She Returns From War

by Lee Collins

  The thought made her smile. Punching her heels into the gelding, she bent low over his neck and galloped down the hill after Cora.

  SEVEN

  "This it, then?"

  Victoria nodded. Thunder growled overhead. The line of clouds that had seemed so distant from the ridge had grown into an angry wall that blocked out the setting sun. No rain fell yet, but Victoria could see it was only a matter of time. In that premature twilight, they had finally come upon the ranch. The buildings were dwarfed by the cliffs rising toward the sky behind them. Victoria felt a strange sense of vertigo, but whether it was from the towering mesa or returning to the site of her harrowing ordeal two nights prior, she didn't know.

  "You got yourself a head for directions, Vicky. I'll give you that."

  Victoria took the compliment in silence. All she had done was strike out in the same direction she'd seen the blue-eyed man leave in when he deposited her outside of Albuquerque. Such a simple task didn't seem worthy of praise, but she wouldn't deny it, either.

  "Well, at least it ain't one of them Indian ruins. Nasty places if half the yarns about them are true."

  "Haven't you visited them yourself?" Victoria asked. "I would think that sort of thing would be of great interest to you."

  "Just never got around to it is all," Cora said.

  The two women nudged their mounts into a slow walk. In the veiled sunlight, the ranch didn't look half as terrifying. The barn was missing a few shingles from its roof and could have done with a fresh coat of paint. Rust stains ran along the wind pump's legs like gangrenous veins, and the house looked as though nobody had gone in or out since her encounter. It was more a scene of sorrow over failed ambition, left behind by the homesteaders whose bid for a new life had come up short. She had difficulty imagining it as a monster's lair, but even so, she examined every corner and every shadow as they approached.

  Beside her, Cora was just as watchful, her alertness underscored by the rifle in her hands. She didn't have it propped against her shoulder, ready to fire at the slightest hint of movement, but its presence gave Victoria a measure of comfort.

  Victoria explained the details of her encounter to the old hunter as they approached. Cora listened attentively, even as her eyes remained on the silent buildings before them. She asked a few questions, mostly about the man. How tall was he? What did he look like? How did he speak? Victoria answered as best she could, but she grew more uneasy as the line of questions continued. That Cora's attention was centered on the man worried her. The woman was the more dangerous of the two, she felt, but Cora seemed uninterested in her. Even the savage ghoul provoked more questions than the Indian woman did.

  Another rumbling of thunder, this one louder. Cora glanced skyward. "Ain't got much time," she said. Reaching into her satchel, she pulled out a rosary and slid it around her left wrist. "Let's check the barn first."

  Victoria nodded. She considered pulling her own gun, then thought better of it. Dismounting with it in one hand would probably be dangerous. Best to wait until they were on foot.

  No sooner had she decided this than Cora cradled her rifle in the crook of one arm and climbed out of the saddle. Tying the reins to a fence post, she looked up at Victoria expectantly. The younger woman took her time dismounting. Her eyes began searching the area in earnest. Being mounted had given her a feeling of security; if things went wrong, she felt sure her horse could outrun the threat. Without that assurance, she felt exposed and vulnerable.

  "Don't dally, now," Cora said, tying the gelding's reins off for her. "Rain ain't going to wait for you to fluff your skirts. Draw your gun and let's get on."

  Victoria adjusted her hat to hide her blush and drew her revolver. "What's the plan?"

  "Well, from what you said, I reckon we're looking at a vampire nest," Cora replied. "Ain't sure how many suckers there are, though there's bound to be at least two. One of them's the feller what calls himself Glava. He's the more dangerous of them, so don't you go getting it in your head that you can whip him by your lonesome." Cora snapped her fingers as a thought hit her. "Plumb forgot. Here, hold this and give me your gun."

  Cora shoved her rifle at Victoria with one hand and held out her other palm. Victoria handed over her revolver. Taking the rifle from the hunter, she marveled at its weight. The barrel must have been ten pounds at least. She had to hold it with both hands, and she wasn't sure if she could shoot it even if she had to. Curious, she pressed the butt up against her shoulder like she'd seen Cora do. Her arm shook under the barrel's weight as she aimed at a fence post across the yard, and she had to lower it after only a few seconds.

  "Careful there," Cora said. "You might go and blow your own foot off."

  Victoria let out a nervous laugh. "Not much chance of that," she said.

  "You an expert on guns now, too?"

  "Hardly." Victoria held the rifle in both hands again, her fingers well away from the trigger.

  "Well, here's another lesson, then," Cora said, handing the revolver back. Victoria gladly traded weapons. "I've put some of my silver bullets in your gun. They're the only kind that can kill vampires, you follow?"

  "Not really, but I believe you."

  Cora nodded in satisfaction. "Good to know you ain't a complete fool. Now, even with the silver rounds, you ain't going to kill a sucker if you just shoot it in the arm or somewhere like that. You got to hit them in the head or the heart. I know you ain't big on aiming yet, but try your best. You might get lucky, and luck's half of survival in this business."

  "That isn't very reassuring."

  "Well, these ain't normal critters," Cora said. "Don't fret about it too much. Just shoot at them if they pop their ugly faces out. Even if you only nick one, it still might slow it down some. Enough for me to get a bead on it anyway. Oh, and use this." She produced a small wooden crucifix from her satchel. "This here will make them go all watery and buy you some time for shooting or running or hollering."

  Victoria ran her thumb over the carved image. "Why do they fear crucifixes?"

  "Ain't rightly sure, myself," Cora said. "I always figured it was just that crucifixes are holy and suckers ain't. Don't need to know much more than that, really."

  "Even after all of your experience?"

  Cora pumped the action of her Winchester. "Ain't just vampires I hunted. They popped up every now and again, but they ain't really all that common. Had more run-ins with hellhounds during my time."

  "Hellhounds?" Victoria asked, her curiosity suddenly piqued. Maybe that was the name of the black shuck in America. "What are those?"

  "Some other time," Cora said.

  "But-"

  The hunter put a finger to her lips and frowned as she approached the barn. Crouching by the door, Cora waved Victoria over. The young woman hunkered down next to her, careful to keep her revolver pointed away.

  "Right," Cora said in a low voice. "This is where you said they had you?" Victoria nodded. "Good. Now, if they're around here still, they probably know we're here. Hard to creep up on critters with sharp ears."

  "What will we do, then?" Victoria asked.

  "Surprise ain't an option, so we go for storm."

  Victoria glanced skyward. "Storm?"

  "Not that kind," Cora said. "We'd best be done with this business when them clouds decides to dump on us. What I mean is, we go in sudden-like, try to shake them up."

  Victoria swallowed. The man who called himself Fodor Glava didn't seem like the kind to startle easily, and she wasn't sure that slavering man-creature could even feel fear. Still, neither of those were her biggest concern. "What about the Indian woman?"

  "She ain't a worry," Cora said.

  "Are you sure?" Victoria asked. "She seemed to have a power over the other man."

  Cora shook her head. "Ain't likely. You probably just didn't know what was going on. This Fodor Glava feller is one of them king vampires George knows about. Nossy-something. Anyhow, they got control over the other kind of vampires, so I'll warrant he's maste
r of that squaw you saw, too."

  The old hunter's reasoning didn't sit well with Victoria. She knew what she had seen: the man had submitted to the woman's will, and more than once. Still, Cora knew more about these matters than she did, so maybe there was something else at work. Victoria tried to set aside her misgivings.

  "I'll charge in first, and you follow," Cora was saying. "Keep an eye on our rear in case the bastard has an ace in his palm."

  Victoria nodded. Cora offered her a lopsided grin as she rose to her feet. The hunter's brown eyes scanned the yard once more before she turned toward the barn door.

  A yell burst forth from Cora's lungs. She ran into the barn's interior and halted a few steps inside, rifle raised. The rosary hung from her left wrist, whipping back and forth as she swept the Winchester's barrel over the grey shadows. Nothing jumped out at her.

  Victoria stood, her blisters throbbing in protest. The yard remained empty. Wind kicked through the tall grass growing along the fence. Crucifix and gun pointed outward, she slowly backed through the open doorway. The daylight became a blue square surrounded by darkness. Fear began working crawling up her sides, making its way toward her throat. The terror and confusion of that night still lingered in the barn. Phantom eyes of red and blue drifted through her peripheral vision only to vanish when she turned her head. In her mounting panic, she nearly pulled the trigger half a dozen times.

  She shook her head. No, she was stronger than this. If the woman at her back, rustic and uneducated, could barge into a nest of monsters without hesitation, so could she. After all, she was her father's daughter and descended from Navy sailors. Her grandfather had faced down pirate ships; she could handle one old barn.

  Behind her, she heard Cora's steadily advancing footsteps. Victoria clung to that sound, a spire of rock in the rising ocean of her fears. With every step, every tinkling of the old hunter's spurs, Victoria's panic subsided.

  "Hey!" Cora's shout shattered Victoria's nerves. "You in here, you bastard?"

  "By God," Victoria said, "you scared the life out of me."

  The hunter lowered her rifle. "You're the only one, I reckon. Ain't nothing here."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Sure as I can be," Cora replied. "If that feller is here, he's keen on keeping to himself." She looked above them. "Could be he's up there somewhere sleeping."

  "Sleeping?" Victoria asked. "Who could sleep through a shout like that?"

  "A sucker," Cora said. "They like to sleep during the day. Why don't you shimmy on up that ladder over there and have a look?"

  Victoria's eyes went wide. "What?"

  "You heard me. I'll keep an eye out down here."

  "And what should I do if I find something?"

  Cora shrugged. "I say shoot it. If you come up with something better, go with that."

  "You can't be serious," Victoria said. "You could very well be sending me to my death."

  "Not much chance of that," Cora said. "I don't reckon much of anything is up there except hay, and these old bones ain't up to climbing a ladder unless they got a damn good reason. If you do happen across a sleeping monster, I reckon even you couldn't miss. Now go on and get yourself up there."

  The hunter turned toward the door, rifle at the ready. Victoria almost tapped her on the shoulder to refuse, then thought better of it. Cora obviously didn't think there was any danger, or she would have gone up herself. Victoria wasn't foolish enough to believe that it would have been because of any motherly protectiveness. The old hunter held Victoria and her abilities in contempt, so in her mind, sending her to investigate a real threat would have been useless.

  Time to prove her wrong, then. Victoria strode toward the ladder Cora had pointed out. Holding the crucifix lightly between her teeth, she gripped a rung with her free hand and began climbing.

  It was slow going. She had never climbed a ladder onehanded before, and she was already tired from the day's ride. Maybe something was up there after all, and Cora really hadn't wanted to make the climb. With each rung, that possibility seemed more and more likely, but Victoria would not be outdone. Grumbling to herself, she continued to move up toward the barn loft.

  Near the top, she paused when a thought struck her. Suppose there really was a vampire in the loft? Would Cora be able to climb up quickly enough to help? Would she even bother? She already had everything she needed: the location of the man called Fodor Glava. Maybe she would just abandon Victoria to her fate now to save herself the trip to England. Victoria stole a quick glance toward the ground. The old hunter still stood guard in front of the door, but for how long?

  Still, Victoria had no choice: it was either check the loft or climb back down and accuse Cora of treachery to her face. She had better odds of surviving a vampire.

  The ladder brought her through the hole in the loft floor. Victoria paused when she reached it, taking a look around. A single window admitted a stream of grey light into the interior, illuminating bales of hay that were strewn about in no apparent order. In the semi-dark, they looked like a herd of squarish beasts sleeping away the day.

  After a few moments passed with no visible movement, Victoria finished the climb and cautiously stepped off the ladder. Her footsteps sounded hollow on the boards, and she forced herself not to think about the expanse of nothing beneath her. It would only make her giddy, and she needed all of her wits if there was anything up here. Taking the crucifix back into her left hand, she began exploring the loft.

  Near the ladder lay a coil of rope she mistook at first for a snake. Rolling her eyes at herself, she walked over to the nearest hay bale. It seemed ordinary, and nothing hid behind it. The same was true of the others she inspected. With each non-discovery, her fears wilted a little more.

  Coming around the last of the bales, she paused. There was something lying in the far corner. It was probably just a pile of rags, but it looked wrong somehow. Long and thin, like a person hiding beneath a blanket. It was too small to be either the blue-eyed man or his enslaved ghoul. Still, it was in the corner farthest from the window. It made her uneasy, but curiosity soon overcame her caution, and she moved to investigate.

  The closer she came to it, the more the object resembled a sleeping person. Pausing a few feet away from it, she reassured herself that it was probably just a bundle of hay or farm tools wrapped in a burlap sheet. If it was a vampire, surely it would have attacked her by now. Nothing to fear.

  Stepping up to the lump, she prodded it with the toe of her boot. It didn't move. More confident now, Victoria slid the crucifix into her belt and reached down. The burlap was rough on her fingers as she pulled it back.

  The face of a young girl emerged.

  Victoria cried out in surprise, jumping backward. She tripped over her own boots and fell onto the floorboards, her gun sliding off into the shadows. Scrambling on to her hands and knees, she turned for another look at the bundle, a mixture of terror and revulsion twisting her face.

  "What is it?" Cora's voice drifted up from below, but Victoria barely heard. Her mouth had gone dry, like someone had stuffed her throat full of cotton. Shallow breaths escaped her lungs as she stared, transfixed by the creature under the burlap.

  She had thought it was the face of a young girl, perhaps ten or eleven years old. Some parts still retained the girl's features: soft brown hair, delicate eyebrows, and a thin nose. The similarities ended there, however. A snarl of sharp teeth clustered like broken twigs in the girl's mouth. Some of them had skewered her lips as they grown, punching through her skin like knives through fabric. The skin itself was waxy and bloodless. The girl's eyes were closed, and her chest did not rise and fall with her breathing, yet Victoria was certain that the creature wasn't dead.

  "Dammit, girl, what's happening up there?" Cora called.

  The girl's eyes snapped open.

  Victoria's breath caught in her throat as it looked at her. She could see the same need, the same feral hunger that the other ghoul had shown. Whatever that creature was, this was t
he same kind.

  The girl let out a hiss as she rolled over onto her hands and knees. She mimicked Victoria's posture, crouched, ready to spring. At that moment, Victoria realized her hands were empty. She didn't dare take her eyes off the girl to search for her lost revolver. For all she knew, holding still was the only thing keeping the monster from attacking. Her mind raced. Cora was still hollering at her from the bottom of the ladder, but she didn't answer. She couldn't. If the creature sprang at her, she would be defenseless.

  In a flash, she remembered the crucifix in her belt. Cora had said something about the creatures fearing it. Mustering her courage, she began moving her hand toward her waist. If she could just reach it, she might have a chance.

  The girl hissed again, and Victoria froze. She waited for the spring, for the impact of that small body against hers and the scraping of those teeth on her flesh. Child-sized hands curled into claws, but the girl remained crouched. Victoria steeled her nerves and moved her hand again. She didn't have much time.

  As her fingers curled around the wooden figure, a gunshot rolled up through the floorboards. Victoria flinched, and the girl lunged at her. Tiny fingers gouged her arms as the two rolled over in the dust. The creature came out on top, teeth snapping, eyes dark with hunger. Victoria squeezed the crucifix in a death grip and brought it up. The wood pressed into the cold skin on the girl's neck. Smoke billowed as the flesh sizzled, and the girl rolled away with a choked cry.

  Victoria scrambled to her feet, eyes probing the swirling clouds for her foe. There, on the far side. The girl was crouched again, a wild cat in human form, filled with need. Victoria extended the cross toward her. Hissing in anger, the creature shied away, retreating into the shadows.