She Returns from War

SEVEN



"This it, then?"

Victoria nodded. Thunder growled overhead. The line of clouds that had seemed so distant from the ridge had grown into an angry wall that blocked out the setting sun. No rain fell yet, but Victoria could see it was only a matter of time. In that premature twilight, they had finally come upon the ranch. The buildings were dwarfed by the cliffs rising toward the sky behind them. Victoria felt a strange sense of vertigo, but whether it was from the towering mesa or returning to the site of her harrowing ordeal two nights prior, she didn't know.

"You got yourself a head for directions, Vicky. I'll give you that."

Victoria took the compliment in silence. All she had done was strike out in the same direction she'd seen the blue-eyed man leave in when he deposited her outside of Albuquerque. Such a simple task didn't seem worthy of praise, but she wouldn't deny it, either.

"Well, at least it ain't one of them Indian ruins. Nasty places if half the yarns about them are true."

"Haven't you visited them yourself?" Victoria asked. "I would think that sort of thing would be of great interest to you."

"Just never got around to it is all," Cora said.

The two women nudged their mounts into a slow walk. In the veiled sunlight, the ranch didn't look half as terrifying. The barn was missing a few shingles from its roof and could have done with a fresh coat of paint. Rust stains ran along the wind pump's legs like gangrenous veins, and the house looked as though nobody had gone in or out since her encounter. It was more a scene of sorrow over failed ambition, left behind by the homesteaders whose bid for a new life had come up short. She had difficulty imagining it as a monster's lair, but even so, she examined every corner and every shadow as they approached.

Beside her, Cora was just as watchful, her alertness underscored by the rifle in her hands. She didn't have it propped against her shoulder, ready to fire at the slightest hint of movement, but its presence gave Victoria a measure of comfort.

Victoria explained the details of her encounter to the old hunter as they approached. Cora listened attentively, even as her eyes remained on the silent buildings before them. She asked a few questions, mostly about the man. How tall was he? What did he look like? How did he speak? Victoria answered as best she could, but she grew more uneasy as the line of questions continued. That Cora's attention was centered on the man worried her. The woman was the more dangerous of the two, she felt, but Cora seemed uninterested in her. Even the savage ghoul provoked more questions than the Indian woman did.

Another rumbling of thunder, this one louder. Cora glanced skyward. "Ain't got much time," she said. Reaching into her satchel, she pulled out a rosary and slid it around her left wrist. "Let's check the barn first."

Victoria nodded. She considered pulling her own gun, then thought better of it. Dismounting with it in one hand would probably be dangerous. Best to wait until they were on foot.

No sooner had she decided this than Cora cradled her rifle in the crook of one arm and climbed out of the saddle. Tying the reins to a fence post, she looked up at Victoria expectantly. The younger woman took her time dismounting. Her eyes began searching the area in earnest. Being mounted had given her a feeling of security; if things went wrong, she felt sure her horse could outrun the threat. Without that assurance, she felt exposed and vulnerable.

"Don't dally, now," Cora said, tying the gelding's reins off for her. "Rain ain't going to wait for you to fluff your skirts. Draw your gun and let's get on."

Victoria adjusted her hat to hide her blush and drew her revolver. "What's the plan?"

"Well, from what you said, I reckon we're looking at a vampire nest," Cora replied. "Ain't sure how many suckers there are, though there's bound to be at least two. One of them's the feller what calls himself Glava. He's the more dangerous of them, so don't you go getting it in your head that you can whip him by your lonesome." Cora snapped her fingers as a thought hit her. "Plumb forgot. Here, hold this and give me your gun."

Cora shoved her rifle at Victoria with one hand and held out her other palm. Victoria handed over her revolver. Taking the rifle from the hunter, she marveled at its weight. The barrel must have been ten pounds at least. She had to hold it with both hands, and she wasn't sure if she could shoot it even if she had to. Curious, she pressed the butt up against her shoulder like she'd seen Cora do. Her arm shook under the barrel's weight as she aimed at a fence post across the yard, and she had to lower it after only a few seconds.

"Careful there," Cora said. "You might go and blow your own foot off."

Victoria let out a nervous laugh. "Not much chance of that," she said.

"You an expert on guns now, too?"

"Hardly." Victoria held the rifle in both hands again, her fingers well away from the trigger.

"Well, here's another lesson, then," Cora said, handing the revolver back. Victoria gladly traded weapons. "I've put some of my silver bullets in your gun. They're the only kind that can kill vampires, you follow?"

"Not really, but I believe you."

Cora nodded in satisfaction. "Good to know you ain't a complete fool. Now, even with the silver rounds, you ain't going to kill a sucker if you just shoot it in the arm or somewhere like that. You got to hit them in the head or the heart. I know you ain't big on aiming yet, but try your best. You might get lucky, and luck's half of survival in this business."

"That isn't very reassuring."

"Well, these ain't normal critters," Cora said. "Don't fret about it too much. Just shoot at them if they pop their ugly faces out. Even if you only nick one, it still might slow it down some. Enough for me to get a bead on it anyway. Oh, and use this." She produced a small wooden crucifix from her satchel. "This here will make them go all watery and buy you some time for shooting or running or hollering."

Victoria ran her thumb over the carved image. "Why do they fear crucifixes?"

"Ain't rightly sure, myself," Cora said. "I always figured it was just that crucifixes are holy and suckers ain't. Don't need to know much more than that, really."

"Even after all of your experience?"

Cora pumped the action of her Winchester. "Ain't just vampires I hunted. They popped up every now and again, but they ain't really all that common. Had more run-ins with hellhounds during my time."

"Hellhounds?" Victoria asked, her curiosity suddenly piqued. Maybe that was the name of the black shuck in America. "What are those?"

"Some other time," Cora said.

"But-"

The hunter put a finger to her lips and frowned as she approached the barn. Crouching by the door, Cora waved Victoria over. The young woman hunkered down next to her, careful to keep her revolver pointed away.

"Right," Cora said in a low voice. "This is where you said they had you?" Victoria nodded. "Good. Now, if they're around here still, they probably know we're here. Hard to creep up on critters with sharp ears."

"What will we do, then?" Victoria asked.

"Surprise ain't an option, so we go for storm."

Victoria glanced skyward. "Storm?"

"Not that kind," Cora said. "We'd best be done with this business when them clouds decides to dump on us. What I mean is, we go in sudden-like, try to shake them up."

Victoria swallowed. The man who called himself Fodor Glava didn't seem like the kind to startle easily, and she wasn't sure that slavering man-creature could even feel fear. Still, neither of those were her biggest concern. "What about the Indian woman?"

"She ain't a worry," Cora said.

"Are you sure?" Victoria asked. "She seemed to have a power over the other man."

Cora shook her head. "Ain't likely. You probably just didn't know what was going on. This Fodor Glava feller is one of them king vampires George knows about. Nossy-something. Anyhow, they got control over the other kind of vampires, so I'll warrant he's master of that squaw you saw, too."

The old hunter's reasoning didn't sit well with Victoria. She knew what she had seen: the man had submitted to the woman's will, and more than once. Still, Cora knew more about these matters than she did, so maybe there was something else at work. Victoria tried to set aside her misgivings.

"I'll charge in first, and you follow," Cora was saying. "Keep an eye on our rear in case the bastard has an ace in his palm."

Victoria nodded. Cora offered her a lopsided grin as she rose to her feet. The hunter's brown eyes scanned the yard once more before she turned toward the barn door.

A yell burst forth from Cora's lungs. She ran into the barn's interior and halted a few steps inside, rifle raised. The rosary hung from her left wrist, whipping back and forth as she swept the Winchester's barrel over the grey shadows. Nothing jumped out at her.

Victoria stood, her blisters throbbing in protest. The yard remained empty. Wind kicked through the tall grass growing along the fence. Crucifix and gun pointed outward, she slowly backed through the open doorway. The daylight became a blue square surrounded by darkness. Fear began working crawling up her sides, making its way toward her throat. The terror and confusion of that night still lingered in the barn. Phantom eyes of red and blue drifted through her peripheral vision only to vanish when she turned her head. In her mounting panic, she nearly pulled the trigger half a dozen times.

She shook her head. No, she was stronger than this. If the woman at her back, rustic and uneducated, could barge into a nest of monsters without hesitation, so could she. After all, she was her father's daughter and descended from Navy sailors. Her grandfather had faced down pirate ships; she could handle one old barn.

Behind her, she heard Cora's steadily advancing footsteps. Victoria clung to that sound, a spire of rock in the rising ocean of her fears. With every step, every tinkling of the old hunter's spurs, Victoria's panic subsided.

"Hey!" Cora's shout shattered Victoria's nerves. "You in here, you bastard?"

"By God," Victoria said, "you scared the life out of me."

The hunter lowered her rifle. "You're the only one, I reckon. Ain't nothing here."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure as I can be," Cora replied. "If that feller is here, he's keen on keeping to himself." She looked above them. "Could be he's up there somewhere sleeping."

"Sleeping?" Victoria asked. "Who could sleep through a shout like that?"

"A sucker," Cora said. "They like to sleep during the day. Why don't you shimmy on up that ladder over there and have a look?"

Victoria's eyes went wide. "What?"

"You heard me. I'll keep an eye out down here."

"And what should I do if I find something?"

Cora shrugged. "I say shoot it. If you come up with something better, go with that."

"You can't be serious," Victoria said. "You could very well be sending me to my death."

"Not much chance of that," Cora said. "I don't reckon much of anything is up there except hay, and these old bones ain't up to climbing a ladder unless they got a damn good reason. If you do happen across a sleeping monster, I reckon even you couldn't miss. Now go on and get yourself up there."

The hunter turned toward the door, rifle at the ready. Victoria almost tapped her on the shoulder to refuse, then thought better of it. Cora obviously didn't think there was any danger, or she would have gone up herself. Victoria wasn't foolish enough to believe that it would have been because of any motherly protectiveness. The old hunter held Victoria and her abilities in contempt, so in her mind, sending her to investigate a real threat would have been useless.

Time to prove her wrong, then. Victoria strode toward the ladder Cora had pointed out. Holding the crucifix lightly between her teeth, she gripped a rung with her free hand and began climbing.

It was slow going. She had never climbed a ladder onehanded before, and she was already tired from the day's ride. Maybe something was up there after all, and Cora really hadn't wanted to make the climb. With each rung, that possibility seemed more and more likely, but Victoria would not be outdone. Grumbling to herself, she continued to move up toward the barn loft.

Near the top, she paused when a thought struck her. Suppose there really was a vampire in the loft? Would Cora be able to climb up quickly enough to help? Would she even bother? She already had everything she needed: the location of the man called Fodor Glava. Maybe she would just abandon Victoria to her fate now to save herself the trip to England. Victoria stole a quick glance toward the ground. The old hunter still stood guard in front of the door, but for how long?

Still, Victoria had no choice: it was either check the loft or climb back down and accuse Cora of treachery to her face. She had better odds of surviving a vampire.

The ladder brought her through the hole in the loft floor. Victoria paused when she reached it, taking a look around. A single window admitted a stream of grey light into the interior, illuminating bales of hay that were strewn about in no apparent order. In the semi-dark, they looked like a herd of squarish beasts sleeping away the day.

After a few moments passed with no visible movement, Victoria finished the climb and cautiously stepped off the ladder. Her footsteps sounded hollow on the boards, and she forced herself not to think about the expanse of nothing beneath her. It would only make her giddy, and she needed all of her wits if there was anything up here. Taking the crucifix back into her left hand, she began exploring the loft.

Near the ladder lay a coil of rope she mistook at first for a snake. Rolling her eyes at herself, she walked over to the nearest hay bale. It seemed ordinary, and nothing hid behind it. The same was true of the others she inspected. With each non-discovery, her fears wilted a little more.

Coming around the last of the bales, she paused. There was something lying in the far corner. It was probably just a pile of rags, but it looked wrong somehow. Long and thin, like a person hiding beneath a blanket. It was too small to be either the blue-eyed man or his enslaved ghoul. Still, it was in the corner farthest from the window. It made her uneasy, but curiosity soon overcame her caution, and she moved to investigate.

The closer she came to it, the more the object resembled a sleeping person. Pausing a few feet away from it, she reassured herself that it was probably just a bundle of hay or farm tools wrapped in a burlap sheet. If it was a vampire, surely it would have attacked her by now. Nothing to fear.

Stepping up to the lump, she prodded it with the toe of her boot. It didn't move. More confident now, Victoria slid the crucifix into her belt and reached down. The burlap was rough on her fingers as she pulled it back.

The face of a young girl emerged.

Victoria cried out in surprise, jumping backward. She tripped over her own boots and fell onto the floorboards, her gun sliding off into the shadows. Scrambling on to her hands and knees, she turned for another look at the bundle, a mixture of terror and revulsion twisting her face.

"What is it?" Cora's voice drifted up from below, but Victoria barely heard. Her mouth had gone dry, like someone had stuffed her throat full of cotton. Shallow breaths escaped her lungs as she stared, transfixed by the creature under the burlap.

She had thought it was the face of a young girl, perhaps ten or eleven years old. Some parts still retained the girl's features: soft brown hair, delicate eyebrows, and a thin nose. The similarities ended there, however. A snarl of sharp teeth clustered like broken twigs in the girl's mouth. Some of them had skewered her lips as they grown, punching through her skin like knives through fabric. The skin itself was waxy and bloodless. The girl's eyes were closed, and her chest did not rise and fall with her breathing, yet Victoria was certain that the creature wasn't dead.

"Dammit, girl, what's happening up there?" Cora called.

The girl's eyes snapped open.

Victoria's breath caught in her throat as it looked at her. She could see the same need, the same feral hunger that the other ghoul had shown. Whatever that creature was, this was the same kind.

The girl let out a hiss as she rolled over onto her hands and knees. She mimicked Victoria's posture, crouched, ready to spring. At that moment, Victoria realized her hands were empty. She didn't dare take her eyes off the girl to search for her lost revolver. For all she knew, holding still was the only thing keeping the monster from attacking. Her mind raced. Cora was still hollering at her from the bottom of the ladder, but she didn't answer. She couldn't. If the creature sprang at her, she would be defenseless.

In a flash, she remembered the crucifix in her belt. Cora had said something about the creatures fearing it. Mustering her courage, she began moving her hand toward her waist. If she could just reach it, she might have a chance.

The girl hissed again, and Victoria froze. She waited for the spring, for the impact of that small body against hers and the scraping of those teeth on her flesh. Child-sized hands curled into claws, but the girl remained crouched. Victoria steeled her nerves and moved her hand again. She didn't have much time.

As her fingers curled around the wooden figure, a gunshot rolled up through the floorboards. Victoria flinched, and the girl lunged at her. Tiny fingers gouged her arms as the two rolled over in the dust. The creature came out on top, teeth snapping, eyes dark with hunger. Victoria squeezed the crucifix in a death grip and brought it up. The wood pressed into the cold skin on the girl's neck. Smoke billowed as the flesh sizzled, and the girl rolled away with a choked cry.

Victoria scrambled to her feet, eyes probing the swirling clouds for her foe. There, on the far side. The girl was crouched again, a wild cat in human form, filled with need. Victoria extended the cross toward her. Hissing in anger, the creature shied away, retreating into the shadows.

Cross held out, Victoria began moving toward where she remembered her gun had fallen. It was slow going. She paused after each step, squinting after the girl. The savage form still lurked in the darkness, moving opposite the raised crucifix. At times, it seemed to meld with the shadows, slipping out of her sight only to reappear seconds later.

Another gunshot from below. Victoria could hear the hunter's voice yelling something, but she couldn't make out the words. No matter. At least Cora was still alive. Once she took care of whatever she was fighting down there, she would come up to the loft and make short work of this abomination.

As if reading her thoughts, the girl suddenly leaped to one side, vanishing behind a bale of hay. Victoria froze. Her gaze jumped from one end of the bale to the other, watching, waiting for that thing to emerge. The shadows played tricks with her eyesight. They swam and swirled in clouds of purple and black. She tried to blink them away, but they persisted, invading her sight even when her eyes were closed.

"Vicky!"

Victoria glanced at the ladder. "Get up here!" she called.

"No time," Cora yelled back. "Got me a critter down here somewhere."

"I have one up here, too."

"Well, sort it out. I got my hands full."

Victoria growled in frustration, turning her attention back to the hay bale. If Cora couldn't help her, she would just have to help herself. Stealing a quick glance behind her, she thought she saw a faint gleam on the floor. Her gun. It was close.

The sound of scrambling hands on the boards brought her head back around. In the corner of her eye, she caught a dark shape charging toward her. She whirled the crucifix to face it, but the girl was already airborne. They collided and went down. A blast of cold breath poured over her face. It had no smell. Small hands grabbed her neck, squeezing until she thought her eyes would pop out of their sockets. She punched at the girl's torso with an empty fist, trying to knock her away. The crucifix was gone.

Victoria could feel herself slipping away. Her lungs screamed for air. Her vision swam. With one last burst of energy, she flailed her arms out in both directions, praying, hoping the crucifix was still within reach.

Her fingers bumped into something cold. She grabbed for it. Metal. Her gun. Thank God, it was her gun.

Wrapping her hand around the barrel, she shoved to one side with all her might. The girl was incredibly strong, but she still only weighed as much as a child. Her cold fingers remained clamped round Victoria's throat as they rolled over.

Now lying face-to-face on the floor like lovers, Victoria looked into the girl's eyes. They were alive with lust, even through the thin white film covering them. The girl's fingers moved, one hand slipping from Victoria's neck. Fangs parted. Victoria sucked in a desperate breath. Pain exploded through her neck as the girl's teeth sliced into her. She heard a faint slurping sound, and she knew she was dying.

Gritting her teeth, not knowing what would happen, she shoved the revolver's barrel into the girl's side and pulled the trigger.

The recoil threw the gun out of her grasp. At once blind and deaf, Victoria lay stunned. She could breathe again, but that was all she knew. Seconds passed. Her vision began to clear, the bright purple streak left by the barrel's flash fading into the shadows. Another breath, choked with gun smoke.

A fit of coughing took her, and she curled into a fetal position while her body expelled the smoke and the panic and the feeling of cold fingers around her throat. She tried to pull herself up. A hand, a knee, a push against the rough wood. Soon she was kneeling, leaning against a bale. Hay tickled her ear. A final spasm shook her small frame before releasing her.

As the ringing in her ears subsided, she could hear a faint, gurgling moan. Her eyes went wide, searching the loft for its source. Catching sight of her gun lying on the floor, she crawled toward it, her boots making hollow thumps against the boards.

With the revolver again in her hand, she rose to her feet. Her pulse pounded in her temples. She could feel a warm trickle of blood flowing down her neck. Dabbing at it with her hand made it sting, and her fingers came away sticky. She would need to tie it off, but not now. She had to find the source of the sound and silence it once and for all.

Following the moans, she soon came upon a ruined heap of flesh. The girl lay on her side, rocking back and forth. A dark liquid dripped from her teeth, blood mixed with something thicker. The bullet had torn a hole in her dress and into her chest. Smoke poured out of the wound, as if the girl's soul were leaking out of her and drifting up among the rafters. The eyes rolled toward Victoria, still full of hunger and rage.

Looking down on her broken foe, a sudden wave of pity washed over her. Despite its grotesque features, it still looked more like a young girl than a monster. The revolver shook in Victoria's hand. For a moment, she didn't see the girl's' fangs or her filmy eyes. Instead, she saw a dying child, weeping with what strength she had left, her body ripped apart by Victoria's gun.

Dropping the revolver, Victoria turned her head and retched.

When the feeling passed, she wiped her mouth and retrieved her gun. The girl reached for her, fingers like claws. A moan of rage bubbled out between jagged teeth. Victoria's mouth was a thin line, and her blue eyes were dark with purpose. She centered the revolver's barrel between the girl's milky eyes and pulled the hammer back. When the gun kicked, she was expecting it. The flash from the barrel lit the loft like a bolt of lightning, and the thunder shook dust down from the rafters. As her vision cleared, she saw the girl's lifeless eyes staring back at her.

Air left her lungs in a deep sigh. Victoria holstered her gun and tried to shake the sting from her hand. Turning from the dead girl at her feet, she made her way back to the ladder. The daylight had all but disappeared from the window. Peering outside, Victoria could see an angry mass of clouds churning overhead. Cora's words echoed in her mind; if they were going to finish their business before it rained, they needed to hurry.

"Cora," she called out when she reached the ladder. "Are you there?"

No answer. Victoria crouched by the opening and looked through. The barn appeared to be empty. "Cora?"

Silence.

Placing a boot on the ladder, Victoria began her descent. She glanced over her shoulders as she climbed, searching for any sign of the hunter or another one of those creatures. Aside from the rumbling of thunder above her head, the barn was still. All sorts of horrid thoughts flooded her mind. Cora had been killed by whatever she was fighting. The blue-eyed man had reappeared and killed her. Victoria would find nothing but the hunter's corpse. Still, she couldn't very well stay in the hayloft, waiting for the nightmares to find their way up to her.

As soon as Victoria reached the bottom of the ladder, she remembered the crucifix, still laying somewhere on the loft floor. Her shoulders slumped at her own stupidity. She gave the ladder a rueful look, not eager to make the climb again. It was necessary, though. The crucifix had saved her from the girl-creature, buying her enough time to reach her gun. For whatever reason, the little carving had power over these things. Sighing, she reached for the ladder again.

A shout from outside stopped her cold. It was Cora's voice. Victoria turned her head, listening intently. Another shout, followed by a gunshot. Something was wrong.

Before she could think, Victoria was already running. Her revolver appeared in her hand. A blast of warm wind welcomed her as she charged through the barn door. Skidding to a stop, she frantically searched the yard for the old hunter.

A shout rose up over the wind. It came from the direction of the house. Gun at the ready, Victoria ran toward the sound. As she approached, she could see the door hanging open, blowing this way and that in the wind. Her blisters rubbed painfully against her boots, but she kept running. Somewhere in her mind, the thought that this run across the yard was easier than her last brought a grim smile to her face. She'd nearly been eaten alive by a child, her crucifix was lost, and her companion may or may not still be alive, but at least she was appropriately dressed.

"Cora!" she yelled as she ran onto the porch. "Can you hear me?"

"That you, Vicky?"

"Yes! Where are you?"

"Upstairs. Get your skinny rump up here double quick!"

Victoria thundered into the house, guided by her blurry memories from before. Her mind was so focused on what she would do, what she might see when she made it up the stairs that she nearly tripped over a corpse in the living room.

Catching herself on a chair, she gave the body a quick glance over. It was a woman, her flower-print dress rolled back to her knees. The corpse lay face down on the floor. Keeping her gun trained on the woman's head, she pushed against the shoulder with the toe of her boot.

A wretched face rolled into view. The woman had once been pretty, perhaps, before her teeth grew too large for her mouth. Thick black fluid oozed across her face from a hole above her right eye.

Keeping her gun aimed at the corpse, Victoria carefully stepped over it. Her muscles were taut, ready to spring into action should the body so much as twitch, but the dead woman didn't move. She took another step. Nothing. Lowering the gun, she let herself relax.

A crash from the second floor made her jump. Cora had taken care of the woman-creature, but the man from the other night was still unaccounted for. The old hunter was most likely fighting him at that moment, and she needed help.

Making a dash for the stairs, Victoria felt her boot strike something on the floor, sending it skittering to one side. Cora's rifle. She stared at it, the implications exploding in her mind like cannon fire. The creatures had managed to disarm Cora. She was facing one of them unarmed. If the blue-eyed man or the Indian woman arrived, she would be defenseless. Victoria hesitated, unsure if she should pick up the rifle and take it up to its owner.

"Vicky!" Cora's shout was strained. Victoria's boots pounded up the stairs. She could hear thumping and grunting coming from the door on the left. It stood slightly ajar, and she pushed it open with her free hand, revolver raised.

Cora stood against one wall, rosary dangling from her outstretched fist. Her other hand was empty. Across the room from her, the man-creature crouched on the floor. The hunter's struggle had punched a few gouges into the wallpaper. Clothing and broken glass littered the floor from a toppled dresser.

"Goddamn it, girl, where you been?" Cora asked.

"I-"

"Don't matter none. Toss me your gun."

Without her gun, Victoria would be defenseless. "But-"

"Do it!" Cora yelled, holding out her hand. Victoria tossed the weapon into the room. It fell short of the hunter by a few feet. Cursing, Cora made a grab for it.

The ghoul seized the opportunity and lunged. It crashed into Cora, knocking her backward into the wall. Hunter and monster grappled on the floor, Cora's hands clamped around her enemy's throat. She pushed against it with all her might, barely able to keep the hungry jaws from her own neck. More curses burst from her lips.

Victoria stood still, transfixed by the mortal struggle. After all of the legends and stories she'd heard of Cora Oglesby, seeing her fight was remarkably underwhelming. She had expected the old hunter to dominate her foes with ease and finesse, making killing monsters appear no harder than taking tea after a game of lawn darts. Watching her now, she seemed no more than a common barroom brawler wrestling another drunkard over some slight.

Cora managed to land a punch to the creature's jaw with the fist holding the rosary. Smoke exploded outward in a ring. The creature hissed in pain, but it kept its hold on the hunter. Cora struck it again, keeping the rosary pressed into its smoking flesh. The hiss became a wail. Writhing in agony, the vampire twisted away from her.

Rolling into a crouching position, Cora's eyes darted around the floor. "Where'd it go?"

"Where did what go?" Victoria asked.

Spying the gun a few feet behind her, Cora dove for it.

Victoria saw the monster pull itself to its feet. "Watch out!" she cried as the creature lunged at Cora. The hunter spun around, dropping onto her back as she did so. Reaching out with her free hand, Cora grabbed the ghoul by the wrist and yanked. It sailed over her as she rolled beneath it. When it reached the apex of the throw, a flash erupted from the hunter's other hand. Thunder shook the windows. The creature crashed into the far wall and crumpled to the floor.

Cora didn't spare it a glance. She pulled herself onto her hands and knees and crawled toward the large bed in the corner. Thrusting her arm into the darkness beneath it, she began groping for something. Perplexed, Victoria watched her search until she heard the monster stirring. Her gaze snapped to the place where it fell, and her body went rigid.

The dead eye was fixed on her.

With a croaking moan, the monster began crawling toward her. Speechless with terror, Victoria backed into the hallway, bumping up against the far wall. The creature's teeth gnashed together. Victoria's breathing quickened as it approached, inch by inch, hand over pale hand. Her eyes were small islands of blue in a sea of white. Desperate, she drew the broad-bladed knife with a shaking hand. It was probably useless against this living corpse, but she wouldn't let it kill her without a fight. She braced herself, knife hand drawn back, for the final struggle.

Cora appeared in the doorway behind the monster. Her boot came down on its ankle with a dry snap. Pinned, it curled around like an injured worm, arms reaching for the hunter's leg. Metal gleamed as Cora swung a curved sword. The creature recoiled from the blow, hands clutching at the fresh gash in its ruined face.

The hunter stepped up next to the wretched creature, driving the toe of her boot into its ribcage. It hissed like a broken steam pipe, its eye nearly bursting out of its head as it glared at her. Grasping the hilt with both hands, Cora drove the sword through the monster's head.

In the silence that followed, Victoria realized how loudly she was breathing and forced herself to calm down. Fingers trembling, she slid the knife back into her belt.

"You okay?" Cora asked.

Victoria's throat was dry, but she managed a nod.

"Good," Cora said. She placed a boot on the corpse's neck. The sword slid out of the skull with a slick wet sound. Still holding the saber, Cora turned and went back into the bedroom. A few seconds later, a revolver slid through the doorway. Victoria stepped around the body, careful not to touch the splayed limbs, and picked it up. For the first time, the gun's weight on her belt comforted her.

Cora popped up from behind the fallen dresser. "I ain't sure whether I should thank you or crack you over the head." She stepped around the dresser, and Victoria's arms came up defensively.

"I'd prefer the former," Victoria said.

"I reckon you might," Cora said, "and I reckon I'd have been in a tight spot if you hadn't showed up when you did. What I can't puzzle out is why you thought it best to just stand there and gape at me instead of lending a hand."

Victoria's face burned. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"Well, ain't too much of a loss. Vampire's dead, and you probably would have wound up shooting me."

"I resent that," Victoria said. "I'll have you know that I defeated one of these creatures on my own after you left me in the barn. It very nearly killed me in the process."

Cora snorted. "You're making that up."

"I will prove it to you," Victoria said. "The corpse is still up in the barn loft along with my crucifix."

"You dropped my crucifix?" When Victoria nodded, Cora shook her head. "You're like to kill us both, you know that? What kind of vampire hunter goes around dropping their weapons like they was cow dung?"

Victoria straightened her back. "It wasn't intentional. Besides, I don't call myself a vampire hunter, so I don't really see how that applies to me."

"You're one now whether you call yourself it or not," Cora said, "though calling yourself one might make explaining what happened to your throat a bit easier."

Victoria touched her neck, suddenly remembering the bite wound. Pulling a red bandana from her trouser pocket, she tied it around her throat. Cora smirked at her before she stepped out of the bedroom and started down the stairs.

The jingling of the hunter's spurs rang in Victoria's ears. A vampire hunter? Her? The title sounded ominous, something to carve on her tombstone after her untimely death. She shook her head. Whatever else she may be, she certainly wasn't a vampire hunter. Killing one vampire didn't make her one any more than killing a squirrel with a stone made her a squirrel hunter. Cora was just trying to rattle her.

"Get on down here, Vicky." Cora's voice echoed in the hallway. "We got us work to do."

Victoria laid a palm on the butt of her gun and made her way down the stairs. Cora stood in the living room, wiping her saber on the dead woman's dress. Gore streaked the floral pattern. She slid the blade back into the sheath at her side and turned to Victoria "Bastards got all my guns off me."

"What?"

"Ain't rightly sure how it happened. This one jumped out at me in the barn, and I followed it into the house," she said, shoving the corpse with her boot. "Had it in my sights when the other feller got me from behind. Lost my rifle when I went down."

"Yes, I saw it over there," Victoria said, pointing.

Cora nodded. "I managed to get that one off me before the lady had her a chance to join in. Got my Colt out and blew her away, and the other one lit out up the stairs. I chased it on up and saw that both doors was open. I checked the left one first, not thinking straight, and the damn thing got me from behind again. My gun went flying out my hand again, and I didn't get my sword out long before that got knocked away, too. We went around a few times, dancing about each other like tom cats in a spat, and that's about when you showed up."

"Was this encounter unusual, then?" Victoria asked. "It seems that they were able to sneak up on you a number of times."

"Well, I ain't no spring chicken no more," Cora said. "In case you forgot, been a good while since I've done this sort of thing. My old bones got some rust on them now, and they take to creaking a good deal more."

Victoria nodded, feeling slightly guilty for having asked. Cora had to be at least twenty years her senior, and her years had been hard-won in this unforgiving frontier. Looking at the hunter's leathery, sun-browned face, Victoria became aware of her own pale skin. Her hands were soft and unwrinkled, not wiry and gnarled from use. In that moment, she felt more out of place than she had standing on the streets of Albuquerque in her finery. She may have bought boots and denim trousers, a horse and a gun, but she wasn't of this world and never would be.

"Well, we should get them horses put away," Cora said. "Mind fetching my rifle for me?"

Without looking up, Victoria picked up the weapon and handed it to her.

"Much obliged." Cora slid the rifle into place on her back. "Now then, let's have us a look at your kill."