Graven Images by Diamondback

PART TWO

With Mary at the hotel looking after Chris, Buck now stood on the balcony walk outside the clinic watching the sky deepen. The sun set to the far side of the building, so there was no complete view of it, but a splay of pink-orange clouds still winged the sky, telling him there was adequate light at the moment. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the clinic door and stepped inside. It was disturbingly dim inside, and being for the most part one handed, he could only handle one task at a time. He left the door open for a moment to let out the smell of garlic that had built up. Ambient light fell through the window over the bed in a gray veil upon the form still lying there. Buck lifted the wick on the nearest oil lamp and struck a match. A few seconds later warm golden light fully defined Vin´s body: still as stone and deathly, unmoved since last Buck had seen him. Buck eased the door closed and locked it.

There was too much silence in the room, so every footstep seemed to creak louder than usual. Buck sat the lamp down near the bedside and tried to play casual when really his heart was hammering in his chest. “Geez, I see why you´d run away from garlic.” He waved a hand in front of his face to clear the pungent aroma. “Stinks to high heaven in here.” He inspected Vin´s wrists shackled to the head board, then kept speaking as he went around to the foot of the bed and checked out the leg irons. “Sun´s almost down, so you just sit tight. I´m going to make some coffee.” He gave one ankle a pat and cringed as he touched more of the cool flesh than he´d intended.

He lit a second lamp and opened the pot belly stove to stoke the charcoals. They still held enough heat and soon he got a full fire blazing and set the coffee pot on with an extra scoop of grinds. He´d need it this night. The hotter and stronger the better. Once the pot was settled to heat, he turned and looked up through the window over the bed.

The sky beyond was dark.

Buck swallowed and looked down at Vin´s closed eyes. What compelled him to step closer, he couldn´t say. Curiosity was about to have a good whack at the cat, though, for he also leaned over the bed slightly, getting a better look straight down at the dead tracker´s smooth young face and the hair spread over the pillow, golden and silvery both as it gleamed in the lamp flame. “Vin?” he whispered hoarsely.

The silence rose up to meet him for a matter of seconds before the eyes suddenly opened and Buck felt his stomach turn as he looked down at two void white orbs framed in dark blond lashes. He suppressed a yelp and took a step back, while Vin didn´t move. The white eyes seemed focused—if they had any vision at all—on the ceiling, and then the milkiness faded. Cool crystal blue irises came into view mid-set with pin points of black pupils. This change obviously marked the full return of consciousness, for Vin blinked, and then his gaze angled stiffly and unfeeling toward Buck.

“Hey, there, pard,” Buck rasped, trying to maintain his composure. “Have a good rest?”

With an abrupt wild snarl, Vin tensed up. His body bowed toward the ceiling, and when he felt the briars draped across his midsection, he let out an unearthly shriek. Finding his wrists and ankles bound, he pulled and pushed, shaking the bed and slamming the headboard against the wall with an unsteady THUD-THUD-THUD. The bed frame and support ropes creaked, threatening to break apart.

Buck stumbled back, wincing at the sounds. Oh no, this wouldn´t do. Any moment now Tiny would come up the steps to ask what the ruckus was disturbing the horses down in the livery. “Vin! Please, Vin, stop!” He tried to ease toward the bed, stepped back when Vin raised his head and gnashed those sharp teeth at him.

Body writhing under the thorn vine, Vin broke off his morbid animal cries for a moment to blink almost pleadingly at his captor. His fingers curled into tense claws and every cord in his body was stretched taught and quivering.

“It´s the thorns?” Buck watched the vampire´s torso undulate, trying to throw off the vines. The movement made it worse, as Vin´s thread bare shirt shifted open, exposing his pale tight belly to the thorns, which seemed to have hooked into his skin with a mind of their own. “All right.” Buck eased a little closer, reached with his good arm. . . backed up again. . . reached. “Hold on, now, Vin. I´ll get ‘em. Just hang on.” He felt like he was trying to avoid being bitten by a rabid wolf. With a quick movement, he grabbed the end of the clutch and jerked the vines upward, straight off of their captive.

Vin wailed miserably and collapsed back onto the bed. The thorns had torn bloodless waxy scratches in his body. Buck threw the vines to the floor underneath the bed. He could still reach them there later if need be. Vin heaved short fast breaths that rumbled with a low growl. The coffee tin interrupted with a metallic crick and crack as it grew hotter.

After a long moment over which he seemed to calm considerably, a vague utterance of “Buck. . .” came hissed between gasps.

“Hey,” Buck said softly as he pulled up a chair but kept ample distance from the bed. “What´s on your mind, Vin?”

The blue eyes blinked back at him with feral distrust. Then Vin gritted his teeth, his fangs biting into the insides of his lower lip. His breath never ceased its panicked rhythm, and Buck took a guess why. First the thorn vines had caused pain—which they would do to any human being, let alone a creature allergic to them—but the breathing problem had to be due to the garlic scent. Wait a minute. If Vin was really breathing now that he was awake, didn´t that account for something? Was some part of him still actually alive? His eyes scanned along Vin´s body, over the thorn scratches, to the bared chest that, he suddenly recalled, should be covered in patches of holes where the shot had gotten him. Instead, neat, pearly scars had covered over the wounds, a miraculous healing that reminded Buck again that he couldn´t be sure who or what he was really talking to.

“Do you really know who I am, Vin?” He leaned in as far as he dared and stared into those eyes.

A watery look of pain gazed back as the captive gradually calmed a little more. Dark hollows were forming under his eyes, and his cheeks looked slightly more sunken. His lips curled back briefly in a random silent snarl, then hostility melted into an unreadable mask.

Buck didn´t deny he was scared shitless being in such supernatural presence, but he was also curious and determined. He cocked his head, and for a long moment they only gazed at each other. If he were to reach past the vampire—the thing that drank blood to survive, that fell into lifeless dormancy during the day and had an obsession with counting—and find his old friend, now was the time. “You are in there, aren´t you?” he whispered. “You said you came back for Chris.”

Vin´s brows furrowed ever so slightly at the mention of the name. It was just enough of the kind of response Buck was looking for.

“That´s right. . . Chris.” Buck eased off the chair and closer to the bed, on his knees and more eye level. “Why did you say you only came back for him, Vin? Why only Chris?” He waited for an answer, but Vin stared as if trying to grasp the point. That, again, was something. Buck swallowed and took a breath. God, it was hurting to do this. Again he inwardly prayed that Ezra and Josiah came back with good news. He took another breath, let it out.

After a moment, Vin´s lips parted again, and Buck glimpsed just the very tip of the tongue between the fangs as words tried to form. Vin pursed his lips slightly. “Chris. . .” he hissed softly, sounding parched as old dry leaves. “Where is he?”

“Yeah,” Buck said more to himself than the captive. “Can´t get ‘im out of your mind, can you?”

The rumbling coffee pot called his attention, and Buck stood, giving the whole ordeal a rest. It was emotionally tiring, and physically he hadn´t gotten much rest all day. He turned his back to the bed, but kept throwing little glances over his shoulder, to be sure Vin stayed put, as he fumbled a tin cup onto the shelf top by the stove and removed the steaming coffee pot to a tile trivet. The aroma of the coffee alone revived his senses as the steam curled up when he poured a cup. Buck closed his eyes, savored it for a moment.

“Love. . . him. . .” came whispered from behind.

Buck opened his eyes and slowly turned to look full on at Vin. “What did you say?”

Vin´s body still quivered, and his eyes had shifted to an icier hue. “I love him. . .” he said more clearly but in the same dull whisper. His breath caught again, and he tugged at his bound wrists.

“. . . and I´m so hungry.”

-7-7-7-

The daylight lingered just long enough over the hills between Four Corners and Watsonville to get Ezra and Josiah a good hour into their trip before they had to slow their pace to be more wary of shadowed obstacles on the path. They stopped by a watering station for the horses to drink and discussed the night´s plan as they gave the moon time to rise a little higher and better illuminate the way.

“A little under three hours, if we hold steady.” Ezra added sourly, “Then digging.” He sighed and patted Chaucer´s neck that was inclined toward the trough. “I wonder how the others are doing.” He inadvertently massaged the inside of his elbow beneath his sleeve and felt the sore spot from which Nathan had taken blood for Chris. Surprisingly, he hadn´t felt too week considering he´d been in the saddle for most of the afternoon following the procedure.

“I´m sure they´re fine. We get back with this news, the only trick is digging up that grave and burning the body without anyone seeing.” Josiah pressed down on the pump at the end of the trough, flushing fresh cool water out. Quickly he ran his hands under it and scooped it up into his face.

In the scattering of trees around the station´s shed, a night bird twittered and something rustled through dry leaves.

“Considering what Stefan said about the curse. . .” Ezra shook his head and sighed.

“Yeah, I been thinking about that, too. Vin definitely had reason for revenge, and unfinished business.”

“Well, the revenge has already been served. I think he came back for one reason and one alone.” Ezra stared pensively at the rippling reflection of the moon in the trough.

Josiah dabbed at his face with a handkerchief. “Yep.”

They decided to be quiet on what exactly Vin´s unfinished business appeared to be. Led by a path of silver light, they proceeded.

-7-7-7-

Chris´ color was beginning to come back somewhat, Mary noticed as she helped him sip a cup of beef broth. His hand appeared a little shaky as he tried to grip the cup himself, but overall he did quite well. Lowering his head back onto the pillow, he gave her a quirky and vacant fragment of a smile. Something about the smile, small though it was, bothered Mary. Perhaps it lacked sincerity, but then he had lost a very close friend and now been ill all day, so she shrugged off the prickling she felt at the back of her neck.

“Thanks,” he rasped, and then turned his attention to the window.

Mary put the cup aside and eased back into the chair. “Would you like anything else? Some water?”

“Nah, not yet.” The lamp glow cast on his hard jaw line and the pale pink of his ear lobe as he remained turned away, wholly preoccupied with the night sky beyond the window and the cool- white glow of the moon. Dampish dirty blond locks clung to the side of his neck.

“Maybe you´re ready for another meal?” She knew she was being pushy, but Nathan had insisted that it was important for Chris to eat, so she tried to look at it as only following orders. He lolled his head back over to face her, and his darkening eyes told her to stop it. “Excuse me,” she said, shaking her head and feeling her cheeks color somewhat. Her readiness to help out had begun to wane, and she felt a rush of eagerness to hand the shift over to J.D., who was next in line.

Again he gave that empty piece of smile. Mary pondered a way to respond to it. Smile back? Say something? And what? She didn´t exactly want to know how much liquor Chris had imbibed to put him in this condition. Twirling absently at a lock of hair beside her ear, she settled back further, knees neatly together. “I haven´t seen Ezra and Josiah since this morning,” she commented. She couldn´t help it; she wanted to fill the silence somehow.

“I´m sure they´re about.” He took a long, tired breath, and Mary again felt her face heat. Of course he didn´t feel chatty, she chided herself, though a great part of her wanted to ask him why the others had either been scarce or acted strange lately, other than that they were each mourning in his own way. Did they understand that Vin would be missed by the entire town? Today, however, was different. Buck had never explained why his arm was in a sling, and he´d slipped off quicker than a guilty cat after asking her to sit with Chris for a while. Nathan had disappeared into Buck´s room for a nap when he normally slept at the clinic, and J.D. had been pacing outside the jail all day like he desperately wanted to be somewhere else.

A tiny tap at the door and Chris´ gaze roamed from Mary toward the sound. She shifted in her seat and watched the knob turn and a tiny, familiar hand crept around the door first. Then Billy´s round face appeared, eyes blinking and curious. “Mama?” the six-year-old said sweetly. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, Billy.” Mary gestured him in. He eased the door closed and went right to the bedside.

“Hey there, pard,” Chris greeted him, and this time the smile that touched his lips was sincere and traveled all the way to his eyes.

“How you doin´?” the child asked considerately. One hand was tucked behind his back. Mary smiled to herself as she saw what he was holding.

“I´m doin´ good,” Chris replied and weakly reached up to tousle Billy´s flaxen hair. “Should be up and about fine in the morning.”

“Look.” Billy presented the object to Chris: the little horse Chris had whittled out of a block of wood and given to Billy the day he first arrived in Four Corners. The carving had acquired some wear around the edges, and the wood had darkened from being handled. “I thought you could use some company.”

Chris took the figure into his hand and turned it over, his calloused fingers examining the smoothness in the grain. “Thank you, Billy.” Then he lowered his hand to his side on the bedcovers and took another breath. His eyes roamed to Mary, and this time attained their green warmth. “Maybe I am ready to eat something more. Mary, do you mind?”

“Oh, not at all.” She stood and smoothed her skirt and apron. “Billy?”

“Can I stay with Chris?”

Chris´ brow furrowed slightly and he seemed amused. “Go on, Billy. When you get back we´ll discuss our next fishing trip, what do you say?”

Billy´s eyes lit up, and Mary did all she could to guide the child from the room. As she closed the door gently behind her, she noticed Chris had gone back to staring out the window, his hand still gripping the toy horse. He was completely absorbed by something out there in the night. A star, perhaps. Mary turned the knob to make sure it caught and then herded Billy on down the hallway to the stairs.

They put in an order for a tray at the hotel kitchen and waited for a good fifteen minutes among a crowd dense with hungry prospectors. A hoard of businessmen from the east had also arrived that day and Mary overheard plenty of discussions that Four Corners might get its own mill. She made mental notes to track down the parties involved and arrange interviews for the Clarion.

Finally, a full plate arrived with a cut of beef—Nathan had given specific orders what Chris was to eat—potatoes, and a slice of bread well buttered. Billy carried a large glass of milk and marched purposefully back up the steps as Mary brought the tray. Once they reached the landing, he moved further ahead, little legs carrying him at a partial jog, jostling the glass in his hands.

“Billy, don´t spill that milk,” Mary chided after him. Nevertheless, she still followed a trail of little white splats on the floor.

Just down the hallway, the child suddenly stopped and stared. “Mama?”

“What is it?” Mary brought the tray forth and frowned to see that the door hung wide open, a panel of moonbeam on the floor in the room. “Chris?”

Silence met her and she stepped inside, finding the bed empty, covers strewn aside as if Chris had done some serious struggling to get them off. The ceramic commode in the corner sat clean and empty, and the wooden horse stood neatly on the dresser beside the oil lamp. Mary looked around.

Chris´ pants, boots, and shirt were gone, and so was their owner.

-7-7-7-

In the strange lull that had settled, Buck almost dozed off to the sound of Vin´s rustling breath. His head bobbed up and he shot awake when the empty tin cup fell out of his hand and hit the floor, spattering the last few drops of cold coffee about. He blinked and looked at the bed to find his charge staring at him. Vin´s lips were curled back and his teeth bared. The blue was draining from his eyes again, and his brows dipped low in an aggravated frown.

“I´m hungry, Buck,” he hissed. “I´m so hungry. . .”

Buck rubbed his eyes with his good hand and leaned over to pick up the cup. “I know y´are, buddy,” he said softly and stood to stretch. While he was at it he attempted to roll his shoulder, just to test the pain. A sharp stab answered. It was a little more tolerable than before, but he still winced. He let it be and walked over to the stove, sat the cup on the shelf and checked the heat on the stove´s surface. It was still quite hot, but he opened the door, fed in another small log, and stoked the flames, sending up a snapping curl of fresh sparks. Buck replaced the coffee pot on the stove top. Reheating it would render the brew strong and thick enough to stand a spoon up in it, but he would just have to deal or fall asleep again.

“So. . . hungry. . .” Vin growled.

Buck turned to watch the captive squirm, creaking the bed, pulling at his bonds. The head of hair tossed against the pillow and Vin´s eyes grew reddened and watery.

“Chris. . .” came out in an insistent growl and Vin´s breath hitched. He seemed delirious though not feverish.

It hurt to watch, even more so that Vin had made his confession. Could such a creature really still love? Buck swallowed, took a breath of his own, and eased back toward the bed. “You can´t take anymore from Chris, Vin. Do you understand? You´ll kill him.” He knelt, back at eye level with the struggling vampire and frowned. Little anxious pains stirred in his chest. How fearsome and yet vulnerable Vin seemed to grow by the second. “You cared about Chris in life,” he whispered. “Why would you want to drag him down into death with you?”

Vin paused in his struggles and stared. The question seemed to penetrate, but there was no telling how deep. He gave a small head shake on the pillow and shivered, pulling at his bonds once more. Then vulnerability was replaced by rage as his lips contorted into an awful grimace, bearing the long canines gleaming with spittle. “Death is all we have left.”

Stunned, Buck blinked at that and shook his head. “No, you can´t believe that, Vin.” He tilted his head in scrutiny and added more coolly, “If you ARE Vin.”

Suddenly a vicious snarl issued from the vampire´s throat, short and tight but ferocious as to imply it had all the forces of Hell behind it.

Buck startled at it and immediately rose into a stance to back away, finding himself blocked by the chair. He had heard that sound before, when as a youth he´d incidentally witnessed a dog fight on which wagers were made. It was a deep, throaty sound no human was capable of making. Ezra´s warning words leapt to the front of his mind— “That may not even be Vin anymore. At least not the Vin we know.” In that instant, the words felt so true. This couldn´t be Vin that would snarl at him so and freely speak of death that way.

Then just as angry disappointment began to gnaw at Buck, Vin´s face shifted again. The snarl faded, the lips relaxed, and the reddened eyes watered up.

“I´m sorry, Buck,” he gasped as if surprised at his own actions. “I´m so. . .” he struggled to get the words formed. “. . . so. . . sorry. . .” With a longing sigh he twisted against his bonds, and threw his head to the side. Jaw clenched, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Another growl issued, this one far less threatening and gripped with pain.

It had to be the hunger speaking, Buck thought. It was hunger for blood that controlled Vin and drove him to lash out suddenly. Vampirism, Buck deduced, was like a case of mean drunkenness, stealing control and numbing humanity. But he could clearly see suffering. Vin seemed to be trying to curl onto his side and go fetal, but the bonds kept him firmly stretched out. His skin looked almost papery in texture and dark veins peered through. Clearly his condition worsened the longer he went without blood.

Buck blinked back the sympathetic tears that rimmed his eyes. One great truth came to mind: Chris´ survival depended on Vin´s survival. How all of this would turn out, he had no idea, but he saw himself moving toward a great leap of faith. “Not Chris, too,” he whispered to himself and turned away from the bed. As he went back to the stove, he listened to the little grunts and growls, and the shifting sounds that had pushed aside all of the bed covers and dumped them into the floor. Buck removed the coffee pot, put it back on the trivet, and hovered his free hand over the iron surface of the stove. The heat radiated, pulling sweat to the surface of his palm.

Feeling like he had a dull lump of lead in his chest, he knelt, opened the stove, and fed in another log, stoked up the fire until it was a strong, full blaze. “All right, Vin,” he said under his breath as he stood up. He put the poker aside and reached onto the shelf where Nathan kept a stack of small cloths. Taking one of them, he turned back to the bed. “I´ll do this. You can take it from me, but you aren´t going to have anymore from Chris.”

Vin´s eyes narrowed suspiciously as Buck approached but this time he took a seat on the bedside. Heart hammering, Buck knew he couldn´t cover up his fear over what he was about to do. He didn´t trust himself to make a decent cut, not with his wounded arm being too unsteady, so he could only hope that Josiah and Ezra returned with news of a treatment, or a cure, whatever it took. This truly was a leap of faith, one he was willing to take to save not just one but two friends. He´d known Chris so long, the man was like his brother - Chris´ family had been his family, too - and as much as Chris had suffered, he deserved to find happiness, whatever form it took. Ella had tried to take that possibility away, but fate, it seemed, had other plans. Ironically, Chris and Vin had gotten the last laugh in a twisted way. It had been there in the way Chris grinned at Ella for the last time and watched her be marched up to the gallows.

“I´m gonna do this,” Buck reaffirmed, “but you only take what you need.” He leaned closer and slowly moved his wrist out toward Vin´s mouth.

There was no hesitation from the captive. An eager gleam flashed in Vin´s eyes and he craned his head up off the pillow. He sniffed at the offering, a gesture that reminded Buck of a wolf scenting prey. Then in a lightning flash movement, he opened his mouth and bit down.

Buck gritted his teeth and clenched back a cry as the skin popped under the needle fine points plunging into the artery to the inside of his arm. He then felt the fangs withdraw like little corks pulled from a bottle. Vin´s lips contoured around the inside of the wrist, locking over the wounds. Only a tiny thread of blood escaped, draining from the edge of Vin´s lip down over his chin; then Buck felt the full, hot gush leave his arm in two hard spurts before his pulse evened out. Vin swallowed greedily, his eyes closed like those of a satisfied infant. Buck held his balance on the edge of the bed, trying not to lean in and put pressure on his bad arm. In seconds the sting to his wrist faded into a strangely pleasant numb sensation. Vin made little sucking noises and Buck watched as the throat muscles flexed when the vampire swallowed.

This wasn´t so bad, Buck thought. In fact, it was rather. . . soothing. No, make that. . . erotic. He shuddered as a strange sense of euphoria coursed through him and pooled in his groin. Some part of him felt like he could stretch out alongside Vin and lie there feeding him continuously. No wonder Chris had accepted his night visitor so voluntarily. All sense of human pain gently washed away. It was one incredibly mind-bending spell, and only a firm grasp on the full situation kept Buck from falling head on into the comforting void. Grasping his wits again, he realized how dizzy he was feeling. It didn´t seem Vin had taken that much. Six, maybe eight big gulps, and Buck already saw some color pour back into the ashen face. The lips sucking against his skin assumed a more rosy hue, and the dark circles under Vin´s eyes vanished.

“That´s enough,” Buck grated and tried to pull his arm up out of reach. He strained to use his bad arm, and brought the cloth up. Vin´s head rose, his lips still suckling, as he tried to hold on. With a jerk, Buck pulled free, closed the cloth over the wounds, and pressed as hard as the pain would allow.

With a groan, Vin collapsed back into the pillow, clearly savoring that last mouthful. Red gleamed along his lips and for the first time Buck thought he saw a smile ghost through the crystal-blue eyes.

“Yeah, you owe me one for this,” Buck said dryly as he stood. The pain of using his shoulder, and keeping pressure on the punctures in his wrist, forced tears to his eyes. The sobering effect was quite welcome. He wavered, took a breath, got his bearing, and walked back to the stove. By now the heat radiated off the iron surface in waves. Buck removed the cloth. To his astonishment, the fang marks were as small and neat as those left on Chris´s body. They bled freely, but not so much that he couldn´t control it. He wiped the skin once to remove the excess, and then gritted his teeth. Aligning the wounds with the corner of the stove, he pushed in. More tears flooded his eyes and he strained out a grunt of absolute pain as the hot iron seared his skin with a steady ssssssssss. The pungent smell of his own burnt flesh wafted up to him as he held his wrist there for only seconds that felt like God-forever. When at last he pulled his hand away, the cauterized skin stuck to the stove, and he cried out again. It came free with a meaty peel and Buck clenched his hand to his chest as he stood taking more deep breaths. After a moment he dared to look and found the punctures were replaced by a neat brand of dark red that covered a small area. Buck wondered if cauterizing could cleanse a vampire bite, or was he cursed, too, now that he´d been bitten?

“Well,” he grumbled as he finally turned back to the bed. “Now Josiah and Ezra better come back with a cure or that´s three of us got a big problem.” He could always have a stipulation put in a will that upon his death, his body be staked and his head cut off. Buck shivered. “Eeeew,” he said under his breath.

To his surprise, Vin´s lips eased back into a toothy smile as if he had known what Buck was thinking. It sent little icy worms slithering up and down the inside of Buck´s spine. Only small remnants of blood clung to his fangs, so obviously he´d swallowed it all, and only the little mess on his chin remained. The dribble, Buck decided, could stay. No way he was going to try to wipe Vin´s chin for him. Arching a brow at the haunting smile, he dragged himself back to the chair and propped his second wounded arm in his lap.

“Would you can it with the grinnin´,” he muttered. “Nathan´s gonna kill me for this.” But really, he just wanted to not be looking at those fangs. Didn´t help to have no clue what was going on in Vin´s head. After a moment, his wishes were granted as Vin licked the corner of his mouth and then closed it. In all he looked far healthier, and definitely alive, which set Buck to pondering the whole situation all over again—is he alive, or is he dead? Buck decided to take the debate, and his dizzy head, out onto the balcony for some fresh air.

He left the door open to cool the heated room and still keep an eye on Vin, who stared after him intently. It occurred to him that the captive seemed suddenly quite comfortable in his bonds, for Vin had stopped writhing and pulling on the iron clamps. The night air bathed his face as he approached the railing and looked up the street. The street fires had long since been lit and the general comings and goings had died down. A covered buckboard was parked in front of the livery below, the two horses still hitched up and looking the worse for wear. Their master was probably inside making arrangements for their keeping with Tiny.

A moment later, he thought he saw Nathan and J.D.´s figures emerge from the Jail, but at this distance, and with only firelight and moon for illumination, he couldn´t be sure. They seemed to be hurrying this way. Buck squinted to see better, make sure it was them. Come to think of it, that looked like Mary hurrying along with them. They were pausing as they came, talking to anyone that passed them in the street. Then they hurried forward a little more, stopped, spoke to someone else. Something was going on, and Buck pondered between keeping his watch over Vin or locking up and running up the street to see what was up. Could it have to do with Chris? If so, why were they taking their time to speak to the townsmen? He turned back and hurried forward, pausing in the doorway as he gave more consideration. Better stay. . . no, better go check on Chris.

Across the room, Vin had that awful grin on his face again, a look of crazy glee as he stared hard at Buck. His eyes were more cold and wolfish than ever.

“What?” Buck asked defensively.

Vin´s eyes roamed past Buck, and he calmly pulled outward with one wrist. His smile faded gradually as he had to put more strength into it, straining as he gave a sideways twist with his arm. The wooden post on the bed gave a resistant crick-crack, and abruptly the shackle´s lock snapped. The circlet swung open and his wrist came free. Vin sat half way up, his other wrist still bound, and continued to look past Buck, distracted by something else.

Buck was equally as distracted by the vampire´s sudden show of strength. “Holy shhhh-” he began, but he never got the rest out. Something came down on the base of his skull with a solid knock. The warm light in the room, and the sight of Vin, faded into a field of black stars.

-7-7-7-

The outline of the town came into view above the trees, the higher false fronts of the buildings rimmed with moonlight, while the more golden glow of the street fires reached up from the thoroughfare. The steeple on the church, however, was the most welcome sight. Ezra smacked Chaucer´s rump, while Josiah did the same to his horse, as they broke into a full run to trim down the last of the distance.

Ahead, something roared toward them with the grind of wheels and two more sets of hoofs. The wagon, and its shadowed pilot, came into view around the bend.

A gruff, “HeeYAH!” came from under the brim of a hat, but the man in the front seat didn´t look up.

“Watch it!” Josiah shouted as he steered off the side of the trail.

Chaucer whinnied as Ezra steered hurriedly in the other direction. “Hey!” He squinted against the assault of dust on his eyes. “Damned fool!”

In the wagon´s wake, they brought their mounts back onto the road, waving dust from their faces and coughing.

“That voice sound familiar to you?” Josiah asked, craning his head to watch the boxy tail end of the wagon disappear, half cloaked in its own dust.

“I barely heard it, I was too busy defending my right not to get trampled,” Ezra growled and coughed. Up ahead, at the entrance to Main Street, he heard voices shouting and made out the figures of men emerging from the livery. “I think that wagon was just stolen,” he said, steadying the irritated gelding as he lined back up with the preacher.

“Let´s find out,” Josiah declared, and reined his horse on.

-7-7-7-

“How long were you gone?” Nathan asked frantically as he followed Mary Travis down the hallway to Chris´ empty room. They had just retraced as many steps as possible, trying to figure out how he could have left the building unseen.

“I don´t know,” she said with exasperation and swept a lock of hair back behind her ear. “It could have been twenty minutes.”

“He give any indication he was going to try this?” Nathan threw yet another glance around the head regulator´s room, looking for any clues.

“No.” Mary shook her head, her corn silk brows knitting. She´d left Billy downstairs with the Potter family, and was clearly fighting the urge to pace as she explained herself. “He was distracted looking out the window, but his spirits seemed up when he saw Billy. Then he asked for something to eat.”

Nathan nodded, gave her a gentle grip on the shoulder. This wasn´t her fault. No one could have known Chris would find the strength to get up and walk out, though Nathan wasn´t so sure yet that Chris had managed it; he could still be in the building somewhere. The hotel stairwells were both clear, and no one had seen Chris go down the front one into the lobby and kitchen, so that left the back one, which had more steps and turns, too many places for a weak man to collapse. “Come on, let´s ask outside.” It was the only option he could think of now.

Mary nodded and followed him downstairs and out into the street. Nathan strained his eyes in either direction, caught no sign of Chris, and called out, “Anyone here just see Mr. Larabee?”

Several grubby miners on their way back to their camp paused to shrug at him, their blank faces asking, “Who´s that?” Others strolling along the boardwalk shook their heads.

Nathan had a feeling where Chris was trying to go, the question being how was a man in his condition going to get there. “Check over there?” he asked Mary and pointed across the street.

She nodded, hitched up her skirt in her hands, and trotted over, maintaining her womanly composure. As she scouted that side, calling down alley ways, Nathan took his side all the way to the sheriff´s office. He rapped on the door, and waved a hand in the window to call J.D. out. The kid emerged with wide curious eyes, scanned the street quickly—an instinct he´d learned to use well—and then planted his gaze on the healer.

“What´s up? Something going on with Chris?”

“You have no idea,” Nathan sighed and explained the situation. Moments later they were working their way up the street again, asking everyone as they went if anyone had seen Chris. J.D. ducked into several alleys and back out again shaking his head. Mary wove in and out of the few businesses that were still open before crossing the street to join them.

“The only place he´s goin´ is to the clinic,” Nathan said. “I just can´t imagine he made it there without collapsing.”

“Why the clinic?” Mary asked, her cool green eyes scanning their faces, which suddenly went blank.

“Uh. . .” J.D. looked at Nathan to do the honors since he´d brought it up to begin with.

Eyes wide as he thought, Oops, Nathan opened his mouth, closed it, cleared his throat. Finally he decided that a partial truth was the best they were going to do. “Look, Mrs. Travis, I can´t tell you exactly what´s going on, but it involves Vin.”

Her brows furrowed again in confusion, but still she remained composed, even with all of the excitement of Chris going missing. “Vin? How?”

“It´s a long story, Ma´am, but I´ll tell you one thing. If it turns out the way we hope, you´ll have yourself one heck of a story for the Clarion.” He left it at that. “Now, let´s just focus here on—“

From up the street by the livery, voices shouted. One cried out, “Hey!” and another, “Come back with my wagon!” and yet a third, “Sonofabitch!”

J.D. was already running toward the commotion, a hand pressed on top of his head to keep his derby hat on. Nathan cursed under his breath and took off after the kid. Mary didn´t break into a run but walked quickly behind, which was just fine with the young sheriff and the healer as they looked ahead and spotted Josiah and Ezra´s horses arriving amid the ruckus. As the livery came more fully into view, along with Tiny and the two men standing outside along with them, Nathan´s eyes wandered up to see that light was pouring out of the livery door. It seemed Buck should be out on the balcony, but there was no one; maybe he just wanted some fresh air in the room, Nathan hoped.

“Mr. Steadler here´s wagon was just stolen,” Tiny was already complaining to Ezra just as he dismounted and thrust his horse´s reins into the shorter man´s hand. Josiah followed suit. Both horses were winded, and their riders sufficiently dusty. Ezra used his hat to try to swat off the dust clinging to his coat sleeves.

“Sir,” the preacher said to the man in question—a dusty faced, bearded newcomer whose companion looked like a younger version of himself: either a son or a little brother. “I´m sorry my companion and I can´t go after your wagon, but as you can clearly see, our horses are tired.”

“But—“

“This right here´s our sheriff.” Josiah gestured J.D. over and promptly assigned him to the detail. In the process, his eyes found Nathan´s and with a subtle head gesture, he indicated the balcony.

Nathan nodded, wheeled around the corner and up the steps. Below he heard Josiah and J.D. sorting out the situation, promising to go after the wagon, but saying that surely it wouldn´t get far because the moon was in its decline and the thieves couldn´t see where they were going. Nathan heard footsteps behind him and knew Ezra was on his heels. “You find out anything?”

“Plenty,” the conman replied. They turned the corner and froze briefly to see that the door to the clinic was not only left open, but the lower half of a body lay outside. They recognized the tan trousers and boots at once. Their owner was already trying to get up onto his arms.

“Buck!” Nathan hurried ahead and knelt to look into the room, finding Vin gone. “What the hell happened? Vin do this?”

Buck hung his head, eyes clamped shut as he struggled with his wounded arm. He´d worked his elbow out of the sling and tried to prop himself up despite the pain. “No,” he grated through his teeth.

“Huh?” Nathan helped him roll over and sit up to lean against the door frame.

Ezra leaned over Buck and looked around the room, seeing the shackles still attached to the bed, but no longer holding their resident vampire safely. So this was it; the situation had stepped up to a new level of urgency. “Shit.”

Buck leaned his head back and tried not to pass out. “It was Chris.”

“Can´t be,” Nathan argued. “Vin´s done gotten loose.”

“I was watching Vin,” Buck hissed angrily. “He broke one of his cuffs, but it was Chris coldcocked me from behind.”

“Oh, God,” Ezra said and paced. “Chris didn´t pass while we were gone, did he? He couldn´t have. . . resurrected. . . not so soon.”

“No, he was alive twenty minutes ago when Mary went to get him some supper,” Nathan replied.

“I´m tellin´ you, it was him,” Buck insisted. He eased his head back against the door frame to hold it up on his sore neck. “There´s somethin´ about him and Vin. . . something between ‘em. . . I think I understand it now. I was stunned, but I still heard ‘em leave. I heard ‘em take the wagon.”

Down by the livery, the situation settled with J.D. and Josiah agreeing to go find the wagon at first light.

Then a set of quick, short and dainty footsteps announced Mary Travis´ arrival. “Gentlemen,” she greeted, and promptly went ahead of J.D. and Josiah up the steps. They followed with worry in their eyes that doubled when they turned the corner in her path and beheld Buck propped up in the doorway. “Buck?” her dulcet and concerned voice met him, and while pleasing enough to the ears, it was obviously the last thing he wanted to hear.

“Uh, Mrs. Travis,” Ezra said, stepping toward her as Josiah went to Buck´s side to help him stand. “I´m afraid we have a situation with a particular patient who has gone missing along with Mr. Larabee.” He kept a stance between her and the door, while Nathan and Josiah helped Buck out of the way.

“Excuse me?” she tried to step around him, but J.D. hustled in front of her, knelt to pick up Buck´s hat and the sling, and scurried inside.

“Please, Mrs. Travis, this is an urgent matter, one which you would do well to keep quiet until further notice.”

“Nathan just told me you´re all hoping for something to happen. . . something that involves Vin,” she said, glaring at him, and while Ezra had seen her glare before, this one was different. Last time he´d seen that look, she was threatening one of the men who had tormented little Billy two years ago. “How can it involve Vin? What IS it, Ezra?” she asked with true frustration deepening her tone. “First Vin died, then Chris took sick. You and Josiah have been gone all day. What the HELL is going on with all of you?” Ezra´s brows rose in amazement. She took a breath, calmed herself and tucked another loose lock of blonde behind her ear. “Look, Ezra, I don´t care if there´s a story in it for the paper like Nathan said. I´m just worried about. . . about ALL of you.”

Ezra gave her an appreciative pat on the shoulder and remained calm though his irritation with the entire situation was racing toward a new high. “Thank you, kindly, Mrs. Travis,” he responded to her concern. It seemed Mr. Jackson had managed to put them all on the spot by mentioning Vin to her, and it would take a good-sized morsel of information to satisfy her curiosity. Fingering his chin he gave it more thought. “All right, look, I´ll tell you what I can, but this goes nowhere until I can verify it with you. In fact, it may even require the assistance of the Clarion later, but we´ll make that deduction when the time comes. Deal?” He spat in his hand and held it out.

She stared for a moment, and then finally nodded. To Ezra´s surprise, she spat into her own hand and shook his. “Deal.”

Inside the clinic, Buck had been lowered onto the bed where he sat up hanging his head, eyes watering at the renewed pain in his shoulder, while Nathan sat beside him, feeling gently at the nape of his neck.

“There´s a pump knot there.” He pressed in a little more and Buck winced. “Yeah, it´ll be tender.”

“´Course it´s tender, you just jabbed at it,” Buck snapped. Nathan gave an apologetic look and got up to get a fold of cloth and run some fresh cool water into it from the pitcher.

“How could Chris have walked all the way up here and freed Vin?” Josiah asked.

Buck accepted the cloth as Nathan came to sit back down. “Freed Vin AND stole a wagon,” he reminded them as he eased the fold onto the back of his neck.

“Nobody down there saw who took the wagon,” J.D. argued, but it was lost on Buck´s determined glare.

“So that WAS him,” Josiah said and swore under his breath, “and Ezra and I let him pass right by. Vin must have been hiding in the back.”

“Well, Chris did rest most of the day,” Nathan tried to rationalize it all. “He was finally eatin´ good, and his body did accept Ezra´s blood.”

“Nathan,” Buck said pointedly, “we all know if there´s one of us has the stubborn cuss willpower to drag his sorry ass out of bed for ANY reason, it´s Chris.”

Nathan´s brows rose and he cocked the corner of his mouth as he considered how true that was, and how Buck should know. He looked hopefully up at Josiah. “What´d you and Ezra come up with?”

“Well, it´s not a cure I´d happily take,” the preacher said as he removed his hat, “but we´re supposed to burn Saul´s body and feed the ashes to Vin and Chris.” He frowned as if remembering the problem with that. “If we can find them.”

“We´ll find them,” Buck said shakily and looked up as Ezra finally stepped into the room, minus one curious Miz Mary who had been successfully sent on her way.

“Well, that´s solved,” Ezra announced irritably, “for now.” He looked at Josiah. “You tell them?”

The preacher nodded.

“So, we gotta dig up Saul?” J.D. asked with disbelief and more than a little shake in his voice.

“We do,” Ezra replied and stared at the bed that was now empty except for Buck sitting on the end. “Though I´m wondering what good it will do us now. I´m afraid Chris may be as good as dead.”

“Don´t you fuckin´ say that, Ezra,” Buck said through clenched teeth.

Ezra frowned back at him and cocked his head in observation. Buck´s complexion was more pale than usual, his eyes vague with fatigue and bloodshot.

Nathan hung his head, closed his eyes and rephrased Ezra´s point a little more carefully. “Vin feeds again, that´s it. Chris won´t survive.” An uncomfortable silence seeped around them as all heads grew heavy and bowed, not in prayer, but fear of defeat. All eyes stared at the floor, minds racing for options.

Only Buck didn´t comply as he looked from one to the other and then down at the burn on the inside of his wrist. “He won´t,” he stated. “Vin won´t feed on Chris again.” Then he gingerly lifted his hand, the burn turned outwards for them to see. “At least,” he added, “not tonight.”

Come into these arms again and set this spirit free. - Annie Lennox Love Song For A Vampire, 1992

The world was spinning and the only stable point on which he could focus was Vin. No idea how far they were from town, Chris leaned back in the wagon´s seat, pulling on the reins with every ounce of strength he had left. The nags, already tired from their previous journey, meandered undirected to a stop to the side of the road, dropping the wagon´s front left wheel into a ditch. The buckboard gave a sobering CRACK sound as one of its corners nearly gave, and Chris fought not to tumble out with the hard bump down.

He wavered, blinked, stared at the horses with their ears cocked back and rimmed in fading moonlight. What was he doing here? he wondered and looked toward the ground beyond the ditch. He remembered getting out of bed and pulling on his clothes with a sense of urgency, then slipping down the hallway, minding not to run into Mary Travis or anyone else who could identify him. He´d slipped through the back ways, past the rear of the telegraph and sheriff´s office, hiding in alleys for long enough to rest before he moved on, until he´d finally pressed on to the back of the livery and into the alley where he stared up the steps to the landing for the clinic.

Only one thought drove him the entire time: that salvation lay at the top of those stairs. He had to crawl up, for his limbs were heavy as lead, and his vision bleary as dirty water. The clinic door was locked, but the upper windows revealed that there was light inside, so he waited, rested, and peered around the corner a little at a time. It wasn´t long before the door opened, and Buck came out. Chris recognized him in a strange and detached way. Some part of him, despite being drunk from blood loss and lacking coherence, acknowledged his oldest friend with appreciation. But the thing that dominated his senses the most had no care. The only thing that mattered was the prize in the room, the thing that Buck was guarding. It had been beckoning him gently for some time this evening, and all at once that call had grown stronger, and nothing could stand in his way. He acted on instinct, saw his own hands ball into a single fist before him, and as Buck turned from the railing and back for the door, Chris made his move.

The rest of it was lost to the pounding in his head as he tried to ease out of the wagon´s seat, but suddenly the ground seemed more like a ten foot drop, even with one corner lowered into the ditch. Cool hands gripped his shoulders from behind, and the horses whinnied with alarm and tried to pull at the buckboard but the ditch maintained a firm hold on the wheel.

Dizzy, Chris leaned heavily over and found himself being gently lowered to the ground on the other side of the ditch. The horses tried to bolt, giving the wagon a sudden and strong jolt that wore at the nails in the rupturing corner. Chris fell the rest of the way and landed on all fours. The thing that disturbed the horses jumped to the ground beside him, making hardly a sound.

Chris crawled several feet and sat back on his haunches. The hat he´d taken off the wagon seat and lowered over his face had fallen off, and he felt a cool night wind through his hair. Then Vin knelt down in front of him and came into full view. He´d shed his shirt and his upper body was luminous and taught. His eyes shown out of the dark, penetrating Chris with passionate crystal blue. Without a word he gripped Chris´ shoulders and pulled him to his feet.

“Vin. . .” Chris moaned as the spinning started again. He grabbed onto a lean white arm and held himself up.

Vin pulled him into the underbrush, away from the stressed horses and the wrecked wagon. Here the shadows deepened and moonlight couldn´t reach through. Chris didn´t know where they were going; nothing made sense. He held on tighter, let his guide lead him through the dark, swatting at scratchy dry branches as they raked his hair. It felt like an eternity of wandering, fighting vertigo and tripping when all he wanted to do was find a place to lie down and drift off. They´d come so far. . . hadn´t they? It was time to rest.

Upon the sound of running water nearby, Chris realized how thirsty he was. Without thinking he let go and felt his way toward the sound only to trip and slide over loose pebbles and down toward a shallow branch that sparkled in the scant light. On his belly, he reached out, felt the cool wet on his fingers, made a cup with his palm and drew it to his mouth. He supped eagerly, taking three handfuls. A low and irritable hiss sounded from the underbrush and Chris knew his companion was unsettled.

“Chris,” Vin´s whispery voice called to him. “Come away from there.”

Chris lifted his head and turned to look back under the trees, barely making out the lean figure standing there, shoulders squared off and tense. “Vin, please. . .” When the figure didn´t move to aid him, he fumbled his arms under him and tried to push back up to his knees again. A concerted effort got him back up the little embankment, well away from the stream before Vin would come near him. A strong hand reached out, grabbed him by the upper arm, and pulled him into the shadows.

There he collapsed once more and found Vin before him, on his knees, hands cupping Chris´ face. Chris returned the gesture. He lifted a hand and his fingertips grazed along the hard jawline, his thumb tracing along the cool silken lips. He smelled blood and earth, and as he leaned forward, eyes closed, soon he felt those lips to his. A cold moist tongue thrust into his mouth, tickling his soft palate, and he moaned into Vin´s throat. His hands spread and ran through Vin´s hair where they snagged and gripped, holding Vin in place as if afraid he would turn into mist and escape.

Right now, at this moment, this was all Chris ever wanted. The kiss persisted, driving deeper into his mouth, and he leaned into the other body, needing the support as skilled hands stroked his nipples and rendered him a melting mess of nerves. Gradually he lowered to the ground, and finally relaxed, letting Vin´s tongue drift from his mouth and over his chin to examine his extended neck. Little wet dabs painted around his Adam´s apple and along one collar bone, while Vin´s hand spread across Chris´ firm belly and parted his shirt down to his pant line.

Chris wanted to touch Vin back, to smooth his fingers over the sides of Vin´s ribs and feel the silky skin stretched over the ripples of bone and hard muscle, but he was too weak and anxiously anticipating the real reason for their reunion. He waited for the moment when Vin plunged his sharp teeth into his flesh, drawing out blood. Memory triggered arousal. . . how there was always a little sting when Vin bit, but then it would quickly fade into pleasure and the consuming beauty of Chris feeling himself flow inside his dark lover. He liquefied and traveled into Vin´s mouth and down his throat, then into his veins, a complete part of him, curling around every nerve and sinew. A path of crimson flooded around him and he surged with it, making his way into Vin´s heart chamber, then out into Vin´s limbs, up and down every finger and toe, out into his cock, and then back up again, completing the cycle back at the heart.

But it occurred to Chris now that Vin wasn´t drinking. Strange thing, that. Then the hands pried open the buttons on his trousers and Vin cupped his balls, massaged them in his palm and worked a finger down underneath against the taint. Chris spread his legs a little more and his lower body bowed upward as far as his strength allowed. Vin only caressed, licked, kissed. His icy fingers threaded through the blond curls of pubic hair and tickled up to Chris´ navel, but he still didn´t take what he needed. One more communion, and Chris knew he would sink into blessed oblivion. He didn´t understand what had happened to Vin, or what was happening to him, but it was all he wanted.

“Finish it,” he husked.

Vin´s unreadable eyes roamed up his body. The prodding and caresses stopped as he angled his head and examined Chris silently. He leaned down, inhaled Chris´ scent along his neck up behind his ear, and his lips parted. Chris saw the slight gleam of fangs and felt breath ghost against his cheek. Vin only hovered; a low contemplative growl arose in his throat.

“Finish it!” Chris demanded. This was agony, lying here weak and wondering why Vin didn´t take him finally. . . wholly. . . into the grave with him.

Vin bared his teeth, and for an instant something strangely familiar drifted through his eyes. His brows knitted and he stared at Chris´ throat, touched at it gently with his fingers.

“Finish it. . .” Chris´ rusty voice dropped off into a plea.

Vin drew a long breath, opening his jaws as if ready to finally plunge in, but suddenly he sat back, leaving Chris sprawled on the ground. His eyes gave a watery glitter and the frown on his forehead persisted as he appeared to contend with himself. In an instant he was on his feet and fleeing through the brambles.

“Vin!” Chris hissed in surprise as his lover fled. He strained to tuck his half-erect cock back into his trousers and button up the fly. Then he rolled over, pushed up to his knees, and staggered to his feet, squinting through the shadows. He could make out tree limbs still wavering back and forth in Vin´s wake, but could hear no footsteps. “Vin!” he cried out and wove his way forward, hands reaching to be sure he didn´t bump into a tree. His mind swam for an answer to why Vin had decided to bolt. Why hadn´t he fed and followed through with Chris´ wishes? “Vin. . . please. . . come back. . .”

Chris wandered on, following the trail of disturbed brush. He managed to work his wobbly legs into a pattern of steps that was neither walking and dragging, nor running and using up energy. The longer nothing but silence answered his calls, the more his eyes burned, and the veil over his senses grew thin. He wondered if he´d been dreaming all of this. Was he just chasing a phantom figure of his own imagination? He touched at his throat and still felt the little dots of scabs where Vin had tasted him before. It gave him assurance he hadn´t been dreaming, but to be abandoned like this. . . Chris had never felt abandoned before. It hurt so damned much.

At last he stopped wandering, and the burning in his eyes turned into full tears, boiling up, and spilling over in silence. Stiffness gripped his muscles and agony surged through him as he tried to suppress the grief and failed. His temples throbbed at the effort, and he reached out, fell against the nearest tree. His fingers clawed at the bark to ease his descent to the ground. He hadn´t wept for Vin´s loss. Certainly he´d had tears. . . little dams in his eyes. . . and there had been rage that broke free in the form of throwing things. He´d turned over the kitchen table the first night, but erected it again the next morning, feeling strangely embarrassed even though no one had witnessed it.

A sob shuddered through his chest, and he felt like he was going to choke as his throat opened up to let it out, but his jaw clenched like a stopper on a bottle and contained it. The pressure built up another shudder, and finally it all came out in a loud gasp and a deep cry as he turned his face to the sky and leaned back against the tree drawing his knees to his chest. A breeze chilled the hot rivulets on his cheeks and carried his misery on its current.

There was no telling how long he sat against the tree, tucked into himself, his tears growing cold and drying, one salty layer over another. So it was a startling surprise to see a shadow step before him from behind the tree. His gaze roamed up, climbing past the washboard stomach to the chest and shoulders on which waves of dusty long hair rested. A spread hand reached down to him, and Chris blinked to make sure he wasn´t seeing things. After a moment, he dared to reach up and felt the other hand, solid and comforting; it clutched him tightly and pulled him up to his feet.

With his other hand he reached out to the tree trunk to further steady himself, and Chris waited out the newest wave of vertigo before he blinked and looked into that face that he always wanted to see for now. . . for ever.

“This way,” Vin whispered.

Chris nodded vacantly and followed.

-7-7-7-

The sound of horse hooves clomping up to the cemetery fence from the east drew Buck´s attention and he turned from his watch toward Main Street, where the town had long since gone to sleep. J.D. and Nathan had carried torches on their journey out, taking no risks as to what might be waiting for them out there in the dark once the moon had lowered. They were leading the two horses that had born the wagon away several hours ago.

Buck held up his own torch with his good arm, while the other arm was once more settled in the sling. “Looks like you found something.”

“Wagon´s up the road about five miles,” Nathan said in a partial whisper as he dismounted and tethered his horse to the fence. “It´s got a corner wheel stuck in a ditch, and no sigh of Chris or Vin. Probably they took to the woods.”

J.D. dismounted and traded his reins for the reins on the two nags. “I´ll take ‘em over to the livery, get ‘em settled.”

Buck nodded. “Been a long night for them, too.” He watched the kid wave casually back at him and lead the two disgruntled animals away. Then he turned and followed Nathan through the fence and into the cemetery. On the far side, Josiah and Ezra worked by the light of a lantern—easily hidden should someone come along at this hour—to dig up Saul Han´s grave. So far they were roughly two-thirds of the way down, sweat gleaming golden on their brows and collars loosened on their shirts.

“It would be nice if you weren´t injured,” Ezra reminded Buck between breaths as he shoveled up another load of dirt and tossed it onto the growing pile. At the other end of the opened ground, Josiah heaved up an even bigger load and tossed it on.

“Nice for you, anyway,” Buck chided and intentionally turned his body so that the sling side was most prominent. He frowned when Nathan took his other arm and held it up into the light, examining the cauterization scar.

“I can´t believe you did that,” the healer growled.

“Hey, I did it for Chris,” Buck said lowly and pulled his wrist away. “And Vin,” he added then stumbled all over himself. “For both of ‘em. Hell. . .” He tried to shrug and winced.

“You said there was something between Vin and Chris,” Nathan recalled, eyes curious.

“Yeah.” Buck fingered his chin and considered how to explain it. “When Vin was feeding from me, I didn´t want him to stop. It felt. . . good. Damn good.”

Nathan´s forehead crinkled up in a disapproving frown. “Go on.”

“Well, it´s hard to say. It´s like. . . magic. . . or bein´ under a spell. Hell, or maybe just damned drunk. . . I don´t know, Nathan, but if I could feel it just a little bit, imagine what it must be like for Chris. Vin´s got a sort of hold on him, for sure,” he finished, “but I´d bet Chris don´t wanna be let go, either.”

Hearing this, Ezra and Josiah both paused to look up from the grave.

“You mean Mr. Larabee is an exsanguination addict,” Ezra said dryly.

“Whatever THAT means,” Buck muttered.

“Whatever it means, it doesn´t sound good,” Josiah put in before he took up another shovel load and tossed it.

Ezra rolled his eyes and went back to digging.

“There was something else Vin said. . .” Buck added more softly, frowning as the memory of the words disturbed him as much as the moment when they were spoken. He looked at Nathan, who waited expectantly. “He said death was all he and Chris had left.”

Nathan blinked. “Doesn´t sound like Vin.”

“No, it doesn´t.” Buck stared vacantly at Josiah and Ezra working for a moment and then inadvertently shrugged, once more wincing as he forgot about his bad shoulder. “I don´t know. There´s a side of it, I really do think that´s still Vin, but it´s like he´s trapped. Can you imagine what that must be like? Being trapped in your own corpse?” He looked at the healer who blinked, oblivious how to respond. “Sounds like a recipe for insanity, don´t it?” Buck felt Nathan´s hand give a gentle pat to his back, but decided to take his brooding thoughts and return to his watch at the fence.

Soon J.D. returned and he and Nathan took Ezra and Josiah´s places digging.

It wasn´t another hour later before Buck heard the kid comment, “I hit wood.” He turned from the fence and hurried over to the grave to lower his torch and watch as J.D. and Nathan dropped to their knees and hurriedly dusted off the surface of the pine box. A crowbar laid waiting next to the grave marker, along with a tin canister full of kerosene and a bucket of water standing by. Buck waited with baited breath as the entire lid was finally dusted off sufficiently. Every little noise in the cemetery suddenly seemed ten times greater and sure to alert the town, but as hearts beat faster anticipating what would be found in the grave, no one else in Four Corners ventured out to see.

“No tellin´ what the rate of decay´s been,” Nathan warned them. He took the crowbar and pried open his end of the coffin, already wrinkling his nose. But no foul smell surfaced. At worse, it was a musty, earthen odor. He handed the crowbar to J.D. who worked his end, gritting his teeth as he wedged the end underneath the edge of the lid and gave a hard push.

The wood cracked and the nails pulled up with it. Both J.D. and Nathan gave the lid a flip and turned it up on its side so that it fell down into the crevice between the dirt wall and the casket. Not sure what kind of sight to expect, everyone winced at first but found to their surprise, that Saul Han was almost completely intact.

His chest had been driven through with a wooden stake that still jutted out. His head had been removed and placed at his feet, where it lay with eyes open, milk white marbles in a perfectly preserved head that still had its mane of raven-black hair, which was strewn over Saul´s ankles. His skin had withered slightly and taken on a brownish, leathery look, his fingers boney and stiff. His thin lips were slightly parted, revealing long canines. What blood had leaked into the coffin had long since dried into a black, pitch-like mess. There were scratch marks on the insides of the coffin, and what looked like splinters lodged under the corpse´s fingernails. So this was what his family had left behind—a poor, cursed creature that had not been able to rest. It was both a horrifying and incredibly sad vision to behold.

As they stood in silence peering down into the hole, only the crackle of the torches spoke. Ezra´s eyes suddenly grew watery since he´d been pondering poor Saul´s situation after meeting the Han family. Josiah looked toward the sky as if to face God straight on with the question: How could this be? Buck eventually looked away out of respect, while J.D. couldn´t help but gape. Nathan was the first to break the silence by taking a breath.

“I guess then. . .” the healer began softly. “I guess we better get to it.” Vacant nods went around. Josiah and Ezra helped him and the kid out of the hole and Nathan tipped the kerosene over to carefully douse the body.

When all were ready and standing out of the way, Buck dropped his torch into the grave. The flames rose in an unnatural burst of crimson and roared to life, illuminating the night. Sparks flew into the air, and the group kept constant watch to be sure none came down amid the dry grasses surrounding the cemetery. Nathan guessed that rather than decay, the body had dried out somehow, naturally mummified, leaving it more combustible than he´d expected. They didn´t have to wait long before the flames began to die, leaving a charred headless shape of a man and the edges of a few bones. The hair burned away from the head, the white eyeballs collapsed, and the skin shrunk and curled back, leaving a blackened skull that grinned up through the last dancing licks of flames.

Buck stared at the skull, haunted to think that this had once been a human man, and chilled by the points on the teeth. Then water washed over the burning corpse and issued a loud hiss as smoke and steam rose up from the grave.

The rest of the work was quick and basic. They scooped a good bucket full of the char and ash out and put the singed lid back over what was left of the coffin. Josiah said a prayer to which the others all bowed their heads, even Ezra, and finally the dirt was shoveled back on.

The last of the dirt was smoothed over just as the sky to the east began to brighten, and five dirty and tired men departed from the cemetery expecting a long day ahead and no rest until the next deed was done.

-7-7-7-

There was no time to worry about breakfast. The rest of the horses were saddled and ready to go before the sun began to peer over the horizon. Rosy light followed and washed across the sky and then turned orange, warming the road ahead and casting long shadows of the five riders and their mounts. Before leaving, Nathan ground up as much of the ash as he could into a finer powder and spooned it into a clay jug that he then filled with water and corked. He bundled it into a saddle bag but occasionally withdrew and shook it to keep the ashes from settling too much. They ate jerked beef strips and kept a steady pace, knowing that wherever Vin and Chris had gotten to, they couldn´t go any further until sundown.

The sun was at mid climb when they passed several other early riders who were on their way toward town, and reached the stolen and foundered buckboard. Buck dismounted, careful to use only one arm, and roamed around the vehicle examining the ground. The others began to follow suit.

“That´s how we found it,” J.D. said as he threw a leg over the saddle and hit the ground.

“Yep,” Nathan agreed. “The owner´s lucky he´d already unloaded it so there wasn´t anything in there to steal.”

“Nothin´ but the wagon itself.” Buck gave a short leap and cleared the shallow ditch—shallow, but not so shallow it couldn´t snag a heavy wagon wheel and become a pain in the ass. “And that sure as hell wasn´t goin´ anywhere.” He shook his head, amused at the wreck. “Damn, and I thought Chris was a hellion when he´s soused.”

The others joined them, and all were pleased to find that the tracking skills Vin had demonstrated to them in the past had rubbed off just enough to come in remarkably handy now.

“Looks like one of ‘em got to the ground here,” Buck pointed out, gesturing at the crushed grasses on the other side of the ditch.

“The horses weren´t real happy,” J.D. commented. “They were tuggin´ at the wagon, nearly tore that corner there apart.” He pointed out the damage. “We had to get ‘em calmed down before we could bring ‘em back to town.”

“And there´s the hat I saw,” Josiah said as he came to stand over the dusty object. “It threw me off because it isn´t Chris´, but that was definitely Chris´ voice came out from under it.” He gazed into the scraggy brush along the edge of the ditch and spotted something else. Upon investigating, he reached down and his hand came up gripping a torn wad of cloth. “This is Vin´s shirt.”

While the others acknowledged this, Ezra was fingering his chin. “Horses. . .” he pondered. “As I recall, the Slavs used them to test the graves of those who were cursed.”

“Eh?” Buck perked up.

“Horses just somehow. . . know,” the conman replied. “They sense the vampire´s grave. It disturbs them, so the ones pulling this wagon probably weren´t too happy to have Vin hiding in the back.”

“So we take the horses on into the woods,” Buck declared. “They act uneasy, we´ll know we´re gettin´ close.”

All agreed on that. One by one they guided their mounts across the ditch, then Buck led the way on foot, all the better to pick out tracks and signs on the ground. The long dry season, fortunately, left a lot of clues, for brush had been pushed aside, and occasionally they happened upon a broken limb. Sometime later they heard the trickle of a stream and took a break to water the horses and let them munch on the surrounding vegetation.

Upstream from the animals, Buck and J.D. each had a drink of their own and splashed some of the water on their faces, then Nathan and Josiah took a turn, while Ezra stood slightly down stream considering something.

“Hey, I know this area,” J.D. said offhandedly. To the others´ curious looks he replied, “This stream feeds out of the fishing hole. Casey and I explored up and down here a few times—“

“We stay on this side!” Ezra suddenly blurted out.

“Huh?” The kid´s wide eyes shot to him and he frowned. “As I was sayin´, I been through these woods—“

The conman interrupted again as he approached, waving toward the stream and looking primarily at Josiah. “The Hans had their home placed beyond a stream. They only trusted us at all because we´d crossed it.”

“Yeah,” Josiah said in consideration. “You thinking what I´m thinking?”

“Vampires can´t cross running water.”

“Now that´s about the dumbest thing I ever heard,” Buck grumped.

“There´s not much logic in the entire undead world, Buck,” Ezra replied irritably, “is there?” He cocked his head and his jade eyes narrowed. “Obsessive counting?” he reminded the tall gunslinger. “Crawling out of the grave at night?”

“Yeah-yeah.” Buck waved him off. “Aw´right, so we stay to this side of the stream,” he chimed up as if it had been his idea. The broad grin under his mustache gave Ezra cause to shake his head and sigh patiently. “Let´s get goin´ then.” He pried his pocket watch out and opened it. “Almost noon already?”

“My stomach sure feels it,” J.D. replied.

“We´ll find some cactus fruit,” Josiah suggested, “just like Vin taught us to way back when. It should be in season.”

Buck winked at the preacher and gave a click with his teeth. He then turned back to the kid purposefully. “J.D. you say you know this area pretty well. Any idea what´s nearby?”

“Well, the stream runs out of the fishing hole south of here. That´s near Miz Wells´ property, so at least Chris and Vin are traveling away from there.”

“I´d say they are,” Nathan suddenly put in. During the discussion, he´d stepped a little further along the course of the stream, and suddenly stopped. The others joined him with new frowns on their faces, and found him standing over a series of disturbed pebbles. The stones had been pushed aside, exposing dirt that had long scuffs in it, suggesting something had been dragged through them. “Someone fell here,” he said. “Fell from up there and slid down here by the water.”

“But got up again,” Buck said as he came across tracks further up the embankment where the pebbles thinned out and the dirt became more loamy under the shade of a gnarled oak. “Here, look. . .”

There were two sets of prints, one appearing to back away from the other. One set was far heavier than the other as well and left a very clear impression in the ground. The five discussed the possibilities. Vin was the one with the lighter footsteps, and he had, it seemed, guided Chris away from the area of the stream. Further searching turned up a clearing of dried leaves disheveled and some crushed. Someone—Chris, presumably—had collapsed.

“They were here,” Buck said, feeling it more than really knowing. He took a breath and looked through the forest where the trees formed a tunnel of shade that gave him the same chills as if he were looking into a gloomy cavern.

Nathan pulled the saddle bags down off his horse, gave the ash water another good shake, and arranged the saddle bags over his shoulder, giving better access to the jug should they locate their quarry soon.

Stepping on carefully, scanning the ground, they fanned out slightly, making sure that if the central path veered off, one of them would catch the signs. It was a slow and tedious pace for all as they consciously clung to every second of daylight they had. Stomachs growled, and another break was called when Ezra located a prickly pear patch that was loaded with ripened fruit that they cut free carefully and skinned, avoiding the tiny dots of fine spines in the peels. It left their fingers stained with red juice, and they crunched loudly on the seeds, but the fruit was satisfying enough to give them the extra push they needed. The pear patches marked the zone where the woods thinned out and eventually broke off into nothing but rolling grassy hills spotted with rocky juts and crags.

Climbing to the nearest zenith, the five stared across more hills and down into a shallow gulch patched with more gnarled oaks.

Buck checked his watch one more time. Another three hours had passed, also indicated by the sun which was beginning to dip well on the other side of their directional path now. “Well, hell, where do we go now?”

Ezra stepped to his side and surveyed the stretch of the gulch, noting that the stream had to be almost due east. If Vin couldn´t get across the water, that meant he and Chris had gone anywhere between due north to due east. If, that was, had they continued in roughly the same direction. “We´ve got to think like Vin,” he suggested. “He might not be totally himself right now, but I´m sure there´s still some sense of his old skills he´s relying on. Where would he go, do you think, upon reaching this venture?”

“We have to look at the time they left Four Corners, too,” Josiah added. “They made it about five miles, then came this way. Plus, they were on foot.” He gave a crooked smirk as he saw that the others were catching on.

“Just like us,” Buck declared. “We´ve killed about nine hours out from the town, riding and on foot.”

“Just as they did,” Josiah said, nodding. “Means they might have made it another three hours before Vin went to sleep, but there´s no telling how far they might have managed in this open area. Vin would be vulnerable, and Chris probably wasn´t strong enough to go much farther.”

“So they never left the woods?” Buck looked at each of his companions and then turned to look back down off the hill in the direction from which they had come.

“It´s the only thing makes sense.” Josiah turned, too, his blue eyes following the path they had all taken up the hill, and back down into the woods.

“Then, I propose, Gentlemen,” said Ezra, “that we break up into two search parties and head back to the south.”

Buck nodded. “J.D.´s with me, you three head south by south east, we´ll go east. Spread out just far enough to do a wide search within shoutin´ distance. Look for anything resemblin´ a good nook to take cover. First thing you find, someone take post and send the others with word.”

“Got it.” Josiah mounted up, followed by Nathan and Ezra. They headed down the slope automatically fanning out to within twenty feet of each other. Shouting distance, as Buck had put it.

“Gimme a hand,” Buck said as he aligned with his horse. He got one foot into the stirrup, gripped the saddle horn with his good side, and J.D. gave him a push to the behind to help him hoist up into place.

“Hey, there´s farm land over there used to belong to the Claytons, I think it was,” J.D. said, gesturing toward the southeast before he mounted up and steered his horse off the slope.

“Yeah,” Buck said, recalling the name. “Guy Royal ran ‘em off their property.”

“Yeah, but they haven´t come back to reclaim it. Mary´s still working on locating them.”

To that Buck grinned proudly. “Kid. . . NOW you´re thinkin´.” Giving a gentle jab with his heels, he put his horse in motion.

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