Night Marshal Books 1-3 Box Set: Night Marshal/High Plains Moon/This Dance, These Bones

by Gary Jonas

  “Can I help you?”

  “F-f-f-freezing,” Sonya said.

  “I found her in the street,” Smythe said. “She needs warmth.”

  “Oh my,” the woman said. “Please, bring her inside. Set her by the fire and I’ll get some blankets.”

  They entered the house and Smythe set Sonya on her feet, then rushed at the elderly woman and caught her from behind. She didn’t even have time to scream before he sank his fangs into her throat.

  As he drank the woman dry, he noticed Sonya watching him. She pointed toward the stairs. Smythe turned and saw flickering lantern light coming down the stairs.

  “Gertrude?” an old man’s voice said. “Is everything all right?”

  Smythe dropped Gertrude and took the stairs three at a time. He tackled the old man. The man didn’t have the strength to put up a fight and Smythe fed on him as well. From where he crouched on the stairs, he saw that Sonya did not try to escape. She waited patiently for him to finish his feast. When the man expired, Smythe wiped his mouth and descended the staircase.

  “You have moved from a definite no to a possible maybe,” he said.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Mayor Wilkins placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Jack opened his eyes. His hand rested on his gun, but he didn’t pull.

  “If this is another false alarm, I’m killing you and going back to the saloon.”

  Wilkins ran a hand over his face and looked toward the door. “Not a false alarm. Christopher is out there now.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Around four o’clock, I think. You were right.”

  Jack nodded and pushed himself to his feet. He cleared his throat, which brought on a few coughs. He felt like he’d been tied to a wagon and dragged for thirty miles over rough road. He picked up one of the sharp wooden stakes.

  “Stay here,” Jack said.

  Wilkins nodded.

  As he approached the door, he listened for any tell-tale sounds outside, but nothing reached his ears. He pulled the door open and saw Christopher Smythe standing on the porch with an arm around Sonya, his long fingernails brushing her neck.

  “Good morning, Jack,” Smythe said.

  “And here I thought you didn’t care about my name.” Jack remained in the doorway. He knew Smythe couldn’t reach for him unless he stepped outside. Jack turned his focus to Sonya. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Sonya said. “I think we can work this out peacefully.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Christopher is offering us eternal life, Jack.”

  “You’re on a first name basis with a vampire?”

  She shrugged. “He’s agreed to turn me.”

  “That’s a bad idea, Sonya.”

  “Then I could turn you and we could be together forever.”

  “Well,” Christopher said, “I didn’t actually agree to let Sonya turn you, Jack. I think that’s something I should do myself to make sure you toe the line.”

  “You want me to be subservient to you.”

  Christopher eyed the stake in Jack’s hand. “Let’s just say I’m pragmatic. This would be a good time for you to set the stake aside and come outside so we can discuss the future.”

  “I don’t know,” Jack said. “It’s cold out there and warm in here.”

  “It’s about to get a lot warmer in there.”

  “That’s right, you were planning to burn Wilkins out.”

  “Oh, that’s already started.”

  Jack turned back toward the inside of the house. “Mayor, you might want to check the back of the house.”

  Wilkins moved to the door that led to the back bedroom. He did not open it because smoke wafted out from under the door. “We have a problem!”

  Smythe gave Jack a smile. “Did you think I’d just stand here and chat if I hadn’t already set things in motion?”

  “I’ve seen people do some pretty stupid things,” Jack said.

  “This is the time for you to decide whether you want to be smart or stupid yourself. Are you going to try and attack me?”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “Of course you are.” Smythe’s fingernails dug into Sonya’s flesh. “And I know you’re fast in spite of your illness. But can you get to me before I open your wife’s throat?”

  “You’re supposed to turn us.” Sonya touched her neck and her fingers came away with blood on the tips.

  “That’s up to Jack.”

  Wilkins ran up behind Jack. “The house is on fire! What do we do?”

  Smoke roiled through the house.

  Jack could smell it, and knew the back of the house had to be engulfed in flames by now.

  “Choose, Jack.” Smythe’s nails remained in Sonya’s flesh.

  Sonya’s eyes widened. “Choose,” she said.

  “I paid you to kill him,” Wilkins said.

  Smoke caught in Jack’s throat and he felt a coughing fit coming on. He tried to resist it.

  “Kill him!” Wilkins said and shoved Jack out the door.

  Jack staggered forward, and Smythe caught him before he could regain his balance. Smythe slapped the stake out of Jack’s hand, shoved Sonya aside and yanked Jack’s head back. He sank his fangs into Jack’s throat.

  “Don’t drain him!” Sonya said.

  Wilkins darted out of the house, vaulted over the porch railing and landed in a snow drift. He ran awkwardly toward the trees. The snow made running difficult.

  Smythe tossed Jack aside and went after the mayor.

  Jack hit the ground unconscious from loss of blood. His body went into convulsions. Sonya rushed to him and took him in her arms, rocking back and forth. “Please don’t die yet, Jack! Please don’t die!”

  The fire swept into the living room. The smoke and heat grew intense.

  Sonya pulled Jack off the porch and into the snow, looking around in search of the vampire.

  She couldn’t see Smythe anywhere, so she pulled Jack toward the road. She had to get him someplace safe. The plan had changed now. She knew Jack had lost too much blood. He was definitely dying, but if she could protect his body, he would rise as a vampire. Then he could turn her and they could live together forever.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Mayor Wilkins tried to run, but the snow was too deep now; he could only take slow, high-bounding steps. He slipped in a snow drift and fell. The snow got into his shirt, but he barely noticed. He struggled to get to his feet, but Smythe approached with grace in spite of the depths. He smiled and the smile was all the more terrifying because his face was smeared with Jack’s blood.

  “Welcome, Lucas. I wouldn’t worry about the house. You won’t be needing it anymore.”

  “Please don’t kill me! I’m so sorry for what I did. I don’t want to die.” Tears streamed down the mayor’s face.

  Smythe towered over him. “Do you think crying is going to help you?”

  “Please!’

  Smythe shook his head. “You disgust me.”

  “I’m sorry about Mary. I tried to make her happy.”

  “Imbecile. You tried to make yourself happy. You never really cared about her. You just wanted a beautiful woman on your arm. You didn’t even know Mary. Not really.”

  “Have mercy.”

  “Like the mercy you showed me?” Smythe grabbed Wilkins by the throat and lifted him off the ground. “I trusted you, Lucas, and you betrayed me.”

  Wilkins tried to choke out a reply, but his words were unintelligible.

  “Give me one good reason not to kill you,” Smythe said. “Just one.”

  He relaxed his grip to allow Wilkins to speak.

  Wilkins clutched at Smythe’s hands, trying to get the vampire to release him.

  “I’m waiting,” Smythe said. “One reason. If you can give me a single good reason, I’ll let you live.”

  “Because,” Wilkins said with a raspy voice. His eyes darted back and forth. His brow furrowed. “Because…”

  “The sun
will be up in about an hour, Lucas. You’re going to have to speed this up.”

  “Because you’re a better man.”

  “I’m no longer a man, Lucas.”

  “You’re still the better person. You’re so much better than me it’s incalculable even for the greatest mathematicians.”

  “Sadly, I doubt we’d find many mathematicians around to back you up on that, but I don’t believe it has ever been in question.”

  “I’m admitting it. I’ll tell everyone how great you are and how pathetic I am. Just please don’t kill me.”

  “This is truly a wonderful moment for you, Lucas.” Smythe set him down.

  “You’re going to let me live?”

  “The amazing thing is that you care so deeply what other people think of you. You have to wear the nicest clothes.” Smythe ran a finger along the silk vest the mayor wore. “You have to try to impress people with your oh so important eastern education. You have to be seen with the right people and you needed to have Mary because she fit the image you wanted to present to the world. And now here you are groveling.”

  “I just want to live.”

  “It does come down to life, doesn’t it? How much we value being able to live and breathe? How nice it is to smell flowers in the springtime and all the other sickly sweet things poets write about in those books you pretend to read? How nice it is to feel the sunlight on your face?” Smythe felt himself drifting back to his human memories.

  “Those are all good things.”

  “Those are all things that are denied to me. I can draw breath to speak, but the air that fills my lungs does nothing more for me. How I long to be able to smell the burning wood behind me as your house is destroyed. I don’t even remember how it felt to have the sun on my face, Lucas. It’s been so long.”

  “Sorry.”

  “So am I, Lucas.”

  Smythe pulled Wilkins into an embrace.

  Wilkins hesitantly wrapped his arms around his old friend and patted him on the back.

  Smythe tightened his embrace.

  “That’s enough,” Wilkins said. “You can let go now.”

  “You aren’t even worth feeding upon.”

  Smythe held even tighter, pulling Wilkins’ face so hard against him that Wilkins could not breathe.

  Wilkins pounded on Smythe now. He flailed his arms and struggled to break free.

  “Goodbye, old friend,” Smythe said. “And to think, had you simply said Mary would have wanted me to show mercy, I’d have let you go in peace.”

  Lucas strained, but Smythe held him in place without difficulty. Of course, he wouldn’t have let Lucas live, but he felt that driving that thought into the man’s brain was a nice touch. Dangling life before him, just out of reach.

  Smythe held the mayor until the man stopped struggling. He remained there holding the corpse until he realized the sun would be rising soon and he needed get to safety. If he could make it to the mine, that would be fine. If not, he always had the backup of Gertrude’s home.

  When he dropped the body and left, he did not look back.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sonya got Jack to his horse and struggled to get him into the saddle. Although he didn’t weigh much, it was all dead weight and it took all her strength to get him up and secure. She mounted behind him and held him against her. Roulette twitched his tail and carried her and Jack’s dying body toward the saloon.

  Halfway there, she felt Jack’s last breath leave his body. She felt tears welling, but forced them back. If Smythe had told her the truth, Jack would rise again as a member of the undead. But what if he’d died too soon? She knew the heart had to stop beating, but— She shoved those thoughts aside. She had to operate as if he would rise. Nothing else mattered.

  At the saloon, she dismounted, secured Roulette to the post, and pulled Jack’s body down into her arms. She dragged him inside, thankful nobody paid her any attention. She heaved him up the stairs one at a time, then dragged him down the hall to their room. She got him onto the bed, then stretched out at his side and wrapped her arms around him. Jack’s body was cold.

  * * *

  That day, everyone was talking about the mayor’s death. Sonya sat in the saloon listening.

  “They found him outside in the snow beside his burned down house,” one man said.

  “Was he drained of blood like the sheriff?” someone asked. “Could it have been the stranger?”

  “Nope. Just dead. Ain’t sure what happened. Might’ve froze to death. Might’ve been murdered – someone said they saw tracks leading away from town, but so much snow fell last night, it’s hard to say.”

  Fortunately, nobody pointed any fingers at Sonya, and nobody mentioned Jack. Being private about your comings and goings was never a bad thing, she thought. As afternoon began to fade into evening, more people entered the saloon. People kept talking about the mayor, but they also talked about the snow and how it would never end. It was the biggest storm in years. Several miners said they’d rather go back to the mines where it was warmer than spend time at the saloon. Others complained about the wind. Only a few spoke of the sheriff or the cowardly marshal.

  As evening approached, Sonya grew worried about Jack. What if he didn’t rise? What if he was just dead? No, she had to stay focused on him coming back. That meant he’d need to feed. He’d lost a lot of blood and he’d be extremely weak.

  She approached a barmaid she knew did a bit of whoring on the side. “Excuse me, your name is Diane, am I right?”

  The girl was in her early twenties, but looked older. “Yes, ma’am. What can I get you?”

  Sonya lowered her voice and Diane leaned close. “I understand you will sometimes spend a little time with a man for the right donation.” Sonya turned her palm so the girl could see she had bills folded there.

  “That depends,” Diane said.

  Sonya took her hands and slipped the cash into them discreetly. “My husband is upstairs in our room and I think he’d like someone to … talk to.”

  Diane shook her head. “I ain’t too good at talkin’.”

  Sonya closed her eyes. Subtlety was lost on this one. “I’d like you to entertain my husband for me. Can you do that?”

  “I can show him a good time, but you’re much prettier than I am. What’s he gonna want me for?”

  “Variety.”

  Diane nodded. “Okay.”

  Sonya and Diane ascended the stairs and approached the room.

  “Let me make sure he’s ready.”

  Diane shrugged. Sonya suspected that she’d seen a lot in her short time. Of course, she wouldn’t be seeing any more.

  Sonya opened the door and slipped inside. The room was full dark, but Sonya lit a lantern.

  Jack lay on the bed unmoving.

  She touched his icy hand.

  Diane pushed the door open and entered. “Somebody’s comin’ upstairs,” she said. “I don’t want them to see me up—” Her eyes locked onto Jack’s corpse. “Damn, he looks mighty peaked.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong,” Sonya said.

  Diane approached the bed and took Jack’s hand in hers. “Wow. Did you leave the window open? He’s cold as—”

  Jack’s hand suddenly closed on hers.

  Before she could react, he sat up, grabbed her and bit into her throat. Her arms flailed a bit, but she didn’t put up much of a fight. Jack drank and drank. His fingers clutched her arms, held them down. He drank with a ferocious need. His eyes darted to Sonya. She stood across the room, watching.

  Jack finished drinking Diane dry, then pulled back and stared at her face. He ran his finger along her cheek and bowed his head for a moment. Then he placed her body on the bed.

  He wiped blood from his lips and looked at Sonya. “You just had me kill an innocent girl.”

  He moved to Sonya and she stood her ground, refusing to show any fear. This was Jack, after all. He loved her. She hoped. She stared into his eyes, but they showed no sign of life. And yet, he mo
ved. He was still here, with her. He wasn’t coughing at all.

  “She wasn’t that innocent,” Sonya said.

  “You should have staked me and cut off my head.”

  Sonya shook her head. “You know I couldn’t do that.”

  “If you’d let me die, this girl would still be alive. I couldn’t stop drinking. There was no way to resist. You would not believe the thirst I feel right now.”

  “I can get someone else up here for you. The barkeep maybe?”

  “He’s an ass, but that doesn’t mean he should die.”

  “You don’t have to kill him.”

  “My thirst is overpowering,” Jack said and raised a hand to caress Sonya’s throat. “The temptation to bite you is incredibly strong.”

  She gave a forced laugh. “I remember when you used to say things like that for fun.”

  He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned her to face him.

  “Look into my eyes, Sonya.”

  She looked everywhere except his eyes.

  He held his gaze steady. “Look.”

  A tear rolled down her left cheek. “I don’t want to look.”

  “Look.”

  She closed her eyes.

  He held her there.

  When she opened her eyes, he held them with his gaze. He stared into her soul and after the silence stretched into the realm of painful, he finally spoke. “You let me become a monster. You could have simply left me in the sun.”

  “You’d have risen at the undertaker’s.”

  “And that girl would be alive.”

  “And someone else would be dead. You don’t normally get upset after killing someone.”

  “I generally give them a choice.”

  “She could have chosen to stay out in the hall.”

  “In which case I would have drained you. I don’t like doing things without choosing to do them. The hunger was so intense I couldn’t stop. Even now I feel like I need to feed.”

  Sonya leaned her head to the side and swept her hair out of the way to bare her throat. “So feed.”

  He turned away from her.