Night of the Vampires (27 page)

He nodded, smiling slowly. “You're right.”

She grinned in return. “Why, thank you.”

It was decided. Newcomb, Hodges, and the three newcomers would stay behind while Dickens, Cole, Megan, and Banter and Briar made their way to the creek. It wasn't far—just a hundred yards downhill and through the trees.

The creek, splashing over rocks and falling downward toward the river, was beautiful. The water was cool and refreshing, and the air was clean. They set up a little area with a four-foot pool for Megan to have to herself while the men were upstream but a few yards, though divided by a slight bend in the creek and a thatch of trees.

She could hear them laughing as she enjoyed the brilliant blue of the water herself, and it made her smile. She scrubbed her hair with the bit of soap she'd been given, scrubbed her body and dipped low into the shallow water, shivering at the chill of it but delighted at the cleanliness it allowed her to feel.

She rose, smoothing back her wet hair, and opened her eyes.

There was a
whooshing
noise from above her. She ducked again instantly, and rose just as swiftly, looking around herself.

There were shadows. Shadows in the air, despite the sunlight. They were moving together toward the trees, and they seemed to be tumbling together as they disappeared into the canopy of the branches.

She blinked, and the sight was gone.

She blinked again, and the heavy sense of unease remained with her. She was facing the trees, and she could have sworn, again, that she saw something, heard something, and that there was movement in the forest.

“Cole!”

She shouted his name, running from the water, heedless of the rocks and pebbles beneath her bare feet. She reached the shore and didn't bother to dry herself, but scrambled into her man's shirt and breeches, staring up at the trees.

Cole, with nothing but a shirt wrapped around his waist, came running around the soggy bank, nearly crashing into her. “What? Where?” he demanded quickly as he took her into his arms.

“There—there's something in the trees right there. Something that has been watching us!”

She stumbled back into her boots as the men—in their breeches and with their knives at the ready—came in Cole's wake.

“Let's get back to the embankment on the other side, get ourselves well armed,” Cole said, drawing her with him.

Dickens stood protectively next to Megan while Cole gathered the rest of his clothing. “Stick together!” Cole ordered, heading into the woods with Megan at his side.

“What did you see, exactly?” he asked her.

“A shadow,” she told him.

They walked in formation. That way, one of them looked in each direction. Cole paused suddenly, studying a branch that was newly broken, the green of the stem showing them that it hadn't been exposed long.

Megan looked around. “There! Just there, ahead!”

She'd seen it again. The shadow. Only it had flowed strangely. It had been real…. It had been substance…. It had been hiding in the trees. And when it moved, it had done so with a swish, as if it had moved…as if it wore shirttails that flowed behind it.

She ran forward, heedless of the others, but when she reached the location, Cole at her heels, there was nothing there.

“Megan!” he called. “Don't do it—don't go ahead like that! There's safety in numbers!”

“I'm sorry, Cole,” she said. “I didn't mean to rush ahead so far.”

He nodded. “I know you can handle yourself. But we all need help now and then, especially during the kind of onslaught we faced last night.”

“Of course.”

The others joined them. They started forward again, winding through the trees back toward the chapel rather than taking the established path.

A startled cry behind them caused them to spin around. Dickens and Newcomb's man, Hodges, remained.

The other soldier was gone.

Dickens shouted, “Henry, Henry, where are you?”

There was silence. The breeze didn't even ruffle a leaf.

“What in the name of Lucifer—he was here, he was right behind me, I could almost feel his breath on my neck!” Dickens said. “He cried out, and now he's gone! Vanished, as if into thin air.”

“Tighten up, and don't split up!” Cole commanded. He looked at Megan. “Listen to me now, I beg of you—listen to me!”

She nodded, her heart heavy. The shadow had taken Henry.

They turned back and searched for the man. Almost arm in arm, they stayed that close, but they found no sign of Henry or any creature lurking in the woods. After what must have been hours, they headed back to the chapel with heavy hearts. They had to explain to Newcomb and his men.

“Maybe he'll make his way back,” Dickens said hopefully.

“It was a mistake,” Cole said flatly as they spoke with Newcomb, still on guard at the door to the chapel. “We've had a man picked off, and we never saw what happened, what took him. We searched—and he's gone.”

“It was Henry,” Dickens said mournfully. He hunched down, looking ill. “It was Henry. His wife just had a baby. A baby boy.”

They were all silent.

“Well, then,” Newcomb said at last. “I guess the rest of us will just stay dirty.” He looked at Cole. “We need more men.”

“It's too late to head down for reinforcements now,” Cole said. “It'll be dark in another hour. It's time to shore up for the night. I think we're going to take a different approach. Megan, we need a seal of holy water around the chapel, maybe additionally around the windowsills, too, just in case. We're not going to fight them in the open. If they come tonight, we're going to shoot them out of the sky from within, and clean up when the major onslaught is over—when the light comes in the morning. They can be up and about in the light, but they're not as strong as they are in the night, not the wild ones…. Maybe, though, they'll all just let us get some rest tonight instead.”

Megan nodded, and went into the chapel for the holy water. She started carefully, as they needed to guard their supply, but did her job thoroughly as she trailed a tiny stream of water around the circumference of the chapel.

She wanted to talk to Cole, but he was working with the men, setting up guard stations at the window and at the door. Eventually he pronounced them as ready as they would ever be, and that it was time for mess.

That's when she realized that she was starving.

The fire was lit again just outside the chapel door, and the men set about preparing a meal, though far more quietly than they had the night before. Given her cup of mushy hardtack and seasoned meat, Megan sat beside Cole and spoke softly.

“Cole, I saw it again today—there were two shadows. Two of them. One was coming for me. The other was trying to protect me.”

He looked at her, and he set an arm around her shoulders. “Megan, your father could have caught a ship to Europe by now, for all you know.”

“But he hasn't. I can feel it. But—”

“Megan, when they attack, we can't just stop and ask them all if they might happen to be your and Cody's father.”

“I know that, Cole. But if one of them is my father, he
won't be
attacking us,” she implored him to understand.

He didn't answer. He pulled her a little closer. He looked at her and smiled. “Your hair smells good.”

She smiled in return. “And you smell delicious.”

“Good enough to eat?”

“Of course.”

He didn't allow himself much of a moment of tenderness. He eased from her and rose, gathering her all-purpose bowl and his own to their small wash bucket to rinse out. When he was done, he addressed the others. “We'll feed the fire now and let it burn as long as it will. They don't like fire.”

The men rose, gathering bracken and branches to keep the fire going as the darkness of the coming night settled down upon them in earnest.

Megan caught Cole's hand as he surveyed the night sky and waited for the soldiers to finish their task.

“There's something more, Cole.”

He gazed down at her, his forehead wrinkling into a frown. “What?”

“I saw a skirt.”

He stared at her, truly puzzled. “What?”

“When I ran ahead today…when I'd seen something in the trees directly in front of us, I saw a long fabric trailing the shadow. I think it was a skirt. Cole, our evil creature could be a woman.”

He sighed, grimacing. “Megan, you don't like Lisette. I understand that. I don't like many of her ways myself. But to accuse her of being the mastermind of all vampires is stretching the imagination a bit, don't you think?”

“First, I didn't accuse Lisette. And secondly, if she's old and practiced at her existence, she could very well have fooled us all. But I wasn't implying that it was Lisette. I'm simply telling you.”

He nodded in agreement, but she thought that he doubted her words. Then a curious cast came to his eyes and she almost backed away.

Yes, it could be a woman. She was a woman, and he knew the truth about her.

She turned away and walked into the chapel, taking up a position at one of the windows. They were down to nine. The chapel had ten windows, two in front, two in the back and three on each side. She watched as the men boarded up the rear, hacking up pieces of broken pews to nail across the windows. They determined to leave the front unbarricaded, should they need to flee amid fighting, but also as a lure, where they could focus their firepower on the horde if it came through all at once.

It seemed, as the last nail drove home, that the lanterns inside did nothing to ease the cast of darkness and shadow now upon them. The men took up stances at the windows, vials of holy water toyed with in some of their hands.

Hours passed. Cody gave alternate men leave to doze at their posts.

More time passed.

And then, it came. The attack.

But it wasn't as it had been the night before.

They heard a cry from the copse outside the chapel door.

Dickens was guarding at one of the front windows.

“It's Henry!” he cried with delight. He started for the door.

Cole caught him by the shoulders, swinging him around. “Dickens—it's not Henry. Listen to me, and listen well. It's not Henry—not the Henry you knew anymore!”

Megan came to look out the window, and she saw that Henry was standing there, indeed, just as Dickens had said. He stood casually by the remnants of fire, where only the embers still glowed red. He set his hands on his hips and called out to them.

“Hey! What's the matter with you all? I was lost, you idiots, and you left me out there. But I've found my way back and you've barricaded the place against me! Hey, come on, you asses! Open the door, let me in!”

Cole picked up his bow, slinging a quiver over his shoulder. He took out one of his specially hewn arrows and set his sights on Henry.

“Stop!” Dickens begged. “What if it
is
Henry? What if he really was lost.”

“Dickens, it can take several bites for a man to become a vampire, or a good strike can turn him immediately, and he's been gone now a while. We have to…to do what we have to do.”

“But he sounds just like Henry!” Dickens said.

“It's not Henry, son,” Sergeant Newcomb said.

Cole was about to fire.

But none of them was quick enough to stop Dickens. He threw the door open and ran heedlessly to his comrade.

What happened then happened so quickly that Megan wasn't sure of what she saw herself. Dickens nearly reached Henry. Henry opened his mouth and let out a cry like a wolf, and he looked at Dickens with fangs exposed and saliva dripping. He lifted off the ground and started toward the hapless soldier.

But Cole had been ready.

His arrow flew, catching Henry dead center in the heart.

Henry seemingly froze in midair for a minute, and then dropped to the ground.

“Get the hell in here, now, Dickens!” Newcomb bellowed, and the young corporal, frozen in shock, his jaw agape, didn't even blink.

“Now!”
Newcomb shouted.

Cole burst past Newcomb, going for the young man. He grabbed him by the cuff of his shirt and jerked him back, dragging him to the chapel door. Just as they reached it, a flurry of noises arose from the trees and everything seemed to come at them at once—flopping, massive-winged shadows.

Cole nearly threw Dickens inside and turned just in time to fend off one of the shades. Megan backed from the window, her heart in her throat as she lobbed vial after vial of holy water. The men had sprung to, as well, and they used their stakes and axes against the onslaught of wings.

The area at the door began to smoke, sizzle and steam. Cole came back in and slammed the door in his wake; they could no longer afford to keep an opening. All their own fire would have to be through the windows. Hodges understood the situation immediately; he hurriedly dragged one of the remaining pews to set against the door.

The fluttering suddenly came to a dead stop.

Dickens was on the floor, but he quickly stood up, his stance tall.

“For the love of God, forgive me!”
he said. “So help me God, I will not fail or falter again, or be caught off guard.”

“Get back to your post. They're coming again,” was all Cole said.

The men ran to their window posts, ready when the siege began.

The horde struck the left side of the chapel, and Megan raced to join the men there, a quiver of arrows over her shoulder and a sack of holy-water vials in hand.

“To the right!” Newcomb cried.

“Hold your posts. Let Megan be the reinforcement,” Cole ordered. “Watch it!”

“There, there! Right there!”

“Steady boys…steady…”

And so they fought, and so the voices went on for the next thirty minutes. They had realized quickly any weakened position would be targeted, and that none could be left unmanned for too long. Megan moved from position to position, throwing herself past Hodges when she saw that one had gotten partway through the window. She felt the scrape of a fang against her arm, but she knew it would do her little harm; she merely prayed that Hodges, or the other men, hadn't seen it.