Vampire Seeker (13 page)

The carriage lurched, and there was the sound of chains rattling beneath us. The train rocked as we were pulled forward. The
driver blew up on the horn and the noise was almost deafening. I left the carriage and stood on the small wooden area at the
back of the train. The preacher joined me. He was quiet, as if thinking deeply about something.

“The light has gone,” I said, watching the desolate station slip away into the distance and the dark.

“And so are those porters in the dumb hats,” the preacher whispered thoughtfully, as he passed me one of his hand-rolled
cigarettes.

My room, or more accurately described – carriage – was beautiful. It was as if Drake had spared no expense in
providing the most up-to-date comforts and furnishings. There was a sofa, which was piled high with soft-looking pillows and
lacy throws, which had been draped over the back and arms. There was an armchair, and next to this there was a small table
with an oil lamp. Beside the lamp was a crystal decanter half filled with whiskey, a pitcher of water, and two glasses. There
was a silver framed mirror on the wall and several paintings of landscapes and mountain ranges. I didn’t know where
any of these places were. There was a bookshelf which was crammed full with leather-bound books. I ran my fingertips over
the creased spines. Some appeared to have been written in French and Latin, but I was surprised to see a few books that I
recognised. I took a copy of
Watchers at Night
by Rudyard Kipling from the shelf and carefully thumbed through the pages. They were tinted an off-white, and thicker than
the pages in books from 2012. Then gasping, I spotted
A Study in Scarlet
by Arthur Conan Doyle. I had lost count of how many times I had read that book. It was one of my favourites, and here I was,
holding what was probably a first edition. Opening the book, I smelt the pages. I closed it and tucked it under my arm as
I inspected the rest of the books. I found
The Pit and the Pendulum
by Edgar Allan Poe and Mary Shelly’s
Frankenstein
among the collection.

I placed
A Study in Scarlet
on the table with the oil lamp and inspected the rest of the carriage. There was a small narrow door and opening it, I found
myself looking into a berth. Against the wall, just below the window, was a bed. Not quite the size of a double, but bigger
than a single. Laid across the bed was a red dress. I picked it up and the material felt soft, like silk. Just like some of
the women I had seen passing along the main street back in the town of Black Water Gap, the sleeves were decorated with pretty
fluffs of lace, as was the hem of the skirt. There was a pair of woollen stockings and a pair of small leather ankle boots.
I brushed the dress against my cheek and it felt wonderfully soft, like feathers.

With the train rocking from side to side, I took off my clothes and slipped into the dress, stockings, and boots. The neck
of the dress was low, but the cut of it pushed my breasts together, making them look bigger than they really were, and that
was okay. Leaving the room, I went back and stood in front of the mirror. I let my hair fall loose about my shoulders, and
as I looked in the mirror, I felt, for the first time since arriving in 1888, like a woman. I felt and looked as if I were
going out somewhere special for the evening. The last time I had dressed up so nice was when Karl had taken me to the theatre
for my birthday. The dress I’d been wearing that night hadn’t been anything as grand as this. It had come from
Next
– I think. I wasn’t one for going around in dresses and skirts at the first opportunity – but there were
times when I liked to look nice – feel special. So, turning around and around on the spot, I let the dress swish about
my calves as I sang the song
Last Friday Night
by Katy Perry.

With my head in a spin and feeling dizzy, I slumped into the armchair and lit the cigarette that the preacher had given to
me. Since arriving in 1888, I laughed for the first time. Only I could end up on a steam train racing across the old west,
wearing the most beautiful dress I had ever seen, with a library of books probably worth millions, singing a Katy Perry song,
and smoking a cigarette rolled by a preacher. Once I had my fit of giggles under control, and with the cigarette dangling
from the corner of my mouth, I went back to the berth and looked down at my guns.

Would I need them at dinner tonight? I wondered. Besides, where was I going to put them? They didn’t exactly match my
long flowing dress. Deciding that I wouldn’t need them, I put them down again and made to leave. Then stopping at the
door, I took the small bottle of holy water, hitched up my skirt, and tucked it into the neck of my stocking. Why I had thought
to do that, I didn’t know. It was like that other me – the one who could shoot, fight, and ride – the one
who’d kept me alive so far, was watching out for me. I left my room and went in search of the others.

I made my way along the narrow aisles that stretched along outside the other rooms and berths. The train rocked from side
to side and several times I had to place the flat of my hand against the wall to stop myself from toppling over. Reaching
the end of the carriage, I opened the door and was hit by a rush of cold air. I looked down and could see the iron coupling
which kept the carriages joined together. There was a small step that I had to make to get to the next carriage. Looking into
the gap, I could see the ballast and sleepers racing away below. Gripping the rail, I stepped across the gap just as the train
rocked violently. I gasped as I stumbled forward. Then, just as I feared that I was going to lose my footing, someone gripped
my arm. I looked up to see that it was Harry who had taken hold of me.

He pulled me roughly into the adjoining carriage. I tried to squirm my arm free of his grip, but just like he had on the riverbank,
he had hold of me tightly.

“You can let go of me now,” I said, trying to avoid his stare, but I just couldn’t. His grey eyes looked
particularly dark tonight.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice as gruff and unfriendly as usual.

“I’m sure,” I said, yanking my arm free.

“Well, if you’re sure,” he said, that arrogant grin forming on his lips.

“What is your problem?” I hissed, just wanting to knock that smug look from his face.

“No problem,” he smiled, and I caught his eyes – just for a second – wander down to my over exposed
chest.

He does like me
, I thought. But then again, didn’t most men find their eyes wandering at the sight of a big pair of breasts?
I could have looked like King Kong’s auntie and he still would have looked
, I thought, pushing the idea that he found me attractive from my mind. And what did I care anyway? The guy was a jerk.

I pushed my way past Harry and opened the door which led into the dining car. The others had already gathered there. Harry
came in behind me and closed the door, shutting out the cold. Flames flickered from the candles which had been placed in the
centre of a large round table in the middle of the carriage.

Mirrors seemed to hang on every free space of the carriage wall. It was difficult not to look in any direction and not see
your reflection staring back at you. Each mirror was framed in silver, and just as there were as many mirrors, there was just
as much silver. The knives and forks, which had been neatly placed at the table, dazzled along with the silver drinking goblets
and condiments. Even the napkins were fastened together with silver rings.

“Why so many mirrors?” Zoe asked, checking herself out in one.

Drake approached her from behind and peered at his own reflection over her shoulder. “Why have paintings adorn the walls,
when we ourselves can create such beautiful pieces of art?” he smiled at her.

Zoe blushed, her pale cheeks filling with colour.

As if relishing in her embarrassment, Drake leaned in closer to her and breathed, “Some say that those who don’t
have souls don’t reflect, but your reflection is so clear – so wonderful; it’s like I can see into your
very soul, Zoe Edgar.”

Although Zoe was smiling back at him in the mirror, I saw her fingers reach up for the pistols she had hanging from the harness
over the emerald coloured dress she was wearing. Unlike me, Zoe had felt the need to bring her guns to dinner.

I glanced over at Louise, who stood next to the preacher. She wore a pale blue dress that was similar to mine. Her dark hair
coiled around her shoulders and shone against her cream coloured skin.

“Please, let us eat,” Drake said, sitting at the table alongside his personal doctor.

Once everyone was seated, we were joined in the dining car by several waiters, who all wore pristine white aprons about their
waists. They placed a silver plate in front of each of us. I looked down at mine and could see a slab of meat. It looked so
undercooked and raw, it swam in a pool of its own blood. I prodded at it with my fork and turned up my nose.

“More elk?” I said, more to myself than the others seated around the table.

“Beef,” Drake corrected me, and I looked across the table to see blood oozing from the meat on his plate.

The waiters returned with china bowls that were crammed with steaming piles of potatoes and green vegetables. With silver
spoons, they heaped the food onto our plates.

“That’s enough,” I said, raising my hand, watching one of the waiters place a fourth potato onto the plate
before me.

The waiters disappeared, and picking up a bottle of wine from the centre of the table, Drake filled the silver goblets. I
looked back at him across the table and watched as he then cut the meat on his plate. Blood dribbled down his chin and he
dabbed it away with a napkin. None of the others seemed to be bothered by the undercooked meat as they all set about it. I
know some people like their steak raw – but this just took the piss. The lumps of meat looked as if they had just been
hacked off the cow and served up.

I pushed the meat to the edge of my plate and cut one of the potatoes in half.

“So what’s the real reason for all the mirrors?” Louise asked Drake, and then took a sip of her wine. “You
never really answered Zoe’s question.”

“Vanity,” he smiled at her.

“Why don’t you cut the crap, Drake,” Harry suddenly spoke up over a mouthful of the red meat. “If
all of these mirrors are some kind of test to see if we’re vampires, then you’re wasting your time.”

Drake clapped his hands together and chuckled. “Very good, Turner. You’re sharper than one might first suspect.”
Then, shrugging his shoulders, he added, “Can you blame me? Can any of you blame me? I’m setting off into the
mountains with a group of so-called vampire hunters. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to become
the
hunted
.”

Hearing this, I brushed my fingers over the tiny bottle of holy water I had fixed down the neck of my tights.

“We’re not vampires,” the preacher hissed, his eyes now brighter than they were earlier. “But what
about you?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Drake scoffed. “Me, a vampire? Why, you have seen my reflection in the mirror.”

“And you have seen ours,” the preacher reminded him. “But yet, you still suspect us.”

“I know a way that we can settle this,” I spoke up.

They all turned to look at me.

“How?” the preacher snapped, harsher than I believe he intended. I knew that he was pissed at Drake.

Producing the bottle of holy water, I placed it on the table. Each of them looked at it. “It’s holy water I took
from the chapel back in Black Water Gap.” I looked around the table and could see each of them eyeing the bottle.

Slowly, I pulled the cork from the neck and poured some of the holy water into my glass. I passed it to Louise, who sat next
to me. She looked at me, then down at the bottle. She took it and poured a little into her glass. She then handed it to Zoe
who poured some of the water out and handed it to Harry.

“It’s nice to know you’re trusted,” he moaned. Then, looking across the table at me, he poured some
of the holy water into his glass, just like the others had.

Next to him sat the doctor, who without hesitation, tipped the bottle and emptied some of it into his glass. Drake took it
from him, and without taking his eyes off of the preacher, he poured half of what was left in the bottle into his glass. He
then handed it to the preacher. With the bottle hovering over his glass, he looked around the table at each of us and emptied
it.

Taking up his glass, and with a smile, Drake held out his hand and said, “Good health, ladies and gentlemen.”

There was a tension in the room, and my heart started to speed up. I slipped my free hand beneath the table and rested it
against my thigh, searching for my guns. And then I remembered they weren’t there.

Why hadn’t I brought them? I cursed as I surveyed the room. At once, my eyes started to measure the distance that I
sat from the others. My mind began to calculate which of them posed the greatest threat. I looked for anything that I could
use as a weapon.

Then as one, we lifted our glasses, clinked them against Drake’s, and drank the holy water.

With our glasses poised at our lips, we eyed each other around the table, as if half expecting one of us to start convulsing,
leaking smoke from our eyeballs, or foaming at the mouth. But nothing happened. It was then I noticed the preacher hadn’t
drunk from his glass.

“Drink up,” Drake smiled nervously across the table at the preacher.

The preacher ignored him and stared at Louise. With the speed of a rattlesnake, I palmed my knife and held it in my lap beneath
the table.

“Be a good fellow and drink up like the rest of us,” Drake pushed the preacher again.

“I do not need to be tested by you,” the preacher said coolly, turning his attention from Louise and back to Drake.
“I’m no vampire.”

“Then you won’t mind drinking up,” the doctor said, pushing his chair back from the table and standing up.
He brandished a large silver crucifix at the preacher. The doctor’s chair hadn’t even stopped sliding back across
the floor when the preacher was on his feet. His gun was drawn, and the end of the barrel was just inches from the doctor’s
face.