CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

Christopher Smythe was never a big fan of horses. Once he’d earned enough money, he rode in the comfort of stagecoaches when possible. Sonya’s horse didn’t like him and grew skittish when he approached so he took the reins in one hand and allowed Sonya to ride instead. Smythe rode Frank’s horse. It still snorted at him, but reluctantly obeyed his commands.

“If this snow doesn’t let up soon, the town will be cut off until spring,” Smythe said.

“Are you trying to strike up a conversation with me?” Sonya asked.

“Just thinking out loud.”

“You’ve been dead a while, haven’t you?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve reconsidered my proposal,” Sonya said.

Smythe shook his head. “I suspect we’d run out of people to drink if I turned you and your husband.”

“You do realize you don’t have to kill someone to drink enough blood to survive. Right?”

“I have to drain them so they die immediately or make sure they survive so they can completely recover. If I leave too much blood in their system, but they still die, they tend to rise. It’s a delicate balance so I normally drain people dry.”

“If you bite them.”

“Yes, there’s something about the saliva of the undead that infects—” Smythe stopped. “You’re right. If I don’t bite them, I can keep them alive in which case I can take enough blood to maintain myself and they can replenish the supply.”

“And if you turn me and I turn Jack, we can use the townspeople as a food source all winter. There will be plenty to go around.”

Smythe grinned. That was twice she’d mentioned that she could turn Jack.

“What’s so funny?” Sonya asked.

“Nothing.” He glanced over at her with new respect. She was definitely two steps ahead in her plan should he be willing to accommodate her. He wasn’t sure if Sonya wanted to sire Jack so she’d have more control over her husband or if she thought that by her siring Jack that Jack would be able to kill Smythe. Based on what he could ascertain, he figured it was both.

“Of course, to be honest, we wouldn’t have to stay here all winter.”

“If the snow closes the pass—”

“They built a railroad loop through here a few years ago, Mr. Smythe. With silver coming out of the mines year-round, they keep the trains running all winter. So you could turn us and we could all go our separate ways.”

The snow intensified as they entered town. Sonya shivered, but Smythe didn’t notice the cold – being undead had its advantages.

“Are you going to the saloon again?”

“No,” Smythe said and approached a house on a side street. They weren’t far from Wilkins’ place, but Smythe made sure they didn’t come within sight of that house. He wanted Wilkins to worry and Jack to not have a target until he was ready.

“Who lives here?” Sonya asked.

“I don’t know. I think I’ll introduce myself.”

“What about me?”

“Climb down. You look like you could use some time in front of a fire.”

Sonya dismounted.

“Of course, I can’t have you warning them.” He reached for her throat again, but she slapped his hand away.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Sonya said. “You need my help to get inside. I have no interest in warning them. Let me show you how useful I can be. Perhaps you’ll reconsider my proposal if you see another way I can benefit you.”

She tied the horse to the hitching post and patted its neck. Smythe did the same with Frank’s horse. He wasn’t sure if Sonya just didn’t care about other people or she was so focused on saving her husband that nothing else mattered. A woman in love was a dangerous thing. Smythe knew he needed to be extra cautious.

“Carry me to the door,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want to get an easy invitation?”

“Yes.”

“Then pick me up and let’s go.”

He lifted her into his arms as if he’d carried an injured woman before, and she started moaning.

“Even if you warn them, I’ll still kill them.”

He carried her to the door.

“Knock,” she said.

He adjusted her body in his arms, then rapped against the door. She resumed her moaning act and when the door opened she went into convulsions. An elderly woman saw Sonya in Smythe’s arms, and her face showed concern and some hesitation.

“Can I help you?”

“F-f-f-freezing,” Sonya said.

“I found her in the street,” Smythe said. “She needs warmth.”

“Oh my,” the woman said. “Please, bring her inside. Set her by the fire and I’ll get some blankets.”

They entered the house and Smythe set Sonya on her feet, then rushed at the elderly woman and caught her from behind. She didn’t even have time to scream before he sank his fangs into her throat.

As he drank the woman dry, he noticed Sonya watching him. She pointed toward the stairs. Smythe turned and saw flickering lantern light coming down the stairs.

“Gertrude?” an old man’s voice said. “Is everything all right?”

Smythe dropped Gertrude and took the stairs three at a time. He tackled the old man. The man didn’t have the strength to put up a fight and Smythe fed on him as well. From where he crouched on the stairs, he saw that Sonya did not try to escape. She waited patiently for him to finish his feast. When the man expired, Smythe wiped his mouth and descended the staircase.

“You have moved from a definite no to a possible maybe,” he said.