The Cowboy and the Vampire: A Very Unusual Romance (The Cowboy and the Vampire Collection Book 1)

by Clark Hays

  No one responded, but shadows moved underneath the door. His energy gave out at last, leaving him slumped against the door, disheartened and with a lump in his throat.

  Knowing the vampires were dead and tucked away rankled Tucker the most. By the light of day, they were utterly defenseless, except for the well-armed servants and guards. If he could escape, he could spend all day exacting revenge, but the door held tight. He kicked it again out of force of habit and sat down on the edge of the bed. Lizzie sure wasn’t going to be any help. He ran his fingers through her hair and wished she was alive enough to at least smile the way she used to when he kissed her in her sleep.

  Slumped over her, he almost missed the inquisitive scratch at the door. It was a familiar sound, one that made him instinctively stand to let Rex out. Halfway to the door, he realized Rex wasn’t in the room. In fact, he was dead. But squatting down, he saw furry paws under the crack of the door.

  What he meant to say was “Goddamn I’m glad you’re alive,” but what came out was “What the hell took you so long?”

  Not that Rex’s arrival could necessarily change things. There was still a locked door between them and the way out.

  Tucker lay down with his cheek to the floor and watched Rex’s haunches backed up and sitting there, measuring the situation. He thought about all the times Rex sat and looked forlornly at the trailer door until, aggravated, Tucker opened it so Rex could go out and stare at it from the other side.

  “Try the handle,” Tucker whispered.

  Rex didn’t move.

  “Try the handle, Rex,” he whispered, a little louder. He raised up and looked through the keyhole. Rex was looking at the door like it was about to do a magic trick.

  Tucker jiggled the handle. “Try the goddamn handle,” he whispered so loudly Rex shrank back, momentarily, then jumped up and caught the handle in his mouth. Their eyes met through the keyhole, and there was a mighty pool of determination reflected there.

  Rex hung from the door handle, jerking and twisting his whole body in the air for extra leverage. The lock mechanism creaked and clicked under his weight and Tucker stepped back and gave it a mighty kick.

  The door swung open and Rex, still hanging on by his teeth, crashed into the wall with a muffled thud.

  “Sorry about that,” Tucker said as Rex limped out from behind the door. He was muddy and bedraggled, but didn’t appear much worse for wear. Tucker gave him a pat on the head, nonchalant, as if he hadn’t been heartbroken moments before. Rex sat down to lick himself.

  No one was visible up or down the hall, despite the noise of the door. He held his breath and waited for the sound of running steps which would signal the arrival of the guards, and with them, their guns. All was silent. They tiptoed out, with one look back at Lizzie lying safely dead in the shadows. Tucker examined the doorknob, the metal twisted out of shape. He whistled under his breath. “Them’s some powerful jaws you got there, boy.”

  Rex wagged his stump of his tail.

  Unlike the room, the hall was bright with sunlight. They crept cautiously to the stairs and up toward the study. Tucker was anxious to find his guns and hoped Julius had left them in the drawing room where he had been set up that first night.

  What an idiot I was, he thought as they reached the upper landing and, the doors unlocked, entered the study. The blinds were wide open and the whole room seemed almost cheerful, although underscored by the faint stench of death. A quick look around did not reveal the guns.

  He sat down in the swivel chair and propped his feet on the desk to plan his next course of action. There was a box of cigars in the top drawer and he pulled one out and lit it up. Rex hopped up on the desk and sat facing him like they were having a conference.

  The door suddenly opened and Tucker tensed. It was Jenkins.

  Tucker glared over the point of his boots and blew a stream of smoke at him, waiting for a cry of alarm.

  Instead, Jenkins stepped in and closed the door, looking disdainfully at the placement of Tucker’s feet.

  “Morning, Jenkins,” he said, without stirring.

  “Good morning, sir,” he said. “I see you’ve escaped.”

  “I have indeed. You got a problem with that?”

  “Quite the contrary; I am delighted.” His face took on an odd expression. “Though I won’t go so far as to say I shall miss your company.”

  “I smell a rat, Jenkins,” Tucker said and swung his feet down. “How come you ain’t called for the guards?”

  He took a step forward. “Quite simple. I do not wish you to be discovered.”

  “Whose side are you on?”

  “Not yours,” he answered.

  “Not Julius’ either.”

  “No. I serve another master. One you have yet to meet, although I suppose you will soon enough. Though I hope this matter is resolved in a way that precludes our remaining in close contact.”

  Tucker smiled at this. “Any idea where my guns are?”

  “In the cabinet behind the desk.”

  “It’s locked.”

  “I have the key.” Jenkins unlocked the antique cabinet and swung the doors open. Inside, the guns gleamed in the sunshine.

  “Damn, did you clean these?” Tucker asked, pulling them out and giving them a cursory examination.

  “I took the liberty of having them cleaned and oiled.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it. You’re all right.”

  “You have no idea what that means to me.” Jenkins said. “If I may be so bold, you should wait until nightfall to attempt escape. During the day perimeter security is extremely tight, but after the masters of the house arise, the security is relaxed somewhat. If there is any hope of successfully escaping, it would be early in the night.”

  “Around 9:30?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Interesting coincidence. You gonna help?”

  “I already have. Anything else I might do would be foolish and ineffectual. I am an old man. I must go.” He checked the hall and then turned. “In truth, I hope we shall meet again. If we do, the plan will have succeeded.” He bowed and pulled the door shut.

  Tucker pondered Jenkins’ curious words, eventually rising to check the hallway. Satisfied it was not a trap, he called to Rex. “Come on, let’s go check on Lizzie,” he whispered, guns in hand.

  There wasn’t much to check on. She was still dead. He pulled the door shut behind them, locking it as Rex watched in disbelief. He pulled a chair around facing the door and sat to wait for sundown, the shotgun in his lap. It was a long wait, with many hours to kill before Sully and his boys showed up.

  He passed the time imagining what a normal life with Lizzie might have been like. By the time sundown rolled around, there was a powerful pain and anger in his heart.

  Later, he heard voices down the hall and tensed. When a hand grasped the knob he smiled grimly, hoping Lizzie would come back to life soon, thinking he should remember in the future not to make plans that depended on her arising on cue at sunset.

  The door swung open to reveal a tall vampire, smiling as he contemplated the evening’s festivities.

  “Do you have the time?” Tucker asked levelly.

  The vampire looked oddly at Tucker and checked his watch. “9:24.”

  “Thanks,” he said, swinging the shotgun up to bear.

  “Lord Julius, the cowboy,” was all he had time to get out before Tucker squeezed the trigger. The wooden stake caught him low and hard, the force lifting him up on tiptoes and slamming him out the door.

  Behind Tucker, Lizzie stirred. “Sorry about the noise,” he said, reloading. “Did I wake you?”

  “Tucker,” she asked nervously, “is that you? What’s going on?”

  “We’re getting out of here, that’s what.”

  She sat up, the blankets drawn around her, still dazed from the newness of the resurrection. He pulled the pin from a thermite grenade and lobbed it through the door. “Cover your eyes,” he called and squatted down to hold his h
ands over Rex’s eyes. Rex, surprised at the attention, rolled over on his back and wagged his stubby tail.

  “Why?” Lizzie asked.

  “Just do it,” he yelled. There were shouts and sounds of confusion outside and then a blinding flash of light, like a thousand suns. A wave of noise and white fire swept the hall, momentarily covering the shrieks of the dying and muffled shouts from farther away.

  Tucker grabbed Lizzie’s hand and pulled her into the smoking ruin of the hall. Everything that wasn’t burnt up was still on fire; the drapes and carpet, bookshelves and chairs, even the paintings were flaming and dripping trails of flaming oil. In and among the ashes were scattered pieces of bodies, a smoking hand or a smoldering foot. The acrid smoke stung their eyes and lungs. Rex picked his way carefully through the embers. Though Lizzie was barefoot, she didn’t seem to feel any pain, only a dazed sense of wonder at the carnage.

  In the midst of their retreat, the door at the far end of the hall flew open and scores of vampires spilled out into the smoky ruins, eyes glittering like knives. Tucker dropped to his knee and fired as fast as he could, the steady beat of the shots interrupted only by the act of reloading. Some of the vampires were pierced by stakes, others scorched by the thermite, the blue fire balls belching down the hall like giant, deadly Roman candles.

  Lizzie paused, looking back over her shoulder at the destruction, as vampires blazed and fell like moths too close to the flame.

  Some ran screaming and leaped through windows, falling away into the night in a rain of broken glass. It was a grim and terrible sight, and she pressed her hand over her mouth to keep from retching. Tucker, still kneeling behind her, was mechanically feeding shells into the shotgun with trembling fingers.

  The way behind them was clear and she shook him by the shoulder and pointed. Together they fled down the stairs, Rex close behind. It was like a long, terrible dream, the screams and the smoke, the crackling of flames and the sounds of pursuit.

  Wide-eyed, Jenkins ignored them and hurried past with a fire extinguisher, rushing toward the worst of the inferno. At the bottom landing there was only the large foyer to cross; through the smoke, it looked deserted. As they crossed that short space, a rough hand clamped Tucker’s shoulder and spun him into the wall. Lizzie’s hand slipped away and Rex lunged frantically at Julius, standing defiantly in front of him.

  Revor was beside him too, burly and menacing. Tucker swallowed hard and swung the shotgun up. He had Julius dead to rights and one squeeze of the trigger would have ended it forever. Funny, he thought, how you can make the wrong decisions so damn easily.

  And knowing he was doing it again, he made the wrong choice. He shot Revor.

  It wasn’t common sense that pulled the trigger — it was the promise he had made to kill Revor that pulled the trigger. Wounded pride pulled the trigger. A long history of mistakes in his life pulled the trigger. And this was one more to add to the list.

  “Guess what, asshole? My hands ain’t tied anymore,” he yelled.

  The shotgun bucked in his hands and Revor folded over like a house of cards in a hurricane, his face twisted in pain and disbelief.

  Julius stared in open-mouthed rage at his companion and then looked back as Tucker smiled grimly and swung the barrel around to cover him. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled the trigger. The hammer dropped with a dry click that echoed in the chaos of the room.

  Misfire!

  In the time it took both men to realize the implications of fate, Tucker began fishing in his pocket for another shell and Julius threw himself forward with a roar, faster than the speed of darkness. Tucker’s fingers wrapped around a shell and fumbled it into the breech, snapping it shut and pushing up and out so that the barrel came to rest against the vampire’s chest even as Julius closed his hands around the cowboy’s throat. They froze, half a breath from the end. The room was silent save for the crackle of the fire and their slow, hoarse breathing.

  “I always wanted to be one of those movie heroes with some smart ass thing to say,” Tucker whispered, “but all I can think of is goddamn you to hell.”

  His finger tightened on the trigger and Julius snarled, eyes glittering.

  Time stopped, and they stood like statues in that rich, burning room. Eternity passed as his finger made that short arc. The trigger released the hammer and even as it swung forward toward the firing pin, Lizzie screamed as a shadow slammed into Tucker, a shadow of muscle and hatred.

  “Tucker,” Lizzie cried as Elita crashed into him.

  The gun discharged over and above Julius, who scuttled sideways.

  The wooden missile roared out and splintered against the ceiling, dislodging the chandelier that fell with a crash and spray of glass shards. Elita bore Tucker over backward onto the stairs. He came up fast, swinging the empty gun at her head. She ducked and brushed it aside easily, laughing as it flew out of his hands. Lizzie lunged toward her, but Julius intercepted her and with a snarl, she scratched at his face and neck, peeling ribbons of flesh loose. He staggered under her attack, but kept her close.

  Elita smiled down at Tucker, her intentions clear in her burning eyes.

  “You’re the meanest bitch I’ve ever met in my life,” he said, reaching for the Casull nestled in the holster.

  “And you are about to become my favorite kill,” she said, laughing madly. “I should have taken you that night in bed,” she shrieked, lunging.

  His hand fisted around the cold butt of his pistol but already she had closed the distance, driving her hands straight toward his heart. Some instinct for self-preservation made him twist at the last second so that her hands raked across his forearm and punched deep into his side. He felt a wet rip and a flare of pain, and staggered away from her, leaning against the wall. She stood over him, hand dripping blood, mouth bared to finish him. His right arm hung limply at his side and he reached clumsily with his left, still trying desperately for the gun. Elita laughed and bent low over him, and he braced for the worst.

  Her hungry smile was replaced by a look of astonishment as she was suddenly lifted off her feet. Lizzie, freeing herself from a distracted Julius, seized Elita by the neck and ankle and tossed her, flailing, through the wall. With an undignified shriek, Elita disappeared in a cloud of plaster and paneling.

  Julius looked steadily at the doors, listening intently to a fast-approaching commotion.

  Tucker staggered toward Lizzie, unable to stand steady. Blood was soaking into his jeans and pooling in his boots. The strangest things enter the minds of the dying. Even as his vision began to fade, Tucker was ashamed his boots were in such bad shape that blood was spilling from the toe like a sieve. Strong arms slipped around his waist. It was Lizzie. She held him close and whispered it was going to be okay, that she would take care of him.

  He struggled to frame words, wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked and how much he loved her, and that he was sorry it had to end like this. What came out was, “I don’t need no woman nursemaiding me.” And then, with a spray of blood across his lips, he collapsed.

  The heavy door to the outside crashed open and the sound of combat filtered in. A worried Sully stood at the head of a group of vampires armed with crossbows. He had a roughhewn oak stake and advanced on Julius who, face twisted with fear and eyes wild, fled up the burning stairs.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  “Go quickly, quickly,” Sully said in alarm. “There are too many of them for us to fight here.” Lizzie hurried through the garden, carrying Tucker, while Sully and his contingent kept their enemies at bay. Nothing could keep her from getting Tucker to safety.

  Once outside, Lizzie saw a waiting van, an agitated vampire standing beside the open door. Sully’s troops scattered quickly into the darkened streets of Manhattan as Sully himself turned to help Lizzie put Tucker into the van. They stretched him out on the floor and Rex jumped in, whining and licking anxiously at Tucker’s pale face.

  “We have to get him to a doctor,” Lizzie said, holding her hands ov
er the wound to staunch the blood. It pooled over her hands and the warmth of it felt oddly comforting, though her concern for him far overrode even the hunger.

  “And we will,” Sully said breathlessly. “Go, go,” he shrilled to the driver who ground the ignition to life and roared down the street.

  Behind them, a crowd of vampires spilled into the street, some carrying automatic weapons that twinkled in the distance. The rear window shattered, the sound of breaking glass mixed with the screaming sirens of police responding to the battle. Lizzie involuntarily covered her ears, then laid herself over Tucker and shielded Rex, but no more bullets reached the van as they screeched around the corner, out of sight.

  “That was exciting,” Sully said, breathing heavily. He turned and beamed at Lizzie. “Lizzie, good to see you again. You look absolutely stunning.”

  Lizzie looked down at herself, the tatters of her dress, soil smudged deeply into her skin. “Mr. Sully, I believe we owe you our freedom, and our lives.”

  “Never mind that, it’s just so nice to see you. You have grown enchanting. The turning did you wonders.”

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but could you please get us to a doctor. We will have time to catch up on our lives, or deaths,” she corrected herself, “after Tucker is seen to. And if I’m not mistaken, we don’t have much time until the sunrise.”

  “Right you are. So practical. Dakalus,” he called to the driver, “to Dr. Vesu’s.”

  Dr. Vesu, as Sully explained on the way, was a vampire with impressive credentials, having studied with Hippocrates himself. Though of course his expertise was, understandably, directed more toward the vampire physiology, Sully was convinced he knew more of Adamites than all their textbooks and practitioners combined.

  His penthouse overlooked the Hudson where it emptied into the bay. Dakalus and his crew spread out in the shadows to post guard, Sully buzzed the intercom by the door.

  “Yes?” a rich, baritone voice inquired.

  “Vesu, it’s Sully. I need your help. It’s an emergency.”