And also steadied his aim.
The second shot took the thing in the head, just above the left eye.
It was upon him before the sanctified bullet could take effect. It bore him to the ground. Lawson put his hand against the thing’s chin to keep those fangs away. The claws dug into the shoulders of his coat and the batlike wings fought the air.
In what seemed an agonizing length of time but was only a matter of seconds the creature shuddered and writhed and began to crack apart beginning at the hole above the left eye. Within the cracks a pulsing red heat glowed, as if the power of the consecrated silver was attacking the vampire’s ichor. The misshapen face crisscrossed with cracks like that of a dried-up mummy. The thing tried to pull away from Lawson, as if getting back into the turbulent air would save it. Lawson did his best to hold onto it but it tore away from him with a strangled scream. Its eyes imploded, the left and then the right, even as the wings powered the body upward with the last of their massive strength. The face collapsed upon itself, the mouth caved in, the arms and legs flailed as more seething red fissures opened in the body.
Another pistol cracked. A large piece of the vampire’s head with black hair attached to it blew out and burst into flame in midair. This second silver bullet sped the process of destruction, and even as Ann bent over Lawson to help him to his feet the creature was torn apart by the wind. The last to be dissolved were the wings, which fell into the snow in patterns of ash. What remained were the rags of the shirt, a pair of gray trousers and a pair of ordinary brown boots.
Lawson struggled up. Did he still have his hat? Yes, the leather chinstrap had held. His Colt? Yes, in his hand. Two bullets fired. Three, with Ann’s. A pair of silvers wasted. He was dazed and for a terrible moment had been back in time on the battlefield at Shiloh, crawling away in desperate terror from the nightmarish army that grinned and capered with glee as they pursued him across a landscape of the dead.
“Get inside,” he told her. “Hurry!”
“I heard the shots. I knew—”
“Come on!” he said, pulling her. There was no time. They were everywhere. A dark shape streaked through the air ten or twelve feet above their heads. The embankment to the right was coming alive with figures that appeared from the cover of trees, shrubs and rocks. On the left side, where the cliffs rose up, more figures seemed to be emerging from the very stones. As Lawson pulled Ann with him, his gaze fell upon one of the dead shapechanger’s boots lying in the ashen snow.
It held a spur.
“Move!” he said, aware that on both sides the earth was vomiting forth a hideous horde. They had reached the engine when a single voice cried out through the wind.
It said, “Ann! Annie! Wait for me, Annie!”
She caught her breath and might have fallen had Lawson not been holding her.
“Trevor!” she said, as the tears streaked down her cheeks. “It’s my father!”
“No, it’s not.”
“They have him! Listen to him! He’s still alive!”
“Annie! Please…don’t leave me…!”
“Let’s go!” He was prepared to pick her up if she resisted but she did not, though her knees had weakened and she staggered the rest of the way to the passenger car.
Ann had left Rooster with his rifle and Eric with his pistol in charge of keeping everyone where they needed to be. When she and Lawson came into the car, Reverend Easterly was on his knees beside Blue, who had regained consciousness and was holding his hand. Eric stood over him, his pistol drawn but held down at his side. Gantt was sitting toward the front, the lantern on the seat beside him, his face seamed with worry. The others were still sitting where they’d been when Ann had left the car. Rooster’s rifle swung toward the door.
The fireman said, “Put that gun away and get to talkin’!”
Lawson ignored him. He holstered his Colt and shut the door, then he helped Ann to a seat and went back to see about Blue.
“Did you hear me, Alabama?” Rooster had shouted it; his patience had shredded with the sound of the shots. “Who were you shootin’ at out there?”
“Not who,” Ann managed to say, her voice listless. She slid her revolver into its holster. “What.”
As Lawson approached, Easterly started to stand up and retreat but instead he corrected himself. He remained where he was, his hand still grasping the girl’s. Blue’s eyes had opened, though they were still nearly swollen shut with pain. “Where am I?” she whispered. “Where am I?”
“I’ve told you,” Easterly said gently, “you’re on a train. You’re being taken to Helena, to the hospital there.”
“A t…train?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause. Blue tried to lift her head, but it was too much effort for her.
“Where am I?” she whispered. And then, “Ohhhhh…I’m h…hurtin’.” The swollen eyes searched, and what they could see or not see was anyone’s guess. “Am…I…dy…dy…” She gave it up, for again it was taking too much precious strength.
“Have faith,” said Easterly, in as soft as voice as Lawson had ever heard a man speak. “We’re going to get you to that hospital. Aren’t we, Mr. Lawson?” His heavy-lidded eyes moved up upon the vampire.
“That’s the plan.”
Blue shivered. “C…c…cold,” she whispered, though the blanket was still around her and the passenger car was so sturdily built as to let only a few small shrills of wind in. She began to cough…once…twice…a third time more violently even as Easterly tried to calm her. A little thread of blood ran from the corner of her mouth, and Lawson found himself staring at the vein that gave a weak pulse at her throat.
Her coughing subsided, but her breathing had become harsh. Lawson took from his coat the small bottle that Fossie had given him, and was grateful his clash with the winged monster hadn’t smashed it. “The doctor gave me this for her,” he said as he offered it to Easterly. “It’s morphine and whisky, to help her sleep.”
“I think,” said the reverend, “that she’ll be sleeping well enough very soon, don’t you?”
“Give her a sip if she needs it.” Lawson could do nothing more for the girl. It looked as if Fossie’s Mule Punch wouldn’t be necessary for the moment, because Blue’s eyes had closed and she had—thankfully—drifted off again. “Watch her carefully, will you?”
Easterly nodded, and Lawson could tell he was sincere in his regard for the girl’s life. He figured it was probably because Easterly had stolen so many men from their wives and children in his past life as a back-shooting bounty hunter. Lawson turned away to give his attention to Rooster, who had come along the aisle with his rifle ready and his face contorted in a snarl of anger and fear.
“Who you shootin’ at?” Rooster demanded. “How come you lettin’ Mr. Tabberson lie out there and die? Come on, tell us!”
“Watch that gun, Rooster,” Gantt cautioned, though his voice was weak.
“Pardon, Mr. Gantt sir, but hush up! I’m wantin’ to know what Alabama’s got us into! That fella says he’s a warbuck, I’m kinda believin’ it’s so!”
“That’s what I think!” Mathias had stood up from his seat. “You should’ve seen him back at the Palace! And look at him now! There’s something mighty wrong about this gent!”
“I am not a warlock,” said Lawson, and he spoke it loudly and forcefully enough to silence all other voices.
“What I am,” he went on, into the small noise of the wind keening around the car, “is a vampire.” He moved his gaze from face to face and found them all frozen. “Well…a correction. I’m not entirely gone…that is, not entirely like one of the things that has blocked this track and has taken Mr. Tabberson to his death…or worse. They’re out there in a large number. If they got in here or got to you out there, they would either take you to be turned or they would drink you dry and then tear you apart. I could do that too, if I were of a mind.”