were facing the road leading back to Harcourt's retreat. The sight brought a smile to her lips. At least they were all making it out alive.

  Cora looked skyward, trying to gauge the remaining daylight, but all she saw was a dark shape plummet from the roof onto the British scholar. James didn't have time to holler before the vampire drove him into the ground. His legs thrashed against it, tossing snow into the air, but the vampire held him down. The snow muffled his cry as the fangs sank into the back of his neck.

  "In nomine Patris!" Cora's boots pounded across the snow as she drew her saber. Diving into the undead monster point-first, she knocked it clear of James's prostrate form. Vampire and hunter rolled over the ground, snow sticking to the gray flesh. The monster ended up on top, Cora's sword lodged in its side. Smoke poured from the wound, but the creature ignored it and wrapped cold fingers around her braid. She spat curses and struggled against the iron grip. It seemed to mock her, baring its fangs in front of her eyes instead of sinking them into her throat.

  Then, without warning, the vampire turned and leapt away.

  The rushing of cold air into her lungs drowned out the screams at first. When they reached her ears, she picked her head up and squinted at the sound. The dark shape of the vampire crouched on the snow, pinning a writhing pair of legs beneath it. Beyond it, a riderless horse stamped in fear among the rest of the mounted men, who were backing up into the sunlight. Cora struggled to her feet before realizing that her sword was still stuck in the monster's side. She pulled her pistol from her belt and forced her legs into a run.

  The vampire heard her approach and raised its head, blood soaking its matted beard. Even at this distance, Cora could see the gleam in its eyes as it reveled in the fresh kill. She pointed her revolver at that gleam and squeezed the trigger. The gunshot echoed against the wall of the mining complex. Smoke erupted from the vampire's forehead as it pitched backward into the snow.

  Cora didn't check her stride, her boots kicking up small chunks of snow. She could sense the line of men on horseback staring at her, but she ignored them, keeping her revolver trained on the fallen vampire. It lay sprawled on its back, one hip jutting toward the afternoon sky. She pressed the toe of her boot into the mottled shoulder, pushed it over, pulled her sword free, and lopped off the monster's head. She considered it for a moment, then looked up at the line of mounted men. Before they could react, she raised her boot and kicked the head straight at them. A number of them hollered, holding up their arms to protect their faces, but the head left the mountain's shadow before it reached them and disintegrated into a fine dust.

  "That isn't very amusing," one of the men said.

  Cora's smirk widened, but she didn't reply. Instead, she turned and inspected the vampire's victim. It was an elderly man clad in a tweed suit beneath his wool coat. Puncture wounds lined both sides of his throat. Dark streaks of blood trailed down his neck into the snow, but no fresh blood flowed.

  Footsteps approached, and she glanced up. James looked disheveled, his glasses crooked and his tie loose around his neck. His face contorted with sorrow when he recognized the fallen man.

  "Ah, poor Edward," he said. "I knew I shouldn't have brought him."

  "He is kind of old for this work, ain't he?" Cora said.

  James nodded. "I even told him as much back at the retreat, but he insisted on coming. Old fool kept blathering on about his duty to House Harcourt and all of that, so I finally agreed. Now look where I got him."

  "Ain't your fault, James," Cora said. "Why, you should be thanking your lucky stars that it ain't you where he is right now."

  "I suppose you deserve the majority of the thanks," James said.

  "Well, then, I reckon you owe me a drink," Cora said. "Anyhow, this feller's already working his way toward becoming a vampire himself, so unless you got any pressing business with him, I'll get right to taking his head off."

  James sighed and nodded, turning his face away as Cora's saber came down on the old man's neck. She wiped the blade clean on the snow next to the body, then dried it on her coat and slid it home. James turned back toward the old man and knelt. He reached into his pocket, produced a small clove of garlic, and stuffed it into the victim's mouth. He muttered a brief prayer, then stood and looked at Cora. "Shall we?"

  "I reckon so," Cora said. "You want to bring him back for a proper burial?"

  "I'll send a wagon for him in the morning," James said. "The vrykolakas will have no interest in his remains."

  "If you say so," Cora said. "You got to get the retreat ready, anyhow."

  "Ready?" a young man from the group asked. "Ready for what?"

  James looked skyward at the waning daylight. "For the coming darkness."

  FOURTEEN

  Ben and Cora rode back to town under the afternoon sun. She had wanted to stay and help James fortify Harcourt's retreat against the vampiric attack, but the scholar would have none of it. He had stood beneath the archway leading to the front door, refusing her passage.

  "I can prepare my own home," he said. "It's more important that you return to Leadville and make what preparations you can. You will need all the help you can get should we fail to hold them back."

  Cora finally relented, but not before informing James just how much of an old fool he was. Shaking her head, she walked down the path to where Ben stood with their horses. When he saw her approaching, Ben climbed on Book's back and turned the gelding's head toward the road. Cora followed suit, Our Lady swaying beneath her as she mounted. She readied her heels for a punch to the mare's
ribs when the scholar's voice echoed back to her.

  "You will remember to bring your husband next time, won't you?" James called, waving his hand. "I should so like to meet him."

  Cora raised her hand without responding, then gave Our Lady her heels and followed Ben down the road. They rode at a good clip, bandanas pulled up against the frigid air. The town of Leadville was nothing but a dark gray shadow in the distance, ignorant of the menace that threatened to swallow it whole. Above their heads, the eastern sky was beginning to give way to the darker blue of evening.

  After awhile, Cora broke the silence. "That James Townsend is a mite touched, if you ask me."

  "Why's that?" Ben asked. "Cause he's set on making a stand all by his lonesome?"

  Cora shook her head. "He just wants to be a hero, and I can't blame him on that account. There's plenty of times we've made dumb moves just to make the kill that much more fun. You remember the time we cornered that werewolf down in Santa Fe?"

  "That's the one them Indians said was a skin-walker, right?"

  "One and the same," Cora said. "There I was, set to put a silver bullet in its head while it was still human when you come barging in and tell me to wait. 'It's a better time if you let it change,' you says. So I held my fire until them hungry-looking eyes were staring holes through me. Fool thing nearly tore my neck out before I put that bullet in it, but at least we looked like the heroes we is."

  Ben chuckled. "I only said that to get you to hold off on the killing until it didn't look like a man no more," he said. "They'd have hung us right quick if you'd shot it before it changed."

  "That ain't so," Cora said. "They knew that boy was a monster. Why else did they call us in?"

  "All they knew was that something kept killing their sheep," Ben said. "As I recall, the Mexicans in town thought it was one of them chupacabra critters."

  "That notion had us chasing through that desert scrub for near two weeks before we came to our senses."

  "We?" Ben shot her a smirk. "Ain't that giving yourself too much credit? You never did have no sense, not then and not now. I was the one that figured we was chasing the wrong spook and turned us back out of the desert. Without me, you'd have been nothing but buzzard chuck."

  "You should have left me out there, then," Cora said. "That way, you could have gone off to San Francisco and started up your print shop."

  Ben's brow furrowed. "Come on, now, you know I'd never do such a thing."

  "Sure you would," Cora said. "Why, you'd leave me to rot in a vampire nest if it meant pulling one of your books out of a fire."

  Her husband didn't reply. His shoulders slumped as he sank into a sulk. A silence settled between them, and Cora watched the distant buildings draw nearer. Every so often, she would turn in her saddle and check behind them for any sign of pursuit. She didn't figure James and his men would have fallen yet, but nothing would stop the vampires from bypassing Harcourt's retreat and attacking the town. If they did, she and Ben would have their work cut out for them. If not, it would be a dull evening. Cora sighed at the thought. Another long night of alternating watches that might not even be necessary. It always irked her when the monsters they hunted didn't have the decency to show after she waited up for them.

  Cora ran out of patience. "Oh, stop your sulking. You know I was just joshing you."

  "I hope you don't really think that," Ben said. "You know I'd face down a whole pack of hellhounds with my bare hands if it meant saving your life."

  "Of course I know that," Cora said. "I wouldn't be in this business with you if I didn't."

  Ben smiled. "Me neither."

  Once they made it back to Leadville, they made straight for the Northern Hotel. They tied the horses to the post out front, giving them a much-needed rest. Back in their room, Cora began digging through their trunk for cloves of garlic while Ben started sprinkling holy water on the door and windows.

  After a few moments, Cora cursed.

  "What is it?" Ben asked, looking over at her.

  "No nails," Cora said. She held three garlic bulbs in her hand. "How are we supposed to hang these above the door with no nails?"

  Ben thought for a moment. "No way that I can think of. I guess we'll have to make do with setting them out around the room."

  Cora tossed one at the table. It rolled along the top and came to rest against the wall near the far window. She set another on the bed between the pillows, then slipped the last one into her pocket. Her face grew serious as another thought came to her. "You'll need to leave that crucifix here."

  "Why?" Ben asked, his hand dropping to where it was tucked into his belt.

  "We'll need something stronger than garlic if that chief vampire feller shows himself," Cora said. "From what we saw in the mines, he don't seem the type to be squeamish around garlic."

  "I don't see how you figured that," Ben said as he handed over the wooden cross. "James said it was a human that broke down the crosses in the tunnel."

  "Just a feeling I got," Cora said, taking the crucifix. She pushed the trunk shut with her boot and propped the crucifix up against it so it faced the door. She looked around the room, then nodded to herself. "I reckon that's about all we can do for it."

  "So what's the plan?" Ben asked.

  Cora thought for a moment. "You run on down to the marshal's station and let Duggan know what's happening. I don't know what he'll be able to do, really, but at least he won't be surprised when them vampires start killing his townsfolk."

  "You said he was an Irishman, right?" Ben asked. "Could be he's a religious man. Might have a cross or two of his own to lend."

  "The more the merrier," Cora said. "While you're seeing to the marshal, I'm going to stop by the Pioneer."

  Ben frowned. "This ain't the time to be drinking."

  "I spent all afternoon sober, and look where it got us," Cora said. "That poor old man got his throat torn out, and James got all his crosses smashed."

  "Ain't neither one of them on account of your being sober," Ben said. "I don't want to ride against no vampires with a drunk partner, even if it's you. You'll get us both killed or worse."

  Cora laughed. "Take that bee out of your bonnet. I just feel like getting me a drink or two and having a word with old Boots is all."

  "Boots?" Ben asked. "You sure that's a good idea? We don't even know what he is."

  "No, but that ain't no reason not to find out," Cora said. "The way I figure, no matter what he is, he's tied in to this whole mess. Maybe he ain't no more than a ghost now, but he can still talk, and I aim to make sure he does."

  Ben looked puzzled. "How do you plan to make a ghost talk that don't want to? Ain't like you can smack him across the head or shoot off his fingers."

  "I'll work something out," Cora said. "If nothing else, I'll challenge him to a drinking competition."

  "Can't you be serious about this?" Ben said.

  "Never said I wasn't," Cora said. "We ain't getting nowhere fussing like a pair of old fools. Run along and help the marshal and leave Boots to me."

  Ben looked at her for a long moment, then turned and left. Cora counted the silver bullets in her ammo belt before taking one last look around the room. Everything was as ready as they could make it. If the vampires attacked tonight, they would at least be able to fall back here and fight. If they were singled out, that is. She had no reason to think they would be, but it never hurt to be prepared.

  Cora put the horses to bed in the hotel's stable before walking over to the Pioneer. Overhead, the sun drifted toward the western peaks, lighting the few clouds in the sky aflame. Her fingers curled into fists as she walked, remembering the unearthly chill of the wendigo. The lesser vampires and their leader, the nosferatu, were powerful and deadly, but at least they couldn't freeze her limbs like that. They preferred the blood of their victims hot and spurting. That thought brought an uneasy chill of its own, and she pulled her coat close around her.

  The Pioneer was in full swing at this time of night. Every table was cr
owded with miners and businessmen playing cards for their day's wages as ladies from the Purdy hung on their arms. Through the din of voices, she could hear the plinking of the saloon's piano. A row of miners in denim pants and thick coats stood along the bar, their backs to the door. Serving girls threaded through the clouds of cigarette smoke with trays of whiskey, coffee, and cider.

  Cora stood at the door, her arms folded across her chest. This place would be easy pickings for a pack of vampires, and the Pioneer was only one of dozens of saloons in Leadville. Even if they had all of Duggan's deputies and all of James Townsend's servants-turned-hunters, they couldn't hope to defend everyone in town. If the vampires attacked tonight, people would die. They could only hope to find the bodies and dispose of them before they turned.