Night of the Vampires (15 page)

She kept staring at him. The blood drained from her into Marni Graybow.

“You're doing all right?” he asked her.

“I feel…light-headed. I believe that would be natural, the life force leaving me,” she whispered.

He had her hand in his. He squeezed it. “I believe so myself,” he assured her.

“Martha is my friend. And a wonderful person. Honestly, I swear, she was never a spy for anyone,” Megan said.

“I believe you.”

“Her children must be saved,” she told him.

“I believe they will be,” he said softly.

She closed her eyes. He knew that what she was giving cost her. She would survive it, but he was more worried about what she was thinking than what was happening. Cody was half vampire, with half-vampire blood. He had seen Cody work magic in this fashion before.

Cole reached over and set his fingers against Marni Graybow's throat. The pulse was growing stronger. When he looked at the girl, she was beginning to show color in her cheeks.

“How are you doing?” he asked Megan.

She flashed him a smile. “I'm…I'm fine. What about Marni?”

“She's looking wonderfully healthy,” Cole assured her.

For a moment, he just sat there. He studied Megan's eyes. He found himself praying not for the child, because he believed in Cody.

He prayed for Megan instead. Or himself. He prayed that Megan really was everything that she had asked them to believe she was.

Because he was mesmerized. Taken by the way she looked at him. Taken by the color of her eyes. By the way that she touched him, by the sound of her voice…

He was staring into her eyes, just staring and trying to give the utmost encouragement, when Alex came back into the room.

“We need to stop the flow of blood now. Tighten the tourniquet, please, Cole. Megan can't give anymore.”

“Wait! Is it good—is it enough to save Marni yet?” Megan asked with concerned vigor.

Alex assured Megan, “Yes, absolutely. Cody has the timing down on this.”

She helped Cole tighten the tourniquet around Megan's arm, preventing the further flow of blood. She withdrew the needle from both their arms, and she pressed hard on the spots where each had punctured. “Cole, please, hold tightly here until we're sure the flow of blood has stopped.”

“I'm all right,” Megan said.

Cole nodded, but did what Alex had said anyway. He grinned. “You'd say that if you were in the midst of a volcanic twister.”

“No!”

“Yes!” he teased.

“But…Marni,” she whispered.

“Marni looks so much better than when we came in, it's almost unbelievable. Her color is flushed. She's breathing easily on her own, and, her pulse is very strong.”

“Really?” she whispered.

“Really.” He wasn't going to lie to her. Whether she had been born half vampire or not, there was just something about Megan. He would never lie to her.

She gripped her arm, rolling from the pile of clothing and looking at the child herself.

Marni was better. She was breathing audibly, and
her color was rosy again. She opened her eyes, blinking rapidly. She looked at Megan and her lips trembled. “Mama?” she gasped.

“We'll get her right away, Marni. Right away,” Megan promised, and she leaped up.

Cole saw that she and Martha nearly collided with one another—Martha had heard her daughter's voice—despite its faintness—and was hurrying in. She paused in the doorway, as if afraid that her ears had tricked her. Then she saw Marni with her open eyes, struggling to get up on her elbows. Martha burst into tears, racing for her daughter and enveloping her gently in her arms.

Cole reached out for Megan's hand. “Let's give them a few moments.”

She took his hand, and then balked, pulling at it.

“Artie?” she asked.

“We'll stop and see.” They paused at the boy's room, looking in. Alex was sitting by the boy's side, checking his pulse. He, too, had fresh new color and a flush of rose in his cheeks. He was breathing easily—obviously alive and in far better condition than just moments ago.

“It works, the transfusion works,” she said.

“Cody is a medical doctor,” Cole reminded her.

She nodded. Alex looked up at them, smiling. “We were in time. Thank God. Cole, will you bring Artie into the house? There's still an empty bedroom, across from the one Cody and I are sleeping in. We'll bring the children there, and we'll try to get Martha to rest in your room, if you don't mind—and tonight, we'll have you and Brendan keep watch over the children, sharing the time. That way you can both get some rest, and I think we should keep an eye on them through the night. Cody should sleep.”

“Certainly,” Cole replied. He walked over to the bed and lifted the twelve-year-old into his arms. Megan hurried ahead, opening the door to the carriage house, then moving quickly across the distance of yard to the back door of the main house. Cole walked on upstairs, taking Artie to the extra bedroom. Artie stirred in his arms as he carried him. When Cole set him down, Artie stared at him with wide blue eyes.

“You're all right,” Cole assured him quickly.

Artie nodded, as if he knew and accepted Cole's words. He shook his head, though, distressed. “I…heard something at the door. But there was nothing. I went back to my room. Marni was studying her reader, just like Mama said. I heard—her cry out. I rushed in…I felt it…at my back. And then…”

“Artie, it's all right,” Cole said.

“Marni!” Artie cried.

“She's here, darling, and she's going to be just fine!” Martha said, following Brendan, who was carrying the precious bundle into the room. Artie scooted up on his elbows, touching his little sister's face as she was laid beside him. He looked at his mother, and he said, “Mama, I'm so sorry. I should have been a smarter big brother, a stronger big brother….”

“Hush, son, hush!” Martha said, reaching out to pat her son's leg. “You did just fine, and I know it, Artie. And we're all going to take some lessons in the next few days on what to do when monsters slip in.”

Artie nodded. His eyes closed again.

“I'll take the first watch,” Brendan said. “Martha, you need to get some rest.”

“Why—we have a cold supper down on the dining table,” she reminded them. “And it's not going to help
anyone if we don't get some food into our bodies. Cody, Megan, you two especially.”

“Why, Martha, you are quite the amazing woman,” Cole told her. He was somewhat surprised that the woman didn't seem to hate them all—it was unlikely that her family would have been targeted if they hadn't been there. She had almost lost her children, and she had nearly fallen apart, but she had rallied, and strongly.

“No, I'm not amazing at all. We're blessed—it might have been another time, it might have been all of us…and we might not have been found until it was too late. Now, Cole, you take Megan down to get some supper, and Cody and Alex need to go on down, too. Brendan and I will stay with the children, and after, we'll go eat, and maybe the children will even be able to have a bite or two to eat. I can fix them up some plates on trays—it'll be a bit of a lark for them to have supper in bed.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Cole told her. “As you say.”

“Martha,” Megan protested. “
You
need to take care of yourself. You know I adore the children. I'll keep watch over them while you—”

“Why, Megan, thank you, but I'm right, and that's the way it is. I have all this energy just because I know they're going to be okay. You gave my baby your blood. Now get down to that dining room. Shoo!” Martha ordered.

“She
is
right. We'll get something to eat first,” Cody said from the doorway. “Come on now, Megan. The children are all right.”

Megan nodded. Her eyes still seemed huge. She was pale, and Cole knew that the evening had unnerved her as little else could.

She turned and followed Alex and Cody down the stairs. Cole followed behind the three and they went to
the dining room almost as a troop of sleepwalkers. They took their seats at the table, empty chairs interspaced between them. Conversation was awkwardly mundane.

“Could you pass the roast, please?” Cole asked.

“Peas?” Alex offered.

“The potatoes are delicious, even cold,” Megan offered.

“Well, sadly, the gravy has congealed. But if you whirl it around enough…”

Cole stood up and walked into the kitchen and opened the icebox, drawing out a pitcher of Cody's “special drink.” He brought the pitcher out to the table and poured both Cody and Megan a glass.

“This might be what you need,” he said.

Both looked at each other as if they must have lost their minds—obviously, this was the nourishment they needed most at this time.

“Thank you,” Megan said. She swallowed the contents quickly, set her glass down and looked around the table. “How in God's name did this happen? Now Martha and the children will be in serious danger.”

“How did the creature get in?” Alex mused.

“
Who
was it?” Cody mused.

Cole said, “I don't think we're going to get anything out of the children. They just don't know what happened. Marni is so young, and she was traumatized. Artie was taken so quickly, as well…they don't know anything.”

Megan stared at the table, and then drew a circle in the gravy on her plate. “I saw him,” she said quietly.

“What?”
Cody demanded sharply.

“I don't know who it was, though. Someone in a long coat, a railway duster something like Cole's. And a big hat that covered his head. I only saw his back, and then
he was gone. So, I don't know…I don't know anything more.”

“Height, weight?” Cole asked, leaning toward her, and forcing himself not to grab her.

“It was fast, so fast. All I saw was its back—and it knew I was there,” Megan said.

There was silence.

Megan looked around at all of them. “It was not our father!” she said passionately, suddenly focusing on her brother.

“Megan, I don't want it to be, either,” he said.

“Honestly, and you all must believe me. Someone has helped me—twice. I swear that it's the truth. And I believe that… I really believe that it could be him. I don't believe—I'll never believe—that the man my mother admired so much could be doing anything evil. I just don't. And I think that… I think that I'm afraid to leave here tomorrow because I'm worried about the children, and Martha and that…and that Cody, if you do find him, you won't bother to find out the truth!”

Cody stared back at her incredulously. “Megan—”

Oddly, he seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Megan,” Cole said, “Every minute of every day, the situation is growing worse at Harpers Ferry, and that could cause a ricochet effect that no one will ever be able to stop. Frankly, your father was Cody's father first, and he's been managing this kind of situation, these
feelings
you each must have, for a very long time—and he knows how to show restraint at the right time. The children and Martha will be in the house with Cody, Brendan and Alex from now on. They'll be fine. Actually, they'll be better—because of today. Because Cody did study medicine and because he learned that under some circumstances some
chances have to be taken and new techniques utilized. Megan,
you have to learn to have faith in others, and give them your trust!
”

Cody leaned forward then. “Megan, I know how to show restraint.”

“My father is a vampire,”
Alex blurted out.

Megan sat back in stunned surprise, staring at Alex.

“A good vampire,” she said softly. “He was attacked in Victory, Texas, and I received word that he was dead. But he wasn't. Well, he was, but he wasn't. He's not a half-breed of any kind. He's a vampire. But he's never killed—except in our defense, and only vampires who were monsters.” And then she stared at Megan with an unmistakable resolve. “And Cody
didn't
kill my father. He'll be careful of his own, I assure you.”

Megan picked up her fork. “We—we should eat.”

“What? The food will get cold?” Cole asked lightly.

She turned to stare at him, as if she would burst into another tirade.

But when she looked at him, she opened her mouth, shut it and smiled.

E
ARLY THE FOLLOWING
morning, Cole met with Sergeant Terry Newcomb at the railway station. It was a bustling place; Lincoln had learned to use the railroads to his advantage quickly. He was fighting a war on “foreign” soil, and he had used the strategy of railroad troop and supply movement from the beginning, realizing its importance for getting manpower and ammunition where it was needed. It seemed the Confederate commanders had not comprehended just how important the rail lines might be. At the beginning, the Union did their best to tear down what the Confederates couldn't hope to replace. But as time went on, they had begun doing more repairs, as they had to move more in Southern lands.

Although many inventors had worked with model railroads and locomotives, it hadn't been until 1830 that the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad had officially opened. This explained the fact that not many of the generals in the field had actually received any kind of tactical training at West Point regarding such things. The locomotives and cars could also be vulnerable to attack. An exploding boiler could scald a crew, and coming fast on a downed bridge could kill as efficiently as a barrage of bullets.

Against such a barrage, Cole had been assured, the train was clad in the latest in metal and wooden armor They'd be riding in a small steam-powered fortress,
a fortress with small oval windows to keep the heat at bay.

He'd considered that riding the fine horses the government men had given them might have been easier and shorter than the effort it was going to take to arrive not quite seventy miles away by train. But he wanted to be well armed when he got where he was going.

“Bow and arrows, without metal heads, as you asked. Fashioned of the finest cedar available and razor sharp,” the sergeant said, pointing at supply boxes as he read off articles from his list. He had been staring at the paper, but he looked at Cole as he detailed the next item. “One hundred wooden stakes—razor sharp. Fifty-five carved from lignum vitae, and another fifty carved from red oak. And…let's see…one hundred and fifty vials of holy water.”

“It's really holy water, and you know it?” Cole asked, staring at the man, unblinking.

“Yes, sir, it is. I went to the church myself to collect it. I spoke with Father Vartran, who didn't seem surprised that it was something you required.”

“Thank you.”

The sergeant stared at him a moment longer, and then looked back at his list. “Ten cavalry sabers, freshly sharpened, ten Colt army model 1860 handguns—rifled, six shot. Then ten Smith &Wesson repeaters, rifled for accuracy, as well. Ten bowie knives, and one…ladies' small arm purse pistol.”

“That should do it,” Cole replied.

“And the four of us,” Newcomb added, at which point Cole frowned noticeably. “Sir, you're taking the railroad, and the railroad might be disrupted. There are troops moving aboard her as well, but it will be good to have
us with you. As far as we know, the Rebels are in the Shenandoah Valley now, but there are scouting troops, snipers, guerilla bands… They are not going to stop and ask you if you happen to be on a mission for humanity. They will attack you—you're on a railroad under the jurisdiction of the United States government.”

“I know, although I don't believe that our route will bring us into a difficult situation. We're but seventy miles from Harpers Ferry,” Cole replied calmly.

Sergeant Newcomb nodded, listening. “No, sir. But we've learned about dispatch from you. We'll be good companions. And we are all good soldiers, sir—even with our afflictions.”

Good soldiers,
Cole thought. Terry Newcomb limped, and he came with Gerald Banter, still weakened after a bout with malaria. Evan Briar—missing his trigger finger. And Michael Hodges, who was half-deaf.

But Sergeant Terry Newcomb was staring at him with wise, steady eyes, and Cole smiled. He'd worked with these men already, on burial detail. He had been testing the man to determine his team's resolve, to make sure they weren't just following orders. For men can abandon orders far more easily than their own passions when a mission becomes hardened. But they seemed determined to follow his lead with leaden assuredness. They
knew
they were dealing with what wasn't ordinary—even if they didn't want to put a name on it. They were fiercely loyal to Newcomb, and Newcomb was determined to help him. It wouldn't hurt to have some company on the journey to Harpers Ferry—company that knew what they were up against.

Cole set a hand on the man's arm. “Sergeant, I'm will
ing to bet that you're one of the best soldiers to be had. I hadn't realized we had an escort,” he lied.

Newcomb nodded. “You will need us in Harpers Ferry—even if it's for picking up the dead and seeing that they receive the proper burial…for that kind of dead.”

“Yes. And thank you. Now, how long before the train pulls out?”

“An hour and a half, sir. You and Miss Fox will ride your horses back to the station, and the horses will be transported in one of the supply cars, so they'll be fresh upon arrival.”

“Very good,” Cole said. “We'll be back, ready to go. How long will it take?”

“These days? Most of the afternoon. It will be dark when we arrive,” Newcomb said.

“Have your men wear crosses—crucifixes if they're Catholic.”

“Yes, sir. And Star of David if they're Jewish. I'm thanking the Good Lord that I don't have any of those atheist folks in my group, so we can do as you say.”

Cole started to walk away and came back. “Sergeant Newcomb, just call me Cole. I'm starting to feel like an officer. I don't want to be an officer.”

“You are an officer of the law, sir—Cole,” Newcomb said.

“In Texas. We're a long way from Texas,” Cole said, clapping a hand on the man's back.

“You have someone waiting, Cole,” Newcomb pointed out.

Cole turned toward the street where he saw the black carriage he had seen often enough in front of the house.

It wasn't the conveyance Lincoln customarily used
for his rides around the Mall. This was the carriage that meant the president was secreted in the back and did not wish to greet his constituents on a casual basis.

Cole nodded to Newcomb and strode over to the carriage. The driver hopped down and opened the door, bringing down the step. A trolley car, heavy laden with both civilians and troops, drove on ahead as he stepped into the carriage, but the door quickly muffled the sound of the draft horses' hooves.

He slid into the seat that faced the rear. The president, his hands on a walking stick, sat back, facing forward. He looked like a tired old bulldog with a worn, gaunt face.

“Sir,” Cole said.

“Sheriff Granger,” Lincoln returned. “I see that you've received the supplies. It might have been a great deal easier to acquire many of them with a bit more warning.”

“I'm sorry. Circumstances arose last night that put the journey into secondary consideration.”

“And those were?”

Cole hesitated; he knew that Lincoln had recently lost a beloved child.

But there was nothing to say other than the truth.

“Our landlady's children fell into jeopardy.”

He was sorry that he'd been forced to speak. The man with an iron determination to hold a country together, no matter the cost, looked away, deeper grooves setting into his lined face.

“I spend a great deal of my day at the telegraph office,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

Lincoln looked at him gravely. “My heart grows heavier with each individual death, and yet as the notices
come, that toll mounts hourly. I will not argue politics with you—I will first state my appreciation that you understand we are meeting as equals. Human beings with souls and a firm belief that there is a God and all men stand equal before him.”

“This different war that we fight is one that must be won,” Cole assured him.

“Such a strange disease,” the president murmured, looking away again. “They lost another seven men last night. I had ordered that the guard duty be doubled. I had taken many precautions advised to me by Alex and Cody Fox. And still, the men don't understand what they face. Frankly, neither do I. Seven men, Sheriff Granger. In one night. And they did not fall to enemy troops—they did not fall for God and country in the line of battle. Once they are infected with the disease, they will attack anywhere.”

“That, sir, is true.”

“I needed you to know about the last seven deaths,” Lincoln said. “They were heinous, from what I read between the lines of the telegraphs I receive. General Bickford described that one of the dead had his throat torn out, another looked as if he'd been mauled by a grizzly. I know we have bears in the woods, Sheriff Granger, but in the town…the afflicted seem to have the power to rip up men as if they were nothing but paper.”

Cole nodded.

Lincoln sat forward, leaning on the walking stick. “Right now, there is no military action in the area. The major armies in this northeastern sector are engaged in a terrible battle at Cold Harbor once again. I have found a general who will stand his ground in a man named Ulysses Grant. Heaven help us and God forgive me—our
losses are already unimaginable. But Grant will not back down. I think of the thousands of men lost with horror—and yet I know that if the terrible disease raging at Harpers Ferry is not stopped, all of humanity is at risk. There will no longer be a North, and no South. There will be no Union, and certainly no Confederacy. We may not even make it to the elections, just months away.”

“I understand,” Cole said. “I understand that clearly. It's why I came when notified that containing the situation in that prison was imperative.”

“Of course,” the president agreed softly. He nodded. “And now…I did not mean to take your time this morning. I wanted you to be forewarned regarding developments in the last twelve hours.”

“Thank you.”

Lincoln hesitated and looked out the window yet again.

“And then…then there is Mary.”

Cole held silent, waiting.

A deep, trembling sigh shook the man. His hands, giant, long, as gaunt as his face, shook lightly where they lay atop the walking stick.

“Mary, my wife…she woke me up this morning, determined that I speak with you. Willie comes to her. She sees him in her dreams. He is deeply concerned. A young boy was killed and he has come back. Willie sees him. Willie has told Mary that you must make sure you find the boy, and that you see that he—he is
not
the
walking dead,
diseased and killing others. He doesn't want to kill, but…there is no hope for him. He wants to be set free, so that he might make amends, and join his mother in heaven.”

Cole felt the man's dark, sad eyes fall on him again.
He had heard that Lincoln was often at a loss, trying to care for his wife and trying to understand her deep devotion to the dreams and spiritualism that informed her beliefs. This great man seemed to suffer his own demons, and probably understood his wife's torment. And yet, as the president of a nation at war, he had to keep a strong hand on reality and the bloody, gruesome truth of battle, politics and the decisions that must be made daily.

He leaned forward. “You may assure your wife, sir, that I will find the boy, and that I will set him free, if it is the last thing that I do.”

He was rewarded by a slow smile, and another small bout of trembling.

“I pray for nothing but peace,” Lincoln said. “You must understand—I believe that this great nation
is
one under God. I believe that, God willing, I will win the election and that, in time, there will be peace. And I swear to you, while I breathe, it will be an honorable peace. Every man out there is an American. We are brothers, and we will be so again.”

“I pray peace will come,” Cole replied. And with that, he realized that they were through talking. He also realized that the carriage hadn't really gone anywhere.

He started to rise.

“There is a telegraph office in Harpers Ferry. I want to be apprised of developments, if you will be so good as to see that all news is sent. General Bickford will see to it that you are housed and given whatever assistance you request.”

“Thank you,” Cole said.

“God go with you.”

Cole nodded and stepped down from the carriage. The
driver gave a flick of the reins the moment he was out, and the carriage lumbered onto the street.

Cole looked after him and shivered suddenly. He gave himself a mental shake. He was a Texan at heart, and he shouldn't have agreed with the ruler of a “foreign” power. But then again, he shouldn't have been in the capital of the Union.

Fighting vampires could certainly give a man very strange bedfellows.

 

C
HILDREN WERE
certainly the most resilient little beings in the world, Megan decided.

Although Artie remained afraid that he had failed his mother and sister, he was awake, aware, alert and energetic in the morning. He sat with Cody, Megan and Alex for a long time, listening intensely as Cody taught him about the things he must watch out for, and what he could do to protect himself and his family. Artie was a very sharp young man. Perhaps, somewhere in the back of his mind, he had vague memories that he could dredge up to the surface regarding the attack the night before. But for now he was focusing on defending his mother and sister.

The household was now adorned in crucifixes, blessed by the Catholic Church. Cody had spent the morning arming each room in the house with carved wooden crosses that could double as stakes if the need arose. Vials of holy water had replaced perfumes and cosmetics on the dressing table tops. Even little Marni understood that if someone should come near her, she was to toss the contents of one of the vials at an intruder, or at anyone who seemed intent on coming too close to her.