by Lee Collins
Cross held out, Victoria began moving toward where she remembered her gun had fallen. It was slow going. She paused after each step, squinting after the girl. The savage form still lurked in the darkness, moving opposite the raised crucifix. At times, it seemed to meld with the shadows, slipping out of her sight only to reappear seconds later.
Another gunshot from below. Victoria could hear the hunter's voice yelling something, but she couldn't make out the words. No matter. At least Cora was still alive. Once she took care of whatever she was fighting down there, she would come up to the loft and make short work of this abomination.
As if reading her thoughts, the girl suddenly leaped to one side, vanishing behind a bale of hay. Victoria froze. Her gaze jumped from one end of the bale to the other, watching, waiting for that thing to emerge. The shadows played tricks with her eyesight. They swam and swirled in clouds of purple and black. She tried to blink them away, but they persisted, invading her sight even when her eyes were closed.
"Vicky!"
Victoria glanced at the ladder. "Get up here!" she called.
"No time," Cora yelled back. "Got me a critter down here somewhere."
"I have one up here, too."
"Well, sort it out. I got my hands full."
Victoria growled in frustration, turning her attention back to the hay bale. If Cora couldn't help her, she would just have to help herself. Stealing a quick glance behind her, she thought she saw a faint gleam on the floor. Her gun. It was close.
The sound of scrambling hands on the boards brought her head back around. In the corner of her eye, she caught a dark shape charging toward her. She whirled the crucifix to face it, but the girl was already airborne. They collided and went down. A blast of cold breath poured over her face. It had no smell. Small hands grabbed her neck, squeezing until she thought her eyes would pop out of their sockets. She punched at the girl's torso with an empty fist, trying to knock her away. The crucifix was gone.
Victoria could feel herself slipping away. Her lungs screamed for air. Her vision swam. With one last burst of energy, she flailed her arms out in both directions, praying, hoping the crucifix was still within reach.
Her fingers bumped into something cold. She grabbed for it. Metal. Her gun. Thank God, it was her gun.
Wrapping her hand around the barrel, she shoved to one side with all her might. The girl was incredibly strong, but she still only weighed as much as a child. Her cold fingers remained clamped round Victoria's throat as they rolled over.
Now lying face-to-face on the floor like lovers, Victoria looked into the girl's eyes. They were alive with lust, even through the thin white film covering them. The girl's fingers moved, one hand slipping from Victoria's neck. Fangs parted. Victoria sucked in a desperate breath. Pain exploded through her neck as the girl's teeth sliced into her. She heard a faint slurping sound, and she knew she was dying.
Gritting her teeth, not knowing what would happen, she shoved the revolver's barrel into the girl's side and pulled the trigger.
The recoil threw the gun out of her grasp. At once blind and deaf, Victoria lay stunned. She could breathe again, but that was all she knew. Seconds passed. Her vision began to clear, the bright purple streak left by the barrel's flash fading into the shadows. Another breath, choked with gun smoke.
A fit of coughing took her, and she curled into a fetal position while her body expelled the smoke and the panic and the feeling of cold fingers around her throat. She tried to pull herself up. A hand, a knee, a push against the rough wood. Soon she was kneeling, leaning against a bale. Hay tickled her ear. A final spasm shook her small frame before releasing her.
As the ringing in her ears subsided, she could hear a faint, gurgling moan. Her eyes went wide, searching the loft for its source. Catching sight of her gun lying on the floor, she crawled toward it, her boots making hollow thumps against the boards.
With the revolver again in her hand, she rose to her feet. Her pulse pounded in her temples. She could feel a warm trickle of blood flowing down her neck. Dabbing at it with her hand made it sting, and her fingers came away sticky. She would need to tie it off, but not now. She had to find the source of the sound and silence it once and for all.
Following the moans, she soon came upon a ruined heap of flesh. The girl lay on her side, rocking back and forth. A dark liquid dripped from her teeth, blood mixed with something thicker. The bullet had torn a hole in her dress and into her chest. Smoke poured out of the wound, as if the girl's soul were leaking out of her and drifting up among the rafters. The eyes rolled toward Victoria, still full of hunger and rage.
Looking down on her broken foe, a sudden wave of pity washed over her. Despite its grotesque features, it still looked more like a young girl than a monster. The revolver shook in Victoria's hand. For a moment, she didn't see the girl's' fangs or her filmy eyes. Instead, she saw a dying child, weeping with what strength she had left, her body ripped apart by Victoria's gun.
Dropping the revolver, Victoria turned her head and retched.
When the feeling passed, she wiped her mouth and retrieved her gun. The girl reached for her, fingers like claws. A moan of rage bubbled out between jagged teeth. Victoria's mouth was a thin line, and her blue eyes were dark with purpose. She centered the revolver's barrel between the girl's milky eyes and pulled the hammer back. When the gun kicked, she was expecting it. The flash from the barrel lit the loft like a bolt of lightning, and the thunder shook dust down from the rafters. As her vision cleared, she saw the girl's lifeless eyes staring back at her.
Air left her lungs in a deep sigh. Victoria holstered her gun and tried to shake the sting from her hand. Turning from the dead girl at her feet, she made her way back to the ladder. The daylight had all but disappeared from the window. Peering outside, Victoria could see an angry mass of clouds churning overhead. Cora's words echoed in her mind; if they were going to finish their business before it rained, they needed to hurry.
"Cora," she called out when she reached the ladder. "Are you there?"
No answer. Victoria crouched by the opening and looked through. The barn appeared to be empty. "Cora?"
Silence.
Placing a boot on the ladder, Victoria began her descent. She glanced over her shoulders as she climbed, searching for any sign of the hunter or another one of those creatures. Aside from the rumbling of thunder above her head, the barn was still. All sorts of horrid thoughts flooded her mind. Cora had been killed by whatever she was fighting. The blue-eyed man had reappeared and killed her. Victoria would find nothing but the hunter's corpse. Still, she couldn't very well stay in the hayloft, waiting for the nightmares to find their way up to her.
As soon as Victoria reached the bottom of the ladder, she remembered the crucifix, still laying somewhere on the loft floor. Her shoulders slumped at her own stupidity. She gave the ladder a rueful look, not eager to make the climb again. It was necessary, though. The crucifix had saved her from the girl-creature, buying her enough time to reach her gun. For whatever reason, the little carving had power over these things. Sighing, she reached for the ladder again.
A shout from outside stopped her cold. It was Cora's voice. Victoria turned her head, listening intently. Another shout, followed by a gunshot. Something was wrong.
Before she could think, Victoria was already running. Her revolver appeared in her hand. A blast of warm wind welcomed her as she charged through the barn door. Skidding to a stop, she frantically searched the yard for the old hunter.
A shout rose up over the wind. It came from the direction of the house. Gun at the ready, Victoria ran toward the sound. As she approached, she could see the door hanging open, blowing this way and that in the wind. Her blisters rubbed painfully against her boots, but she kept running. Somewhere in her mind, the thought that this run across the yard was easier than her last brought a grim smile to her face. She'd nearly been eaten alive by a child, her crucifix was lost, and her companion may or may not still be alive, but at least she wa
s appropriately dressed.
"Cora!" she yelled as she ran onto the porch. "Can you hear me?"
"That you, Vicky?"
"Yes! Where are you?"
"Upstairs. Get your skinny rump up here double quick!"
Victoria thundered into the house, guided by her blurry memories from before. Her mind was so focused on what she would do, what she might see when she made it up the stairs that she nearly tripped over a corpse in the living room.
Catching herself on a chair, she gave the body a quick glance over. It was a woman, her flower-print dress rolled back to her knees. The corpse lay face down on the floor. Keeping her gun trained on the woman's head, she pushed against the shoulder with the toe of her boot.
A wretched face rolled into view. The woman had once been pretty, perhaps, before her teeth grew too large for her mouth. Thick black fluid oozed across her face from a hole above her right eye.
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 r
ed 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.
