Night of the Vampires (28 page)

When it ended, she was exhausted. And yet they had to maintain their vigilance, for another attack could commence at any minute.

“How long until daylight?” one of the soldiers asked wearily.

“Just another hour, son, just another hour,” Newcomb said.

They waited.

But once again, they would find the mode of attack had changed.

Megan heard it first. A beat. A drumbeat. She saw Cody stiffen, and they all listened to the steady rat-tat-tat-tat of a drummer boy's drum, the beat that led men as they marched into war.

The sound came right up to the chapel door.

And then it stopped.

C
OLE HEARD THE
drumbeat, and he knew that he had been right.

The drummer boy hadn't perished in the fall. He had been found by whatever vampire or vampires had been pulling the strings since the Battle of the Wilderness. He had been assumed dead, buried alive and revived by the effects of the vampire's bite.

Cole felt Megan at his side, and he knew that her gentle touch was a warning that they were all susceptible to their emotions, and that he couldn't afford to be fooled by this.

But he didn't intend to make any mistakes. He had never promised that he would find the boy and return him to the loving arms of his parents. He had vowed that he would find the boy, yes, and then allow him to lie in peace, in the arms of God or whatever great power ruled over them all, yes. But not to live.

He looked out the window, and there was the boy. He was in the tattered remnants of his regiment's uniform, his kepi in place over dusty brown hair. He showed his youth as he just stood there, picking up a beat once again. Rat-tat. Rat-tat-tat. Stop.

He smiled, a boyish grin.

“You've been looking for me!” he called out. “I'm here. You fools. I've been looking out for you, although
I did think about a bit of revenge. I mean, you all would deserve it, you know? I was a prisoner, and you teased me, and you made me cry, which was hard. I'm twelve. I wanted to be a man, and you made me cry. I wanted to be a man, and I was only a boy.”

He waited, and then drummed out a beat once again.

“Come out! Look at me! I'm not broken to bits anymore. I've healed. I'm much, much better.”

He looked so much like a regular child to Cole.

“Listen. This is the truth! I should have smothered, the way you all buried me so quickly. But I got out of that louse-infested shroud and dug free. Oh, come on out now. You teased me, but you liked me. I'm a good kid. I just wanted to go home to my mother. Please…come on. I'm just a kid.”

Cole found himself mesmerized for a moment, watching the boy. He looked like a kid. Just like any kid. Just like dozens of boys who had been nothing but
children,
and yet had been drawn into the whoop and holler of the war effort, drawn to dreams of valiant victory.

A kid. He didn't even have a hint of growth of a beard on his cheeks.

“Cole,” Megan whispered softly at his side.

He nodded.

The boy grinned and started tapping on his drum again.

“Come on, fellows. You said that no one could keep a beat like me. I want to be your friend again. I want to sit around while you drink your whiskey and tell your tall tales. Please, I'm well, but I'm lonely, and I'm afraid out here. There are monsters in the night, you know. Terrible monsters. I've tried so hard to hide from them.”

Newcomb groaned softly.

Megan's touch on Cole tightened.

He exhaled and drew an arrow from his quiver.

He took slow and careful aim.

And he fired.

And caught the boy dead in the heart.

The boy didn't fall. He let out an unholy screeching sound and began to shake where he stood, the hands holding the drumsticks then causing an erratic and horrible beat. A pale miasma of ash and shadow formed around him.

“Jesus!” Newcomb said, and crossed himself.

Only after all that did the boy fall, and it seemed as if Cole heard a collective sigh from all those within the chapel.

There was silence then, broken at last when Dickens asked, “Should we go and get him, make sure that it's finished?”

Cole shook his head slowly. “No. They might still be there, trying to draw us out. It's almost daylight. We'll wait until then.”

They eased back down at their positions. Megan slunk low next to Cole. She took his hand and smiled sadly as she looked at him. “You fulfilled your promise,” she told him.

He nodded glumly.

“We'll get Father Costello over here,” she said, “and he can say a service for all of the men, and it won't matter what their faith was.”

He looked at her then, reached out and cradled her cheek. He wondered that she could have the blood of such monsters running in her veins, and be so deeply concerned for the well-being of others, so gentle and so
tender in her outlook at life…
beneath
the surface, he reminded himself. And he almost smiled, thinking of the very ferocious young woman he had first met. But Cody had fought his inner demons by going to medical school—Megan had followed men onto the field of battle, not to kill, but to try to heal when she could.

But he knew then that he had uncovered much more than just her softer side. He wasn't sure how it had happened. Lust could exist at first sight, but not love. He had never known anything as sexually glorious and satisfying as sleeping with her. And he knew he loved her then. As they sat in the poor, abandoned chapel with death all around them, he knew that it had been something that had grown bit by bit, when they talked, when he had watched her move, when he had seen the beauty within her heart and her soul.

He touched her cheek, ready to say so—

“Thank God!” Newcomb's gruff voice suddenly boomed through everything, even Cole's thoughts. “The daylight is here at last. Men, we've got to divide, catch a few hours' sleep. Those things don't need rest to stay alert, but we do.”

Cole squeezed Megan's hand and rose. “Quick catnaps, fellows. We're heading back down to Harpers Ferry. We haven't the manpower to fight night after night—we're going to get reinforcements. We'll catch two hours of sleep, divide up and one hour per man. Then we'll be ready to ride on down.”

He walked to the door and opened it. Morning had come quickly.

He walked over to the body of the drummer boy, and he knelt down.

And he did what had to be done.

 

M
EGAN DARED TO
catch the first hour's rest, and she was surprised to wake and discover that she had slept soundly, through the entire two hours. She rose quickly, noting that Newcomb had the men packing in a manner that allowed each man to easily access certain supplies. She hurried out to find Cole.

He was standing by the horses, looking puzzled.

“What is it?” she asked him.

“The horses,” he said.

“What about them?” she asked.

“All those hungry vampires out there—but they didn't attack the horses. A horse would be one really nice supply of blood.”

“We're meant to take the horses,” she said. “They've been left on purpose, so that we can ride out through the trails, supposedly.”

He nodded. He looked back at the chapel. “When we leave here, we'll definitely be under attack in the open. But if we stay…we'll run low on supplies, low on food and low on manpower, because even if our fellows are hardened and battle weary, they'll have to have some real sleep.”

She hesitated. “I can go,” she told him.

He smiled, but took her by the shoulders. He brushed her lips lightly with his own, a kiss that wasn't passionate, just brief and tender. “Megan, you can't ride down by yourself. I know that you are amazing in your abilities, and I even know that a single strike wouldn't hurt you much. But they'll attack en masse, and there's no way even you could protect yourself from a horde falling upon you—none of us could.”

She stiffened her shoulders, loath to point out the dif
ferences between them, and yet knowing that he was right and something must be done.

“Cole,” she said quietly, earnestly, “I can move as they move. I can become shadow, and I can—I can be there before they've known that I've gone.”

He winced, lowering his head.

Yes, in essence I am one of them,
she thought.

He looked at her with his grimace set, and still, somehow, it seemed to catch at her throat and her heart, and hurt to the core. She didn't want to leave—she definitely didn't want to leave his side. She was so afraid that when she did so, she would never find her way back again. In fact, she realized that since she'd met Cole she hadn't even shifted out of her human form, so secretly scared she'd been—deep under the surface—that such a change would stop her return to this intriguing, wonderful man. But now that she was certain that she was more than just a physical challenge, or even a physical plaything, to him, the prospect of taking another form wasn't as terrifying.

“Cole, it's really our only hope,” she told him.

He shook his head. “You have eight other men in that little chapel who would never dream of letting you go.”

She turned around to head for the chapel.

“Hey, where are you going?” he called after her.

“To tell them the truth!” she yelled back over her shoulder.

“No!” He came running after her, catching her by the shoulders. “I've taught them not to give in to women or children, Megan. If they think that you're—what you are, they may fall upon you and kill you, thinking they're doing the only right thing!”

She hesitated. He had a point.

“Cole, we have to have reinforcements, or more will die,” she told him.

“No. I will think of something else,” he said. “I've got the men aware that our formation must be tight, and that we probably will be attacked. We'll make it,” he said firmly.

“You know I'm your only chance,” she whispered.

He drew her into his arms.

“Then I'll die happy with you.” He released her and headed back to the chapel.

She watched him go, and it seemed that her heart had already been torn in pieces.

But it didn't matter. It couldn't matter. This time, she knew she was right.

She took her horse quickly. She had to have taken her mount, or the men would be suspicious.

She rode down the trail, listening, aware. But the attackers were watching the chapel.

Waiting for the men to move.

She left her mount near the foot of the main hill, gave the mare a slap to head her on in the direction of town, and paused, concentrating, summoning forth those feelings she'd neglected for a little while now, willing the change to take place.

When it did, she flew, and with all speed.

 

T
HE LAST OF THE SUPPLIES
were gathered, with the men having checked and double-checked the position of the bows, quivers, stakes and holy water they all carried on their bodies. The packhorse was being loaded, and they were nearly ready.

That was when Cole called out for Megan, and she didn't answer.

He hurried over to Newcomb. “Where's Megan?”

Newcomb frowned, his grizzled face caught in a mask of concern and consternation. “She was with you, Cole. Last I saw her, she had awoken and was heading out to you.”

Cole marched out to the burial ground, now little more than a field of dug-out dirt, hacked-up coffins and the remnants of the cremation pyre they had ignited.

“Megan!”
he cried, and his voice carried on the wind, but there was no answer.

And he knew.

His fists tightened at his sides and he fell to his knees. He wasn't angry.

He was frightened.

He heard Newcomb running up behind him. “Sir! Her horse is gone.”

He nodded.

“Tell the men to get back into the chapel, Terry. Megan has gone for reinforcements.”

“What? She'll never make it, sir! We've got to go after her!”

“No, Terry, she's with us because she's so good. We have to give her a chance. We have to be prepared to end this thing, here, tonight.”

 

S
HE DIDN'T HEAD FOR
the town itself straightaway. Instead, she went to the graveyard and landed as shadow. It was lonely and desolate: the perfect place to find her form again. There she willed herself back to look like what she had always sworn she really was.

She paused for a moment, finding her strength, because it had been a long, hard, speeding journey, especially since she hadn't fed or slept much.

But she couldn't tarry long, so she headed to the church and found Daniel making repairs to the roof with Father Costello.

Daniel saw her first, and there might have been something in the way she was walking that alarmed him. From up on the ladder he cried out and quickly came down to her. He caught her as she swooned to fall. Father Costello rushed forward, as well. They led her into the church and sat her down on a pew. “Megan! What's happened…the men, Cole…is all lost?” he queried desperately.

She shook her head. “No, no…one man is lost. And the others will be. They need reinforcements. It's a full-fledged war up there, Father, and our men are starting to run out of supplies.”

“There's blood left in the cellar,” Daniel told Father Costello. “I'll get it.”

He left her with Father Costello. “I've done what you asked—we have a healthy supply of holy water here, and there are stakes and hammers, hatchets, swords, mallets, down with the Union garrison. We'll get word to General Bickford. It's been completely quiet since you've been gone, so he'll readily set out another troop…. But how did you get here?”

She looked into his deep, concerned eyes. “You don't want to know,” she told him.

He smiled at her. “You've been safe in my church, Megan. There is nothing that will ever convince me that you are not one of the most beloved creatures of our Father.”

Daniel came with a large canteen filled with blood. She drank deeply. Pig's blood. Not her favorite, but it was filled with whatever need she had for the substance.

“There's no time to waste,” she said. Father Costello
helped her to her feet and started to escort her on her own out the door.

“Wait!” Daniel called.

They both turned. “Daniel, they might take you as a Southern prisoner,” the priest warned.

Daniel shook his head. “I'm just a mountain boy, Father. Megan found me on her way here, and I helped her to the town. It makes sense.”