Night of the Vampires (8 page)

“There are vampires loose in the city,” she said flatly.

He hesitated. He'd always suspected that she knew more than they had realized. But his protective instincts wanted to guard her against even knowing this level of evil existed. “There's something like a plague. It—it makes people crazy and murderous.”

“Right. A plague of vampires,” she said.

“That's not something you say out loud, you know. People will lock you up.” He looked at her very seriously.

She smiled. “I know that, Cole. I'm glad you're here.”

“How do you know about the vampires?”

“I've known Megan a long time,” she said. Then she added worriedly, “She's a good soul, Cole. She'll never hurt you. She'll never hurt anyone. You—you wouldn't ever hurt her, would you?”

Hurt
Megan. Could he ever hurt Megan? he wondered.

“She's Cody's sister,” he said. “But you must have known that.”

“I knew that she was looking for a brother,” Martha said. “And I knew Alexandra because she lived in D.C. and we were friends. I didn't meet Cody until you all came here. But I do know Megan. And I care about her.”

“Why didn't she tell us that she knew you?”

Martha's smile deepened. “She was protecting me, I believe. She wouldn't want anyone thinking that I was a Southern spy. I told you—she would never take a chance on hurting anyone. And the vampires are just a bit of something more hideous in the midst of a hideous war. But, it means that we all have to be careful on many levels.”

He nodded. “I guess I'm glad you know. It will help make you truly vigilant. Make sure everything is locked up, Martha. And get some sleep. You have little ones to attend to.”

“Thank you, Cole. Thank you for being here.”

“We'll do our best, ma'am,” he told her, tipped his hat and bade her good-night.

As he watched Martha leave, Cole was suddenly aware of just how tired he was. He was bone weary. He thought that surely he'd go to his room, clean up the best he could for the night and fall sound asleep.

But, of course, he knew that Megan was sleeping down the hall.

He was highly irritated with her—good God, she
couldn't seem to think rationally. What kind of information had she thought she'd get from the man?

He lay down to sleep with that thought in his mind.

And with a vision that crept in, as well.

Megan, alabaster pure and perfectly sculpted from head to toe. Naked head to naked toe.

He was, after all, human.

And the day hadn't been half-bad. She could be charming. She could be sweet. And no matter what she was beneath, when he touched her, she was warm and vital.

She was dangerous. She was eager to insist that someone else was out there, and ridiculously certain that a dead man turned vampire could tell them where this disease of the East had originated.

He punched his pillow, adapted his position and fell asleep at last.

That night, he dreamed.

He and Megan were in a misty place, and he could hear water running, dancing as it rode over boulders and pebbles in a clear, clean brook. There was a hazy moon somewhere above the mist, casting an opaque light upon the world.

She came forth from the light: ever beautiful, sleek, porcelain. She walked through the mist, and he waited, thinking that he had lived his entire life just to reach out to her and hold her. Her smile held the charm she so easily offered. Her hair seemed spun gold in the moonlight. Her eyes were light, gold and red and green, a promise of fire.

She came to him. And he reached out.

And she turned, her smile broadening….

Fangs longer than those of a cobra or an Arctic wolf.

The dream ended in a burst of red—bloodred.

He sat up with a jerk. He was alone in his room at Martha Graybow's boardinghouse.

And he had dreamed, nothing more.

And yet…

He wondered.

 

M
EGAN WOKE SLOWLY
in the morning. She did so with a bizarre sense of serenity. The sun had risen, birds were chirping, and the air in her bedroom seemed light and beautiful, with dust motes dancing within it.

Then, memory of the day and night gone by returned to her, and she jumped up with a jolt. She dressed quickly and hurried downstairs, making it in time to hear the wheels of a carriage clip-clop down the street. She walked to the front door and opened it. The carriage was gone.

Frowning, she went into the kitchen. There were still biscuits and bacon on the table, but the kitchen was empty.

Had they all gone and left her?

Cole was completely mistrustful of her.

But did Cody doubt her, as well?

The sound of hammering attracted her attention and she hurried out to the backyard. Cole was near the doorway to the outer kitchen, attaching new hinges to the wood that used to be a door.

He looked at her without warmth, and with a fair amount of suspicion in his eyes.

“Good morning,” she said carefully.

“Grab me a handful of those nails over there. Please,” he added at the last.

She did so.

“Where is everyone?” she asked.

“Out,” he said simply.

“Out where?”

“They've gone off on business.”

She sighed with exasperation. “What kind of business?”

He didn't answer. His attention was reserved for the door he was repairing.

“What kind of business?” she repeated.

He looked up and stared at her, arching a brow.

“Oh, all right,” she told him. “Fine. I've got it. It has something to do with the
Union
government. And I'm not trusted. But I guess you're not trusted, either. Well, you are from Texas.”

He leaned back, staring at her. “Brendan Vincent came from Texas. He was with the U.S. military most of his adult life. He chose to stay with the Union. Every man has to make a decision, and every decision hasn't been dictated solely by where a man was born.”

“So, you're a Unionist?”

He set his hammer down, impatient. “I don't rightly see myself as either. I think that it's all just a damned sad thing. I dream of a day when it will be over, and that's that. And the next person who asks me my opinion of the war…oh, God, never mind. I am a Texan. I love Texas. I love the frontier. I've spent endless days keeping the law with Indians, Comancheros and plain old horse thieves. I don't feel like fighting the fellows with whom I went to the academy. I'm here to fight vampires. Then I'm going home, and I'm going to hope that the human war doesn't
ever reach Victory, and that my quiet little town's still there when I get back.”

“I'm sorry. I'm just curious why you're not with them.”

His head was down and he didn't answer her.

“Oh. I see. You were left behind to watch over me.”

He finished hammering a nail and looked up. “You did tell us that you had arrived when you did because of the Southern government. You might want to explain that.”

“I told you. A certain general—”

“A certain general?”

“Yes, a general.”

“
Which
general?” Cole demanded.

“Does it matter which?”

“It could.”

She stood stubbornly for a minute. Then she sighed. “Look, Cole, I already tried to explain. It was a long time ago—after the battle at Sharpsburg—that men in the military realized that something more was going on than simply the slaughter of war,” she said drily. “After the last battle, at the Wilderness, when so many Southern troops were taken captive, we were on the battlefield trying to sort the wounded from the dead. Some of the dead—weren't dead. Or they were dead, but when we tried to bury a few, they came back to life. I was there. And there are those who still believe that men suddenly rose from mortal wounds to fight one another.”

“Um. So there you were. Conveniently. Fighting in the war, are you?” he asked casually.

“No. I was on the field helping the injured. I explained
everything to you, told you the truth at the beginning. You know who and what I am exactly!”

“Yes, you've given an explanation.”

“Oh, please! What do you think I'm doing up here? You've been with me. You know that I'm Cody's sister, and you've seen that I'm very good at what I do—and that I'm no more lethal than Cody.”

“I've certainly never suggested that Cody can't be lethal.”

“Oh!” she said, exasperated. She turned to head back into the house.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“Back in. Obviously, we have nothing to talk about.”

“We'd have a lot to talk about—if you actually talked,” he said. “But that's beside the point. You don't have to talk. Just give me a hand with the door. It's your fault that it's broken.”

“What? That is ridiculous. You broke the door down.”

“To save your life.”

“I'm very good at saving my own life.”

“I saved it anyway,” he said briefly. “Get over by the doorframe. I need to align the hinges.”

She was tempted to leave him to fix the door himself, but since there were a number of people—including Martha and her children—who used the outer kitchen, she gritted her teeth and walked stiffly to where he'd indicated. He hiked up the heavy wooden door and grunted as he shoved it in place, spare nails in his mouth, the hammer balanced in the crook of his arm. She stood to support the door as he grabbed the hammer, but the
door was well behaved, and stayed in place easily as he secured the new hinges.

When all the nails were out of his mouth and hammered in, he stepped back, then swung it open and closed.

“Is that it?” she asked.

“Go in and try the new bolt.”

She did so, sliding the new wooden bolt. It worked well, sliding easily in and out of place. It was larger than the previous one.

She opened the door and came out. “I thought we were supposed to be heading out to more of the cemeteries and burial grounds today.”

“Soon.”

“Soon?”

“When the horses get here. You ride, I assume.”

“Of course I ride,” she said. “I'm from Virginia.”

He smiled. The point he had been making all morning, apparently.

“Well, you may come and knock on my door when you need me. I'll remove my untrustworthy presence until then,” she told him.

“Suit yourself.”

She started walking toward the house, angry and not sure why. She hadn't imagined that anyone Cody was with wouldn't just welcome her with open arms. Stupid, on her part. She hadn't known her brother. He hadn't known he had a sister. Maybe she had just known about Cody and wanted family so badly that she'd expected a miracle. But Cody did seem to care about her now. He
knew
they were related. Easy enough to see. Cole seemed to accept the fact that she was Cody's sister easily
enough. And she had even thought that he was beginning to trust her.

Until last night.

Maybe guilt had inspired her determination to try and capture Samuel Reeves, rather than immediately dispatch him. And maybe he couldn't have been saved. So few could withstand the agonizing hunger that true vampirism caused.

At the rear door to the main house, she paused.

“Yes?” he said.

She spun around. He'd been watching her go.

Maybe he had even known that she was going to stop.

She strode back to him.

“Lee.”

“What?”

“You asked which general. Lee. He's an amazing man. He's a brilliant general and the finest humanitarian you'll ever met—all in one. He keeps it private, though. His face is a mask of stoicism and courage when he's on the field. But I've heard him weep at night. You say you love Texas. Well, Robert Lee loved Virginia, and Virginia seceded. The death appalls him.” She stopped speaking, knowing that she was passionate about the man who was leading troops to certain death on a daily basis. That's what a general did.

His head cast warily to the side. “You're telling me that Robert E. Lee sent you to Washington, D.C.—but you're not spying in any way?”

She waved a hand in the air. “It's a long explanation. My mother is loosely related to his mother, or some such thing. I volunteered my services as a nurse on the
battlefield. No one wanted to allow me to follow the army at first, but I kept coming back from the field unscathed, so…I was useful.”

“And sometimes you were a courier—who happened to be in the right place to overhear things at certain times?” he asked.

“Yes, I've admitted that. But I'm telling you that I'm here now because I heard that Cody had gone West—and then I heard that he was traveling to Washington, D.C. And it was right after the horrible, horrible battle at the Wilderness when something came and attacked after darkness fell, and the corpses came back to life. We'd dealt with it before, but we had thought that we'd managed to stop things—where they were. Many of the wounded and captured from the Wilderness had been taken to the prison. I swear to you, it's as simple as that. Lee never forgets the battle dead for a minute. But not even he had ever seen anything like the men with their throats ripped open, or the strength and horror of some of the undead who dismantled their prey by ripping off their limbs.”

“So, he sent you North,” Cole said.

She hesitated. “He allowed me to come North.”

“Why did you hesitate?” he asked immediately.

“I just— I think that a number of people know… I think that they can't admit that there are really monsters out there. They are afraid to believe in monsters, because if they did, they couldn't hate their fellow men so much.”

He was silent for a minute. Then he seemed to be listening. She heard what he heard; the arrival of horses out front.

“Someone is coming?” she asked. “And you know about it?”