Night Marshal Books 1-3 Box Set: Night Marshal/High Plains Moon/This Dance, These Bones

by Gary Jonas

  Jack shrugged. “I fail to see your point, sir.”

  The man slowly reached into his coat and pulled out a Bible, a bottle of holy water and an old rag that looked to have rust colored stains – blood, perhaps?

  “In addition to running the stables, I’m also the minister for the county. While I might be able to kill the demon, doing so would put my life at risk and I don’t mind telling you I’m scared to death. I won’t do that unless absolutely necessary. I don’t want my wife to be a widow and I don’t want my son to grow up without a father.”

  “Still waiting for a point, Preacher.”

  “My name is Nathaniel. My point is that you are far better suited for bringing the demon to justice than I am and while I’m not willing to part with my gun, I would appreciate it if you’d allow me to bless yours as I have my own.”

  “Why bother?”

  “It might prove to be an advantage. And if not, what harm can it do? If it does nothing, it costs you only a few minutes. But if it helps against the creature of the night or if it helps you in the future, those few minutes could save lives. Including your own.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m no longer among the living.”

  He nodded. “That’s true, but I get a different sense about you now than I did when you and your wife brought your horses here a few days ago. Then you were waiting to die. Now you seem to be moving toward life. As if perhaps you’ve found a purpose.”

  Jack shook his head and lowered his gun. “You’re reading me wrong, Preacher. I’m going to kill Smythe because it suits me.” Actually Jack hoped it might help balance the scales. He’d taken many lives, but one currently weighed on him more than all the rest.

  “Regardless, you seem like a better man dead than you ever were alive. Please allow me to see if I can improve your gun’s performance against the unnatural.”

  Jack sighed. “Will you leave me alone afterward?”

  “Anything you like, sir.”

  “I can’t leave until nightfall anyway, so what the hell.” He handed the preacher his gun, which under normal circumstances would have seemed strange, but at the moment, it felt right.

  Nathaniel placed the gun on his workbench. He opened his Bible to read a few passages. As he read, he placed the stained rag over the gun then sprinkled a bit of holy water on the material. He said a prayer, which Jack thought was silly. In all his days of killing, he’d never seen anything to suggest there was any sort of deity out there to hear such a prayer. And if a deity existed, why would it care? Still, it seemed harmless enough.

  Nathaniel turned the gun over, covered it again and repeated the prayer and the sprinkling of holy water. He then wiped the gun down with the rag.

  “The symbolic blood of Christ is on this fabric and now it resides in the metal of your gun as well. May it protect you in your travels.”

  “It’s done just fine without that, but whatever makes you happy.”

  After a moment of silent prayer, Nathaniel lifted the Colt and handed it to Jack. “Thank you and may the good Lord protect you.”

  Jack nodded, figuring he’d just protect himself as he’d always done. “I may be in here for a while.” Jack gestured at the stables.

  “You’re always welcome, sir. I’m going to go spend some time with my wife and son.”

  “Good choice,” Jack said.

  Jack watched Harry’s father leave the stables and gave some thought to what the man told him.

  He reached into his pocket, pulled out the marshal’s badge and pinned it to his coat. If he were going to bring the law to the vampire, he needed to look the part.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  When Jack entered the mine that night, Smythe was waiting for him.

  “How good of you to return,” Smythe said and leaned against one of the wooden shoring beams. The lantern was gone, but Jack found that he could see well enough in the dark.

  “I’m here for Sonya,” Jack said. He could see her lying on the ground where she’d fallen the previous night.

  “She should arise anytime now.”

  Ted entered the mine behind Jack with an armful of wet branches, lantern swinging light this way and that as he negotiated the tunnel and moved around the ore cart on the tracks. “Boss, I—” He stopped when he saw Jack, but when the gunfighter ignored him, Ted eased around him and went to stand beside his master.

  “If you’re smart, you’ll let me take her and leave,” Jack said.

  “I fail to see the intelligence in such a strategy.”

  “Let me spell it out for you. If you let me take her away from here, we’ll go our own way and leave you and your friend to do as you will. If you try to keep her here, I will kill you. The choice is yours.”

  “We’ve been through this. I sired you. You can’t do anything to me.”

  “Really?”

  Smythe stood perhaps twenty feet away. Jack pulled his gun and fired, striking Smythe in the stomach.

  Smythe clutched at his gut, his face contorted in agony. His fingers came away bloody, then he doubled over and dropped to one knee. Jack stepped forward to fire again, but now he was too close. His finger would not squeeze the trigger.

  “That burns,” Smythe said. He shook his head and rose, moving toward Jack, who tried backing away.

  “You okay, boss?” Ted asked.

  Without even a nod to Ted, Smythe glared at Jack. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Jack smiled. “Let that serve as a lesson to you that if I set my mind to something, I can achieve it.”

  “By shooting me? You should know by now that guns don’t do any permanent damage.”

  Jack stepped farther back, aimed a little higher, but he was still too close and couldn’t squeeze the trigger. He stepped back, but Smythe moved toward him.

  “Perhaps I should have brought a crossbow,” Jack said.

  “Fortunately, you’re unlikely to find one in this area.”

  “I could build one.”

  “Then perhaps I should destroy you before you have the opportunity.” Smythe rushed forward and grabbed Jack.

  A shuffling sound drew their attention from one another to where Sonya sat up. She ran her hands through her hair and looked around.

  “I’m hungry,” she said.

  “I have some beef jerky,” Ted said.

  She looked at him, licked her lips and rose.

  “You want a piece?” Ted asked. He dug in his pocket.

  “Need blood,” she said.

  Ted’s eyes widened. “Oops.”

  Sonya tackled him and sank her fangs into his throat.

  Jack listened to Ted’s screams, but those soon faded and all he could hear were the slurping sounds Sonya made as she drank the corpse dry. She wiped the blood from her mouth and slowly rose. Jack wished he didn’t have to see the expression on her face, the hunger in her eyes. She smiled and the realization that she was something more than human lit up her features. She didn’t even glance at Ted’s corpse. The dead man didn’t even register with her.

  “Am I missing anything exciting?” she asked.

  “Not especially,” Jack said. “Christopher here was just going to tell us to have a good time. Maybe we’ll send a telegraph.”

  Smythe released Jack and turned toward Sonya. “Your husband doesn’t seem to know how things are supposed to play here.”

  “He never played by the rules in life, why should he be different now?”

  “Because I am his master.”

  Sonya shook her head. “I believe I told you to turn me first then have me turn him.”

  “So you could have him kill me?”

  “He will never bow to you. I would never ask or expect him to bow to me. I would simply want his undying companionship. We could have left and you’d have been fine. Now he won’t rest until he kills you.”

  “He can’t kill me.”

  “I’ll call that bet,” Jack said. “And I’ll raise it. Not only can I kill you, but I will kill you.” />
  “So you keep saying. You don’t have a crossbow.”

  Jack wagged the gun in his hand. “Don’t need one.” He tried to pull the trigger, but couldn’t. Smythe was far too close. He holstered the weapon, then tried to use his reflexes to draw and fire, but now he couldn’t even pull it from the holster.

  Smythe laughed. “You’ve already tried to shoot me. That’s not how it’s done.”

  “I will kill you tonight.”

  “With bullets?”

  Jack nodded. “Blessed by a priest. They evidently burn.” He figured they burned because they were made of wood, but as Smythe had been a religious man, it couldn’t hurt to use his beliefs against him.

  “Is that what you used? Interesting, but they’re still useless against me. The fact is that you can’t kill me. You need proximity and you need a viable weapon.” Smythe grabbed one of the fallen branches and held it up. “Something like this.”

  “I prefer my Colt.” He still couldn’t draw the gun, but his hand rested on the grip nonetheless.

  Sonya moved toward Jack. “I’d like to leave this place.”

  Smythe rushed up behind her and grabbed her shoulder. “You’ll remain here with me.”

  She nodded. “You can force me to stay, but I won’t be here by choice.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Did you have to force yourself on Mary, too?” Jack asked.

  “Never!”

  “I don’t believe you. I suspect you had as much luck with the ladies as your dead companion over there.” Jack nodded toward Ted’s corpse.

  “It’s not wise to anger me.”

  Jack shrugged.

  Sonya turned to face Smythe. “Was your friend over there a companion in the Biblical sense?”

  Smythe glared at her. “You’re worse than your husband.”

  She smiled. “And yet you want us to remain with you for eternity.”

  Smythe shook his head. “Not quite.” He shoved her toward Jack.

  Sonya smiled and approached her husband. “Let’s get out of here while we can.”

  “You can’t leave,” Smythe said.

  Jack ignored him, focusing on Sonya. “We could simply stand at the top of the mountain and wait for the sun to end this nightmare.”

  “Why would we do that?”

  “To avoid killing more innocent people.”

  “Oh, that’s priceless,” Smythe said. He twisted the branch in his hands, but the wood was wet and didn’t break.

  She shook her head. “If it makes you feel any better, when possible, we can try to limit our feeding to politicians and outlaws. As long as we’re together.”

  “You still speak of killing as if it holds no more importance than putting on fine clothing.”

  “As many people as you’ve killed, I can’t see why this bothers you,” Smythe said. “How is this different from you gunning down all those men?”

  Jack looked over Sonya’s shoulder at Smythe. “I never went looking to kill anyone. If they attacked me, I wouldn’t back down, but I always gave them the chance to choose life.”

  “We’ll be choosing life, too,” Sonya said.

  “No we wouldn’t. We’re dead now. Our time is past. We would be choosing death for other people. That is not our place.”

  Smythe stepped up behind Sonya. “Tell him you can drink the blood of animals. It tastes terrible, but it can sustain you.”

  “Are you enjoying this?” she asked.

  Smythe nodded. “Oh yes, I find it quite amusing.”

  She turned back to Jack. “Animal blood?” she asked. “Would that make it all right with you?”

  Smythe finally twisted the branch apart.

  “What are you doing?” Sonya asked.

  “You tell me.” He drove the sharp end of the branch into her chest. She cried out in pain.

  Jack started toward her, but Smythe held up the other branch.

  As Sonya’s body slumped, Smythe caught her and glanced at Jack. “She sees things differently than you do, Jack. But she’s not out of line.”

  Jack didn’t say anything. He simply glared at Smythe.

  “You’re no fun, Jack. I can take Sonya from you and I can give her back.”

  He yanked the branch out of her body.

  After a moment, she twitched in his arms and opened her eyes. She looked down at her bloody shirt, but the wound was already healing. Jack thought she looked disoriented.

  “Sonya, are you all right?”

  She looked over at Jack. “I feel like my head is filled with fog, but it’s starting to clear. If we work together, we can end this.”

  “What life you have, is only what I allow you,” Smythe said.

  “The only life I want is with Jack.”

  “And I’m only still here so I can take you down,” Jack said.

  Smythe fumed. “You both belong to me and you’ll give me the respect I deserve.”

  “You haven’t earned my respect,” Jack said.

  “And you haven’t earned a companion.” Smythe shoved the branch back into Sonya’s heart. This time he let her fall to the ground.

  “I can bring her back after I kill you,” Jack said, unfazed.

  “Something in your eyes tells me you won’t.”

  Jack rolled that idea around his mind. In life, he had loved and relied on Sonya. Now as he looked down at her corpse, he had second thoughts. It bothered him that she felt nothing after killing Ted. The man didn’t matter to her at all. He wasn’t a good man, but he didn’t deserve to die and Sonya simply didn’t care. “You may be right. She made her choice.”

  “It’s all about choices with you.”

  Jack nodded and retreated a step. He backed into the ore cart and eased around it. A battered rusty shovel lay inside the cart. “Indeed it is.”

  He considered breaking the shovel and using it as a stake, but he knew it would be useless at close range.

  As he moved around the ore cart, the dim lantern light glistened off his US Marshal badge, drawing Smythe’s eyes to it.

  “Do you fancy yourself a lawman?”

  Jack touched the badge, twisted it a bit in his fingers, then let go. “That’s to remind me that I have choices, too.”

  “What kind of choices?”

  “Whether to be a monster or someone who protects others from monsters.”

  “They’re not mutually exclusive,” Smythe said, moving closer. He held the other half of the branch, sharp end forward.

  Jack’s hand hovered over his Colt, but Smythe was too close and Jack couldn’t force his hand to draw. He needed more distance.

  “Sometimes,” Smythe said, “it’s simply a matter of circumstance or time.” He moved closer.

  Jack kept trying to pull his gun, but couldn’t. How many times had he drawn and fired without even thinking about it? It was second nature, but now he could not manage something he used to do with ease. “I disagree.”

  “You’re a killer, Jack. It’s what you do. How can you possibly disagree? You think it’s a question of choice? You don’t think you’ve ever killed an innocent man?”

  “Innocent is a relative term.”

  “Good people can do bad things. The reverse is also true.”

  Jack shrugged. It was a tired argument. “An innocent man is less likely to draw his weapon on me.”

  Smythe laughed. “Unless he thinks you’re going to kill him.”

  “In your case, you’re guilty and I’m definitely going to kill you.”

  “Is that why you’re trying to draw your weapon?” Smythe caressed the end of the branch as he moved beside the ore cart.

  “I don’t have a stake. Just bullets.”

  “Yes, those blessed bullets. It was a nice try.”

  Smythe stepped around the ore cart.

  Jack looked at Smythe. Pretended he was just another challenge. Pretended he didn’t want to draw the gun. Stopped thinking about it. Go with reaction. But Smythe was still too close. Jack couldn’t pull and shoot.<
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  “Time to end this.” Smythe clutched the branch, ready to strike.

  Smythe drove the branch into Jack’s chest, but Jack managed to twist enough to keep the wood from penetrating his heart.

  Reaction took over. Jack wasn’t thinking now. He relied solely on instinct. The vampires struggled. Smythe punched Jack in the face, then yanked the branch from Jack’s chest. Blood flew against the dark walls of the mine. Smythe thrust again, but Jack blocked the attack, gripped the bloody branch and tried to pull it from Smythe’s grasp.

  Smythe clawed at Jack’s face, tearing his cheek open. Jack slipped and fell to the ground. Smythe jumped on him, trying to drive the branch through Jack’s heart.

  Jack kicked Smythe hard in the chest, shoving him up and back, so reaction without thought was possible.

  Smythe staggered backward against the ore cart. The cart rolled backward and Smythe grabbed hold to avoid falling.

  Jack rolled to his feet, raced forward and shoved the cart along the rails, then released it. Smythe dropped the branch and held tight for a moment as the cart took him farther away, but when it slowed he jumped down to the rails and shook his head.

  “My, what an amazing accomplishment,” he said.

  “Far more amazing than you realize,” Jack said, hoping he’d gained enough distance, but not too much distance.

  Jack smiled as he drew his gun and fired. He stood far enough away to act, but was he close enough to hit the target? The bullets were light. He figured they were good for maybe twenty feet, but accuracy was a challenge, so he aimed high.

  The first wooden bullet struck Smythe in the stomach.

  Jack fired again, higher and this one struck Smythe’s chest a bit too far to the right.

  Third shot. Right in the heart.

  Smythe staggered back, hit the cart, then slid to the ground.

  “This is impossible,” Smythe said. “Utterly imposs….ible.” He stared at Jack, then slowly closed his eyes. His chin dropped to his chest and he stopped moving.

  Jack approached Smythe’s body. He nudged Smythe’s leg with his boot. No reaction. To be safe, he then put two bullets into Smythe’s head – one through each eye. The fact that he’d been able to pull the trigger at point blank range told him he was free.

  He took the shovel out of the cart, placed the edge of the blade against Smythe’s throat and drove his booted foot down hard on the turned step to drive it through neck and bone. Smythe’s head rolled on its side resting on the cheek. Blood dripped from his mouth and pooled on the dirt floor.