“I think,” Eli Easterly suddenly spoke up, “that Mr. Lawson has been dabbling in something…shall we say…unholy, and it has come back to bite him.”
“What are you jabberin’ about?” There was now a twang of fear in the Southern drawl.
“Look at him. Take a good long look. How different he appears from most men. And I noted with interest that he would not dare to touch my crucifix.” Easterly stood up into the aisle. “I have seen much in this life. I have known much darkness myself. Therefore I have learned to recognize it.” He aimed a finger at the vampire. “This so-called man among us, friends, can only be one thing: a warlock.”
“A warwhat?” Presco asked.
“A male witch,” Easterly clarified. “Travelling with a female witch, but she’s not completely sold to the Devil because she could touch the Cross. I had a strange feeling about this man the first time I laid eyes on him. He read my mind and he exudes evil. Can’t you feel it, in this car?”
“Yes!” Mathias had nearly shouted it. “Hell, yes! I’ve been feeling it!”
“Oh for God’s sake!” said Gantt. “There ain’t no such thing as witches!”
“I say this creature before us is…well, just look at him! And if he’s afraid of something out there that’s blocked the track, then you know what that must be? Either one of two things: a rival witch, as dark-souled as himself and his familiar, or…the vengeance and pure white justice of Heaven.”
Lawson managed a small, mirthless laugh.
“We’re making him nervous, do you see that?” The reverend’s finger of accusation was still aimed at Lawson. “He can’t bear the light. I noted also—being in the hotel with him and the woman—he never came out during the day. She was about, but not he. Oh, no…the light of truth cannot be borne by this creature.” Slowly, Easterly’s hand fell to his side. “Gentlemen, we are in the presence of an abomination before our Holy Father.”
“I think he’s just an asshole, m’self!” Rebinaux said.
“Reverend Easterly,” Lawson said in a quiet, restrained voice, “you have become…let me say…unsettled by the life you’ve led. May I call you Eli?” He let that hang for a few seconds. “I am sorry you’ve lost your only son, Eli. A bullet in the back and a grave in a wretched field. It’s been difficult for you, I know. Especially since you sent so many men to their own wretched graves by bullets in the back.” He watched as the blood—what paltry amount there was in the man’s body—drained from Easterly’s face and left him as pale as a vampire’s buttocks. “I believe,” Lawson continued in the same quiet tone, “that there’s a man of good worth still inside you, but he’s been hiding for a long time under a bottle and a Bible. Sometimes both at once. I am no warlock, sir, nor is Ann a witch. Though it is true, I have read your mind and I have the ability to read the mind of every man on this train. I would like for you to consider me in our present condition a…” He paused in thought of what his next words would be. Then he recalled something he’d said to Eric just a little while ago. Something he’d said he was not, and now he must recant.
“Consider me your guardian angel,” he said, speaking now to all of them. “I’m the best chance you have of…as Mr. Mathias said to me earlier this evening…seeing another sunrise.” He looked toward where Blue lay, and his gut twisted…not now for the thirst for her blood, for that was a constant, but for the truth that she would certainly die if action was not taken.
What was she to him? What was anyone in this car to him, but an opportunity to feed, to grow stronger, to revel in his path toward godhood?
“I am Trevor Lawson,” he said to the floorboards, and to the silence that was cut only by the wind and to the vampire the sound of beating hearts and lifeblood flowing. “I was born in Alabama. I have…I had a wife and daughter. I fought in the war, at Shiloh. I am a man. I am a man. I am a man.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds. “I swear…that’s all I want to be.”
When he lifted his head he looked directly at the conductor. “I’ll go with you to find Tabbers, but for the sake of your life, stay close to me.”
“I’ll go,” Rooster offered. “Mr. Tabberson been a very good man, I owe him plenty.”
“I’ll go too,” Eric said, but Lawson waved him away. They had not come so far to lose the young man to what lurked out there waiting.
“Load up with silver,” Lawson told Ann. “Save your bullets and keep watch on that back door.” Then, to the others, “I presume no one will be stupid enough to try to leave this car.” He fired a red gleam at the reverend. “Now would be a good time for prayer, concentrating on your own soul,” he said. “All right, let’s go.”
Lawson led the way, with Gantt and his lantern following and Rooster right behind with his rifle. Lawson had the sensation that the rifle was trained at his back most of the way. As they got up alongside the engine, Lawson looked back and told Rooster, “I’m drawing a pistol,” so no nervous finger jerked on a Winchester trigger. He smoothly drew the Colt with the grip of yellowed bone. Six silver slugs would finish off six members of the Dark Society, if he was lucky.
If.
They walked along the track, into the wind and snow. Already the pile of boulders and smaller rocks looked to be frozen together. Gantt’s light picked out the prints of Tabbers’ size-twelve boots, heading around to the right side of the obstruction. A shift of the lantern further to the right showed a rocky decline stubbled with gnarled pine trees, junipers, aspens and a ground covering of sagebrush and greasewood shrubs. Lawson figured this was a perfect place for an ambush, be it from bandits, Indians or other.
“Tabbers!” Gantt shouted. “Tabbers, answer up!”
“Mr. Tabberson!” Rooster called. “Where are you?”
“Don’t go any further,” Lawson advised when Gantt started to walk around the blockage, and the conductor obeyed without question.
“Tabbers!” Gantt lifted the lantern and swung it back and forth. “We’re here, Jack! Answer us!”
Lawson caught a movement to the left, over where the rugged cliffs started to rise. Then there was a movement to the right, down among the pines and the thicket. No one else could have seen these flashes of motion but he, for he knew they were creatures moving at rapid speed from one hiding-place to another. How many had gathered here? His senses told him forty…fifty or more…and not all were of human shape.
He heard a sound at the center of the wind.
“Help…help me…help…”
It was coming from further down the embankment, in amid the underbrush.
“Help…help…”
A pitiful cry, nearly a sob of terror and agony.
“Hear that?” Rooster obviously had good ears as well as good eyes. “Comin’ from down there!” He raised his voice to a ragged shout: “Mr. Tabberson! Where are you?”
“Help…please…help…”
“I hear him!” said Gantt. He called out, “Jack, are you hurt?”
The cry for help faded. The wind took it, and it was gone.
“Maybe he’s got a broke leg! Took a tumble, that coulda busted his leg!” Rooster was taking measure of a way down the embankment without breaking his own bones. “I gotta get to him!”
“Listen to me!” Lawson put a hand on Rooster’s coat collar before the man could start down and held him in an iron grip. “You don’t know what’s down there! Tabbers is finished. Even if they let you get close to him, you wouldn’t find him…but they’d have you!”
“Lemme go! Hear me? I said I gotta—”
Rooster pulled to get loose; he was strong, but to the vampire it was like restraining an infant. “You’re not going. Neither of you are. I told you…he’s finished.”