Sheep's Clothing (8 page)

“Dammit, Doc!” he exclaimed, getting to his feet. “What’s it going to take, something beating ya over the head?”

“Look,” I said. “I’m not calling you a liar. I know that there’s something off-kilter with Russeau and his women. I’d rather they not be in Salvation either. But—”

“But ya need something better than my word to convince ya that they’re blood-drinking monsters,” he said flatly.

The way he put it sounded a lot like I
was
calling him a liar, so I shrugged helplessly.

“I can show ya all the proof ya want tonight,” he said.

***

That afternoon found us heading to Salvation’s chapel, a humble wooden building in the northern area of town. I also saw at once that it appeared to be the only building in Salvation that was not bristling with crows.

“Explain to me again why we’re going here?” I asked.

“We need holy water,” Wolf said simply, “To consecrate the lairs. Ya better introduce me to the local holy man, while ya’re at it. We’re going to need all his help we can get.”

“But I feel strange telling him Salvation has vampires!” I protested.

Wolf looked over at me. “Ya’re an honest man, right?”

“I am,” I said.

“And ya’re not known around here for crazy talk, right?”

“I’m not,” I agreed.

“So there’ll be no problem. Vampires can’t go on holy ground, so yar pastor should be safe.”

I sighed. I couldn’t think of a way to broach the topic that wouldn’t sound odd, so when the two of us finally reached the heavy double doors I had just about decided to use the direct approach.

Pastor Gabriel Wood was a stocky, white-haired man of sixty-odd years. As we entered he was dressed in clerical black and kneeling before the hand-carved cross that stood just behind the altar. He turned at our entry, and a half-second later I remembered myself and bowed my head before the cross.

“Doc!” Pastor Wood greeted me as he levered himself to his feet to a chorus of cracking joints. “I haven’t seen ya here in a while. Who’s yar friend?”

“Pastor Wood, this is Wolf Cowrie. Wolf, this is Pastor Gabriel Wood,” I said.

“Pleasure to meet ya,” Pastor Wood said, extending a hand. Wolf clasped it. “Say, ya’re the fellow that saved Doc from a knife in the back, aren’t ya?”

“I am,” Wolf said. “Now we need yar help. Ya got a vampire problem in Salvation.”

Silence reigned for perhaps half a minute.

“I’m sorry, what?” Pastor Wood said.

“Vampires,” Wolf said. “Three of ‘em.”

Pastor Wood’s shaggy eyebrows climbed up towards his hairline.

“Vampires?” he echoed. “In Salvation?”

“I know it might sound a bit unbe—” I started, but he waved me into silence.

“What do ya need?” Wood asked.

“Holy water,” Wolf said. “We’re going hunting for some of their lairs tonight.”

Pastor Wood settled himself into a pew, looking a bit stunned. “Well, shoot,” he said finally. “I never thought I’d see vampires in the Territories.”

“You… you know about them?” I blurted.

“Of course I know about vampires,” Pastor Wood said. “Hard to be a man of God without knowing a thing or two about the other side. Hell, ten years ago I might have jumped at the chance to go with ya, but these old bones aren’t as spry as they used to be. I can get ya a few flasks of holy water, though. Wait here.”

He stood again and headed for the sanctuary. It was my turn to sink into a pew, stunned at how readily Wood accepted the news of vampires and at the fact that he was apparently prepared for a supernatural threat.

“Surprised?” Wolf asked.

“A bit,” I confessed. “Here I was, thinking that he’d laugh at the very idea…”

Wolf shrugged. “Makes sense he’d know. It ain’t that widely-known a creature in the Territories, but the people that need to know, do.”

I sighed, suddenly feeling woefully uninformed.

I glanced over just as Pastor Wood returned from the sanctuary with a basket that clinked with glass vials and smelled faintly of myrrh.

“Here
ya are,” he said. “A dozen vials of God’s own vengeance. If ya need any more let me know.”

“Um. Thank you,” I said. I took a deep breath. “What else do you know about vampires, Pastor?”

Pastor Wood smiled. “I know enough about all sorts of bugaboos that I was able to keep most of the nasty ones out of Salvation in my youth, and once upon a time I would have happily fed a bloodsucker his own fangs. I thought they’d all gotten the message by now, but I suppose not. I can keep an eye out for them, if ya like.”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” I said, still uncertain about the whole prospect. I was about to take my leave when Pastor Wood spoke again.

“And, Doc?”

“Yes, sir?” I said.

“Think about coming by sometime when ya get a chance. I know ya’re busy at the clinic, but a little prayer never hurt anyone.”

I assured him I would, and Wolf and I left.

Heavy clouds were starting to gather as we left the chapel, and I shivered at the sudden clamminess in the air. Wolf raised his shaggy head, and his nostrils flared.

“Storm’s brewing,” he said. “Not a natural one, either.”

“How can you tell?” I asked.

“The smell’s off.” His nostrils flared again, and he looked like a dog that’s caught wind of a tornado. “Tonight’s going to be interesting,” he concluded.

***

             
We regrouped at the clinic to study the list of locations Wolf had managed to pry from DuPont. As it turned out, Wolf could not read or write, so it fell to me to note down the three places he had committed to memory.

             
“Ya know yar way around Salvation,” he said, “So ya’ll be able to come up with a decent plan for investigating them.”

             
I looked at the locations. A storage room in the General Store. Will Baker’s root cellar. An inside room of the old Marley house.

             
“The Marley house is right on the edge of town, to the southwest,” I said. “That might be a good place to start. From there we can visit the General Store, and then to Will’s root cellar, if we have time.”

             
“We’ll clean up what we can tonight, and find out the rest from DuPont tomorrow.”

             
I frowned. “I’m not entirely clear why we must search for the lairs at night,” I said. “You said that Russeau was stronger at night, didn’t you?”

             
“I did, and he is,” Wolf replied. “And ya’ll be able to see better what he and his ladies get up to, if we’re lucky.”

             
I swallowed. “I’d rather not depend on luck in this venture, Wolf,” I said.

             
He grinned. “That’s why we’re going with the right equipment. Ya got a gun, right?”

             
I nodded.

             
“Grab it and make sure it’s loaded. It might not stop one of ‘em for good, but it’ll buy ya some time. And whatever ya do, don’t let yar guard down. Vampires are wily.”

             
Unfortunately, by the time I grabbed my rifle and checked that it was clean and loaded, I heard rain starting outside—not the gentle rain I would come to associate with September in Salvation, but a vengeful rain, as though the sky itself wished to dissuade the two of us from our task.

             
Wolf was at the window when I got to the front room with my rain slicker. He was already wrapped in his duster and staring out the front window. He glanced over as I drew level with him.

             
“Well,” I said, looking out at the pounding rain, “You said tonight was going to be interesting.”

             
“Ayup,” he said. “Let’s go.” He headed for the door. I followed, my stomach twisting uneasily.

***

             
It was widely believed that the old Marley house was haunted, because some years ago—the exact interval depending on whom you asked—the Marley patriarch went crazy and murdered his family. The house had remained empty ever since, for while the mayor would ordinarily arrange for another family to purchase an abandoned house after a polite interval, this time nobody wanted it. The usual reason I’d heard was that the place felt wrong, which in hindsight made it the perfect place to use as a vampire lair.

             
The rain pounded down on Wolf and me as we approached the lurching hulk of a house. It was neglected, disused, and ill-maintained, and seemed to lean alarmingly with each flash of lightning.

             
I wanted to ask Wolf if he was sure this was one of the locations DuPont mentioned, but we had come too far for second-guessing, and I honestly wanted to get out of the rain, if even briefly and in the shelter of an unquiet house.

             
Fortunately for our venture, sane people were indoors during such foul weather. After a bit of searching Wolf found the padlock that no doubt usually secured the cellar doors had been forced open, and now lay broken on the sodden ground. It took both of us to pry open the doors, their rusty hinges shrieking in protest, but once they were open we both made our way down the steep stairs and into the cellar.

             
I fairly gagged on the rancid, musty smell that pervaded the entire cellar—a combination of age, neglect, mouse droppings, and decay that spoke of this place’s dark past and darker future. I had to brace myself against a nearby wall as I fought to keep the contents of my stomach down. Wolf coughed into the wet sleeve of his duster, apparently trying to protect his own senses from the assault.

             
“That ain’t the usual basement smells,” he said, rather unnecessarily in my opinion.

             
“What is it?” I asked.

             
“It’s vampire stink,” he said. “This way.”

             
I lit my lantern, and we made our way across the noisome cellar to a back room, located far away from both the cellar door to the outside and the stairs leading up to the house proper.

             
“How do you know where the coffin will be?” I asked.

             
“DuPont left footprints,” he said, pointing at the earthen floor. I lowered the lantern to see better, and only then was I just able to make out the lopsided tracks of footprints.

I was no tracker, but I half-imagined the unsteady gait thus sketched out had been made by a man staggering under an ungainly burden.

              “He knows the safest place for a vampire’s coffin is away from sunlight and prying eyes,” Wolf continued. “The back room of a cellar like this is ideal, if he can’t get to a boneyard.”

             
The door that we now approached hung ajar by a few inches. Wolf reached forward and pushed it the rest of the way open on groaning hinges. The room beyond contained only a pine coffin. The lid was closed, and somehow that fact alone made the back of my neck prickle.

             
“What now?” I whispered.

             
“We open it,” Wolf whispered back, “And we douse the inside with holy water.”

My stomach twisted with dread as my mind offered a hundred dark suggestions of what we might find within this otherwise inoffensive coffin.

Wolf took one of the vials of holy water and handed it to me. “Now get ready to use this,” he said.

“But what if someone’s—?” I started, but that was as far as I got before Wolf wrenched the lid open. I hurriedly tore the stopper out, fully expecting to be attacked, and as such I splashed the inside of the coffin with far more enthusiasm than was truly warranted. No blood-drinking monster lurked within, but the layer of soil at the bottom of the box hissed and steamed like water on a hot griddle. I recoiled, raising my arm to shield my face. After a few seconds the steam started to dissipate, and I waved it away.

The coffin was empty but for a layer of now-damp soil at the bottom. The foul smell was not as strong now, and the chill that I’d felt since entering the Marley house had also eased its grip. I shuddered anyway.

“Told ya they’d be out and about after dark, didn’t I?” Wolf said.

I just stared at him and made no reply. I felt like a fool—I’d gotten myself so worked up about this whole venture that I was jumping at shadows and figments. Finally I sighed.

“Of course,” I said, “This means that they’re out hunting.”

He conceded my point with a short nod. “And if we find any of ‘em, we take ‘em down fast.” He slammed the coffin lid back down. “Off to the General Store now.”

That, regrettably, was when our difficulties started.

The rain had not abated in the least when we got to the General Store, and the turf squelched unpleasantly under our feet. Despite my rain jacket, I was chilled through.