Sam Harlan (Book 3): Damned Cold (22 page)

Henry’s sigh, even over the phone, conveyed a sense of bone-weary exhaustion. “I can’t help you out, Sam. I got my own problems. Sit tight for a couple of days and I’ll get there when I can.”

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to tell him that I wouldn’t lift a finger until the Vampire Sheriff was here and then we’d kick ass and take names together. I wanted him to ride in with all his power and all his experience and bail me out of my mess, save Callie, and make everything right again.

But it was night, and it was damned cold out. The screen door opened and Father Jameson helped Dawn and Jodie carry Father Mosley’s body into the house. Well, Dawn was carrying Mosley’s head, holding it to her chest like a basketball, looking like she might cry at any moment.

“It can’t wait,” I said to Henry. “I’m going to have to do this alone.”

There was another pause. “What about the Sister?”

“She’s been taken,” I said, “by Milford Barlow.”

“You’re joshing me.”

“I know,” I said, “it kinda shocked me, too. What’s weird is that her crucifix was glowing. It hurt him. His skin was blistering, but he managed to carry her into the night before I could stop him.”

“That kind of control is beyond most mortals,” Henry said, his voice deeper and more guttural than usual, the way he got when he forgot his aw-shucks folksy charm. “To subvert a vampire’s will that way requires the kind of magic that bespeaks things older than the mortal world. Do you understand, boy?”

“Not really, no. Does it matter? Anything can be killed. You told me that yourself.”

“Anything
can
be killed,” Henry agreed, “but it takes a hard man to do what needs to be done. You need to be that hard man, Sam. Don’t hesitate. You’re Jack’s kin, but you haven’t really embraced that. You need to let it out.”

“Let what out?” I asked.

“The killer,” Henry said. “I can’t help you this time. You got to do it yourself. Good luck, son. Don’t die on me.”

The phone went dead as the call ended, but I continued as if Henry was still on the line. “I hope I don’t let you down.”

* * *

“Tell me truthfully,” I said, “that part about asking Meriwether three times and him having to tell the truth. Were you serious about that?”

Jodie Rexford was sitting across from me at the Kormans’ kitchen table. Father Jameson was sitting to my right, listening intently, and Dawn McKie was sitting to my left.

“I didn’t lie,” Jodie said.

I glanced at Jameson, who nodded his head. “If that thing about asking three times is true, then how did Meriwether get around it?”

“I don’t
know
,” Jodie said. “Somehow he bent the rules.”

Jameson’s words rattled around in my head. Part of me felt that I didn’t owe her anything, but there was a vampire involved, a vampire I knew personally. Callie’s life was now in danger. If there was a chance I could save her, I had to take it. “I need my stuff back.”

Jodie nodded. “I’ll make a phone call.”

Within minutes, I heard a familiar thrum. I followed Jodie outside as the man climbed out of my truck. “This is Robert Schrock,” Jodie said.

Schrock was in his late thirties, with big muscular hands, long scraggly brown hair, and a goatee. “She needs a little bodywork,” he said, “but I got her running good.”

I walked around the Chevy, giving it a quick inspection. The driver’s side front quarter panel had been patched with Bondo where Randy Korman’s plow had ripped through the sheet-metal. The front grill was cracked and there was a new ripple in the hood, but nothing a little time and effort couldn’t fix.

“She’ll get you where you need to go,” Schrock said. His smile evaporated as he saw the look on Jodie’s face. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve got … bad news,” Jodie said.

I watched as she led him to the house. I didn’t particularly want to watch as Schrock heard about the dead members of his coven. Watching the truth filter through Dawn McKie’s eyes had been more than enough for me.

The toolbox was in the back of the truck, right where I’d left it, and I rummaged around inside until I found what I was looking for, then headed back to the kitchen. Robert stared at Randy Korman’s dead body still sprawled across the living room doorjamb.

Jodie hugged Robert tightly, but Robert looked like he might faint.

Jameson glanced up from the kitchen table, saw what I was holding, and said, “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” I said, shoving the Ingram M-10 across the table along with a handful of magazines loaded with silver. “You’re staying here. I trust you, Patrick. Your faith is strong. But, just in case, I want you to blow the hell out of anything that comes your way.”

Jameson eyed the gun with distaste, then slammed a magazine in and cycled the bolt with practiced ease. He caught me staring at him and raised an eyebrow. “You think this is the first time I’ve handled a weapon?”

“I guess not,” I said. “Where’s Dawn?”

Jodie had stopped tending to Robert and was watching our exchange. “She’s in the living room,” she said. “Molly and Rachel are working on a defensive spell. We should be able to put up something to ward off trouble when the rest of the coven gets here.”

“Was this place warded before?” I asked.

Jodie bit her lip. “We weren’t sure of the threat. We had many wards, but most of them weren’t specific to a vampire. Robert, call Carly and tell her we need her. I’ll call Jaime and Karrie.”

“Will that be enough?” Jameson asked. “You’ve lost so many of your coven…”

“Uh, about that,” Robert said. “I’m not sure I want Carly involved with this-”

Jodie spun around at glared at him, her hands resting on her hips. “This isn’t the time to second-guess me. We stand together or we all die.
All
of us. It doesn’t matter if she’s not here. Carlton will track her down and slaughter her. Who will take care of your kids then? Who’s going to—”

“Mrs. Rexford,” Jameson said. He had stood while Jodie spoke, and put his hands on her shoulders. She turned her glare on him, but it quickly faded and she staggered back against the counter.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Jodie said. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she wiped at them with the sleeve of her sweater. “Robert, please. We need your help. We need Carly’s help. It’s not about my sister anymore. We’re all in danger now.”

Robert swallowed hard. “I don’t know…”

“I believe Mrs. Rexford is correct in this, my son,” Jameson said. He waved the M-10 around and spoke slowly, his voice full of emotion. “If you pull together, you might survive this, but if you choose to run and hide? You will all surely perish.”

* * *

The rest of the coven arrived thirty minutes later. Carly Schrock, a trim blonde with pretty blue eyes and thick glasses, joined her husband. With Robert’s help, Jodie had moved Randy’s body from the doorway. Carly took one look at the bloodstain on the floor and promptly vomited into the kitchen sink.

Karrie Showalter, a willowy college student with long black hair and carefully applied black lipstick, arrived next. She wore dark blue sweatpants and a black shirt, and carried herself with a world-wise sophistication, but like Carly Schrock, she vomited as soon as she saw the blood trail in the living room doorway.

Carly held Karrie’s hand as Karrie heaved until her stomach was empty, then Jameson led them to the living room to join the rest of the coven.

Jaime Alcorn arrived last. He was a stout man, almost six foot tall, with thinning brown hair and a large bald spot on the back of his head tanned a dark copper that matched his arms. He wasn’t exactly the most impressive man to look at, but he didn’t fall apart when he saw the pile of dead bodies stacked in the living room like so much firewood.

Jodie gave him a brief hug and then turned to the rest. “The coven has convened. We will protect this home and all within it. By the power of the Goddess.”

There were nods all around and Jodie motioned me to the kitchen.

“Hurry,” she said quietly. “We’ll do what we can, but I don’t know if we can ward off a vampire that powerful.”

My mouth dropped. “I thought—”

“I’m their leader,” Jodie whispered. “They expect me to lead. I wasn’t wrong about the danger we’re in. If I left it to them, we’d die hiding in our basements.”

Jameson held up the weapon I’d given him. “Go, Sam. I’ll keep them safe.”

I eyed Jodie critically. “You sure?”

She started to nod, then shrugged. “If I stop to think about … about Gene … I’ll fall to pieces. I’ve buried my feelings. I … hope I can make it through the night.”

My opinion of the woman went up a notch. She’d lost her husband, and things weren’t looking good for her sister, but she kept on going. “I’ll do what needs to be done.”

“Do that, Mr. Harlan. Do it for our sakes.”

I can’t argue with that.

It felt good
to be back in my truck, eating up the miles. The wind had picked up and snowflakes swirled in the truck’s headlights. There wasn’t enough to cover the ground, but the flakes caught the light like a flurry of shiny diamonds blowing in the wind.

It was almost ten when I crested the hill just north of Monticello and there were few cars on the road. A few minutes more and I was through town and heading north on State Street.

The elegant homes appeared different at night. A few Christmas lights glowed from porch fronts and windows, but most of the decorations had been taken down, leaving the vast lawns empty and the houses looking like soulless dark shells.

There was no sense in hiding my presence. I took a right turn into the driveway, slowing just enough that the tires wouldn’t chirp on the asphalt, then slammed on the brakes.

The driveway was filled with cars and trucks, at least seven different vehicles by my quick count, and although it looked like Meriwether was entertaining guests, only a single light illuminated his front window.

There wasn’t time for hesitation. I opened the truck door and ran to the front of Meriwether’s house, not bothering to close the truck door behind me. My Kimber was in my right hand and I took the steps two at a time, then stopped long enough to grab the door handle. The door wasn’t locked.

I shoved it open and entered the house, my boots clacking against the hardwood floor. I was halfway down the hallway when I felt the slimy evil of the vampire clawing up the back of my neck.

Then I was in the living room where Carlton Meriwether stood. He was tending to a roaring fire in the fireplace, a drink in one hand and a poker in the other. He turned and I had just enough time to register the smile on his face—then there was movement behind me and a fist came rocketing out of nowhere, smashing against my temple and knocking me unconscious.

* * *

I floated on a warm cloud. It was like my body was covered in syrup. My thoughts were slow and lazy. Golden light filtered through my eyelids.

I could almost convince myself I was in Heaven.

My stomach began to hurt like I’d been kicked in the gut. The bile came up the back of my throat and I choked it out as my eyes finally opened. I couldn’t see anything except for the gray concrete as I heaved and heaved. My body felt like it had been beaten by a linebacker after a three-night bender.

When I finally stopped retching long enough to take stock of my surroundings, I found myself in Meriwether’s basement, surrounded by strangers.

Men and women stood in a semicircle, wearing shit-eating grins. A naked woman who bore a striking resemblance to Jodie Rexford was stretched out on the hard concrete floor with closed eyes, tied to metal hoops embedded in the concrete. Fluorescent lights flickered and buzzed overhead, giving the woman’s ample flesh and sickly pallor.

Meriwether stood in front of me, his brown loafers just inches from the bile I’d vomited over the concrete, watching me with a self-satisfied smirk.

There was the slimy presence of a vampire nearby, and I saw Milford Barlow standing to my right, as still as a statue, his doughy skin marking him as something other than human.

Then I saw Callie and my heart thumped in my chest.

They had tied her up with hemp ropes and hung her from a wooden beam overhead. She had a gag in her mouth and whimpered when my eyes found hers.

She had been stripped to her bra and panties, and runes had been carved into her skin, just deep enough to have already scabbed over. They covered her back and her sides, even curving around her thighs and stretching down to her calves.

The writing could have been Celtic, or Aramaic, or Egyptian, for all I knew. It didn’t look like they were designed to hurt so much as to humiliate her.

Anger overcame me, and a pool of red swam around the edge of my vision. I had never felt anger like it before, the kind where each breath felt like my last. I was prepared to kill anyone or anything that got between Callie and me. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the urge to kill and to save my friend.

I was moving without even realizing it, rushing to Callie’s aid, and then it felt like steel clamps had latched onto my hands. I turned to see Barlow holding me with ease. I growled and started to pull away. Barlow held on tight, but I wasn’t about to stop.

Barlow’s eyes widened as I took a step forward, in spite of his grasp, and then another. Even Meriwether, who was looking bored, suddenly became interested.

“Stop, Mr. Harlan,” Meriwether said. “Stop or I’ll have the woman hurt. She may look … ill-used … but I assure you she hasn’t suffered any
permanent
damage.”

Callie.

The world spun. I didn’t
want
to stop. I wanted to smash Meriwether’s face in, to claw his eyes out, and to rip his throat out with my teeth. “If you bastards touch her—”

“Oh,
please
,” Meriwether said. “Do tell. Would you shit yourself as the vampire snapped your neck? Or would you rather scream in agony as we used magic to flay your skin from your body? That hasn’t been done in two hundred and forty-eight years, but I’m sure I could arrange it.”

My anger lessened as I realized that Meriwether had my gun tucked in the front of his black slacks and my silver knife strapped to his waist. I was defenseless. “What do you want?” I finally asked.