Cameo and the Vampire (11 page)

The door opened and Jody Fitzrory came back in, breathing heavily and grinning. He looked right at the three and then ran back toward the bar, as if he'd forgotten something, and then headed back toward their table carrying his tankard.

Anya was right behind him, carrying two plates, the first of which she set down in front of Cameo, and then Jules. "Now don't you worry, fine sir," she tapped Opal on the shoulder. "I haven't forgotten your meal."

"Oh, look, a new conquest," Jules sneered.

"Looks like I arrived just in time to enjoy lunch with you after all," Jody beamed and sat down on the other side of Black Opal.

"And where is your handsome young friend?" Opal inquired.

This seemed to amuse Jody. "Who? That lad that was just in here? Ha, ha. Handsome, hmm? No offense, of course. I just assumed you were with—" he gestured toward Cameo.

"Here's your venison and your cider," Anya said, setting them down in front of Opal. "Did you two also want cider?"

"That's fine," Cameo uttered, and Jules nodded.

Opal glanced over at her now; he would need her to actually feed him, in front of this buffoon. Things couldn't get too much more humiliating.

Jules looked up suddenly, focusing his white eyes on Jody. "I think I must've been ignoring you or something, but didn't you just leave?"

The dandy paled at first, but then recovering quickly he chuckled, "Those sure are some crazy eyes you've got there."

Jules was motionless, staring into Jody's eyes. He said nothing.

Jody turned around. "Hey, Granny. I could sure go for some venison my-darn-self."

"Fine. Comin' right up!"

Jules and Opal appeared to be contemplating murder.

"And you, lady," Jody called to Cameo. "Ain't you going to eat that? I haven't seen you touch a bite—"

A moment later she had walked out the door.

"Well, well, now. Call of nature I suspect."

* * * * *

Cameo walked a few steps out into the snow. There were footsteps going in every direction from the front door, people moving to their horses, others straight back to the road, footsteps that led to the smokehouse or a tree. And then she noticed to her left a drop of blood on the snow, and she began to walk to the left, around the side of the tavern, in shadow. There she followed footprints around the side of the structure and turned around the building, where there was a woodpile. For a moment she stopped and gazed out beyond the tavern into an open yard, likely used for a small garden in summer. She wasn't certain where she expected to find the other fop. There was nothing but forest all around this place, and Jody could've dumped the body anywhere, but then an odd sound caught her attention: a painful intake of air, a low, muted gasp for breath.

She strode purposefully over to the woodpile and knocked most of the timber out of her way, successfully toppling the entire pile.

The young man lay at the bottom of the wood. He was alive.

"You found me!" he smiled, his voice was exuberant, though little more than a whisper.

Cameo glanced down at the blood-stained shirt. He had taken a strike through the ribs, but it didn't appear fatal. She met his eyes.

"Damn that Jody Fitzrory," he breathed. "All this over a horse!"

As she stood there staring down at the young man, she realized that she longed to taste his blood.

"How ever did you find me, dear lady?"

She could smell the blood oozing from the wound, and for a moment she caught the familiar sensation of Edel's presence. Though she couldn't explain it, she felt him there. The scent of his moldy jacket lingered in the air—decaying flowers and old death. It was as if he were standing right there with her, but she couldn't see him. For one moment Cameo spun 'round, quickly, at her zombie speed, too fast for this wounded lad to understand, though he said nothing.

Edel was not there—at least that's what her eyes were telling her. She couldn't see him. She hesitated, glancing down at the young man lying in the snow before her once more. He was pitiful, helpless, and his blood was dying the snow scarlet. As she gazed at the young man, an unfathomable idea formed in her.
Am I a vampire? Is this what Edel's bite has done to me?
The young man was just staring at her. Two blue eyes staring back at her.

She looked sadly at him. "I expected that you had died, young man."

"I would have frozen to death out here if not for you—"

She pulled her dagger from its sheath with unnatural speed and slit his throat before he was able to finish, and there he was laid out before her, dead.

He was a young man, Kyrian’s age, lying there before her, his throat now gaping, and blood gushing from the wound, staining the white lace.

Cameo licked his blood from her blade, and she then felt the humming sensation begin, the buzzing in her temples, and a light flutter in her stomach.

She saw a pair of black feet on the ground directly in front of her. She glanced up to find the cloudy form of a man—a ghost—watching her with an evil longing on his face. And then she felt Edel again. There was the clearest sensation of a hand on her arm, and in the wintry air she caught the feeling of him again. His calm. She could not see him, but she could feel him there. He hadn't died. Nor had he gone away. He was with her still.

She dared not speak his name. Dared not believe. She shook off the idea of Edel, and ignoring the pair of ghostly feet in the snow, she turned back to the dead young man, ripped open his shirt and pressed her mouth to drink from his wound.

* * * * *

"My dear?!"

"Don't shout."

Cameo rounded the corner of the tavern, her cloak spinning as she neared her companions. There seemed to be a spring in her step.

"We've been looking for you, my love—"

Their eyes widened.

Opal took a step toward her. "Why, you look ... younger. Is that possible?"

"Your eyes ...."

"They're blue!"

"We should go," she said, leading them toward the path they had been following to Ponth.

"I'm not so certain about that Jody fellow. I was getting an uneasy feeling about him, so we decided to look for you," Opal began. "Jules has the venison in case you're hungry."

Cameo faked a smile, "Sounds good." The idea of eating a smoky deer carcass made her mouth dry. "I'm fine for now, though."

"You gave in to it," Jules whispered into her ear as he caught up with her.

She met him with a hard look. He smelled good. "Yes." And then she strode away from him, walking in step beside Black Opal instead.

* * * * *

It was night. The three of them crouched down under a small clump of pine trees off the path. There was a patch of ground there, a small bed of pine needles to sit on.

Jules hunted around in his shoulder-pack for the smoked venison that the innkeeper's wife had packed for them.

"How much farther do you think, Cameo?" Opal asked, too exhausted to open his eyes. He leaned up against a tree trunk, shivering.

She saw two ghosts wandering around the tree beside him, both of them wearing the clothing donned by the patriots during the Shandow Rebellion, the red sash, the berets. Her eyes moved to watch his pained expression, and she wondered if he felt any guilt at all about his part in the rebellion. So many people put to their deaths, and yet Opal remained, seemingly, unapologetic about the entire thing.

"Not far now." Her tone was without emotion.

Opal opened his eye; it was red with exhaustion. "Is something wrong?"

She laughed a little. She had just killed a man to drink his blood, she was seeing ghosts, and she was certain that Edel had been there when she murdered that man, certain that she had felt him touch her arm. It was so solid, so ... real, and now she was beginning to suspect that Edel was following her.
No, nothing was wrong.
He'd never believe her if she told him. He'd never really understand what she had seen or felt. "No."

"Cameo ...."

"Hmm?" she muttered, turning toward Jules.

He lifted his eyes. "I didn't say anything."

She furrowed her brows. "You sure?"

"Yes," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

She locked eyes with him. There was a bitter, amused smile playing on his lips, daring the cold facade she wore to a battle of wits, or other she supposed. Cameo could only guess what she looked like at the moment, probably confused ... at worst, unstable. She felt irrational. Taking that man's life to drink his blood ... what a waste. He wasn't like others she had slain; he wasn't a mark for the Association, her old employer. He wasn't even in her way. He was weak and bleeding and an easy target for her bloodlust, and that was all.

"I hate to be a bother," Opal began, "but do you have something to drink? Alcohol, perchance?"

This brought her around. Cameo realized that she and Jules were still staring at each other. He seemed to be attempting to read her expression when she looked away and pulled the flask from her boot. "It's just water, I'm afraid."

He tipped his head back, biting his lip, and released a sort of unhappy moan.

"I still have some of the tincture."

"All right .... I suppose so."

"You're going to put him to sleep?" Jules was clearly annoyed. "We still have a long way to walk."

"Do you have any alcohol on you?"

"No."

She fished the ceramic flask from her pack and pressed it to Opal's lips. He pulled away unhappily, teeth gritted.

"Cameo ...."

"What?" She glanced to her left, from where she was certain the voice had come, but there was nothing. No one. This time she had heard the voice as a whisper in her ear, a male voice, clearly, and yet there was no one to her left, just empty snow-covered ground and black forest.

Jules looked up from his dinner again, searching for whatever it was that was bothering Cameo, his amusement at her expense turning to concern.

As she focused on the darkened woods, she saw a ghostly figure moving toward her. It was at first a silhouette, and then a woman, a frightful woman with a grin on her face.

She staggered backward, "Go away!"

The ghost vanished, and as it did Cameo saw a sudden vision of Jody Fitzrory and the hunters from the tavern, with muskets in hand.

Cameo leapt up and spun around suddenly.

Jules dropped the venison and stood quickly, pulling a pistol from his belt.

A gunshot rang out, echoing across the stark wilderness.

The pistol dangled from Jules' fingers as he fell back against the clump of pines.

Opal had fallen asleep at the base of the tree. Cameo grabbed him by his lapels and dragged him behind the trees.

Another shot hit above them. The musket ball
pinged
off of something behind them,
knocking down needles and small branches.

"Jules?"

"I'm hit," he winced.

Two more shots were fired, and Jules crumpled.

Cameo peered out into the empty span before them; she had no intention of going out there, where someone, possibly Jody Fitzrory, apparently could see them but they couldn't see him. At least they were hidden now in the darkness of the woods while he was out there somewhere in the snow. He should be easy to spot. She licked her lips and tasted blood. Zombie blood. It was not exactly like human blood; actually, it was better. She felt her mouth vibrating now with the taste of Jules' blood.

"Come on out, Black Opal! It's you we want!" It was Jody. "Of course, I'd be happy to bring in your friends too. Especially Cameo!"

Cameo glanced over at Jules who was doubled over, tangled in the saplings, the scent of his blood filling the air with such sweetness; she craved it. She crawled toward him, abandoning Opal's unconscious form. She could hear a death rattle emanating from his lungs. If he had been human, he would've died, but now his body was healing. Some of the shallow musket balls were working their way to the surface already. Cameo turned toward Jody's voice; she had to move fast.

"Opal?!"

She remained silent. All that time at the inn he had been sizing them up, planning to follow, apparently looking for the bounty money. They shot Jules first; they must've decided he was the biggest threat.

"C'mon boys."

As she watched, Jody and the four hunters from the tavern stepped out from behind various trees and brush on the other side of the path, only ten feet away. They were closer than she'd first assumed and closing as she lay down on her back and pulled two pistols from her shoulder-pack, loading them with supernatural speed, then she stood and shot Jody first.

He was lifted off his feet by the shot, which hit him in the stomach and slammed him into the snow.

Next, she shot down one of the large hunters. He collapsed beside Jody and remained there unmoving.

The other three unloaded their muskets in her general direction, sending a flurry of pine needles over them. Jules was hit again; there was the dull
thud
of leather and flesh tearing, and the bullet lodged in his stomach. He yelped in protest, suddenly awake again. She pulled the pistol from his fingers and burst from the darkness of their hiding spot.

Cameo was a dark blur as she sped across the snow. She ran right up to one of the men and unloaded the pistol into his neck before he realized she was there. Before he had fallen, she pulled a dagger from her belt and slammed it into the man next to him. He spun around to face her, about to hit her with his musket, but she easily tore the gun from his hands and plunged her dagger into him repeatedly as he grabbed her arms and pulled her down. He fell to his death, pinning her to the ground with his full dead weight.

The fourth hunter was in the distance now. She saw him running back down the path, north, away from this scene of carnage.

She pushed the heavy corpse from her, angry with him, and grimacing she saw Jody squirming in the snow. He'd taken a bullet to the stomach and so was still alive, but miserable. He grasped for his pistol, which had been lost in the snow, inches from him, but now, that was an eternity of pain.

Cameo walked over to him and stepped on his shoulder, pinning him to the ground.