by Chuck Buda
He shrugged his shoulders and made off down the street. Traffic was less than half of what it was during the mid-afternoon. Most folks had gone home to be with their families and have supper. The rest were probably a few drinks into their stupor already at the saloon.
James gazed over his shoulder at the Trading Post. The store was dark but he noticed light shining from the window in the back room. He remembered how he had left Gunderson without help today. He hoped Gunderson wasn’t still working to make up for James’ leaving early. Tomorrow, James would go in earlier than usual and he would work through lunch break and stay late too. He wanted to square things with Gunderson. James liked Gunderson a lot. Even though his habits were a tad on the disgusting side.
James continued up the street, scanning the shop fronts and windows as he passed. Most buildings were darkened. Closed up for the evening. The places with light shining through the windows were the usual suspects. The saloon. The brothel. The hospital. James noticed the Marshal’s place ahead on the right. It, too, had light shining through its window.
James hurried along to find Eleanor. If he didn’t locate her soon then he would need to drop in and visit the Marshal for some extra help. James laughed off the notion of having to involve the Marshal. Why would that even be necessary? Before he finished laughing off the thought, James felt the pit in his stomach begin to grow.
Chapter 28
He splashed water across his face again and again. Each drop of cold water soothed the burning on his skin. But it didn’t relieve the fire in his veins. Preacher felt sick. Like he had the flu.
Using the basin for support, Preacher stood, allowing the drops of water to run down his face and chest. He glanced down at his arms and thought he saw lumps of flesh snaking across his skin. It appeared as if thousands of small creatures burrowed beneath his pores, bumping into each other on their way to another limb.
He felt his legs tremble. The muscles in his thighs twitched, making it difficult to stand still.
She was poison.
Preacher dunked his head into the basin. With his head plunged under the icy water, he envisioned Eleanor. Her beauty on the outside was overshadowed by the scent of her blood. It was pure. The smell drove him mad with lust.
He threw his head back from the basin. Water splashed from his scalp to the wall behind him. His eyes dared not gaze upon the crucifix. He heard it twist and turn. Upside down. Right side up. It moved slower than he was used to. But he could feel it. It wanted his attention. And he wasn’t going to give in. Not now.
He felt weak.
Eleanor had poisoned him without meaning to. The same qualities that attracted his senses were detrimental to his health. The essence fed on his fibers, tearing apart the sinews and marrow. The Dark One allowed it to feed upon him. And that angered him more than anything.
When he sucked her soul, Eleanor had been like any other. Her soul streamed into his nostrils and throat like an intoxicating elixir. The sense of floating high among the clouds was present. Just like all the others. He noticed a lingering after-effect which had been different. Preacher felt high as he walked around the chapel. It was all he could do to maintain an outward appearance of normalcy.
Especially when James confronted him.
James.
The surge in his veins made it difficult to concentrate. To defend himself against the insinuations James had leveled. Preacher was grateful Sarah had interrupted them. He feared the confrontation was escalating to a point of no return. A moment when James would assault him. And he would have been in a state of weakness, unable to fight back. Without will to win.
Preacher approached the night stand. He slid the drawer open and reached for the new vial. It was still warm. The contents fresher than the others in the collection. He removed the cap.
Intoxicating.
Hair of the dog, as they say, Preacher thought to himself. He sniffed the vial before placing it to his cracked lips. He gulped a mouthful and held it between his tongue and cheeks. Preacher replaced the cap and left the vial on top of the Book. He slid the drawer closed and swallowed the fluid in his mouth.
It choked him.
He immediately raised his hands to his throat. Preacher’s eyes bulged in their sockets. The blackness turned to milky white and back. The colors marbled as they fought for dominance inside his skull.
Preacher was flung across the room. He landed on his bed. He grasped the sheets in his fists. The veins in his hands strained for release. Preacher felt Eleanor’s essence course through his system. Its holiness devoured the evil. It explored every fiber for pockets of terror. His mind couldn’t fend off the attack even though he understood what he had done to himself.
She had power over him. Dominion.
But she’s dead.
Preacher slowly regained control. His breath came back in fits. Soaked with sweat, he returned to the basin to cool himself off again.
Eleanor is dead. And still she controls me.
Preacher faced the crucifix as its spinning picked up the pace. Normalcy was returning. Preacher’s eyes turned completely black and he dunked his head into the water. The water became murky as his sweat fused with Eleanor’s blood and filled the bin with crimson.
He had to hurry if he wanted to make it to supper on time. He was afraid they would sense his struggles if he were late. He must be present. And composed.
They would know.
They can’t know.
But James.
James might figure it out. He was becoming an increasingly more dangerous challenge for Preacher. Sarah and Eleanor had been easy. Carson was tricky but he succeeded eventually.
But James.
Preacher dried himself off and listened for the slowing of the spinning holy symbol.
The Dark One spoke in his head. Only Preacher heard the words.
“I am hungry. I must feed again.”
“You just had her. Give me time to bring you more.”
“We are out of time. They are coming. Soon. I must grow if I am to live.”
“What about MY life?”
“Your life is meaningless. You traded it away years ago.”
“You NEED me to do your bidding. So you will wait until I am ready.
“I WAIT FOR NO MORTAL.”
The voice thundered in his head. Preacher dropped to his knees, clutching at his temples. The pain seared through his face, behind his eyes. Blood dripped from his ears, and his nose.
“I want James. He is very strong. With his blood I can take what I want. I will be unstoppable.”
Preacher let go of his head and fell to the floor. He vomited on the wood. But it was blood which flowed from his stomach. Not bile.
“You will have him, master.” Preacher gasped the words.
The laughing filled his head. It echoed behind his eyes and reverberated in his chest. Preacher arched his back as he struggled to correct his posture. It was no use. The Dark One owned him. Body and soul.
The spirit left the room. He felt it go. The air was serene. No sounds invaded his mind. Preacher dragged himself to his feet. He approached the basin to wash off the sweat again. As he saw the crimson waters, he sighed. He would have to attend supper without properly cleaning himself up. He opened his bedroom window and spilled the basin contents out to the dirt below.
Preacher knew the end was near. He had to provide James to the Dark One. Before he lost his life.
Chapter 29
The evening had passed quickly. James lost track of time as he searched the streets for Eleanor. When he hadn’t found her at the mill or the schoolhouse, he decided to check the saloon. If she wasn’t working on gathering supplies or developing a lesson plan, then maybe she stopped in for a quick drink before heading home. Although James though it unlikely, he had to make sure he scoured every corner of the town.
James had to wriggle his way through the crowd in the saloon to get a good look. He encountered so many unfamiliar faces, mostly men with the cattle companies. T
hen again, James knew most faces would be unfamiliar to him. He thought about his short time in Dodge City. He had either been in the Trading Post or the church. The only other places he had visited were the hotel, when they first got to town, and the places he had searched tonight for Eleanor. What kind of life is it when you only travel between two buildings...and they aren’t that far from each other? James scratched his stubble, thinking about the lack of fun in this big town.
In the saloon, James bumped into Gunderson who must have had a few under his belt already. The horrid stink the man embodied was only exasperated by the addition of whiskey. James found it more difficult than usual to stand before the large man while he spoke. Gunderson kept grabbing James’ arm to lead him to the bar for some shots. But every time another cowboy bounced into them, James took the opportunity to wrestle his arm free and make his way toward the door. It only took nineteen times for him to escape. Not like he was counting or anything.
James couldn’t head back to the church without completing his search. He wondered if Eleanor had passed him in the streets as he searched for her. For a moment, he thought about going back to the church to double-check. But he decided against it. Instead, he made his way to Marshal Kaden Holder’s office.
James found the Marshal behind his big desk with his boots up on top. His hat brim was hunkered low. James was afraid he had awaken the Marshal but he found him “contemplatin’.” James figured it was a Dodge City phrase for snoozing. He filled in the Marshal about Eleanor’s absence and all the places he had searched. The Marshal asked James if he had checked any of the surrounding villages on the outskirts of town. James was unaware of these so-called villages. Apparently, folks who couldn’t afford to live within the city limits or had moved to Dodge after the city had filled up, built their own small homesteads nearby. Like-minded neighbors built places next to each other, forming smaller communities which people referred to as villages. So Marshal Holder strapped on his gun belt and the two of them made their way to the city limits.
After nearly two more hours of searching, the men headed back into Dodge. When they arrived at the Marshal’s office, James decided to part ways.
“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” His steely eyes pierced James’ soul.
“No. That’s alright. If she’s there, then it will be a waste of your time.”
“And if she ain’t?”
James sighed. He hoped Eleanor was inside with his mother and Carson. “If she ain’t then maybe she did find a man to shack up with. I still don’t think she would do such a thing. But...”
Marshal Holder nodded. “Women do lots of things men don’t think they would.” He pointed at the brothel above the saloon and all the noise that carried from the upstairs windows.
James shook it off. “Not Eleanor. She’s God-fearin’.”
“I’ll check back with you in the morning.” Marshal tapped the brim of his hat to say goodnight.
“You may be cleaning up a mess.” James muttered under his breath.
“What did you say?” Marshal Holder stepped toward James.
“Nothing.”
“Yes, you did. You said you I would be cleaning up a mess.” The Marshal leaned closer to James’ face. “You indicatin’ I ain’t doing my job?”
The Marshal was so close James thought he felt the man’s Mexican-esque mustache bristle his nose. “No, sir. I just meant...”
“Out with it.”
James hated himself for speaking his mind. It was his nature, but he made things worse sometimes when he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Like now, he chided himself. “Just a disagreement between me and Preacher is all.”
“What kind of disagreement?”
James fidgeted under the Marshal’s scrutiny. “Uh, well...” Marshal Holder squeezed James’ arm. “Preacher is strange and I don’t trust him.” He blurted out his feelings without a filter. The Marshal’s strong grip on his arm reminded him of his mother punishing him for getting into trouble when he was a boy. His natural reaction was to confess whenever she did that to him. Old habits die hard, he whispered.
“Strange how?”
James wished he could spin and run but the grip tightened on his arm. It was as if Marshal Holder knew James was going to bolt.
“Something is going on with him but I haven’t figured it out yet. All I know is he ain’t as holy as he pretends to be.”
The Marshal released his grip on James’ arm. James felt relieved and then massaged his throbbing arm.
“What say I take a walk with you back to that church?”
“That won’t be necessary. It’s fine. Probably just my imagination.”
Marshal Holder smiled, but only on one side of his face. “Imagination or not, that’s two accusations against Preacher in a matter of days. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” He tucked his thumbs inside his gun belt. “Walk.”
It came out as a command and James obeyed without hesitation. He realized the Marshal had a control over him that he had not known before. He wasn’t sure if he was afraid of the Marshal or if he just liked to be a good boy. James chuckled. He liked to be a good boy, certainly. But Marshal Holder was a man to be reckoned with. His large stature and cold stares were intimidating. That dang Mexican-looking mustache was intimidating too. It just didn’t belong on a large, American man.
James wondered if Wyatt Earp had the same effect on people. He hoped he did because James wanted to become just like his idol.
As they made their way to the church, James hoped Eleanor had returned so the Marshal wouldn’t have to get involved. He knew Preacher wouldn’t like the Marshal sniffing around his place. Again.
Chapter 30
The burning and itching were overwhelming. Preacher scrunched his knees into his chest and hugged himself. The bed sheets were soaked with his sweat. Delirium infested his brain, making the ceiling and the walls warp and turn on their sides. He choked back more vomit as he squeezed his eyes shut against the bizarre hallucinations.
Preacher moaned. The noise sounded foreign to his ears, like someone else in the room had uttered it. He bit the corner of his pillow to squelch further groans. The pain was beyond compare. Preacher had become accustomed the Dark One’s needs and whims. The chills and the crawling beneath the skin. The flames which licked his pores but left no scars. The voices in his head. So many voices it became unbearable at times.
But this was different.
The Dark One sensed completion of its task. It demanded follow through of Preacher, something he wasn’t prepared for. Yet. He needed some more time. There was still an opportunity for a larger summoning.
Preacher’s plan was to turn James and his family against each other. Then he would have them sit down together to air their grievances, followed by a prayer service to bring them closer. They would believe it was to bring them closer to each other. Preacher knew it was to bring them closer to his feeding. A one-time buffet at the table of souls. With their rapt attention, he would will their beings into his own, usurping life forces and commanding greater powers.
He had ruined the opportunity.
Eleanor had been ripe for the picking. Preacher couldn’t contain his desires any longer. She was fully entrenched in his charm, The time was right to take her. He knew it was at the behest of the larger plan. But his body was still flesh and blood. Subject to the weaknesses of the human condition.
The Dark One was angry for his foolishness. It craved the summoning, sometimes more than the result itself. The power flowing through the body and the enlivening of the spirit when the souls coursed into his frame. He shuddered at the recognition of the sensation.
It was too late to change the course of action now.
Preacher pleaded with the Dark One for more time. He shared his new plan. It would be bigger than the Dark One had ever known. Preacher would attempt to command a mass summoning during services. If he could just fill the chapel with destitute souls, searching for connection to the Lord. He could charm
them all with his sermon and then feed upon the congregation. The Dark One doubted his abilities to pull off such a feat, but it was intrigued with the possibility. It bought him time.
Not much more time.
Preacher suffered the retribution of the Dark One. It wanted him to understand its full power. It demanded obedience and worship. The Dark One had brought him to his knees multiple times before. Now, it wanted to crush him under foot.
But you need me.
The Dark One had laughed. It needed nothing. And even if it did, it could just take it whenever it wanted. The Dark One scoffed at his whining.
Preacher tried to climb out of bed. He needed water to quench the fires burning inside his organs. He staggered to the water basin. It was empty.
He dropped to his knees. Preacher recalled how the water had turned to blood and he had dumped it outside his bedroom window. He should have refilled it. But he had skipped supper. The pain had been too much to hide from everyone. He had begged through his closed door to let him lie as he wasn’t feeling well. Sarah offered to bring him compresses and he had refused her. He wished he hadn’t shut them out before getting more comforts.
Preacher had no idea it would get this bad. If he had, he would have made different decisions. Preacher figured he could just sleep it off or hide within the confines of his room until the storm passed. He had underestimated the determination of the Dark One.
Preacher crawled from the water basin back to his bed. He reached up to the night stand drawer. Fighting it to open, his feverish fingers felt along the vial inside. They found the warmer one near the top of the pile. He walked his fingers past it and felt for another vial. Preacher felt for the right one. There was no way to know which one would work, if any at all. But he had never encountered such pain and sickness with the others.
