by J. P. Sloan
“You don’t think I’ve seen how you look at her?”
I stand up, reaching for my gun. I’d be damned if I was about to take this.
Richterman slips through the air before I can pull the pistol. He’s behind me, arm wrapped underneath my right shoulder, long fingers pressing against my windpipe.
I gag as his nails dig hard into my throat.
He whispers, “Don’t be foolish. You have every right to lust after her.”
“Ain’t… right.” I cough.
“She has brought you so far already, Odell.” He releases me, and I slump forward, catching myself on the edge of his desk. “Not long ago, you were ready to put her down without hesitation. Now your eyes have been opened.”
I spin to Richterman, but he isn’t there.
I turn again to find him sitting in his seat, grinning with knives in his eyes.
He continues, “You see, Odell, the Strigoi have as much right to choose their destiny as you have to choose yours. This Gil McQuarrie is nothing but a distraction for you. He’s keeping you under his heel from so far away. Making you feel like vermin. Unclean. Unworthy. He brings you shame. Shame, my friend, is for the weak. And you are not weak.”
I draw in several breaths and try to clear my throat. “Don’t you malign Gil McQuarrie.”
He shakes his head, still smiling, and rolls away from his desk to stand up. Walking to his map, he points to the mine hills north of town. “I’m glad you mentioned Magner. He’s been one variable I’ve yet to reconcile. Your trip to the old Indian proved valuable.”
“So, that’s why you let Scarlow make the trip?”
“I’ve yet to find Magner’s weakness.” He stands in front of his map, rubbing his chin. “His forces are growing, week by week. I have no idea how he is spreading his curse to the others, but they are stronger than my Strigoi. Then you arrive with your magic bullets, and put more into the ground than I’ve managed in the past two years.”
“It’s what I do.”
“Yes, well, I fear that silver alone won’t be our salvation. There isn’t enough silver in this valley to eradicate these abominations. I need something that cuts closer to the core of their existence. I need to know what they are, and not just where they are.” He turns a lazy head to me. “You think you’re a good person, and for the time being, I suppose that’s something I can tolerate. You want to do good? Then help me cleanse the scourge.”
I wince as words so close to Gil’s roll out of that mouth.
“I see no reason to help you, Richterman. Magner’s about the only thing keeping you from cooking up your human ranch. What’s in it for me to interfere?”
“Interfere?” he scoffs. “You’ve been in the middle of this since you crawled out of those hills! It’s why you’re here, Odell. Fate has brought you here. Brought you to me. We are, the two of us, powerful, but only if we join our strengths. Divided, we will see this entire valley torn to pieces and eaten alive. Together, we can erase Magner from this world.”
I look back to the map.
Richterman adds, now on the other side of my head, “It’s what you do.”
I face him. “All right. The Strigoi aren’t anywhere near as fully fucking evil as these Wendigo shits. Old Redhawk wasn’t as much help as you seem to think. Said nothing about these creatures squared with the old stories of his people.”
“Yes. That is perplexing.”
“So what is it you expect me to do?”
“Glad you asked. You can do one thing that I can’t. One thing I’ve been unable to do ever since I was banished from Folger’s homestead.”
I squint at Richterman, hands on my hips. “What’s that?”
“You can talk to the one person who probably knows the most about what is happening in those hills. The one person who might even know how to wipe them out once and for all.”
“Katherina?”
He nods.
“She kicked your ass out of the house, didn’t she?”
As his smirk melts, I feel one rising on my lips.
He turns back to his desk. “She was there when it began. I’ve only seen bits and pieces of the early times. I wasn’t quite as fully realized then. And she trusts you. One dare says she likes you. And I suppose you have plenty of questions to ask her. It’s time she knew that you and I have finally met.” He sits back in his chair. “Go, Odell. Go talk to her. You’ve plenty of night left to travel.”
I look down at my flask. The Solar Cross glints in the candlelight.
A rush of air flows across my face. I look up to find the room empty. The dark lace curtains at the right-hand window drift a little. I step over to find the window open. When I draw back the curtain, I can see the street below.
A single candle flickers inside Denton’s pressroom.
I pocket the flask and step out of Richterman’s office, heading slowly down the stairs. I find Scarlow haunting the front window. He keeps looking forward, arms folded in front of him, avoiding glancing at me.
I ignore him and move for the front door. The air feels downright frigid. Strong winter winds are blowing directly along the center street. I cross it quickly, hustling to the pressroom. The door’s unlocked. I push it open and find it also empty, save for one lit candle near Folger’s work bench.
A series of papers lays in order along the bench.
LARS RICHTERMAN ARRESTED.
THE JUSTICE IS BROUGHT TO JUSTICE.
MARSHALS BRING RICHTERMAN TO TEXAS.
RICHTERMAN HANGED WITH TWO CATTLE THIEVES.
I step away from the bench and rub the back of my neck. This is Richterman’s work. He’s inside Folger’s head. He can make him believe whatever he wants him to believe. And this is only the last chapter of Folger’s little fantasy. His victory. After this, Richterman will be free to hide inside Folger’s skull, playing his games, pulling his strings.
Richterman’s right about one thing. It’s time Katherina and I had a good, long chat. Now I know why she didn’t want me involved at first. I know why she was so reluctant to help. She thought I was a murderous zealot.
Maybe I was.
Maybe I still am.
I reach over the bench, cup my hand around the flame, and blow out the candle.
find Katherina inside the homestead, standing by the stove as if she were expecting me. The oil lamp sits behind her, illuminating just the edges of her hair, a shadow wreathed in light. She follows me with her eyes, lips tight, hands stiff at her sides.
I close the door behind me, shutting out the winter chill, and pull off my hat.
“He ain’t here, is he?” I ask.
She takes a fluttering breath, but keeps her posture straight. “Denton, you mean?”
I nod.
She exhales. “No.” Her chin drops, and she unwinds the stiffness in her arms to pull a chair away from the table. “How did you fare in Broad Creek?”
“I’ve met Richterman.”
She freezes midstep, glaring at me.
“Just now,” I add.
Her eyes blink once, then twice, and she finally moves to take a seat. “And?”
“I want to be pissed at you, but I understand why you couldn’t help me. He’s a broken man, and I’d wager you spent the better part of the last ten years trying to piece his mind back together.”
“If I had said anything, you might have repeated my mistakes.”
I take a seat across the table. Somehow, the light is still hanging on to the edges of her face.
“I got questions.”
“I am sure you do.”
“Too many, to be frank. Don’t know where to begin.”
She leans back and crosses her arms. “We have all night.”
“How did it happen? I suppose that’s the best place to begin.”
She nods once, keeping her chin to her chest, eyes moving around in thought. “I told you I made Richterman, and that was no lie. I also told you that Richterman was my sire. Also the truth. The original Richterman was a Master from the Prussia
n lands. We met in the Homeland. He turned me, brought me into his House. Then the mobs came. Wave upon wave. We could not keep hold of our land, so we found a steam ship to America and braved the journey.
“We settled in the Carolinas shortly after the second conflict with England. Our entire House roosted in an old plantation home and kept the landowners as stewards. That didn’t last very long. The War came, and I found myself without a family.”
“They cut you loose?”
“No. They were slaughtered.”
“The Godpistols?” I ask.
“Nothing so specific. The North had taken the estate that belonged to our House, and had either executed or carted away our stewards. We did not have enough time to thrall the soldiers. They ransacked our stores and razed the estate to the ground. Those who did not perish in the flames were trapped by the sunlight.”
“How did you escape, then?”
Her face takes a very brief monster caste before paling back into something human. “Lars understood his responsibility. He saw to my safety at the expense of his own.”
“Might noble of him.”
“We do not abandon our young.”
“That a fact? Then why are there so many of these orphans crawling around?”
Her mouth pulls into a scowl. “Why was there a war? Why are the living so eager to kill one another? Because we are frail, flawed beings, just like yourself.”
“Fair enough.”
“I mention responsibility because it is my responsibility that has failed Denton.”
“He says the two of you met in Chicago.”
She pauses, then nods slowly. “He was fleeing his life in the East. He had fallen on difficult times, by virtue of the War. He thought he could make a new life in the territories.”
“You took pity on him?”
“How do you mean?”
“You were surviving. Sounds like he wasn’t up to it. You took pity on him and decided to be his guide.”
She unfurls her arms and cocks her head. “We both stood to benefit.”
“Did you feed from him?”
“No.”
“Still, had to be a trick for you. He’s a powerful logical type.”
She rolls her eyes. “Painfully so. I had to deal with him in the most rational manner I knew. So I attempted a thrall.”
“Your mind twist?”
She rolls her finger in the air around the front of her head. “The minds of the living are easily swayed. Impressionable. We find ways to weave fantasies into realities. Create obedience when none has been earned.”
“You fucked with his head.”
With tight lips, she nods.
“See? I can understand things.”
“Anyway, something went wrong.”
I lean forward. “With this thrall you tried?”
“I am not a true Master. I am young for Strigoi. Old, perhaps, by your standards, but certainly too eager and too confident. In my attempt to thrall Denton, something snapped inside his mind. I could feel it.” He pulls her fingers over her own arms. “It was like a bone snapping. I did not know what had broken, but I knew I had injured him in some way. The injury did not manifest for years. Not until we had found this valley. Until he had staked his claim and built this house. Not until the mine accident.”
“That recent, huh?”
“I had spoken of my sire, Richterman, from time to time. I made up stories, tried to dress it as something he could accept. I believe the failed thrall opened a door through which some of my darker memories flow. My desires. Thoughts I dare not speak. Ideas I can’t embrace. Somehow, Denton found Richterman in my mind, and a new reflection of my old Master arose inside Denton. A darker reflection. One saddled with all of my sin.”
I rub my jaw with a nod. “Richterman said this plan of his was your idea. Maybe it all came from this open door in his mind?”
“I never knew it was transpiring until it was too late. Denton was in the town when it happened.”
“The mine collapse?”
“I was closer to the mine, but I could not act. The sun was high, and I was in repose. Denton led the first team to attempt a rescue. It was hopeless. I saw him that night, after a full day of fruitless digging. He was crushed. His spirit was crushed. For the first time, I heard him speak in that voice. Richterman’s voice. He raged on and on about the weakness of the town and how they should all feel responsible for the deaths of those men. I had never seen him that angry before.”
She takes a pause, her mouth drawing up into a tiny gape as her eyes move through horror-filled memories.
I ask, “When did you know it was another person, and not Denton?”
“When he finally dug through to the survivor.”
“Magner?”
“Denton was there. He… he saw what Magner had done.”
“And he couldn’t handle it.”
“He was a fragile man, trying to understand the evil in front of his eyes. Denton didn’t climb out of that mine. It was the new Lars. No one understood what had happened in the town. They conceded to him because Denton had been the gentle soul they had known for years. He gave orders with authority. He had suddenly become a force no one could deny, and this leadership moved what was left of the town forward after the mine collapse. I hated it. I respected it, but I hated it.”
I turn to find her sitting across from me once again, sipping from her tin cup.
“How long until you dealt with Richterman? I mean, you exiled him from your home. Don’t know how that works, precisely, but―”
“When we were making love.”
I purse my lips.
She clenches her cup until it releases a tiny pop. “He was Denton one second, and then I look up at the face I love, and I see him sneer.” She pounds whatever is left inside the cup and slams it onto the table with a hard gulp. “I am not one to accept such indignities.”
Her skin darkens. Her eyes shadow into inky orbs.
I want to see the monster’s face. With all the rage, the vicious contempt I hold for Richterman at that moment, I want to see the needle-teeth come out. It would be the most natural thing in the world, and I need to see it.
A noise erupts from my throat, and I turn away. My fingers ache from clenching into fists. I shake my hands out and try to catch my breath.
When I muster the strength to look back at Katherina, I see a full-visaged Strigoi, charcoal skin and razor teeth, staring back at me.
And it is beautiful.
My voice barely parts the silence. “Why does he leave you alone?”
The majesty of the monster before me answers, “I… am… his maker.”
Her skin pales again, returning to human visage.
Dark brown eyes stare back at me.
The scent of jasmine nearly strangles me.
“It… has to be hard,” I whisper. “Living this split life.”
“Impossibly hard,” she gasps. “You must understand. I believe you understand it. I love Denton so fully. I would burn this world to ash if only to keep him safe from harm. To keep him in my life. It is my way. I have chosen to love this man, but I find myself unable to save him.” She reaches across the table and grips my arm painfully tight. “Can you imagine how that makes me feel, Odell?”
I try to pull away, but she won’t allow it.
I want to feel angry, jealous, and ashamed. But I cannot. I want to retreat from my feelings for this creature gripping me in her fist, but anything that was hope has been blasted to pieces. I remain in the shadow of Denton Folger, and I find myself unworthy.
“How can I help you?”
She releases me and composes herself. “I had hoped,” she answers in a wavering voice, “that your arrival would have jarred him out of his state. I see now that he has found a way to fold you into his mental turmoil.”
“More than you realize,” I confess, standing up and stretching my shoulders. “Richterman has tasked me with a lie he wants to keep from Denton.”
“W
hat lie?”
“Denton will soon believe that Richterman has been taken away by the authorities. I don’t know how this works with the two of them, but Richterman’s already got the papers drawn up in the pressroom. He plans to sit inside Denton’s head for a while. Laying low. Keeping all the new people about to set up home in Cheevey’s new houses thinking that Denton is that gentle soul he’s always been.”
Katherina pulls her lace shawl up around her shoulders and sniffles. “No one would settle in this valley.”
“Don’t be so sure. Those papers I done delivered to Broad Creek? Turns out Richterman played us all nice and tight. Those was adverts for Gold Vein. Invitations to come and settle.”
She stares down at the table, inscrutable.
“I seen his plan. His master plan, he kept calling it. He’s got a whole city drawn up for that mine. A city of orphaned Strigoi.”
“I know.”
My shoulders tense as I turn to face Katherina.
“How far has he got?” I ask.
She pushes away from the table, gathers her lace around her dress, and lifts her chin.
“Would you like to see?”
he slices through the grass the way a snake swims through duckweed, clutching her shawl to her neck, shoulders winding back and forth as her legs keep easy pace with Ripper at a good lope. Clouds have blotted out the stars overhead, the sky little more than a murky bowl of cold wind looming overhead. We move north through the winter chill toward the mine hills. I watch her routinely, though she never takes a single look back to me.
The charcoal sky gives way to a pitch black rise as we reach the hills. Katherina stops, and I turn a circle to slow Ripper up.
She points to the hills, her chest unmoved by breath. “The pass leads to the mine.”
“What pass?”
“It is there. Trust me.”
I squint into the darkness, but we have to push on before I finally make out a trail between rolls in the ridge. We move slow once we reach the pass, stepping soft through pine needles, upward into the forest.
“Are we safe here?” I whisper.
“If the creatures attack, we will not be alone.”
“Wendigo?”
She stops and turns her head slowly to me.
