The Devil You Know
Vegas. February 1886.
It was cold. It was bracingly cold, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and took your breath away even before it left your lungs. Although the sun was shining it did little to warm the winter air. The sky was a pale, pale blue, but clouds were scudding along the mountains to presage a coming storm.
John Sheppard was bundled against the cold. He still felt it anyway and he wished he was at home, in Moira's house, in Moira's bed snuggled up with her. Instead he was riding along a well-trodden path. Snow sparkled to either side of him.
He was following the trail of a killer and nothing would stop him.
"Sheppard! Sheppard!"
The male voice was raucous and breathless. John turned in the saddle to see a man galloping towards him. He was waving one arm in the air and his bright red scarf was trailing after him like a comet. John's gaze narrowed and he stopped his horse, waiting for his pursuer.
"Sheriff Sheppard!" Rodney McKay reached the lawman and stopped his horse abruptly. The black animal snorted, pawing the ground. Rodney coughed as the cold air inundated his lungs and it took a moment for him to regain the power of speech. "Sheppard, is it true?"
"Is what true?" John asked, eying the other man with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.
"Is it true you are pursuing the creature?"
"Yeah." John turned and clicked his teeth. Obediently the brown horse beneath him began to trot along the pathway once more. He shoved his hat down on his head as a blast of cold air threatened to remove it.
"Sheppard!" Rodney swore and rode next to the lawman. He adjusted his bowler hat and shoved his scarf up around his ears again. It was at times like these that he missed the comforts of a proper city. "I believe I can be of assistance to you in this endeavor!"
"You can, can you?" John mocked, clearly dubious. He eyed the other man. "Did Moira send you after me?" Suspicion lined his face.
"What? No. I have not seen Mrs. Sumner since our last meeting at supper in her home. Why would she send me after you?" he asked, completely oblivious about the relationship of the sheriff to the schoolmarm. "Word of your precipitous actions was all over town. The man Bates was quite emphatic about the rules you wished enforced in your absence. Between you and me I think the man is a little too eager to replace you, but rest assured he will not win the town's regard as you have, I believe. You cannot go after this, this creature alone, sheriff. We both know what it is capable of and quite frankly only a fool would go alone."
John blinked at the sheer effusion of words. He glowered. "Are you callin' me a fool?"
"Yes," Rodney agreed simply. "If you go after this thing alone then you are a fool."
"I don't need no fancy man to help me! Go back to your city!" The tone of dismissal was quite clear.
Rodney chose to ignore it. "No. This is an unprecedented opportunity and I shall not go back. I am no coward, sir, despite whatever opinions you may have formed to the contrary!"
John smiled. "Indeed you are not, but you will only slow me down. Go back to town, McKay," John continued, tone more conciliatory. "I'm sure Beckett would welcome your help."
"I am sure that he would," Rodney agreed, "but you need it more right now. Besides, I have a few devices that will aid us in tracking this, this creature." He patted the case at his knee with evident pride.
"Is that so? Well, I got my own way to track this creature."
"And what way is that?"
"I know a fella who's an expert tracker. I'm on my way to fetch him now. Accompany me if you wish, but just stay outta the way when we find this thing and kill it. And for God's sake don't talk so dern much!" John's spurs touched the sides of his horse and the animal broke into a gallop.
"Sheppard! I…fine! I will!" Rodney sighed and urged his own mount to follow the lawman.
He had no intention of letting Sheppard kill the creature.
He wanted it alive.
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"He's gone."
The words were terse. Richard Woolsey frowned as he stood in the middle of the street, staring at the shattered remains of the sheriff's office. After the fire one wall was entirely gone, and the rest of the building was precariously boarded up with timbers. No work would commence on rebuilding the structure until the worst of the winter had passed.
Ice gleamed on the bars of the jail cells. A few were oddly bent, as if pried apart by some unknown force that was able to force them without any tools.
Richard removed his spectacles and wiped them clean on his plaid gray scarf. He found it odd to be back in this town, once more at the behest of the government to sequester certain things of a particularly upsetting and fantastic nature. The first time he had taken possession of some strange futuristic technology. This time he was after something far more rare, and dangerous.
He restored his glasses onto his face and eyed the speaker again. "How long?"
Carson Beckett was warily eying the well-dressed, quiet man. He recognized him from the last time he had been in town. "A few days now," the doctor replied. His Scottish lilt briefly warmed the cold, cold air. "Why?"
"I find it irresponsible for the sheriff to leave without appointing anyone to fulfill his duties."
"He did so." Carson gestured towards a dark-skinned man who was talking with a group of miners. The gold star on his coat shone in the sunlight. "At least temporarily until he returns. Between you and me Sheppard can't stand the man, but Bates is competent enough at this job."
"What about the deputy?"
Carson sighed. Emotion filled his blue eyes. Deputy Evan Lorne was lingering, lingering, not yet ready to die but dying all the same. "He's not long for this world, I fear."
"A victim of this…killer the sheriff is tracking?"
"Yes." Carson had noted the hesitation in the Pinkerton's voice. This killer was neither a man nor a wendigo but something in between. Something that could not be explained by medical science, at least not yet. "How do you come to know about recent events in our little town?"
"Word gets round," Richard said. It was his time to be evasive. The fact that there had been more killings spread across the area did not need to be revealed just yet, nor the various astounding theories as to the creature's origins. "Tell me, doctor, what exactly happened to the deputy and to those other victims?"
"Why don't you tell me, Mr. Woolsey. It appears that you know more than I do about this." Carson folded his arms across his chest, resolute.
"If I may I should like to speak to the deputy and—"
"No. You may not. If there's nothing further I have rounds to make and—"
"I'm afraid I must insist, Doctor Beckett. I cannot say anything further but I must insist upon your full cooperation in this matter. I have specific orders from Washington to follow through on these crimes and to apprehend the culprit of these crimes, barring any interference from the locals. Now, if you wouldn't mind?" He gestured with one open hand.
Carson scowled. Without a word he turned and led the other man towards his medical office.