by catt dahman
Doc hesitated to say anything in front of Frannie, but Quinn waved him on to speak, saying that Frannie was all right and only the threat and odd emotions had over whelmed her. “I know what they are,” said Quinn as he hissed angrily. “I was with the Donners when I was a child.”
Doc didn’t ask questions, so Quinn knew that the man knew, as well, what had attended the ball that night. Paris had some accident and cut his hand; there must have been new Changelings there, unaware that one or two Hunters might be at the ball, and the Changelings reacted poorly to the scent and sight of blood. In the study, they tried to corner Paris and Kit for a feeding.”
“My God. The audacity,” Quinn swore. “Are they harmed?”
Frannie’s head snapped up.
“Both are fine although the two were up against five of them. That makes seven of them in town. Paris was able to destroy a male.”
“Seven? At least that is one down.”
“Tell thought there was only one in town since only a few sporting women had been killed and since there were no signs of a clan of them until now. I am astounded to know you were privy to the knowledge of them,” Doc said.
“As I said when I was a child…but how odd it is that I told Frannie that story tonight for the first time. I didn’t know one was in town, but I suppose I must have felt that old shiver. The hair on the back of my neck was always standing on edge the last few weeks, and I could almost feel them here. But I am old now and passed it off as a memory.”
“You…?”
“Many years ago for a short time before I married Frannie’s mama, I wasn’t very good at it. Now to know you are aware of them, and the marshal….”
Doc corrected him, “Sir, I am afraid you misunderstand. While we are aware as you said, there are four Hunters in town. Purely coincidental, but curious.”
“Four Hunters.” Quinn understood now. He wished he had known this before tonight.
Tell, Kit, and Paris joined the two men. The boyish smile that Kit had always worn, the funny remarks he had added, and the shy way he had acted were false; Quinn now saw the man for who he really was: clever, strong, moral, and a survivor. The three other men made more sense as well as now that Quinn knew the knowledge they lived with and the roles they had accepted in hunting down and killing the monsters.
“The couple that first came in…the male and female…were attacked by Nan, a fiery red-head. They ripped into the woman and tore her throat out. Edgar will never get the stains off the boards.” Quinn asked.
“The dark-haired filly got him.”
“Nita,” Kit added, “Bitch.”
Tell shrugged. “The blonde was Jane, and we know one of the men is called George, but that’s all we know. With this many in town, it makes sense they are planning more trouble.”
“Even with four Hunters here and a former Hunter?” Quinn asked.
Tell patted his shoulder in understanding.
“They are blood crazed and foolish; at least one has been covering his crimes and baiting a Hunter for weeks, but I was looking for him. That tells me they’re fresh Changelings and ain’t too smart. Smart ones would never have attacked at a public affair, but Paris’ cut hand was too much for them,fools.”
“And they didn’t catch our scents,” Paris added. “That’s lack of experience on their part. Kit and I both were sluggish. We didn’t do anything until things were in motion: five of them giving off the feelings…I could hardly think.” He was embarrassed to admit he had shown a lack of speed in reacting and failure to catch the other four in the room. It was also humiliating to say he had been stumped by the feelings when the other men knew that meant the lust and desire, the fear and power, and the helplessness in the face of pure evil. They had felt it as well, at one time or another, but it was still embarrassing. “What is wrong with Frannie?”
Quinn noted the protectiveness in the man’s voice. Cocking an eyebrow in curiosity, he sighed and said, “She came face to face with the couple that ran from the room and then the male pair came up behind her. She’s fine.” He saw both Kit and Paris looked worried. “It frightened her. They didn’t have a lot of the emotions about them since they were running, but the rage and hunger were strong.”
“They stopped?” Kit asked.
“They did. The one we heard is called George; he took an interest in her, and I stepped in….”
“They could have had both of you,” said Paris as he swallowed hard.
Quinn nodded. “I let them know who I was. I’m sure I was no threat, but it startled them enough that they didn’t act. They threatened to come after her but then ran away.”
Doc shook with fury. “I want to find them as soon as possible and destroy them as cruelly as possible. They will not touch her.” His accent may have been like smooth honey, but his words were said with acid. Paris mumbled agreement.
“You best get Miss Frannie on home, Quinn, and we can get together and discuss this tomorrow. Thank you for your help.”
“I am ready to go. I have so many questions for the ride home, Father,” Frannie said sweetly, but her eyes glittered dangerously, warning him that his daughter wanted many answers from him. It was something he wasn’t happy about.
Quinn nodded at the men as Frannie took his arm. She smiled coolly at them, knowing that none of the four were what she thought; they were both worse and better than gunslingers and bounty hunters. She allowed Doc to kiss her cheek chastely, nodded politely to Tell and Kit, which she rarely did. Then she looked Paris directly in his eyes and let him see her mixed emotions, both the fear of him and the connection she felt to him. She hoped he recalled how it felt when he held her in his arms since she would never forget it.
He held her gaze a long second.
“Wait,” Frannie said, “I want to bandage Paris’ hand.”
“And Doc can’t?” Quinn asked. “No, go ahead, Honey, I wish to talk to the boys a bit anyway.”
“Be sure to use plenty of whiskey to clean it out good,” Doc told her wickedly. He laughed at Paris’ dismay.
Frannie motioned Paris to follow her. In the kitchen, she asked a servant to get her clean cloths, a basin, soothing salve, and whiskey. Paris reluctantly handed her his sharp knife to get at the embedded glass that he had missed. Two servant girls fetched all she needed and stood around, but Frannie laughed, telling them to go about their business since she was safer than anyone with Paris with her.
“I make you feel safe even after you heard all that?” he asked wryly.
“Of course, I have proof many times over that you will kill to protect me or climb down cliffs and that you can fight. Ummm…what do you call those things?”
“Vampyres. I guess they came from Europe.”
“Ahhh. This is like a nightmare, but I suppose it’s real,” she said as she carefully picked glass from his hand. “Whatever caused this?”
“My temper. I heard some shocking news and gripped the glass too hard. It shattered, I bled, and they wanted to feed. Simple.”
Frannie snickered. “Isn’t it very simple? I’m sorry you got shocking news. Amazingly, so did I. It seems my father had a plan, and I didn’t know until he made it public. No one asked what I want; he just decided and announced. Now I can tell you one thing: I will not be shuffled off like baggage without a fight. I will choose whom I marry and when, and frankly, I am not ready to be married since I don’t know my suitor very well, and I deserve a choice,” she spoke hotly, snapping each word, and Paris grimaced as she dug glass a little too rough for his liking. Still, he couldn’t suppress a grin.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked as she went for the last few slivers, wiping blood as she went. As if it were common, she threaded a needle and began to stitch his wound after washing it with whiskey. His pupils dilated with the pain, but she knew he was just fine for the stitching. She did allow him two generous drinks of the whiskey.
Pausing, Frannie took a swig from the bottle, swallowing with a shiver and putting her finger to her lip
s to remind him it was a secret. He was chuckling now. One more heavy swig for herself, and then she handed him the bottle, which he set to the side, watching her finish stitching.
“Why do you get a drink? I’m the one in pain.”
“Really? You don’t think I have any pain?” she snapped. “That man George, they said? The one who said he would come after me; he was quite handsome, the third most handsome man I know. Doc is the second.” She gave Paris a look and went back to her work.
His face went a little red. It wasn’t often he was unnerved. He felt he was betraying his best friend but damned if it wasn’t pleasant to have her holding his hand even if she were sticking a needle and stitches into his hand. “We’ll find him and the rest. You won’t be harmed.”
“I expect my father to answer questions and tell me how to better protect myself, just in case. I miss your company; you won’t be coming back to the ranch now that Doc is back, right?”
“I don’t think it would be wise. You’re engaged, I hear,” he was bitter as he said it. “Again, you are doing wonders for Doc’s health.”
“I heard the same time as you did, and I said what I felt, and I meant it. I am not ready. Period. I feel my heart has a will of its own.” She finished the work and gently washed his hand again with the whiskey on a soft cloth. “You can shoot even if injured?”
“I can use either hand.” He watched as she finished bandaging him. “Thank you.”
With the other hand, he took one of hers, forcing her to step a little closer, intending to just hold her hand in a sign of thankfulness for a second, but instead, he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, caressing the flesh, running his thumb between her fingers intimately.
Had she been quiet, he would have let her go and walked away, but she made the tiniest sound in her throat. She moved another step closer to him as he pulled her hand, so she was balanced wrong, fell into his arms, and held him as tightly as he held her. Her hair smelled of flowers, and he planted a kiss on the top of her head, all he dared to do. With closed eyes, he breathed in her scent, memorizing it.
Frannie felt like her flesh was burning against him as she shook with fear while emotions flooded her. She turned and escaped the room with a flash of green silk, tears filling her eyes.
“Whatever is wrong?” worried Doc asked her. He looked at Paris as his friend joined them. “Frannie?”
“I’m a terrible nurse. It was an awful wound,” she stammered.
Doc chuckled, hugging her lightly. “You poor thing; it must have shaken you, dear, to see that and dress it, but my goodness, isn’t that a fine bandage Paris has.”
“She stitched it,” Paris said, miserably.
Doc shook his head. “You and she both suffered in that; I am sure you were a good nurse.”
Frannie managed a smile. She allowed Doc another chaste kiss on her cheek and said goodnight to the men, feeling sorry for Edgar who was with the doctor in the study. Unexpectedly, she shook hands with Tell and Kit and then took her father’s arm to leave.
Doc sighed and said, “It’s like the sun goes behind a cloud when she leaves a room. But don’t mind me, we have a job to do for her, boys: a town to clean up. Shall we escape to the barroom and discuss the night’s events?”
The four gladly left the house, closing the door behind them. Doc teased Paris about breaking a glass and having to be bandaged, and Tell grumbled about being the marshal when they had a clan of vampyres in town. Kit went over how beautiful the women had been, while Paris Fallon rode silently, sometimes chuckling when Doc was funny, but his mind was far away.
Chapter 13
Paris Fallon's Revenge
One thing that Doc had pointed out to Paris, the same thing Paris had often admitted to himself, was that given the chance, Paris might have become anything at all.
Nathan Fallon, Paris' father, had bought a large parcel of land in Jefferson, Texas and settled his family there in 1860, working the land when he wasn't preaching. Paris could have inherited the land from his father one day, or he could have become a preacher too since he had already come by the genes for his height, deep melodious voice, and piercing eyes. But quite early in Paris' life, his parents began to plan for him to study law or have medical training.
They expected a lot from Paris.
With his father preaching Sunday sermons and doing the usual farm chores, life was fairly normal for Paris, and he wasn't aware at his young age that there was a land dispute. Bill Cullen was a fellow landowner who wanted to buy a few acres of land that would connect his own masses of land. It would be nothing for Nathan to have sold it to the man, but Nathan held on to it in a kind of stubbornness; he didn't want the money but valued every inch of land.
Cullen began the bidding for the land amicably enough, but Nathan's iron refusals began to infuriate the other man. Then, Cullen became more verbally abusive, threatening and insulting, but instead of being the same in return, Nathan loudly quoted Biblical passages.
Paris had played all that morning under his mother's feet until she was exasperated, so she sent him to pick dewberries at the creek. Almost there, he realized that he had forgotten his knife, an instrument that, despite his young age, he had grown more than proficient with. Usually at the creek, he found good pieces of wood to carve, so he went back for the knife. Just at the edge of the yard, Paris stopped to listen to Bill Cullen yelling at Nathan. Paris knew that his father would send him away, and Paris wanted to listen to grown up men talking, so he dived unnoticed into a pile of lumber that had once been a shed.
Nathan and Cullen yelled back and forth, and Cullen cursed and issued threats. Neither man would concede, and it was obvious that Cullen was beyond fury. Cullen announced that there was just no dealing with Nathan. "I won't abide this, you fanatical fool."
Two of the men with Cullen leaped from their horses and stormed into the house; two more began to beat Nathan who hardly did more than to cover his face. Paris watched in fear.
He also felt shame that his father would not fight back and had only an old Henry he hunted with. His brother Percy, age thirteen and Nat age fifteen, put up a good fight as they were pulled from the house, but they were no match against the grown men. Paris' mother, Lenore, and sisters, Mary and Beth, were dragged out as well.
"Where's the other kid?" Cullen demanded.
"Pickin' berries. What is this about?" Despite all that had happened so far, Lenore had not realized the deadliness of the situation.
One of Cullen's men wheeled his horse around and raced towards the creek, passing within mere feet of Paris' hiding place.
"Sell me that land. This is your last chance, Preacher Man," Cullen ordered.
"I won't sell. Your violence will not change my mind."
Cullen stared hard at Nathan and said, "Do you really believe in God, Preacher Man?"
"You know I do."
"You know for sure there is a God?"
"I do."
"Do me a favor then, Preacher Man. When you see God, ask Him that since you are such a good preacher, why He allowed you to suffer as I am going to make you suffer?"
"Cullen, for the love of God," Nathan began to beg. He was terrified of his family being harmed.
In one quick motion, Cullen walked over to put his double-action Army gun against Percy's temple and fired. It was over in seconds.
"Percy!" Lenore screamed.
Paris heard the screams of anguish. He clenched his jaws to keep from coming apart, a gesture that he would employ a million times in his adult life.
"Will you offer me your land?" Cullen jeered.
"Will it bring back my son?" Nathan's voice was a wail.
"Why didn't you sell it?" Lenore screamed. She fell to the ground where her tears mixed with the dry soil to make mud on her cheeks.
Now Cullen aimed his pistol at Nathan, who shut his eyes in response. "Preacher?"
"Take the land; take it all," Nathan said resignedly.
Cullen grinned evilly. A gunshot
and the slump of Nat's body was the answer. "Curse your God, Preacher, and I will let the rest of your family go."
Lenore screamed louder.
Nathan didn't respond, but Lenore shook her head madly and said, "I will. I'll curse anyone." She ran to her dead sons, clutched them to her breast, and fell to the ground beside them.
"I told you: take the land."
Cullen shook his head as if saddened. "You've made me go too far now. I want to hear you curse your God, Preacher. Do that for me."
All Nathan could do was pray ineffectually while his wife frantically cursed God over and over; Nathan knew that it would do no good. Cullen was bloodthirsty and wouldn't stop.
The man came back from the river to report that he hadn't found the youngest Fallon kid. Paris felt a wash of relief, despite his horror at what his family was going through. Cullen was looking over the Fallon sisters, was leering obscenely, and was noting that they, with their tear-stained faces and reddened eyes, were attractive. They had the Fallon looks: ice blue eyes, dark hair, and height.
Nathan refused to meet Cullen's eyes even when the man told his men that they could take turns with the girls. Nathan only prayed loudly. His face turned upwards while his wife howled and fought, while she and the two girls were brutally and repeatedly raped and beaten. Lenore bit and scratched hysterically. After awhile, the young girls stopped crying and struggling and fell into a kind of shock so that their minds did not have to deal with what their bodies were forced to endure.
Finally, the men were finished, and Nathan watched his bloody, bruised women-folk taken into the house. Systematically, the men splashed the house with kerosene, dousing the wood liberally, and then lit it ablaze.
Paris never forgot the screams of those being burned alive, and years later, when he would be in a similar situation, he would again be unable to react, only able to cringe inside.
After that, Cullen quickly shot and killed Nathan, and they rode away. Paris didn't understand why it had been so important for his father stubbornly to keep the land and cause his family such pain. It was pride. More than pride.
