Dead of Winter (20 page)

  After a short while, the tunnel began opening into a larger space. The light from their lanterns faded into the shadows, as did the cart tracks they had followed. They stood for a moment in silence, the light glinting on the scholar's glasses. From somewhere deep in the cave, Cora thought she could hear the sound of dripping water.

  "The miners found this cavern fairly early on in their excavations," James said. Even though he spoke softly, his voice seemed to travel for miles. "They don't know how far it extends, and they didn't much care until recently."

  "So you think them vampires came from in here somewhere?" Cora asked.

  "No, actually," James replied. "As I said before, this tunnel is still secure, or it was as of yesterday morning, so I can only conclude that this cavern doesn't connect to the other tunnels."

  "You've still set up crosses and such, though, right?"

  "Of course, my dear. I'm not daft." In the dark, she couldn't make out his expression, but she could picture his indignant look. "I'd rather not lose any more of the mine."

  "I didn't see nothing when we came through."

  "The wards are further in," James said, his tone patient.

  "Good," Cora said. "So when do we see to getting the other areas back?"

  "All in good time," James said. "I thought familiarizing yourself with the combat environment would be useful before jumping into the fray."

  "Right, a dark, dank mine. And here I thought it was going to be pistols at high noon." She clapped him on the back with her free hand, then reached down to her belt and drew her revolver. "Now let's go jump into that fray."

  The lantern light glinted on James's glasses as he shook his head. "Such haste will only get you killed."

  "Maybe," Cora said. "Could be that we take them by surprise right here and now and flush the whole lot."

  The shadows around them swelled and danced as James turned back toward the tunnel. Cora followed, lantern in one hand and Colt in the other. The tunnel closed in on them and the shimmer of the rock walls returned to the dull brown of boards. James extinguished each lantern as they passed, cloaking the tunnel behind them in shadow.

  They stepped out into the ore processing station, the sound of their footsteps fading into the large room. Without a word, James turned to his left and headed back for the office. Cora stepped over a few sets of tracks before pausing and peering into the inky blackness of another tunnel.

  "Hey, what's down this one?"

  James turned. "That leads deeper into the mountain."

  "I figured that much, thanks," Cora said. "I mean, what else is down there?"

  "A nest of vampires, most likely. Possibly some silver ore."

  "Let's find out," Cora said, stepping into the tunnel.

  "Wait, Mrs Oglesby!" James cried, but her lantern had already disappeared from his view. Panicked, he high-stepped over the rails and looked after her. All he could see was her shadow, still crowned by her wide-brimmed hat. "Mrs Oglesby!"

  "Don't wait up, George." Her voice echoed down the tunnel. "I aim to bag me a vampire before the day's out."

 

Wash Jones stared at his reflection in the Pioneer's big mirror. The whiskers on his face had grown shaggy, and his blue eyes were dulled by the whiskey, but he still looked the same. He still looked normal.

  "Goddammit, Boots!" he yelled, looking around. The bartender was nowhere to be seen, but a group of miners playing cards glanced over at him. He slammed his empty glass down and staggered his way up the back stairs. They led him to a hallway with doors along both walls. Door after door revealed nothing but storage rooms or empty bedrooms. He slammed the last one shut, roared another curse, and turned back toward the stairs.

  Boots was standing in the hallway, his hands clasped in front of his apron.

  Wash cursed in surprise as he tripped over his own boots. Sprawled out face-down on the wooden floor, he let out a groan. He opened his eyes to see the bartender's polished boots standing above him.

  "Perhaps I have made the wrong choice," Boots said.

  The gunman pulled himself up onto his knees. "No, sir, I assure you you ain't. I'm your man."

  A grin flickered across the round face. "We shall see."

  The polished boots thumped past him. Wash turned to see Boots opening the door he had just slammed. The bartender looked over his shoulder and motioned for the gunfighter to follow. Wash pulled himself to his feet and reeled for a moment before following his host into the darkened room.

  "Close the door," Boots said. Wash obeyed, then stood in the semi-dark, his hands fidgeting with the rivets on his pants. The room was empty save for a few large wooden crates. Sunlight seeped in between the cracks of the boards covering the two windows, catching on the floating dust. The bartender stood in the shadows, watching Wash sway.

  "Sit down before you fall down," Boots said, pointing to one of the boxes.

  Wash stumbled over and sat where the bartender pointed. "What's this about?"

  "I sense that you grow impatient with my offer," Boots said.

  "With an offer like that, what'd you expect?"

  "More self-restraint, for one." Boots stepped closer to the gunman. "This is not a decision I make lightly."

  "Me neither," Wash said, "but somebody's got to put that bitch in her place."

  "Quite so," Boots said. "However, you are not yet ready to face her."

  "I sure am," Wash protested, pulling his gun. "You just point me at her and I'll lay her low."

  "Yes, like you did last time." Boots smirked, shaking his head. "No, Mr Jones, you will need more power. Power that only I can give you. But first, you must prove yourself worthy of that power."

  "How's that?"

  "A simple task," the bartender said. "All I need is for you to retrieve something for me and bring it here. Are you familiar with the Harcourt mine?"

  "No."

  "It is a large mining interest located north of Leadville. A British lord owns it, though he seldom deigns to visit."

  "OK," Wash said. He couldn't care less who owned it. "So what you want me to get?"

  "Inside the mine, deep in one of its many caverns, there is a coffin."

  "What's inside?"

  "Nothing that concerns you yet," Boots replied. "All you need to do is bring that coffin to this room."

  "What for?"

  "Because it is in danger." Boots closed his eyes for a moment. Wash thought he saw the bartender's form start to fade, but before he could be sure, Boots opened his eyes again. "Yes, she is in the adjacent tunnel, though I don't believe she knows of the coffin's existence."

  "She? You mean Cora Oglesby?"

  Boots nodded, his eyes glinting in the shadows. "Yes. If she manages to find the coffin before you do, I won't be able to fulfill my end of the bargain, leaving you weak and mortal should your path cross hers again."

  Wash rose to his feet, holstering his gun. "All right, so where do I go?"

  "Ride north from here, following the railroad. A few miles out, you will come to a fork in the road, and there you will turn west. This road will lead you to the mine."

  "Seems simple enough."

  "The British aren't known for their love of complexity," Boots said.

  "Right," Wash said. "Where do I find the coffin?"

  "Follow the first set of mine car tracks into the mountain. You will find it hidden behind a row of large boulders near the end of the rails."

  Wash nodded. "Anything else?"

  "Yes," Boot said. "You may encounter some objects blocking the tunnel on your way in. Please make sure to dispose of them before you leave."

  Wash nodded again, turning toward the door. "I'll see you in a few hours with your pine box."

  "I will be waiting for you," Boots said. "Oh, and if you should encounter Cora Oglesby while you are there, please try to contain her in the mines. I won't be able to help you if you don't."

  Wash gave him a funny look, then took his leave. Boots watched the door close behind him, then turned his gaze toward the narrow shafts of sunlight and smiled.

 

"What the hell is this, George?" Cora's voice rang out in the darkness.

  "Please, Mrs Oglesby, do keep quiet," James said, looking around. "We don't want to draw them down on us."

  "Then please explain what I'm looking at."

  In front of them, several large beams stood upright in the tunnel. A horizontal board was nailed to each one, forming a crude set of crosses. Withered cloves of garlic hung from the wooden arms, filling the air with their scent.

  "This is my barricade, madam," James said. "It keeps the vampires from leaving this tunnel and gaining access to the mine entrance."

  "I see," Cora said. "And what's to stop them from just stepping around them?"

  "Their unholy fear of a holy God."

  "Well, couldn't they just throw rocks or something from further back and knock them down?"

  James paused in mid-step. "Well," he said after a moment, "perhaps they haven't thought of it yet." Another pause. "I believe the scent of the garlic would keep them from passing through even if they managed to destroy the crosses."

  "Good for us, then," Cora said. Careful not to disturb the crosses, they worked their way to the other side of the barricade. The rails beneath their feet continued on into shadows. "Any more farther down?"

  "I'm afraid not," James said. "After all, they were rather hastily constructed."

  Cora lifted her lantern and peered forward into the darkness. This tunnel was much like the other, stable and straight. James had continued his habit of lighting the lanterns along the way, allowing them a visible retreat if things turned sour.

  She turned to him. "Here, take this," she said, offering him her lantern.

  "Why?" James asked, taking it in his free hand.

  "I need my other hand," she replied. With a fluid motion, she drew her saber and turned back toward the darkness. "Come on, George, let's find us a spook."

  Her boots crunched along the sandy floor as she advanced into the shadows. James followed, the light from his lanterns playing along the length of her saber. Aside from their footsteps and his nervous breathing, the mine was as silent as a tomb.

  Soon, the tunnel widened, opening up into another cavern. The rails snaked off ahead, vanishing into the bowels of the mountain. To their left, a small wooden platform led to a series of stairs descending down a steep slope.

  "Which way should we go?" Cora asked.

  "Back," James replied in a whisper. "We're quite unprepared for this."

  "Suit yourself," Cora said, "but I'm going this way."

  She thumped across the wooden platform toward the stairs. Taking them one at a time, she listened for any new sound, but all she could hear was James muttering to himself. The stairs bottomed out on the rocky floor of the cavern, which was strewn with sand and pebbles. Cora motioned for James to hold his lanterns higher. In their glow, she could see the floor slope upward into the cave wall. At regular intervals, square beams braced the rocky surface, holding back potential cave-ins. Several picks and a small shovel lay on the floor, evidently dropped by panicked miners in their retreat.

  "You boys sure are sloppy," she remarked.

  "Yes, well, it's hard to remain organized while your comrades are being eaten alive," James replied.

  "If you say so," Cora said. "I still ain't seen no sign of these vampires."

  "With the way you keep yammering, I expect they will show themselves shortly."

  "Maybe they're all asleep."

  "I suppose that's a possibility," James said, "though without the threat of sunlight, I don't see–"

  Cora held up her gun, cutting him off. In the silence that followed, she could only hear the sound of the blood rushing through her ears. Yet she thought she had heard something else, a faint shuffling. Her gaze swept over the blackness surrounding them. Maybe it was nothing, just the echoes playing tricks on her.

  No, there it was again: the soft sound of skin on stone. She pictured cold flesh stepping across the cavern floor, and she tightened her grip on the revolver.

  Another step. The echoes and the darkness made it impossible to know where it was coming from. She strained her eyes against the shadows, searching for a telltale glow of undead eyes or the glimmer of the lamplight on glistening fangs. Even if she couldn't see them, she could sense them. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

  They were being hunted.

  Cora looked at James. His eyes were white behind his spectacles. Pointing with the barrel of her revolver, she first indicated a lantern, then the staircase they had just descended. He nodded and tiptoed over to the wooden stairs. He placed a lantern on a step about chest high and looked back at her. She nodded, then pointed to a large rock just in front of her. The scholar set the second lantern down and stepped back to stand beside her.

  The sound of the approaching footsteps was uneven, like a drunkard's staggering walk, but it was drawing nearer. Cora turned her back on James and tapped the butt of her Winchester with her pistol. After a moment's hesitation, the rifle's weight lifted as James pulled it from the scabbard. Twisting to face him, she saw him turning the weapon over in his hands. She nudged him and with her saber mimicked pumping the action. A loud click echoed through the darkness as he chambered a round. Nodding, she pulled back the hammer of her Colt. They took up stations with their backs as close to the cavern's wall as they could, the light from the lanterns glowing on their guns.

  They waited.

  Cora's pulse thundered in her ears. From the sounds, it was only a single creature, but that would be enough. Vampires were fast and strong, able to tear off an arm or a head in seconds. If it caught her off-guard, they would both die. James was just as likely to shoot himself or her as he was to hit the monster. She crossed herself with her pistol, praying that he at least had the sense to carry some sort of ward with him.