CHAPTER 3 – COWBOY vs. VAMPIRE (revised)
Dawn was a couple of hours away but the night sky was already beginning to shed its black skin to reveal the violet hue of morning. The crickets were still singing their night song, but now their melody was blending with the tune of the morning birds. Occasionally, those sounds were drowned by the laughter of men who occupied the many saloons.
Twenty-four hours, seven days a week, Alex thought as she stopped to gain her bearings. Gambling. Drinking. Whoring. It was a man's playground.
Dressed in the comfort of her twenty-first century clothing, her hair tucked up tight, she had spent the night walking the alleys and back streets of Tombstone, staying mainly off the main road so as to not be seen. The change in wardrobe was necessary not only for mobility – fighting in a dress being next to impossible – but also for ambiguity. Anyone who might have gotten a glimpse of her as she wandered through the town would have taken her for a man rather than a woman. Of course she knew in the next few days it would be necessary to obtain some decent male clothing. Showing off her modern leathers was just too risky.
It had been a good night for slaying. The air was neither too hot nor too cold, and thankfully the sky was clear, allowing the light from a half-moon to help illuminate her path. The dim lamplight from the town's homes and businesses was also beneficial. Fortunately, she hadn't lost her way exploring the dirty streets of the nineteenth-century town. But mapping her location would not be a bother after one or two more days. Always a quick study, she would have the town's layout memorized in no time. Patrolling always had a way of keeping her centered and focused. All thoughts and concerns about her new friends, particularly one tall-blonde gambler, and the slew of lies she had told them fell away from her consciousness. Only the 'here and now' remained. Her mind was crisp, clear, and for once turmoil free. If only all her days and nights were so emotionally calm, she would get so much more work done with less flip-flopping from heartache to heartache.
Alex heaved a loud sigh and brushed a loose strand of hair back off her face. She had killed two vamps that had the misfortune to cross her path and even though that fact was extremely satisfying, she was still very disappointed she had not seen Malachi. Soon, she thought while resting her back against side of a building. It must be soon. I can't take the strain much longer. "I can't stand up much longer, either." She groaned aloud while reaching up to rub a sore spot in her shoulder. With a grunt of effort, she pushed away from the wall and stretched her arms into the air. The day had been long, and the night even longer. It was time to return to her new sleeping quarters for a few hours rest. She had only progressed a few yards when a strangled cry broke the tranquility of the morning air.
"Nooo… No, stay back." There was one gunshot and then two more in quick succession.
Alex turned and began to run in the direction the shots were fired when the screaming began. Shrieks of terror, a sound that was so familiar to her, and yet the howl could still cause the hair on the back of her neck to stand on edge.
"OH, GOD, HELP ME! HELP ME…"
It was a man's voice, and somehow that made the terrified cry all the more distressing. The sound originated from several yards ahead. Partially hidden in shadow, she could barely see him crawling backwards on the ground like a crab. Frightened beyond reason, he was no longer able to stand and run. Once again he raised his gun to fire at his attacker, but the weapon was easily ripped from his hand by the vampire who was thoroughly enjoying the moment.
As she approached, Alex could faintly make out the outline of the demon in the hazy lamplight, but she was able to see that he was dressed in cowboy gear with a long red sash tied around his waist. Not Malachi! She cursed silently at her bad luck and began to move into position to make the kill. The victim had ceased his backward crawl and resorted to a stuttered recital of the Lord's Prayer in Latin. Hovering over him, the vamp uttered a low laugh as he closed in for the kill.
Quietly, Alex circled the building and approached the demon from behind. Holding her stake in her right hand she quickly reached for a handful of his hair with her left, pulled his neck and upper body backward while bringing her right arm around to the front of his chest to finish the motion with a downward thrust, sinking the stake deep into his heart. Stepping back quickly, she felt a rush of satisfaction as his body imploded into dust.
When the powder settled she looked for the man on the ground and found the terrified form of another sash-wearing cowboy. Like western gang colors, she thought. As Alex took in the victim's masculine features, she realized he was in a severe state of shock. Eyes the size of saucers stared forward but comprehended little. He had yet to realize he was no longer in danger. Over and over he stammered in Latin but had ceased to make sense. From what Alex could make out, he seemed to be repeating, I shall not want. I shall not want, over and over again. The pathetic weapon he had used in defense lay several yards away. Bullets had little or no affect on the undead. Quickly, she picked up the gun and slid it inside her pocket noting the metal was still warm from discharging. She would not return the pistol until he had regained some use of his wits. Judging from his current condition, he was likely to start shooting at anything that moved, and the last thing she needed right now was a gunshot wound.
Slowly, cautiously, she approached the frightened man, knelling down on the ground beside him. With one hand she reached for him, wanting only to offer him some comfort, but his body was strung as tight as a spring. She was afraid if she touched him he would lose any and all reason. Keeping her motions slow and calm, she lowered her hand and began to talk to him in a soothing voice. "Shhh, it's all right. You're safe now."
After a few moments, wide hazel eyes finally looked at her blinked twice and seemed to recover somewhat. "You!" He gasped. "You killed him. I mean… that thing…that demon. It was a demon wasn't it?
"Can you stand?" Without waiting for him to reply, she offered her hand and when he grabbed it she helped him to his feet. At first his legs refused to hold him upright, and he practically collapsed in Alex's arms. Weak from fright, the fine tremor running through his body was most likely the cause. She managed to steady him, until he found his footing, but his body continued to lean against her, drawing comfort from her strength.
"I fired at him." He told her, looking directly in her eyes. "I know I hit him twice, but it didn't stop him." He paused, and Alex got the impression he was waiting for her to answer, to explain the reason why bullets are useless against the undead. The fumes of recently consumed whiskey radiated from his body. If he had been drunk at the beginning of the encounter, he wasn't any longer. The shock of being attacked had literally scared him sober.
Glancing over her shoulder, he had noticed the pile of dust and was now fixated on it. A rush of Latin began again, Hail Mary this time. In one fluid motion he crossed himself and tried to back away. She halted his retreat with a firm grip on his jacket. "Are you hurt?" She asked, still keeping the tone of her voice soft and soothing as if she were talking to an injured animal. "Were you alone when you were attacked?"
No reply except another round of Hail Mary. Frustrated she snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Hello? Were you alone when you were attacked?"
The sharp tone of her question redirected his attention back to her. "Yes… I, uh. Yes, alone. I'm always alone."
"What's your name?" Alex asked, and watched with growing frustration as his features turned catatonic once more. "You do have a name, don't you?
"Ringo…. Jjh Jjh." He stammered."
Putting two and two together, Alex replied, "You're Johnny Ringo aren't you?" Second in command of the notorious outlaws called the Cowboys, she mused but kept this comment to herself.
Her quiet conversation seemed to calm him and he looked at her a little more coherently. "Yes." Then under his breath he mumbled, "Johnny Ringo." As if he needed to be certain. Suddenly he asked, "Who are you? How did you know how to kill it?"
Purposely ignoring his question she linked her arm with his she said, "Come with me, Mr. Ringo. I'll take you someplace where you will be safe."
Father Patrick Martin was less then pleased when she ushered the shocked and stammering outlaw through the doors of the church. Leaving Ringo kneeling by the altar, still badly shaken, the priest had pulled her to one side and was quietly trying to express his views. "It is not like I don't want to help, but…" he stopped to better phrase his thoughts. "This is a Godless man, Alexis. I do not know if the Holy Spirit will protect him here in this house, or any other place."
"This whole damn town is Godforsaken, Father." She replied while rubbing a weary hand over her eyes. "I know what I ask of you is difficult, but I couldn't just leave him on the street alone in his condition." She glanced over the priest's shoulder and watched as Ringo lit one candle after another while praying rather loudly in Latin the whole time. At his feet lay several dollars in silver coins. An obvious show of redemption, Alex surmised.
His eyes followed hers toward the front of the church. "I will see what I can do for him. We are all God's children."
"No, Patrick, not all of us." She replied sadly. "I do have one concern. Mr. Ringo has seen my face and if I am to maintain my cover you must try your best to keep him here so that he can't tell others who I really am."
It was a momentous request she knew. The priest faltered only slightly before meeting her eyes with a steady gaze and a slight nod to his head. "I will do what I can."
"Thank you." She sighed with obvious relief. "I will be more careful so that this does not happen again. I can't have all of Tombstone knowing who I am and why I'm really here."
"Perhaps a dark cloak and cowl would be the very thing." He walked to a series of pegs along one wall and removed a long black garment that hung there. "Wear this when you are out. Keep the hood up and your face will be hidden from all eyes."
"Thank you Father Martin. You have been more than helpful – you've been my savior. I don't know what I would do without you."
The monk made a small gesture to let her she needn't thank him. "Just be safe, Alexis. If something happens to you, then all is lost."
Together, they managed to coax the outlaw away from the altar and to a nearby pew. Father Martin had retrieved the money from the floor of the church and was now placing the contents in Ringo's hat.
Alexis slid into the pew beside the cowboy, placing a gentle hand on his arm to get his attention. Wide dilated eyes still so full of fear studied her face with something close to wonder. They were pretty hazel eyes, moist with emotion, surrounded by long soft lashes that would fall softly against tan skin. Tanned, no doubt from the many months of riding in the hot sun, homelessly roaming from one town to another. As Alex studied his face, she was surprised to find him handsome. It was a rugged kind of handsome that a three-day growth of beard enhanced, and skin covered in sweat, with a light coating of dust from a hard day's riding, was tempting enough to make you fantasize about kissing it clean. Hallowed cheekbones begged to be traced lightly with the tips of your fingers before skimming downward to touch full-soft lips protected by his heavy mustache. Light brown hair, straight as an arrow but baby soft and shinny, fell gently against his forehead. With effort Alex refrained from reaching up to test the texture. Johnny Ringo would have no trouble finding female companionship. If he played his cards well and was a considerate lover, his belly would always be full, his clothes mended and when the cold winter nights approached his bed would be warmed by soft-eager flesh.
Uncomfortable by the intensity of his gaze, she lowered her eyes to the level of his shoulder and cleared her throat. "You'll, be safe here, Mr. Ringo, and you can stay as long as you like. Father Martin will take good care of you. But do not walk around at night anymore. Once the sunsets you should stay inside. Do you understand?"
He nodded his head, and finally shifted his eyes away from her face and toward the hat he held in his hands. "It was a vampire wasn't it?"
Surprised that he knew the meaning of the word, she stammered for the right answer. Should she tell him the truth, or was a lie better for his peace of mind? Finally, "Yes," she admitted.
Again he stabbed her with his eyes. "You killed it."
It wasn't a question. Alex knew he was only seeking confirmation for his own mental health. "Yes."
"He was my friend." Ringo said softly.
She was shocked. No, floored was more like it. "You knew him?"
Again the dazed cowboy nodded, sending his hair skirting across his brow. "His name was Frank Stillwell. He said he was told to come get me."
Glancing away, she considered this information for a moment. God help this town if what he said was true. A rush of adrenaline had her jumping to her feet. "Stay here." She reminded him again while giving his shoulder a gentle pat.
Before she could turn away, Ringo quickly grabbed her hand and held it tightly between rough callused fingers. "Will I see you again?"
"I suppose… Yes." His eyes still swam in fear. The grip he held on her hand trembled. Slipping her fingers free, she reached into her jacket. "Here, keep this with you at all times." In his hand she placed her rosary, strung with garnet and gold beads – a small fortune in the palm of an outlaw. "This was a gift from a very dear friend of mine. It will keep you safe."
He stared open-mouthed at the crucifix, eagerly kissed the gold cross, before kneeling to begin his prayer again.
Alex walked to the side door of the church and stopped to look back. Father Martin stood by Johnny Ringo's side and was gently patting his shoulder in comfort, while a rhythmic chant in Latin echoed within the stone chapel.
Excerpts from Alex's Journal – September 1881 (Day 4)
I continue to work at the saloon during the early evening hours as a cook and afterwards I patrol. By the early morning hours I am exhausted. I have only killed 4 vampires since my arrival, three on the first night and one tonight. I am making no progress. The morning paper reported a family of 5 discovered dead in a tent on the edge of town. I suspect the demons are multiplying at an ever-increasing rate. I have still not uncovered Malachi's whereabouts. It's hard, but I'm trying to be patient as I wait for Angel to arrive and help me.
Note to self: There is a pattern to the identity of the undead but I am unsure of the purpose. The vampires I have killed were all outlaws and members of the Cowboy gang. Are these Malachi's recruits or are the cowboys simply turning their friends and cohorts?