Dead of Winter

by Lee Collins

  In the silence, she thought she heard footsteps in the hallway. They were slow and intermittent, as if searching for something. She heard a door creak somewhere nearby, and she grinned. She looked into Wash's cold blue eyes and lifted her chin.

  "You hear that, spooky?" she said. "That's the sound of my husband looking for me. I hope you got a plan for when he comes through that door and sticks you with a silver dagger."

  "Your husband?" the vampire asked. "Surely you don't mean Benjamin Oglesby?"

  "The one and only," Cora said. "Even the big bad vampire is scared of him, I see."

  "He was never the threat you are," the vampire said.

  "Well, that's about to change."

  Confusion flickered in the borrowed eyes. "You truly believe he is in that hallway looking for you?" Cora nodded, and the confusion melted into glee. "How absolutely delicious! I heard tales of your madness in the wake of our previous meeting, but I never imagined I could have so thoroughly broken your mind."

  "I ain't the one with the touched mind," Cora said. "You ain't hearing me spouting nonsense."

  "Oh, but you are," the vampire said. "I cannot begin to tell you the joy that this moment brings me. It will be like reliving ten years past and our first fateful encounter. To break the same hunter twice in one lifetime is a rare thrill even among the immortal." He looked down at her, his face ecstatic. "Cora Oglesby, Mad Madam, scourge of the unholy West, I believe I have some bad news for you."

  As he spoke, the face in front of hers changed. The sandy blond beard faded into a well-trimmed brown mustache, and the deep blue eyes of the young gunman gave way to a lighter shade of blue she knew as well as her own brown eyes. The mouth below the mustache twisted into a sadistic grin she had never seen on those lips. All of her fight and spirit evaporated in a single flash of recognition.

  "Your husband," said the voice of Benjamin Oglesby, "has already found you."

  FIFTEEN

  Cora's knees gave way. Had it not been for the hand clamped around her neck, the hand of her own husband, she would have collapsed to the floor. Her heart screamed that she was seeing an illusion, some sinister trick played by the vampire, but as the seconds passed, the man standing before her never wavered or disappeared.

  "What's wrong?" Ben's voice asked. "You haven't seen me in ten years, and you don't have anything to say? Not even some pithy sentiment about how you've missed me so?"

  "No," Cora said.

  "How about an apology, then?" The face of her husband leaned in until their noses almost touched. "Can you at least apologize for just letting me die like you did?"

  "Who are you?" she asked.

  "Who am I?" Ben's other hand grabbed her gun belt. He spun her around and hurled her across the room. "I'm your husband."

  Cora slammed into a large crate with a bone-jarring thud. She fell to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest as the monster wearing Ben's face came to stand over her. She shook her head, her eyes squeezed shut. It wasn't possible. Ben hadn't been killed by this creature. He was with Mart Duggan right now, making preparations for the coming wave of vampires. She would meet up with him later to defend the town.

  "Maybe I was wrong about you," Ben's voice said as the creature knelt next to her. "Maybe you are only suited for life as a slave. I still have time to decide. Perhaps the taste of your soul will tell me what I need to know. Either way, I've grown tired of this conversation." He reached out and grabbed her jaw, pulling her face toward him. "Look at me."

  Cora opened her eyes. Ben's face loomed above her, his kind features twisted with hatred.

  "I want the last thought of your mortal life to be of your failure," he said. "I want you to look upon the enslaved soul of your husband and carry that sight with you into eternity. Not the eternity of bliss your foolish god promised you, but an eternity as the very thing you most despise."

  The hand gripping her jaw let go and cracked across her face. The blow knocked her back into the crate. Her head swam from the impact, and she felt as though she might vomit. She fought the sensation as she lay on the floor, her mind repeating the same thoughts. Ben couldn't be dead. She had just seen him in their room. He was with the marshal. He would come through the door any second. They would kill this vampire just as they had killed so many other monsters.

  Standing above her, the image of her husband faded into the gray shadows of the room. A few seconds later, a slow creaking came from somewhere in the darkness. Glowing golden eyes fixed themselves on the fallen hunter.

  Fodor Glava stood over his fallen enemy, relishing her suffering and confusion. He always marveled at how easily mortals could be rendered helpless with mere words. It was such a handy tool if used right, but to use it on the Mad Madam herself, one of the most feared hunters in the West, was a special thrill. He could never have predicted her delusions, of course, but he was still pleased with himself for driving the knife through her heart. Her tears would sweeten the taste of her blood, and bringing her into the fold of the undead would make him a legend among nosferatu.

  Today was truly a great day.

  Glava knelt down and pulled the hunter's head toward him. She seemed only halfway conscious, her eyelids fluttering as the occasional sob escaped her lips. He brushed her disheveled braid off her neck like a lover, caressing her skin with cold fingers. The thirst screamed from every inch of his body, demanding that he drink his fill, but he held it at bay. Holding the helpless form of Cora Oglesby in his arms was intoxicating, sweeter than the taste of any blood. He wanted to savor the moment.

  Finally, he gave in to the demand and lowered his face to her neck. Her skin popped beneath his fangs like gossamer. The ecstasy filled his being, spiraling through his limbs, and he surrendered to it. No mortal sensation, no matter how powerful or beautiful, could ever approach the pleasure he now felt.

  Lost in his delirium, the vampire didn't hear or feel the shattering of glass against his forehead. A moment later, the bliss in his veins evaporated, replaced by a searing pain that tore across his scalp. The sensation was so alien that for an instant he remained motionless, trying to understand it. Then his instincts kicked in, and he gripped his head in both hands. The pain spread to his palms, and he cried out. Rolling away from his victim, he rubbed his hands on his suit, trying to wipe the unseen fire away, but still it burned.

  An impact in his side tore open another torrent of pain. The scent of his own searing flesh filled his nostrils. He rolled onto his back and squinted through the agony at the form of the hunter standing over him. Her brown eyes bored into him with seething hatred.

  "Enjoy the pain while you can, you bastard," she said. "It will seem like bliss after you get to where I send you."

  Cora's spurs chimed in a brisk rhythm as she left the room to reclaim her weapons. Her head still swam, but she forced herself to remain on her feet. Her saber gleamed a few yards away where it had fallen. She grabbed the hilt in her fingers, relishing the feel of the cold steel against her palm. This sword had been given to Ben during his days in the Confederate army. It was only fitting that it would behead his murderer.

  Gripping the saber with white knuckles, Cora smiled. She could already feel the impact of the blade on that bastard's neck and hear the sweet crunch as it bit though the bone. More torture would be in order first, though. Another vial of holy water to the face, perhaps, followed by a few more kicks from her silver spurs. She would see the mighty vampire beg for death before Ben's sword pierced his unholy heart. Cora stormed into the dark storeroom, ready to administer her holy justice.

  Her determination quickly turned to confusion. The room had filled with a thick white mist, and the vampire had vanished. As she stood dumbfounded, the mist flowed around her ankles and out the door, forming a river of white cloud down the hallway. Before she could react, it vanished down the stairs, leaving her alone.

  Cora stared after the cloud for a moment before turning back into the room. She searched through it, but only found the body of Wash Jones
and the vampire's coffin. She gave the pine box a few kicks with her boot before the sword fell from her shaking fingers. She collapsed to her knees and held her face in her hands as powerful sobs shook her body. The memory of Ben's eyes filled with contempt and murderous rage filled her mind. She kept telling herself that it hadn't really been him, that it was just his image being used like a puppet by that monster, but that thought only reminded her that he was gone. His sweet words, his banter, and his smile had been stolen from her, and she would never find them again.

  After a few minutes, the storm subsided, and she struggled to her feet. Metal rasped in the silence as she sheathed her saber and walked back into the hallway. Her pistol still lay where the apparition of Boots had thrown it. She slipped it back into its holster, wiped her eyes, and began a slow descent down the stairs.

  Halfway down the stairway, a thought brought her up short. What if the vampire had been lying? Maybe Ben wasn't really dead after all. She hadn't found his body when she'd gone through the room, and she would have if the vampire had killed him before capturing her. The image of Ben must have been a trick, some black magic used to catch her off guard and make her easy prey. He had to be with Mart Duggan, setting up defenses for the town.

  Her boots pounded down the stairway and out into the cold afternoon. The street bustled with the citizens of Leadville, miners and bankers and whores. Several passersby gave her odd looks as she darted between carts and around slow-moving horses, but she paid them no heed. She needed to see her husband with her own eyes, to touch his face and assure herself that it had all been a cruel trick.

  The door to the marshal's station barely withstood her entrance. A deputy she didn't recognize sat at the desk, looking as though he had just soiled himself. He pointed a pistol at her, but the barrel wavered in his hand.

  "Where's Duggan?" Cora demanded. The deputy just blinked at her. She stormed past him and threw open the door to the marshal's office.

  Duggan was seated behind his desk cleaning his big Colt. "Something I can do for you, Mrs Oglesby?"

  "Where's Ben?" she asked.

  "Ben?"

  "My husband," Cora said, panic and irritation welling up inside her. "Ben Oglesby. A few inches taller than you, blue eyes, neat mustache. He was supposed to drop by and let you know that there's a swarm of vampires that might come calling tonight."

  The marshal put his gun on the desk. "Vampires in my town? How many?"

  "That ain't important," Cora said. "Have you seen Ben?"

  "Can't say I have," Duggan said. He looked back down at his gun. "Come to think of it, I don't think I ever met your husband. You should bring him around some time so we can get acquainted proper."

  Cora stood in silence, her mind racing. Had Ben ever met Marshal Duggan? Now that she thought on it, she wasn't sure he ever had. She'd been the one dealing with the marshal most of the time, so maybe Duggan had never actually seen Ben.

  "Sir?" a shaky voice said behind her. "Should I arrest her?"

  Duggan looked behind her. "Don't fret, Kelley. She ain't no criminal."

  Cora turned to see the strange deputy holster his gun. "Ain't seen him before," she said.

  The marshal nodded. "Pat Kelley. He's new. Got him to replace George Murray."

  "Swell," Cora said. "Hope he can fight vampires." She fixed Duggan with an intense glare. "You've got some visitors coming, so best make ready. They don't take to crosses or garlic, so keep some handy."

  She turned to leave, but the marshal's voice stopped her. "That's it? You ain't helping us?"

  "I got to find my husband first," Cora said, struggling to keep her voice calm. "He's gone missing. We can't help nobody like that."

  Cora left the office without waiting for Duggan's reply. Ignoring the new deputy, she stepped out onto the street and folded her arms, trying to swallow her increasing panic. Where might Ben have gone? He hadn't made it to the marshal's station, and he wasn't given to wandering about. Maybe he hadn't made it out of the hotel yet. She thought she saw him leave, but maybe he forgot something and had to turn back, or maybe he'd run into one of James Townsend's men and gone off to help them at Harcourt's retreat. The situation must have been serious if he'd joined them before checking in with Duggan.

  Her spurs sang her alarm as she ran toward the Northern Hotel. If Ben wasn't there, she would fetch Our Lady from the stable and head out to the retreat. James must need help to hold back the vampires if he was desperate enough to spare a man to look for her and Ben. She hoped she wouldn't be too late.

  Cora threw open the hotel's front door and took the stairs two at a time. Their room was empty. She checked to make sure that their wards were still in place, then knelt down by the trunk, set the crucifix aside, and raised the lid. It didn't look as though Ben had taken anything out of it, though there wasn't much left that he could have used. His rusty revolver lay at the bottom of the trunk amid spare rounds and vials of holy water. She tucked a few more rounds into her belt pouch and prepared to close the trunk when something caught her eye.

  There, half-covered by silver bullets, lay the silver dagger Ben had carried that morning. The weapon glimmered in her hand as she picked it up. If the blade was here, Ben must be out there with no weapon at all. What possessed him to ride out to the retreat unarmed was beyond her, but the sooner she found him, the better.

  Cora slipped the dagger into her boot before closing the trunk and propping the crucifix up against it. She thundered back down the stairs and made for the door. Thinking twice, she turned and walked over to the desk.

  "Make sure nobody goes into our room," she said.

  "OK," the clerk answered. "Which room is it?"

  "Twenty-four," Cora said. "The only ones allowed in there are me and my husband."

  The clerk dipped a quill into his inkwell and made a note. "What does your husband look like?"

  "You ain't seen him?" she asked. "We came through here about an hour ago. Was you sleeping on the job?"

  "No, ma'am," the clerk replied, looking uncomfortable. "I seen you walk in here awhile back, but there wasn't nobody with you."

  Cora pounded the desk with her fist. "Dammit, man, you must be blind."

  "I'm sorry, ma'am. I must have just missed him. If you tell me what he looks like, I'll be sure to let him into your room when he gets back."

  Cora gave him a brief description, then turned to leave. Pausing at the door, she looked over her shoulder. "If he comes by, tell him to head upstairs and stay put. I'll be back after I see to the retreat."

  The clerk nodded, but Cora didn't see it. She was already on her way to the hotel stable, her breath streaming in thin clouds as she muttered to herself. What was the matter with everyone? Ben's quiet nature could have him fall by the wayside in any conversation, but it wasn't like he was invisible. She'd make sure to kick him in the pants every so often to make him speak up in the future. People ignoring him like this made him hard to track down.

  Our Lady and Book nickered at her when she entered the stable. She shook her head again. Ben was too shortsighted to even take his horse. Panic gave her lungs another squeeze as she saddled up her mare. Ben had to be up at the retreat helping James hold the line against the vampires. Townsend must have sent a wagon, so Ben hadn't bothered with Book. When she finally found her husband, she would show him new ways to commit the sin of wrath before making him buy her a full quart of whiskey to calm her nerves.

  Cora fitted Book with a bridle, but there wasn't time to worry about a saddle. Once she made it up to the retreat and took care of the vampires, he could borrow a saddle from Harcourt's stable. It would probably be one of those worthless English saddles, but he deserved to ride back in shame. Maybe it would teach him not to disappear on her.

  Once she was clear of town, Cora pushed Our Lady into a full gallop. The mare flew over the icy road, her breath coming in great clouds that streamed out behind them. Book, having no rider, wanted to set a faster pace, but Cora held him in check. Together, the three of the
m thundered into the winter evening, hoping to reach Harcourt's retreat before time ran out.

  As the cold wind pummeled Cora's face, she began working on a strategy to defeat the master vampire. The upcoming fight at the retreat would destroy the rest of his army from the mines, but as long as the nosferatu remained alive the army of vampires wouldn't end. She wasn't sure how much damage he could do to the townsfolk while she and Ben were away, but she didn't think Mart Duggan and his boys could to do much to stop them. She and Ben would have to return to Leadville and try to sort out this mess before they could go to bed.

  Cora's shoulders slumped at the thought. Her arms and legs ached from the long day of riding, shooting, and swordplay. She longed for a soak in a hot tub and a good night's sleep, but it didn't look like either was in the cards for her tonight. The bottle she would make Ben buy her would have to do.