Dead of Winter (24 page)

  "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?"

  "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 what 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.

  "Anyone dead?" she asked.

  "Just this fellow," James said, struggling beneath the corpse. Cora gave the body a solid kick with her boot, and it rolled aside.

  "Seems we got a problem," she said, looking at the scholar. "I guess they ain't scared of them contraptions in the tunnels no more."

  "A disturbing development, certainly," James replied, "but not one I fully understand."

  "Don't take a genius to figure it out," Cora said.

  "Yes, it's clear they've gotten past the barricades, but the question is, how?" James stepped over to his fallen cross and picked it up. "You saw it for yourself: the vampire was still weakened by this cross. They clearly haven't developed an immunity to holy items, so they must have discovered a way around the ones in the tunnels."

  Cora was about to reply when Ben cut in. "Meaning that the rest of the nest could come galloping through that door any minute. Let's get a move on."

  "Yeah, you're right," Cora said.

  "Of course I am," James said, tucking the cross into his belt. "Now, let's get a move on." He motioned for the rest of the men to follow him, but they remained in place, staring at the fallen vampire. Rolling her eyes, Cora drew her saber. There was a wet crunch as the blade sliced through the monster's flesh. Holding the head aloft by a tuft of hair, she waved it at the group.

  "See, boys? It's dead." She tossed the head onto the desk. "Can't hurt you no more."

  The head rolled off the edge of the desk and thumped to the floor. They flinched as one, then began shuffling toward James. Cora grinned as she watched them go. With a little luck, a few of them might close the day out with a kill of their own.

  She wiped her sword clean on her coat sleeve and sheathed it. She stepped over the headless corpse and went to retrieve her lantern. A curse fell from her lips when she found the shattered remains. The struggle with the vampire had snuffed out the small flame, leaving her without a light. In a flash of anger, she kicked the broken lantern against the wall, shattering what remained of the glass casing. She cursed again before following the group into the mine.

  "Keep them crosses handy, boys," Cora called out as she stepped into the large processing room. "Never know when a big ugly is going to fly into your face with them fangs snapping." She reached into her belt pouch and pulled out a small rosary. She rolled the beads between her fingers and smiled. Two kills for the day so far, and night hadn't even fallen yet.

  James stood at the mouth of the first tunnel, peering forward into the darkness beyond the edge of his lantern's halo. Behind him, Ben faced the silent collection of mine carts, his silver dagger in his hand. Cora was glad he'd remembered to bring it. A crucifix was a handy tool against vampires, but nothing could top sticking them with a length of holy silver.

  Walking past the nervous group of men, Cora joined the two of them by the tunnel entrance. "Any good ideas, boys?" she asked in a low voice.

  "I found what I believe to be the vampire's tracks," James said, pointing to the dirt covering the floor of the tunnel. Something had clawed at it, leaving narrow streaks through the pebbles. "It would appear he came at us on all fours."

  "Ain't the only one come through here, either," Cora said, pointing at another spot. "If that ain't a boot print, I'm the Queen of Sheba."

  James bent down for a closer look. "Could have been made by one of the miners."

  "No, it's a riding boot," Cora said. "Heel's too high for a miner's boot."

  Before James could reply, the sound of scraping gravel echoed from deep within the tunnel. They both looked up, but the shadows blocked their view beyond a few yards.

  "Look sharp, boys!" Cora called over her shoulder. "Pack in tight and watch our rears." The men obeyed, forming a semi-circle around the tunnel entrance. They fingered their crosses as they peered at the vast darkness around them.

  "Keep them steady," Cora said to Ben. "I don't want them spooking and running off to get themselves killed."

  Ben nodded and stepped back to join the circle. As she stared into the tunnel, Cora's fingers closed around the rosary. She thumbed back the Colt's hammer with her other hand as the echoes grew louder.

  When the first vampire broke into the lamplight, time seemed to slow to a crawl. She could see the pebbles flying from beneath the vampire's hands and feet as it rushed toward them, fangs bared. Cora took aim at the soulless face, a psalm coming to her lips.