She Returns From War (13 page)

Keeping her gun aimed at the corpse, Victoria carefully stepped over it. Her muscles were taut, ready to spring into action should the body so much as twitch, but the dead woman didn't move. She took another step. Nothing. Lowering the gun, she let herself relax.

A crash from the second floor made her jump. Cora had taken care of the woman-creature, but the man from the other night was still unaccounted for. The old hunter was most likely fighting him at that moment, and she needed help.

Making a dash for the stairs, Victoria felt her boot strike something on the floor, sending it skittering to one side. Cora's rifle. She stared at it, the implications exploding in her mind like cannon fire. The creatures had managed to disarm Cora. She was facing one of them unarmed. If the blue-eyed man or the Indian woman arrived, she would be defenseless. Victoria hesitated, unsure if she should pick up the rifle and take it up to its owner.

"Vicky!" Cora's shout was strained. Victoria's boots pounded up the stairs. She could hear thumping and grunting coming from the door on the left. It stood slightly ajar, and she pushed it open with her free hand, revolver raised.

Cora stood against one wall, rosary dangling from her outstretched fist. Her other hand was empty. Across the room from her, the man-creature crouched on the floor. The hunter's struggle had punched a few gouges into the wallpaper. Clothing and broken glass littered the floor from a toppled dresser.

"Goddamn it, girl, where you been?" Cora asked.

"I-"

"Don't matter none. Toss me your gun."

Without her gun, Victoria would be defenseless. "But-"

"Do it!" Cora yelled, holding out her hand. Victoria tossed the weapon into the room. It fell short of the hunter by a few feet. Cursing, Cora made a grab for it.

The ghoul seized the opportunity and lunged. It crashed into Cora, knocking her backward into the wall. Hunter and monster grappled on the floor, Cora's hands clamped around her enemy's throat. She pushed against it with all her might, barely able to keep the hungry jaws from her own neck. More curses burst from her lips.

Victoria stood still, transfixed by the mortal struggle. After all of the legends and stories she'd heard of Cora Oglesby, seeing her fight was remarkably underwhelming. She had expected the old hunter to dominate her foes with ease and finesse, making killing monsters appear no harder than taking tea after a game of lawn darts. Watching her now, she seemed no more than a common barroom brawler wrestling another drunkard over some slight.

Cora managed to land a punch to the creature's jaw with the fist holding the rosary. Smoke exploded outward in a ring. The creature hissed in pain, but it kept its hold on the hunter. Cora struck it again, keeping the rosary pressed into its smoking flesh. The hiss became a wail. Writhing in agony, the vampire twisted away from her.

Rolling into a crouching position, Cora's eyes darted around the floor. "Where'd it go?"

"Where did what go?" Victoria asked.

Spying the gun a few feet behind her, Cora dove for it.

Victoria saw the monster pull itself to its feet. "Watch out!" she cried as the creature lunged at Cora. The hunter spun around, dropping onto her back as she did so. Reaching out with her free hand, Cora grabbed the ghoul by the wrist and yanked. It sailed over her as she rolled beneath it. When it reached the apex of the throw, a flash erupted from the hunter's other hand. Thunder shook the windows. The creature crashed into the far wall and crumpled to the floor.

Cora didn't spare it a glance. She pulled herself onto her hands and knees and crawled toward the large bed in the corner. Thrusting her arm into the darkness beneath it, she began groping for something. Perplexed, Victoria watched her search until she heard the monster stirring. Her gaze snapped to the place where it fell, and her body went rigid.

The dead eye was fixed on her.

With a croaking moan, the monster began crawling toward her. Speechless with terror, Victoria backed into the hallway, bumping up against the far wall. The creature's teeth gnashed together. Victoria's breathing quickened as it approached, inch by inch, hand over pale hand. Her eyes were small islands of blue in a sea of white. Desperate, she drew the broad-bladed knife with a shaking hand. It was probably useless against this living corpse, but she wouldn't let it kill her without a fight. She braced herself, knife hand drawn back, for the final struggle.

Cora appeared in the doorway behind the monster. Her boot came down on its ankle with a dry snap. Pinned, it curled around like an injured worm, arms reaching for the hunter's leg. Metal gleamed as Cora swung a curved sword. The creature recoiled from the blow, hands clutching at the fresh gash in its ruined face.

The hunter stepped up next to the wretched creature, driving the toe of her boot into its ribcage. It hissed like a broken steam pipe, its eye nearly bursting out of its head as it glared at her. Grasping the hilt with both hands, Cora drove the sword through the monster's head.

In the silence that followed, Victoria realized how loudly she was breathing and forced herself to calm down. Fingers trembling, she slid the knife back into her belt.

"You okay?" Cora asked.

Victoria's throat was dry, but she managed a nod.

"Good," Cora said. She placed a boot on the corpse's neck. The sword slid out of the skull with a slick wet sound. Still holding the saber, Cora turned and went back into the bedroom. A few seconds later, a revolver slid through the doorway. Victoria stepped around the body, careful not to touch the splayed limbs, and picked it up. For the first time, the gun's weight on her belt comforted her.

Cora popped up from behind the fallen dresser. "I ain't sure whether I should thank you or crack you over the head." She stepped around the dresser, and Victoria's arms came up defensively.

"I'd prefer the former," Victoria said.

"I reckon you might," Cora said, "and I reckon I'd have been in a tight spot if you hadn't showed up when you did. What I can't puzzle out is why you thought it best to just stand there and gape at me instead of lending a hand."

Victoria's face burned. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"Well, ain't too much of a loss. Vampire's dead, and you probably would have wound up shooting me."

"I resent that," Victoria said. "I'll have you know that I defeated one of these creatures on my own after you left me in the barn. It very nearly killed me in the process."

Cora snorted. "You're making that up."

"I will prove it to you," Victoria said. "The corpse is still up in the barn loft along with my crucifix."

"You dropped my crucifix?" When Victoria nodded, Cora shook her head. "You're like to kill us both, you know that? What kind of vampire hunter goes around dropping their weapons like they was cow dung?"

Victoria straightened her back. "It wasn't intentional. Besides, I don't call myself a vampire hunter, so I don't really see how that applies to me."

"You're one now whether you call yourself it or not," Cora said, "though calling yourself one might make explaining what happened to your throat a bit easier."

Victoria touched her neck, suddenly remembering the bite wound. Pulling a red bandana from her trouser pocket, she tied it around her throat. Cora smirked at her before she stepped out of the bedroom and started down the stairs.

The jingling of the hunter's spurs rang in Victoria's ears. A vampire hunter? Her? The title sounded ominous, something to carve on her tombstone after her untimely death. She shook her head. Whatever else she may be, she certainly wasn't a vampire hunter. Killing one vampire didn't make her one any more than killing a squirrel with a stone made her a squirrel hunter. Cora was just trying to rattle her.

"Get on down here, Vicky." Cora's voice echoed in the hallway. "We got us work to do."

Victoria laid a palm on the butt of her gun and made her way down the stairs. Cora stood in the living room, wiping her saber on the dead woman's dress. Gore streaked the floral pattern. She slid the blade back into the sheath at her side and turned to Victoria "Bastards got all my guns off me."

"What?"

"Ain't rightly sure how it happened. This one jumped out at me in the barn, and I followed it into the house," she said, shoving the corpse with her boot. "Had it in my sights when the other feller got me from behind. Lost my rifle when I went down."

"Yes, I saw it over there," Victoria said, pointing.

Cora nodded. "I managed to get that one off me before the lady had her a chance to join in. Got my Colt out and blew her away, and the other one lit out up the stairs. I chased it on up and saw that both doors was open. I checked the left one first, not thinking straight, and the damn thing got me from behind again. My gun went flying out my hand again, and I didn't get my sword out long before that got knocked away, too. We went around a few times, dancing about each other like tom cats in a spat, and that's about when you showed up."

"Was this encounter unusual, then?" Victoria asked. "It seems that they were able to sneak up on you a number of times."

"Well, I ain't no spring chicken no more," Cora said. "In case you forgot, been a good while since I've done this sort of thing. My old bones got some rust on them now, and they take to creaking a good deal more."

Victoria nodded, feeling slightly guilty for having asked. Cora had to be at least twenty years her senior, and her years had been hard-won in this unforgiving frontier. Looking at the hunter's leathery, sun-browned face, Victoria became aware of her own pale skin. Her hands were soft and unwrinkled, not wiry and gnarled from use. In that moment, she felt more out of place than she had standing on the streets of Albuquerque in her finery. She may have bought boots and denim trousers, a horse and a gun, but she wasn't of this world and never would be.

"Well, we should get them horses put away," Cora said. "Mind fetching my rifle for me?"

Without looking up, Victoria picked up the weapon and handed it to her.

"Much obliged." Cora slid the rifle into place on her back. "Now then, let's have us a look at your kill."

EIGHT

A peal of thunder shook Victoria out of a deep sleep. She sat bolt upright, eyes wide, heart pounding. Nothing around her looked familiar. Where was she? What had that noise been? After a few seconds, her thoughts caught up to her fear, and she relaxed.

The fire had burned itself low, leaving a few embers still glowing in the fireplace. Victoria shivered. Outside, rain beat against the roof and swept across the yard in great sheets, driven by bursts of wind. Lightning lit the night in fits. It illuminated the yard, the barn, the wind pump, and even the cliffs. Victoria stood and crossed over to a window, holding her arms around herself. What would have happened to them if they hadn't reached the ranch before the tempest hit? They might not have survived the night, and if they had, it would have been without any rest at all.

"Mighty fine sight, ain't it?" Cora's voice came from a chair facing the door.

Victoria turned toward her. The hunter was nothing but a silhouette. "Indeed. It's quite frightening, truth be told. I was just imagining what it would be like to be caught outside in such a storm."

The silhouette nodded. "Ain't fun, I can tell you that."

"You've been in one?"

"Several," Cora said. "Can't go too long riding around the west without getting caught by weather sooner or later. Ain't regular out here, see. A body can ride from Denver to Santa Fe and have the front half of his horse sunburnt and the back half frozen by a blizzard."

"Surely not," Victoria said.

"Can't trust a cowpuncher's stories none," Cora said, "but all the same, sure seems like it was possible sometimes. Why, I seen a storm settle in over one half of a town and leave the other half all sunny and nice. You'll get to where you don't trust the weather, neither, you stay out here long enough. Best one can do is take along what he can and shoot what he can to keep his stores full. After that, it's just luck of the draw."

"Yes, shooting and dressing game," Victoria said. "Such an enjoyable way to pass the time."

Cora laughed. "Stew's awful good for all the blood and guts, though, ain't it?"

Despite herself, Victoria had to nod in agreement. Once she'd gotten past the horror of eating an animal she had just skinned and gutted herself, the taste was surprisingly pleasant. No steak and kidney pie, but not bad. When soaked in the broth, even the hardtack was far less abhorrent. The generous amount of salt Cora had added to the stew had no doubt helped the flavor along, though.

"You feel up to sitting for a spell?" Cora asked, stretching her arms. "All that excitement earlier done wore me out."

"Yes, I could have a turn at the watch," Victoria said. "How long was I asleep?"

"No more than a few hours," Cora said. "You was snoring like a mountain cat, though. Kept making me think one of them vampires was coming back to life."

"Very funny." Victoria walked over to the chair, and Cora got up. "I don't imagine your slumber is without the slightest noise."

"Oh, I ain't claiming nothing of the sort. I reckon you'll be ready to stuff your hat down my throat just to keep me quiet before too long. Don't go trying it, though, or you'll be the one with a mouthful of something unpleasant." Cora moved over to the remains of the fire, stretched out, and put her hat over her face. After a moment, she picked it up again. "Oh, my rifle is there by the chair if you need it."

"I hope it won't be necessary," Victoria said, but the hunter had already resumed her sleeping position. Victoria thought about stoking the fire for her but decided against it. If Cora had wanted the fire built up, she would have done it herself. She probably had some tactical reason for not doing so, some unwritten rule of vampire hunter code. Victoria herself couldn't be less interested in any code such individuals may hold to. Cora was a competent fighter, true, and she could almost be a pleasant companion at times, but Victoria held no more illusions about the wild romance of such a lifestyle. If the old hunter was any indication, hunting vampires for hire made one uncouth and brazen, neither of which were qualities Victoria desired to foster in herself.

Another flash of lightning lit the yard, making the three bundles lying just beyond the porch visible for an instant. Cora had insisted on dragging the corpses outside so they could be exposed to sunlight as soon as possible, and for once Victoria hadn't argued. The bodies would turn into dust when the sun rose, the hunter said, so they simply lined them up in the yard and headed back into the house to see about starting a fire and preparing the stew.

When the next flash came, Victoria blinked. Had she seen a shadow? Leaning forward, she peered out through the window, but she couldn't see anything. The clouds covered the moon, leaving the intermittent flickers of lightning the only source of light. Victoria drew her revolver, curling her fingers around the grip for reassurance.

When the next burst of light came, Victoria was certain. A figure was standing in the yard near the barn. A shiver ran up her spine. It had been nothing more than a shadow, but she knew it all the same: her captors had returned.

Keeping her eyes fixed on the yard, Victoria turned her head slightly. "Cora." No answer. "Cora," she said again, louder.

There was a snort from the fireplace. "What? What's wrong?"

"I think something's out there," Victoria said.

"Is that right?" A rustling sound as she rolled over. "Go on and sort it out, then."

"What?"

"Get your pretty little rear out there and go chase your spook."

"I'll do no such thing," Victoria said.

"Then what's the point of putting you on the watch?" Cora asked. "Sentry ain't no good if they don't go have a look at what they spot, now is they?"

"Perhaps not, but you're the expert here. I wouldn't know the first thing to do-"

"You already done it earlier."

"-if it ends up being something other than one of the creatures we previously fought," Victoria finished. "I believe it is one of the beings that captured me two nights ago."

"You should be itching for the payback, then." Before Victoria could reply, Cora groaned and sat up. "But if you got sand in your bloomers about it, I reckon I can go have a look."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

Victoria blinked. "Going in my stead."

"Who says you ain't going?" Cora's boots thumped across the floor. She picked up her rifle from where it stood propped up against the chair, then turned to Victoria. "I sure don't."

"But surely we need someone to remain behind?"

"And do what?" Cora asked. "Ain't like we got a big old crate of gold or some such needs guarding. Always take more if more's available, whether you're talking bullets, biscuits, or back-watchers. Either you're coming with or we both sit tight here."

"But-"

"Put it this way: if I run myself on out there chasing your spook and it decides to stop by the house for a bite of fancy girl, what are you going to do about it?"

Victoria paused. The thought made her blood run cold. Even with her new weapons, she knew she wouldn't stand much of a chance against Fodor Glava or the Indian woman without Cora. If either one of them appeared while the hunter was away, Victoria might not be able to escape. The Indian woman's threat still lingered in the back of her mind. If she discovered that Victoria had not only disobeyed her command but brought the hunter straight to her, she was not likely to be forgiving.

Still, she had handled herself well when she'd fought with the vampire in the barn. Cora hadn't been around to help her then, and she had not only survived but killed her foe. Maybe there wasn't as much to killing monsters as she thought. Moreover, it seemed highly unlikely that Cora had received any kind of formal training in the business. If she could master the art through self-tutelage, so could Victoria.

"Do what you will," Victoria said, "but I am staying here."

Cora regarded her in silence. Although the hunter's eyes were invisible in the near-total darkness, Victoria could feel them boring into her. Raising her chin, the young woman leaned back in the chair with a look that she hoped was as powerful.

"Suit yourself." A flash of lightning outlined the creases in Cora's face. "Do me a favor, though: if they get their fangs in you while I'm away, go on and shoot yourself before you turn."

Turning away from Victoria, she slid the rifle into the scabbard on her back and pulled her hat down low. The door opened with a loud creak, and the cold smell of rain filled the room. A gust of wind swirled through the doorway only to be cut off as Cora shut the door behind her.

Victoria watched the old hunter disappear into the downpour, anger churning inside her like the clouds overhead. No matter what she said or did, Cora seemed to have little regard for her. Even killing the vampire hadn't pried a word of praise out of her. Now, Victoria had managed to fall even further in her companion's esteem by choosing what seemed like a perfectly sensible option. Besides, her part of the bargain with Cora said nothing about helping her kill anything, vampire or otherwise. All she had agreed to do was lead the hunter to the spot where the man called Fodor Glava had been, and she had done so. What sort of person rewarded a favor with contempt?

Victoria shook her head. She was letting herself think on the subject far more than she should. A gust of wind slammed into the walls, making them creak and crack. Standing to her feet, she walked over to the dying fire and set about rekindling it. Cora may have had some unspoken law against warmth and light, but she was off on her own business. Rebuilding the fire with fresh kindling took a bit more effort, but she soon had a small pile ready on the stone hearth.

Victoria had purchased a small book of matches on Cora's insistence, and she pulled them out of her satchel with a brief sense of gratitude. The small flame danced down the match, but it refused to jump to the kindling. Muttering under her breath, Victoria blew it out and struck another.

"Is a bit chilly in here, ain't it?"

Victoria let out a short scream and spun around, the match falling from her fingers. Blue eyes flashed at her from the doorway.

"Of course, I can't tell the difference no how," the man said. He swaggered toward her, planting his boots deliberately with each step. "Rain, snow, or stars is all the same to me. Just one more perk to being what I is."

As he spoke, Victoria rose to her feet. Trying to calm her pounding heart, she worked her fingers around the crucifix in her belt. The wooden carving pulled free, and she pointed it at those wicked blue flames.

The man called Fodor Glava halted his advance. "Hey, now, that ain't no kind of way to treat an old friend, now is it? Here I was expecting hugs and kisses, but you got to get all mean about things. How do you reckon that makes a body feel?"

"Afraid," Victoria said, pulling her revolver free of its holster.

"Well, ain't you a regular bobcat all of a sudden like?" The shadow raised its arms. "Don't shoot me, missie, I ain't done nothing wrong."

Victoria squeezed the trigger. Flame belched out of the gun's barrel as man-made thunder crashed around her. The man called Fodor Glava vanished from sight. For one brief moment, elation swept through her: she had killed the man Cora Oglesby was hunting, proving herself worthy of the hunter's respect.

Laughter filled the room. "Don't go fooling yourself, sweetheart. You ain't nothing but a housecat, and I'm one big old grizzly bear."

"Are you certain of that?" Victoria asked. "From what I'm told of them, grizzly bears don't hide from little girls."

"Oh, we is a sly bunch," came the reply. "Ain't all muscle and fur and teeth, you know. Some of us has the wits of a fox and the speed to match."

"We hunt foxes for sport in England," she said. No matter how he boasted, he clearly feared her crucifix and her gun, or he would have already killed her. The thought gave her courage.

"You ain't never met a fox like me, honey."

Something blue flashed in the corner of her eye. She turned and fired. The gunshot lit up the room, but the man simply vanished once more.

"And here I thought proper gals knew better than to shoot guns at folk. Ain't ladylike no matter how you slice it, though I reckon it's getting me more than a mite randy. What say you and me have ourselves a poke after we get done with our dance?" Victoria shuddered at the thought and was answered by another laugh. "Well, if you is that excited about it, we may just cut the dance short."

Victoria took a step forward, sweeping the Colt's barrel around the room. "You're welcome to try."

"Don't mind if I do."

The voice came from behind her. Before she could turn to face it, something slammed into her back. She pitched forward, arms flung in front of her to break the fall. Her palms hit the floor with a dull thud, but they couldn't stop her from half-rolling, half-skidding along the boards.

When she came to a stop, Victoria pushed herself up on her hands and knees. The floor pitched and rolled like the deck of a ship. Struggling to rise, she realized her right hand was now empty. The impact must have knocked the Colt out of her grasp. She now faced this monster armed with nothing but a small carving.

As if to underline the point, the blue eyes loomed above the place where she had been standing a moment before. "This here's a pretty little gun you got," the man said. "Seems a right shame that it got itself all banged up like it did. That's what happens when a girl plays at gunfighting, I reckon."