Sam Harlan (Book 3): Damned Cold (21 page)

Jameson shook his head. The priest headed back to the driveway and knelt over Mosley’s body. I trailed behind but stopped when I heard him speaking softly in a language I couldn’t understand. He finished, stood, and noticed me watching. “A special prayer for those killed while battling vampires.”

“Of course,” I said. “Why
wouldn’t
the Church have something like that?”

Jameson shook his head. There were tears in the priest’s eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was full of emotion. “Ethan was a good man. A brave man. We should all be so lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“To die in the service of the Lord,” Jameson said. “Few answer the Lord’s call.”

“Does that mean
I
answered the Lord’s call?”

Jameson wiped at his tears with the sleeve of his jacket. “It may not seem like it, but you’ve been blessed.”

“I’m
anything
but blessed,” I said bitterly.

“You’ve been tested in ways that would have destroyed most men. You’ve not only survived, you’ve found your purpose.”

I stared at the man in disbelief. “Remember what you said about Jack? About what he was becoming? You said there’s always a price.”

Jameson shrugged. “I might have been wrong about that. The Lord’s plans don’t often make sense. We are mortals, after all. We cannot always make sense of His will.”

“
His
will is more like a curse,” I said, my throat suddenly raw. “I’d give up His blessing if it meant getting my wife and daughter back.”

“You don’t mean that,” Jameson said.

“The hell I don’t,” I muttered, spinning back to the house. A thought occurred to me. “Why did you bring Dawn with you?”

“What?”

“You showed up with Dawn, just in the nick of time to help fend off Barlow. Why bring her into this?”

Jameson paused, perplexed by the question. “I guess I thought it was time she knew the truth about her mother and her aunt. I … just had a feeling.”

“A feeling?” I asked. “Is that more of God’s will?”

Jameson jerked back as if struck. “That’s … funny. I was speaking to her about her mother, trying to prepare her for the worst. Then, I was urging her into the car. When we got here, I saw Ethan was dead. I—I felt the vampire’s presence and knew that I must do something.”

“Huh.” I didn’t know what else to say. Perhaps it was God’s will. Maybe it was just a lucky coincidence.

I didn’t know which unsettled me more.

* * *

We made it back to the living room and found Janice Korman breathing fast and rhythmically, followed by long pauses, with an occasional rattling in the back of her throat. Rachel Warren and Molly Gary waved their hands over Janice’s head and chest, chanting loudly.

Rachel glanced up when I entered the room, her face as white as a sheet. She stared at me for a moment but went back to chanting when I didn’t speak. Her voice was softer than before, less urgent, and Molly said, “Don’t stop, Rachel.”

Jodie Rexford was kneeling next to her husband, Gene. Gene wasn’t moving. “I need help,” she pleaded. “Help me!”

I threaded my way through the room and stopped next to Janice Korman. “I don’t think she’s going to make it,” I said to the two witches. “Maybe you should help Gene.”

Molly’s hands slowed and she looked up at me and choked back a sob. “But she’ll die.”

Jameson had joined us. He leaned over to check on Janice, then put his fingers against her throat. “I know something of what you’re attempting,” he said, shaking his head. “Her pulse is weak and thready. I’m afraid your magic won’t be enough.”

Molly’s hands slowed. “But—but…”

“She’s beyond your help,” Jameson said gently.

Rachel looked like she was about to speak but then started crying. “It’s not fair.” She awkwardly stroked Janice’s hair. “It’s just
not
fair.”

Molly stood and grabbed Rachel’s hand, pulling her up and frog-marching her across the living room. They began their chanting and motioning over Gene’s body while Jameson sat down on the blood-soaked carpet and took Janice’s hand.

“She’s not long for this world,” Jameson said quietly.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

Jameson shook his head somberly. “I can only make her comfortable.”

I didn’t have a response for that. I didn’t know the woman very well, but she seemed like a decent sort. She’d been more than polite to me, even with all that was happening. I watched her blue eyes, like the sky on a summer day, staring off into space as the life as her life drained away.

Jameson spoke softly, administering last rites to the woman. The smell of death was thick in the room. In the center of it, across from the broken window that now admitted a freezing-cold wind, Dawn McKie sat on the Kormans’ ugly couch.

Dawn’s eyes would occasionally focus, first on Brady Warren’s dead body, and then on Jameson as he tended to Janice, then her face would go blank. The girl was in shock, tuning out the dead and dying.

I wish I could tune this out.

“What about her?” I asked Jameson. “Is she safe here?”

Jameson looked up, then over at Dawn. “None of us are safe, but as long as you’re here…”

“That’s a low blow, Father, even for you.”

Jameson cradled Janice’s head in his lap, stroking her hair as her breathing slowed. There was a long pause, longer than before, then she drew in a deep breath. There was a pause that went on for so long I thought she had stopped breathing, then she exhaled in one long gasp.

This time, Janice’s breathing didn’t resume.

Her face looked relaxed, like she was taking a nap, but there was nothing left in her. Whatever made her the nice woman I’d met earlier was gone.

Maybe she was somewhere else. Maybe she was in the next life, or Heaven, or wherever the soul goes after death, but all that was left in
this
world was the fleshy shell she’d left behind.

Jameson shook his head. “Such a tragedy,” he said so quietly I could barely hear.

A wailing started, a sound so full of agony that my skin crawled. Jodie pounded on her husband’s chest, shrieking loud enough to make Rachel and Molly pause their ministrations. They watched helplessly as Jodie sobbed, her mascara running in dark streaks down her face.

“Jodie,” Rachel started to say. “He’s—he’s…”

“Please come back,” Jodie begged her husband. “Please.
Please
!”

Gene Rexford clearly wasn’t coming back.

I snapped my
fingers in front of Dawn’s face. “Snap out of it.”

Dawn’s listless eyes found mine. “This isn’t real. It
can’t
be real.”

“Sam,” Jameson began.

“Dawn,” I snapped. “It’s happening. Magic exists. Vampires exist. You’re caught in the middle of it.”

Dawn blinked, her face empty of emotion. “This isn’t happening.”

I could have been talking about the weather for all the reaction she gave, and I resisted the urge to give her a light slap across her face. “Your mother has been taken, probably by the same vampire that took my friend. Your mother is a witch. Your aunt is a witch. Your great-uncle Randy was a witch.”

“Uncle Randy?” She slowly turned her head until her eyes found Randy Korman’s dead body. “No. Magic isn’t real. You—you aren’t real. I’m dreaming. This
has
to be a dream.”

“Sam!” Jameson barked.

“I don’t have time for this shit,” I said, then grabbed Dawn’s face in my hands. I stared into her eyes, so close I could almost kiss her, and used the force of my will to push against her mind. “
Snap out of it.
”

Dawn jerked back like she’d been struck. “What? What’s going on?” Her eyes darted around the room and horror filled her eyes as the realization sank in. “No. No, no, no!”

“The vampire wants you for something,” I said. “Why?”

“Vampires aren’t—”

“Real?” I asked, my voice ringing out louder than I’d intended. “Hell, yes, they’re real. They feed and they kill. They’re like sharks. Why does this vampire want your mother? Why does this vampire want
you
?”

“I—I don’t know,” Dawn said.

I felt the footsteps approaching and then Jodie Rexford was standing next to us. “Dawn, honey, I know this is a shock, but you’re a strong girl. You’ll be okay. I just need to speak with Mr. Harlan.”

Jodie grabbed me by the sleeve of my trench coat and yanked me up. “We need to talk,” she said. “Follow me.”

I nodded and followed her to the kitchen. She stumbled over Randy’s dead body, but caught herself. As soon as we were out of Dawn’s earshot, she said, “Carlton is behind this. I’m sure of it.”

I had to give Jodie credit. She’d lost coven members and family members, but she’d put that aside and focused on what she perceived as the threat. “You think Meriwether is responsible? Fine. I’m tired of arguing. I’ll pay him a visit.”

She laughed. It contained a hint of hysteria. “You’ve already talked to him three times today. You’ve discovered nothing. Nothing! I saw you, Sam Harlan. I saw into you with my sight. How can a man like you be so easily fooled?”

A surge of ice ran through my veins. “I’m going to let that pass, since you just lost your husband.”

There was a tug on the sleeve of my trench coat. “I need to talk to speak with you,” Jameson said.

I shrugged. “Take care of your niece,” I said to Jodie.

“What do I tell her?” Jodie asked. She turned away from me and leaned heavily on the gleaming white counter. “How do I explain this?”

I sighed. “You’ve known about magic,” I said gently, aware of how the loss of her husband had shaken her, “but she’s new to this. Explain it to her. Tell her what happened. She needs you.”

Jodie ran her hands along her legs and I could almost see her putting herself back together. “Right. You’re right.”

“You might want to help Rachel, too,” I said. “I think the shock will wear off soon. She lost her husband, too.”

“Of course,” she said and headed deeper into the house.

Jameson watched me with approval. “Good, Sam. That’s good.”

“What?”

“Getting her to focus on others,” he said. “It gives her purpose.”

“It keeps her from falling to pieces,” I said. “
Temporarily.
” I leaned against the counter, feeling tired and hungry.

“You think confronting Meriwether is a good idea?” Jameson asked.

I wanted to take a seat at the kitchen table and put my head down. “You were right. I don’t have any idea where to start, but if Jodie’s right, I’ll find Callie. If she’s wrong, it won’t make a difference.”

“If she’s right,” Jameson said, “then Meriwether has control of that vampire.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. I need to make a phone call.”

“To?”

“A friend.”

Jameson handed me his cell phone and went to help Jodie tend to the living.

And the dead.

* * *

The voice on the other end of the phone was gruff. “This isn’t a good time, Sam.”

I sat down heavily at the kitchen table. “Hello to you, Henry. Working tonight?”

There was a pause on the line before Henry Hastings said, “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“The Ancients?”

There was a snort on the other end of the line. “No. Some fool kid high on meth missed a turn north of town and ran his truck off the road. He was thrown from the vehicle. It’s … amazing how fragile humans are. Never ceases to amaze me how often they take the opportunity to prove that.”

Henry Hastings wasn’t just the Vampire Sheriff, tasked with keeping vampires hidden from the rest of the world, he was also the sheriff of Hot Springs County, Wyoming. “Sorry to hear that. I have a question for you.”

“Got yourself into a piece of trouble, eh?”

I watched as Jodie led Dawn and Jameson through the kitchen, the screen door slamming shut as they exited the house. “What makes you say that?”

“You haven’t called since Marshalltown, so I reckon you got yourself a vampire.”

I don’t know why I was surprised. Henry had a thousand years of experience to draw from. “Yeah, I got a vampire. Central Illinois.”

“Heh. That place is as flat as a flapjack. What’s your problem?”

“I have a question. It’s not about a vampire,” I said. “Not exactly.”

Henry’s voice was curious. “Then what is it?”

“Can a vampire be controlled?”

There was a long pause before Henry replied. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean … can someone use magic to control a vampire?” This time, the silence lingered so long that I was starting to think I’d lost the call. “Henry?”

“You have to understand,” Henry said, “that if such a thing
were
possible, I could be in a heap of trouble for even thinking of answering.”

It made sense. Henry worked for the Ancients, the oldest vampires on earth. They were at the top of the food chain and determined to keep it that way. Henry disposed of the young vampires that threatened to make the world aware of vampires, but he also killed the older ones before they threatened the Ancients.

The magic that could control a vampire might be as much of a threat to them as the world rediscovering the vampire menace, if not more so.

Little was known about the Ancients, but if the strength and power of a vampire increased with age, then the Ancients were close to gods. The idea of a witch controlling one of the Ancients was enough to make my sphincter pucker with fear.

“You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” I said.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, but even
knowing
this information could spell trouble for you.”

“If—”

“It could spell trouble for me, too,” Henry said.

“But—”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t tell you,” Henry continued. “You got to understand that magic and … what makes vampires what we are … they ain’t in the same wheelhouse.”

“That’s a no?”

Henry cleared his throat. “We may not be in the same wheelhouse, but we’re not that far off, I guess.”

“Okay. So, that’s a yes, then?”

“If someone has the know-how, and that’s a helluva big if, then yes, it can be done. Whatever you got yourself into, boy, it’s
serious
business.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out.”