The boy reached for the head, but Cody shouted, “Don’t do that!”
Mother and son stared at Cody in annoyed surprise.
“I want you to hear something,” Cody said to Willet.
“Don’t talk to my boy,” Mrs. Black said stiffly.
“He ceased to be your boy when you gave him up to these monsters.”
“Lies,” Mrs. Black said. “You only dabble in lies.”
Cody ignored her. Fixing Willet with his firmest stare, he said, “You need to know something about the man these creatures are planning to kill.”
“He’s heard enough from you,” Mrs. Black said. “Making your father out to be some kind of—”
“Shut up,” Cody said.
Mrs. Black’s eyes glinted with wrath, but she said nothing.
“When my mama died,” Cody went on, “my dad was forced into being both parents to me.”
Cody saw no comprehension in Willet’s eyes. Granted, they were looking at him, but they were vapid, emotionless. The boy’s hair was askew, his skin filthy. All of the former vitality was gone, all the ornery good humor. Were Willet not sitting up, Cody would’ve mistaken him for a corpse. Still, Cody thought, he had to try.
“I must’ve been about seven years old at the time. Dad always made sure I was presentable for school. My clothes weren’t fancy, but they were clean. Anyway, he’d ride me to town on his big red mare every morning. One day—this would’ve been near the beginning of the school year because I remember not knowing anybody—I was climbing up into the saddle with him when my pants split in the crotch.”
Cody waited for the boy to laugh, to smile even, but Willet only gazed blankly back at him and evinced no discernible human emotion.
Cody said, “We had time for the rip to be mended, but Dad hadn’t sewn anything in years. That was always Mama’s department. He didn’t even know where the needles and thread were kept.”
Cody nodded, remembering the frantic expression Jack Wilson had worn that morning. “We hustled inside, but by the time he located the sewing kit, we were already late. He could’ve kept me home, but he hated the thought of me missing school when I wasn’t sick. He pulled off my pants and started to sew them up. He’d stitched up men a few times on the battlefield, but mending pants is different than stitching up a wound. As you might imagine, he made a mess of the job and had to rip out the stitches he’d made. He found a safety pin and cinched the hole shut as best he could. When I got to school, several of my classmates noticed my underpants were showing and ribbed me something fierce. The teacher sent a note home informing Dad that he was not to send me to school looking so indecent again.”
Cody fell silent, remembering the shame of that day. The derision of his peers. But worst of all was the crestfallen look on his dad’s face when he saw the teacher’s note. Cody had shared with him a few of his classmates’ comments, but when he’d seen how guilty his father felt, he’d cut short his account.
Mrs. Black’s lips were pursed in disapproval. “I fail to see the point of your diatribe, Mr. Wilson.”
Cody patted the plush bench of the coach. “That’s because you’re no more a woman anymore than this seat right here. Your heart is gone. Also, I haven’t gotten to the end of my story yet.
“As I was saying, Dad felt awful, like he’d failed me or something, and at the time I suppose I thought he had failed me. I wasn’t vicious toward him, but I certainly didn’t go out of my way to make him feel better about his parenting.
“We had supper that night like always, and like always we read together and went through our Bible verses. I went to bed and was a long time in falling asleep, which was why I noticed the lights were on in the main room despite the fact that it was going on midnight.”
As Cody spoke, it was like being a rider in his seven-year-old body again. He felt the blanket slip off his body, felt the frigid floorboards beneath his feet. The door to his bedroom creaked a little as he opened it, but the noise didn’t bother him. He wasn’t scared. Just curious.
“When I rounded the corner, can you guess what I saw?” He leaned forward and stared meaningfully into Willet’s vacant eyes. “There was Jack Wilson, as tough and hardworking a rancher as I’ve ever encountered, putting all his concentration into sewing up an old dress shirt I’d long since outgrown.”
In the silence that followed, Mrs. Black shook her head and made a priggish tutting sound. “A pointless fable.”
“You see what it means, don’t you, Willet? Dad wasn’t mending that shirt for me to wear—the only thing it was good for was tearing into strips to use for kitchen rags. He was practicing his sewing skills. Making sure that if another situation like that arose, he’d be better prepared.”
“It sounds to me,” Martha Black said, a nasty grin on her face, “that he didn’t like that teacher getting uppity with him. It was simple male pride, Mr. Wilson, and that’s hardly something to glorify your father over.”
Cody nodded. “That was part of it, sure. But only a small part of it. Jack Wilson didn’t want his son to feel embarrassed. He didn’t want his son to want for a mother. And since he couldn’t provide one in the flesh for me—at least not for another seven years—he was determined to fill that role as best he could.”
Martha Black rolled her eyes. “Empty sentiment.”
“My dad bathed me, Willet. He learned to cut my hair from a woman in town.” Cody chuckled. “Paid her extra to keep quiet about it. He sang me bedtime songs and taught me how to fry an egg. He did everything for me he could…or rather, he made sure I learned how to take care of myself, which was even better. And now Adam Price—who took your life from you just to spite me—plans to kill my father. Does that sound right to you?”
Willet only watched Cody with that same unseeing expression. If there was anything in Willet’s orange-flecked eyes, it was barely suppressed hunger. For several seconds Cody listened to the primal growls rumbling in the back of Willet’s throat. Finally, Mrs. Black was able to distract her son by offering him Eliza’s severed head.
Cody watched dismally as Willet ripped open the threaded flaps of flesh and plunged his fanged maw into the glistening meat of Eliza’s neck.
“Now you make do on that until we get to Escondido,” Mrs. Black said. “Mr. Wilson here won’t be any less full of blood when we get to his father’s ranch.” She regarded Cody good-humoredly. “Unless of course Horton decides to ride with us.”
Cody became aware of the heat emanating from the blaze. The coaches were parked two buildings down from Marguerite’s, but the fire had either grown so intense that the heat was affecting the coaches, or the flames had spread to the adjacent buildings. At any rate, the black quarter horses to which the coach was hitched had begun to stamp and whinny. Moments later, Cody heard a creaking overhead and knew someone had sat in the driver’s box. This was confirmed by the curt snapping of reins and a subsequent lurch forward. Ahead, Cody heard the red coach begin to roll too.
In the corner of the black coach, Willet’s face bobbed ravenously in the underside of Eliza’s head. The smacking sounds the boy was making turned Cody’s stomach.
“Who’s driving us?” Cody asked.
Mrs. Black smiled companionably. “Mr. Horton, I expect. He’s usually the reinsman. At least he’s been since I took up with them.”
Cody grunted. “Took up with them. You make it sound like you had a choice.”
“At first I was very afraid of them. When Adam carried me toward this coach, I screamed until my voice gave out. I’d seen them murder my husband and my daughters. I thought they would kill me next.”
“Then you resisted?”
Mrs. Black looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. “Of course I resisted, darling. I’m not a harlot.”
“You mean you weren’t one.”
She folded her hands primly in her lap. “I meant what I said.”
“You’re telling me you haven’t slept with Horton? With any of them?”
“My rela
tionship with the players is none of your concern.”
Cody shook his head. “You talk about them like they’re real actors, like they’re anything more than animals.”
Mrs. Black drew herself up. “I’ll have you know that Adam hails from Europe. He’s been alive for centuries. He’s more cultured than you could ever hope to be.”
“I find it hard to talk to you with that black shit all over your mouth.”
“It’s blood, my dear.”
“I know what it is. How can you live with it?”
“I don’t notice it,” Mrs. Black said. “I’ll wash up when we stop to water the horses.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Cody said hotly. “I mean how can you live with what you’ve become? Killing innocent folks. Doing to families what Price and his bastard friends did to yours. Doesn’t it make you sick? Doesn’t it make you want to kill yourself?”
Willet had ceased his smacking sounds and was looking up at Cody, his freckled face smeared with blood and contorted with anger.
Mrs. Black placed a mollifying hand on Willet’s forearm. “It’s all right, my dear. Mr. Wilson can’t be expected to understand. He’s still smarting from the horns he was made to wear.”
“You’re a damned bitch,” Cody said.
“I’m going to live forever,” Mrs. Black said.
“Not if I have something to say about it.”
“You won’t, dear. Adam plans to kill you after he kills your father.”
“He’ll find Jack Wilson a lot harder to kill than the average man.”
Mrs. Black reached up, stroked her son’s greasy hair. “I doubt it, Mr. Wilson. If he was anything more than average, he would have brought his son up better.”
Willet fed for the better part of an hour. Cody’s stomach roiled and clenched with the noises, but he was determined not to show it. But though he couldn’t stand the sight of the feasting young vampire, the smarminess of Mrs. Black’s smile was somehow even worse. So Cody raised the blind, leaned on an elbow and peered out the side glass.
He gazed out over the prairie scrub. It was still full dark out, but Cody knew within an hour or two they’d be able to see the Organ Mountains, before which lay Escondido. His father’s ranch would be five miles south of town, at the foot of Mount Alexandra. Cody closed his eyes and wished there was some way to warn his dad of what was coming. With any luck, Jack and Gladys Wilson had taken a trip somewhere and would be spared.
You know they’ll be at the ranch, a voice declared. Everyone you meet comes to ruin. Haven’t you realized that by now? Angela, Willet, Marguerite…soon your father and stepmother. Probably by sunrise…
Cody tensed, a sudden idea arresting his attention. He looked up at Mrs. Black, who was caressing her son’s forehead. Willet was drifting into a sated doze, which was just as well. He still hadn’t looked at Cody as if Cody was anything but an especially appetizing entrée.
Mrs. Black regarded him with twinkling gaiety. Get her talking, his dad’s voice whispered. You might learn something useful.
“Something on your mind, Mr. Wilson?”
He returned Mrs. Black’s cheerful grin. “As a matter of fact, there is. I’m wondering if you’re afraid of crosses.”
“Why would I be afraid of crosses, Mr. Wilson? A Christian woman has nothing to fear from the Lord.”
“I doubt the Lord appreciated your exhibition back there in Mesquite.”
Her grin slipped a little, a cloud darkening her eyes. “I cannot help what I’ve become, Mr. Wilson. I can only provide the sustenance necessary for me and my son.”
Cody leaned back, spread his arms on the top of the velvet couch-back. “It didn’t look to me like you were worried about providing sustenance for you two. Looked to me like you were ripping and tearing anything that moved. It looked to me like you enjoyed it.”
A little shudder coursed through her. She sniffed, peered down at her son. Stroking Willet’s brow, she said, “Our appetites are prodigious, Mr. Wilson. We need blood to sustain us.”
Cody nodded. “I see. So the reason you opened that little girl’s belly was because you needed to be sustained.”
Mrs. Black’s voice was sullen. “I don’t think that’s fair, Mr. Wilson.”
“How old you reckon she was?” Cody asked. “Ten? No more than eleven, I’d wager.”
Mrs. Black shuddered again. Her voice quivered. “She was a vessel carrying the needed—”
“She was an innocent child who had her whole life ahead of her—”
“—fluid, so I partook of her—”
“—just like Willet was before you let them turn him into a beast.”
Mrs. Black’s mouth and eyes shuttered wide. “I did not let them—”
“You gave them your little boy, and you didn’t even bat an eyelash. You cared more about having him back with you than you did about his soul.”
Mrs. Black’s upper lip curled. “How dare you?”
“Or maybe you just care more about appeasing your new idol than you do about your own child.”
“Will you stop saying that?” Orange flames guttered in Mrs. Black’s eyes.
Easy, his dad reminded him. You got the confirmation you were after. They experience the change when they get mad, and when they get mad, they get wild and reckless. That’s why you were able to trick Dragomir. That’s why he didn’t heed Price’s warnings. Now don’t push your luck.
Cody forced his expression to remain neutral. He realized that on some level, this was what he’d been after. If he kept Willet’s mom talking, he might learn more.
“Beg your pardon, Mrs. Black. I am sorry for saying those things to you.”
Her eyes narrowed, but the snarl remained fixed in place.
He said, “You still believe in God then?”
She uttered a mirthless little laugh. “Why wouldn’t I? He has given me eternal life.”
“Wait a minute. We talkin’ about the Almighty or Adam Price here?”
“Your blasphemy is duly noted, Mr. Wilson. Don’t you realize that Billy Horton can hear everything you say?”
Cody glanced up at the ceiling. “He can?”
“Our hearing is very acute.”
“So if I called him a brainless whoreson, he’d hear me?”
The coach gave a hard lurch. Cody heard the reins snapping and the black horses neighing their protests.
“I guess you’re right,” Cody agreed.
Mrs. Black gazed at him balefully but said nothing.
They rode in silence for several minutes. The coach began to fill with the sound of Willet’s tranquil snoring. At length Cody said, “You know, my dad’s not a wealthy man, but he’s amassed quite a private library over the course of his fifty years.”
“He knows nothing,” Mrs. Black said.
Cody chuckled. “That’s not very generous of you. You don’t seem the type to dismiss learning as unimportant.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“I didn’t think I did.”
“Angela was right about you. You’re nothing but a fool.”
“I notice you dropped the ‘Mr. Wilson.’”
“You’ve read nothing but tawdry novels. How could you be expected to understand the majesty of what we are?”
“You changed allegiances awfully fast.”
Mrs. Black leaned forward, eyes bright. “Because I’ve learned, Mr. Wilson. I’ve learned more in the past twenty-four hours than I had in the thirty-six years prior.”
Cody shrugged. “You are good at killing little girls.”
She nodded sagely. “You mock me, Mr. Wilson, because you don’t know what power flows through my veins.” She paused, considering. “We are virtually invulnerable, but I’m not an idiot. Do you really think I’d tell you how to kill us?”
“There must be ways, else you wouldn’t say that.”
“Anything can die, Mr. Wilson. It’s the nature of life.”
“That’s right,” Cody said. “Anything can di
e, especially when there’s no one there to protect it. Tell me something, Mrs. Black.”
She gazed down at her son, stroking his forehead and waiting.
“I’m just wondering if you were there when they bit your boy.”
The hand froze over Willet’s grimy forehead. In a controlled voice, Mrs. Black said, “I was not present at the time.”
“Couldn’t bear to see it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Mr. Wil—”
“How did you rationalize it? Turning your only living child into a monster?”
She glared up at him, eyes suddenly iridescent in the gloom of the coach. “He is not a monster,” she hissed.
“I don’t know how you’d define it, but I just watched a twelve-year-old kid digging into a woman’s severed head like it was a porterhouse steak. That seems pretty monstrous to me.”
“Shut your mouth.”
“I don’t think I will.”
The eyes flickered orange. “Then I’ll silence it for you.”
“If this vampire thing is so wonderful,” Cody went on, grinning savagely, “then why the hell wouldn’t you stick around to see your boy become one? I’d have thought that’d be a real proud moment for a mother.”
All semblance of propriety had fallen away from Mrs. Black. Her hinged jaw opened wider with each raspy respiration. Slaver dripped from her deadly white fangs. In a voice that scarcely resembled a woman’s, she said, “I’ll not warn you again, Mr. Wilson. Stop talking about my son’s…”
Her monstrous face clouded, an eerily human emotion seeping into it. Cody saw it inscribed on her vulpine features but didn’t immediately cotton to its meaning.
Then it hit him.
“You were there, weren’t you? You were the one who told Willet it was okay to let Price bite him.”
With a squalling scream, Mrs. Black leaped at Cody.
Chapter Twenty-One
Horton must have been aware of what was about to happen, for in the moments before Mrs. Black attacked him, Cody sensed the quarter horses slowing. The woman’s body slammed into his with the force of a steam engine and drove him backward into the deep velvet cushion. The vampire woman was a flurry of claws and teeth, Cody’s forearms instantly striped with gashes. Cody heard someone shout; then Mrs. Black was being dragged off of him. She slashed him one more time just above the knee for good measure, her claw slicing deep into the meat of his leg.
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