High Stakes

by Sue

As Halloween draws near, Ezra is attacked by a vampire, and his six friends must find a way to restore the gambler's humanity and destroy the evil creature now among them.

2. Part Two

"I still say he's just plain loco."

Buck's voice bounced off the plain whitewashed walls of Nathan's clinic. the small room was crowded as the six lawmen sat or stood within its confines, Vin sitting hatless and shirtless on the bed while Nathan cleaned his wounds. The four other men were standing or sitting in various attitudes of contemplation around the bed, Josiah the farthest away in the corner by the door. He stood slightly hunched over, one hand covering his mouth in a pose of deep thought.

"The question is, what can we do about it?" Buck continued from where he was leaning against the wall, his arms folded.

"Might not be much we can do, Buck," was Chris' hoarse reply as he sat on a chair by Nathan's bed, holding his bruised ribs. "He's probably long gone by now. Might never see him again."

"But Chaucer's still in the stable," JD pointed out from where he sat on the floor next to Buck. "Ezra wouldn't go nowhere without Chaucer. An' Inez says all his stuff is still in his room."

"Well, if he does come back here he might get a warm welcome," Vin said through gritted teeth as Nathan stitched up his shoulder. "I ain't gonna let him shoot me again, that's for damn sure!"

"We should at least try t'get an explanation before you kill 'im, Vin," Nathan offered, tying off the string. "A lot of this just don't add up. Like, how could he beat Chris up so bad? I never figured Ezra to be much of a fighter when he could scam his way out of things."

"He told me he ran a boxin' con once," Buck replied. "Probably just stronger than he looks."

Chris was shaking his head. "You know what his punches felt like, Buck," he rasped. "It was like he was hittin' me with a sledgehammer. Never felt anything like it, an' you know I've had my share of fights."

Buck nodded, rubbing his bruised jaw. "Yeah, you're right there, ol' pard. He damn near broke my jaw."

"An' what about when he was chasin' me?" Vin added as Nathan dabbed some salve on his stitches. "He knew where I was, hidin' in them church ruins, but he just rode off soon as the sun came up. Seemed mighty strange after tryin' so powerful bad t'kill me."

JD cleared his throat. "I–" he began, then stopped and shook his head.

All heads in the room turned to him.

"What, kid?" Buck asked.

But his young friend sat back. "Naw, it's–it's crazy. I was seein' things."

Vin sighed and looked at JD. "Kid, can't nothin' be crazier than what's been goin' on, so if you got somethin' to say don't be afraid to say it."

JD sat thinking for a moment, then ran one hand nervously through his thick black hair. "Well...when the fight was almost over an' Ezra was chokin' Chris, I was lookin' around the saloon to see where Inez was, to make sure she was safe. You know how riled folks can get in a bar fight. An'..." his voice railed off, and for a second it seemed as if he would not be able to finish. Finally he heaved a deep sigh and plunged ahead. "Well, when I was lookin' around I got a glimpse of Ezra an' Chris fightin' in the mirror behind the bar."

"Shoot, kid, if you'd turned around you coulda seen the real thing," Buck pointed out.

JD gave him an annoyed look. "Hell, Buck, I know that! But the weird thing was...well...I could make Chris out in the mirror plain as day, but...Ezra wasn't there."

Josiah, who had been silent up until this point, dropped his hand and stepped forward, a look of alarm in his blue eyes. "What?"

JD gave a quick sigh of embarrassment. "Look, I know it's nuts, hell, I feel nuts just sayin' it! But I looked as long as I could before the crowd got in the way, an' I'd swear it looked like there wasn't nothin' holdin' Chris up. He was in the mirror but Ezra wasn't." He gasped a little and slumped back against the wall. "It's been drivin' me crazy, an' I've been tellin' myself it ain't possible, but...I *know* that's what I saw."

Nathan peered at him closely. "Don't worry, JD, you probably just got excited by all the commotion."

"Yeah, I've seen some mighty wild things myself when I get riled," Buck agreed.

"But that wasn't all," JD insisted. "I noticed Ezra actin' real weird earlier when Josiah walked past him. He looked like he was in pain or somethin', an' I still can't see why that would happen."

They all looked over to Josiah for his thoughts. The preacher hadn't moved, and now stood rooted to the floor, his expression a mixture of concern and fear.

"Y'all right, Josiah?" Vin asked.

Josiah looked up sharply. "JD, I got to have back some of them books I gave you."

JD seemed puzzled by the grave tone in the preacher's deep voice. "Well...sure, Josiah. But do you think they'll tell you what's goin' on with Ezra?"

Josiah took a very long, deep breath. "Dear Lord, I sure hope not."



Ezra grunted as he tied off the last of the bandages and leaned his bare back against the cool cave wall to rest. That should take care of things until he had a chance to heal.

His soft gasps echoed slightly against the orange–gray rock as he sat as far away from the mouth as he could get. It was not a deep cave, but it was deep enough to afford a good hiding place for himself and the horse until nightfall.

He moaned a bit and touched his sore side; thank God the bullet went through, even if the blood did spoil one of his best shirts. Fortunately the wound was mending rapidly; by dusk he would be ready to ride again. Montreux was still too weak to find and help him, and he had to be more careful tonight. But tonight he would be successful.

Ezra settled against the wall and nervously directed his wide green eyes to the patch of sunlight slowly wending its way across the entrance to the cave. Even though the mouth was situated so that the light would only penetrate a few feet into the cave, and Ezra was far away from it, he still felt unnerved by its presence. He knew instinctively how lethal just the slightest touch would be, and huddled back even farther into the shadows.

One hand reached into his saddlebag and pulled out one of Montreux's dark bottles. It was almost full, and Ezra drank the liquid inside almost without thinking about it. Amazing to think he was once repelled by the taste of its contents; now it suited him very well, and seemed even more palatable than the finest brandy. Even better, it gave him strength, strength he'd need if he wanted to bring Vin Tanner down.

He sighed and wiped his lips on his bare arm, his eyes sharp as he planned. After the sun set he would ride out and find Tanner; he knew all the places Vin liked to go, every hiding place the tracker might possibly take refuge in. Tanner would doubtless be an obstinate opponent, but even the most skilled hunter would be no match for Ezra now.

He smiled slowly at the prospect of pocketing that five hundred dollars; why hadn't he taken Vin in before? It was so obviously the right thing to do. It would line his own pockets and rid the world of an illiterate fugitive. And how did anyone know Vin didn't really commit that murder, anyway?

Something twinged in him unexpectedly; Ezra frowned, tried to catch it, but it fluttered away like a frightened bird and was gone. A puzzled expression crossed his white face; it had almost felt like regret. But regret over what? Killing Vin? Vin and the other men were nothing to him now. He searched his heart thoroughly but found no traces of anything resembling remorse. There was only a bracing coldness, dedicated purely to his own desires. Perhaps it had simply been the dying gasp of some small part of him that remembered what it had been like to be human.

Good riddance, he thought as he took another draw on the dark bottle. It felt so much better to be causing the pain instead of suffering it.

He sat back and watched the blue sky, waiting impatiently for the darkness.


Vin and Chris sat silently together in the saloon, watching over the afternoon crowd as they played cards and shared a bottle of whiskey. They were both still stiff and sore, their bruise–marked faces plainly revealing their recent trials.

"You're lucky Nathan let you outta bed the way you're busted up," Vin noted with a smile as he threw down a card.

Chris grunted, the bruises on his face barely masking his restlessness. "I been beat worse'n this," he said in a low, rough tone, "an' danged if I'll lay around in bed while a killer's on the loose. At least here I can keep an eye on things an' be of some use."

Vin nodded, his blue eyes distant as he looked unseeing at the cards in his hands. "Soon as this hand is over I'm headin' back out. I done healed enough an' there's work to do."

Chris took a drink and set down the empty glass, shaking his head. "Could be deadly work, if Ezra's still out there."

"I can outride Ezra, I figure," Vin assured him with a sigh. "That's still a puzzle, though. Maybe it's all some sorta con."

"Or maybe what he was doin' all along was the con," Chris suggested with a scowl. "We don't really know what he was like before we all met."

The tracker considered this, then shook his head. "Naw, that don't seem right. There's somethin' weird about all this, Chris. When he was chasin' me my instincts were blazin' somethin' fierce. Hey, kid."

Chris turned to see JD walking towards them, wiping his dusty hands on his pants.

"Hey, fellas," JD replied breathlessly as he sat down. "I asked around at the hotels, there was a guy with long white hair stayin' at the Ritz named Montreux, but he left last night an' they didn't know where he was goin'."

Inez approached, wiping her slim hands on her colorful apron. "Buenos tardes, JD," she said with a smile.

"Afternoon, Inez," JD replied with a nod. "Could I get some beans an' biscuits please?"

Inez nodded and began to walk away.

Chris looked up. "Hey, Inez?"

She stopped and glanced back at him. "Si?"

"You ever see a man come in here in the past few days, tall guy with long white hair?"

Inez thought for a moment. "There was a man like that here the other night. He was playing cards with Senor Ezra."

All three men sat up a little straighter.

"That's damned peculiar," Chris whispered.

"Maybe they was cookin' up somethin' together," Vin mused.

Inez shrugged. "Hard to say, Senor. They sat and talked for a while, then he left. That was the only time I saw him."

Chris nodded. "Thanks, Inez. You see that man again, keep away from 'im an' get us. He's bad news."

Her expression was troubled as she eyed them all. "Do you think he had something to do with Senor Ezra's strange behavior last night?"

"Maybe," Chris said, rubbing his lip. "Now all we gotta do is figure out what."

She sighed and walked back to the kitchen, her expression still pensive.

"That's a few more clues, anyway," Vin muttered, putting down his cards. "But it don't get us no closer to what's goin' on."

"I found out somethin' else odd," JD said, taking off his hat and leaning his elbows on the table. "Chaucer's still in the stable."

Vin grunted. "Didn't think that was Chaucer Ezra was ridin', but why the hell would he take another horse?"

"I talked to Yosemite," the young man continued. "Seems he heard a fuss out in the stable last night, an' saw Ezra tryin' to mount Chaucer. But the horse wouldn't let Ezra nowhere near 'im. Said he was buckin' an' snortin' somethin' awful."

Vin sat back with a scowl. "That don't make sense."

"I'm afraid it does, Vin."

It was Josiah's voice, low and sad. The three men looked over to see the preacher approaching them, a couple of thick books in his hands, his face lined with deep worry.

"You got some answers, Josiah?" Chris rasped, looking up at the older man as he drew nearer.

Josiah heaved a long sigh as he lifted his head, and they could all see the profound expression in his blue eyes. "I think so, Chris, but it ain't somethin' I want to talk about here. Let's find Buck an' Nathan an' go on over to the church."

JD reached for his hat, the sooth skin on his brow wrinkling in puzzlement. "The jail's closer, Josiah. Why are we meetin' at the church?"

"Because, JD," Josiah replied, facing all of them with a perfectly serious expression, "I figure that's the best place to plan a holy war."


Josiah's slow and ponderous footsteps echoed against the bare walls and dusty floor of the old church as he walked among the worn pews where his colleagues sat. The slanting sunlight cut through the dusty air, creating translucent glowing shafts as they sifted through the sunlight towards the ground. The preacher moved between the light and the shadows as he spoke, his voice even and soft, his hands holding a large open book.

"This ain't gonna be easy to believe," he was saying in a somber tone as he strode across the room. "An' I know I'd be a lot happier if I didn't believe it myself." He lifted the book a little. "These books tell stories about the legends of ancient Europe. 'Bout demons that drank blood an' hunted after livin' men. Creatures without souls."

Buck shifted a little in his seat, one arm flung casually over the back of the pew. "That's right interestin', Josiah," he said, bewildered, "but we didn't come here to hear no ghost stories."

"An' I didn't come t'tell one," Josiah sighed in response, dropping his eyes to the book. "Lot of these stories are just myths, but sometimes they got some truth in 'em. After thinkin' over what's happened to Ezra, I believe we might have one of 'em comin' true right before our eyes."

The other men stared for a moment, slightly stunned.

At length Nathan sat forward, a deep wariness in his brown eyes. "You sayin' Ezra ain't just gone crazy?"

The preacher drew himself up and slowly closed the book, its thick leaves coming together with a musty thud. "What I'm sayin'," he said calmly, "is that I've had a feelin' for the past few days that an evil has come among this town, and it is that evil which has trapped our brother and turned him against us."

Buck gave a slight nervous chuckle. "Aw c'mon now, Josiah," he said, "ain't that a bit much to believe? There ain't no such thing as ghosts an' goblins."

"No, wait, Buck," JD said from his seat behind the older man. He stood, his bowler hat held firmly in one hand. "He's right, I remember readin' about them legends. That's why Ezra wasn't in the mirror, an' why it hurt him when Josiah was near." He laughed a little and pulled one hand through his hair. "I mean, sure it sounds crazy, but it's the only thing that makes sense."

Chris turned piercing green eyes to Josiah, his face skeptical but patient. "What's this all about, Josiah?"

The preacher sighed and leaned against one of the pews, fingering the edges of the book as he talked.

"There's stories in here from Rumania talkin' about creatures that lived in the darkness, men who'd lost their souls but still lived, to prey on their brothers. Legend has it they rise at night an' drink the blood of the living, to satisfy their hunger an' spread their evil ways. Folks in Rumania called 'em vampires, an' as loco as it sounds, I think that's what we're facin' here."

The other men all sat up, looking at each other with mounting apprehension.

"Hold on there, Josiah," Buck said, still disbelieving. "You're sayin' Ezra's one of these things? That's just plumb crazy!"

"No, Buck, I think it's true," JD insisted. "Remember how Ezra rode off when the sun came up? The book says these vampires can't stand sunlight, it kills them. An' he felt pain when Josiah walked by him 'cause Josiah's a holy man."

"Why wasn't he in the mirror?" Nathan inquired, his brow still creased with doubt.

"Accordin' to the legend, it's a man's soul that casts his reflection," Josiah answered, looking up at his friends. "These demons don't have souls. That also explains why Ezra's become such a mean son of a bitch–he's lost the part of him that held any kind of goodness or restraint. And," he added, looking at Chris, "bein' in this condition gave him the strength to beat brother Chris here to a bloody pulp."

Silence fell for a few moments.

"I'll be danged," Buck finally breathed, his blue eyes staring past them all in shocked realization. "This wild talk is makin' sense."

"I'm guessin' it was this Montreux who turned Ezra against us," Josiah said, "an' it was him Vin an' I came across out in the desert with that drifter."

"Damn, yeah," Vin muttered, grasping the edge of the pew in front of him with one hand as he sat up. "I remember how turned around I felt when I got close to that guy, an' it was the same with Ezra. Maybe that's how he blinded me too."

"Could be," the preacher agreed. "Some of the older ones are said to be very powerful over the minds and bodies of others. I'm figurin' this Montreux is mighty strong."

Buck looked behind him to where his old friend sat. "What do you think, Chris?"

Chris was sitting quietly, listening to it all, his bruised face attentive and serious. He looked up at Buck with green eyes full of resolve.

"I think it's all the biggest load of bull I ever heard," he said in a hoarse but firm voice. "But nothin' else seems to fit." His gaze turned to Josiah. "Ezra grabbed my wrist before that fight we had, an' his skin was cold as a dead man's. That make sense?"

Josiah sighed, one thumb running over the book's rough blue buckram cover. "Afraid it does, Chris," he replied quietly.

"Josiah?" JD said, in a soft, sad voice, "Is there anything we can do t'get Ezra back?"

The preacher shrugged slightly, keeping his eyes on the book. "I found a few old rituals that might work, long as Ezra ain't killed nobody for their blood yet." He paused, then raised his head to look at them all with even blue eyes. "First we got to restore Ezra's soul to him, an' to do that we got to confine him in a sacred place."

Vin sighed as he shifted in the pew. "That ain't gonna be easy, if he can't take bein' around holy things no more."

"An' after what he did to Chris an' me, I don't figure it'll be easy to hold him there, neither," Buck added ruefully, rubbing his jaw. "He's packin' quite a punch these days."

"But if we could do that an' give Ezra his soul back," JD cut in, looking at Josiah hopefully, "then he'd be okay?"

Josiah began to pace a little, weighing the book in one hand. "Not quite, JD. His soul would be free but his body would still be under the curse. To completely release him, we also have to kill the vampire that changed Ezra in the first place."

"Who, this Montreux fella?" Nathan asked, knitting his brows. "That's gonna be even harder then gettin' Ezra into a sacred place. We don't know nothin' about him."

The preacher sighed and drew himself up. "My hope is that once Ezra regains his soul he'll be able to help us." He paused, then lifted his head. "I'm aimin' to give it a try. Like all of us, Ezra's got his faults, but he doesn't deserve a fate like this."

His eyes met each of theirs in turn. "I ain't gonna lie to you all, this'll be mighty dangerous. This ain't no drunk cowboy or ornery bank robber we'd be goin' up against, an' I won't think less of none of ya if you decide t'stay here in town."

The old church fell silent as the men considered what was being asked of them.

"I'm with you, preacher," JD said firmly. "Ezra's risked his life for ours lots of times, I figure I can do the same if it means we can have the old Ezra back."

"Dang, Josiah, you know we ain't about to leave that boy in a spot like this," Buck drawled, his blue eyes serious. "But somehow I got the feelin' he won't exactly be wantin' our help. He's already tried to kill Vin."

"Reckon he's after the bounty," the tracker said softly, the sunlight dancing across his golden–brown curls as he nodded his head. "An' now that he ain't got no soul there ain't nothin' to stop him from tryin' to get it."

Josiah drew a long, mournful breath. "Friendship, trust, loyalty–these things mean nothing to him now, an' that's why we can't forget how dangerous he is," the preacher said sadly. "But if we work together we might be able to bring our brother safely home an' rid the town of the evil within it."

"If it'll stop Ezra from goin' crazy an' hurtin' folks, I'm willin' to do anything," Nathan said, looking at his old friend. "You got a plan, Josiah?"

The older man stood still for a moment, glanced at Vin, and nodded. "Yes, brother Nate, I sure do."


Ezra stood in the shadows at the mouth of the cave, fully dressed now and eagerly watching the dying daylight as the sun set behind the distant mountains. He stood beside his horse holding the reins, his weakness gone now, replaced with healthy, hungry vigor. As the glowing orb slipped behind the peaks, he licked his lips, an urgent gleam in his clear green eyes.

He had never felt so eager to get into the saddle; it was a strange and burning restlessness, born somewhere deep inside of him, and he reveled in the excitement of it. He wanted to ride, to hunt and pursue, in a way he had never had experienced before. It felt glorious.

A burning need was growing in the emptiness where his soul once resided, a craving as ancient as it was undeniable. He had no idea where it came from, but thought nothing of it; it simply was there, a part of him as natural and obvious as his need to breathe. Any prey would do, if necessary, but he truly had only one quarry in mind.

The sun dipped behind the hills, its last rays flickering off the desert rocks before giving themselves over to the encroaching shadows. A cold thrill surged through Ezra at their demise, and gleefully he mounted the large dark horse and picked up the reins. Once this task was done, he could bid farewell to his old life and begin this new one. He could scarcely bear the anticipation.

With a touch of the spurs he trotted out of the cave and went to hunt down Vin Tanner.



The old church stood dusty and nearly deserted in the gathering evening gloom, the candles blazing within its crumbling walls struggling mightily against the darkness. Only one figure moved within its confines, its movements slow and wary but firm in their purpose.

Josiah's soul was heavy as he shrugged on his leather coat. An infinite sadness clung to him, mixed with the dire solemnity of the task they all faced this night. The evil seemed all around him now, doing all it could to drag him down in its icy clutches. It was an ominous presence, but he did not flinch even as he felt its grasp growing ever tighter. He had a job to do.

He reached down for his saddlebag, now stocked with everything he'd need. He knew the others were similarly prepared, ready for the fight; they all had their instructions and knew where they had to be. They'd be waiting for him now; he had to go.

Questions haunted him as he did up the catches on the bags. Would he be able to do this? His faith had waxed and waned over the years–could he trust himself that it would now be at hand when he needed it most? Did he have the strength to lead the others against such a deadly and powerful foe–especially since that foe came in the shape of a friend?

With ponderous movements he slung the saddlebag over his shoulder, firmly putting the doubts behind him as he prepared to leave. They would all do what they had to, to the best of their talents, and leave the questions for another day. He steeled himself and turned to the altar, where a dozen candles glowed fitfully in the stirring autumn air.

Lord, he prayed as he stood in the growing shadows, I know we ain't be speakin' much lately, and there have been many times we haven't exactly seen eye to eye. But we sure do need your assistance on this one, an' if I ever asked you for anything from the bottom of my soul, it would be this. Be with us now as we go to reclaim our comrade's soul, and give us the strength to destroy the darkness that's now among us. But most of all, Lord, be with our brother Ezra. Before this is all done I'm afraid he's going to suffer most of all.

Josiah paused for a moment, then turned and walked out of the church. behind him the candles continued to flicker and burn, waging a stalwart battle against the oncoming night.



Dark clouds scudded across the sky, now and then blanketing the face of the full moon as it shone down on the rocky desert landscape. In its pale light rode a lone horseman clad in buckskin, trotting at a steady pace, now and then looking carefully around as he traveled as if looking for someone.

Vin's blue eyes gleamed in the moonlight as he watched, certain that the man he was waiting for would come. They all had their part to do, and this was his. He glanced with annoyance at the silver–lined clouds and listened as some of them rumbled forth with ominous thunder. A storm was coming.

Suddenly he sat up, his eyes wide and attentive. Hoofbeats sounded in the distance, drawing closer with a steady rhythm. Turning slightly in his saddle, Vin saw a familiar figure top a nearby hill, a red–coated figure mounted on a large dark horse.

Vin's breath caught in his throat; it was Ezra, hunting him down just as they all figured he would. Involuntarily he was filled with a sudden chill; the sensation was back again, portentous of darkness and evil. He shrugged it off, mindful only of the task at hand, and spurred Sire around and forward, directly into Ezra's path.

Dust flew up in bright white clouds as he pounded across the open valley of rock, making sure to guide his horse so that Ezra would see and pursue him. After a short time he veered away and dashed off through the rocks and hills. Soon he heard an expected sound: the pounding of pursuing hoofbeats.

The tracker leaned low in his saddle, hugging Sire's neck and doing his best to maintain a distance between them too great for gunfire to be effective. He could hear Ezra coming after him, feel the oppressive air closing in. But he couldn't let his former comrade catch him–not yet.

Ezra bent over the neck of his steed, his green eyes gleaming with the thrill of the chase. He could not believe his luck, finding Tanner so easily; soon that five hundred dollars would be assured. As he guided his horse after his old friend, Ezra felt the hunger surge within him, excited by the pounding of the hooves and the swift motion. He could not explain or control it; he could only experience it, and yearn for its eventual satisfaction without even truly realizing what it was he craved.

They came to a small rise in the earth, and Vin mounted it swiftly, riding to its top. There, to Ezra's surprise, he dismounted and quickly jumped behind some large rocks, gun in hand. Ezra reined in his mount and jumped to the ground, smiling. This was getting better every minute.

He drew his Remington and crept up the hill, keenly watching the rock where Tanner hid. This was all such a new sensation; he could hear every sound, catch every scent, and be able to decipher it all with perfect understanding. What did it matter if Vin had years of hunting experience, and the sharp skills of a practiced hunter? His talents were no match for Ezra's now. The gambler grinned at the irony of such a thought, that his own skills now outweighed those of the tracker's. This was going to be so rewarding.

He was within ten feet of the rock when he paused, puzzled. Something felt odd...

He had only been still for a moment, but that moment was long enough for Vin to spring out of his hiding place with catlike swiftness and tackle Ezra to the ground.

Ezra let out a surprised grunt and reared back, striking Vin ferociously across the jaw. The other man grunted, blood trickling from his lips, but he held firm, seemingly oblivious to the gambler's powerful kicks and struggles. Vin knew he didn't have much time against Ezra; he'd have to move fast.

Grappling wildly, he clasped Ezra firmly around the middle and pushed off, sending them both rolling quickly towards the edge of the hill. The gambler writhed in the tracker's grip, but the move was too fast for him to have time to break free before both of them went toppling over the lip and onto the ground below.

The side of the hill proved to be a sheer cliff, dropping down some twenty feet to the desert floor. Ezra gasped as he fell, clawing wildly in an attempt to hold on to Vin. But now the tracker pushed him away, so that Ezra was falling freely through space while Vin found a handhold on the hillside. Unable to stop himself, Ezra fell the entire way, landing with a thud face down on the ground.

Instantly, he knew something was very wrong.

Pain lanced through him, dull but insistent. He shook his head, thankful that he now had the strength to survive such a fall, and planted the palms of his hands on the ground to lift himself up. At once he noticed the ground felt strange, very smooth and even. And there was a new sensation now, of several men very close, watching him.

He took a deep breath and lifted his head.

He was lying on the floor of a large ruin, one whose back walls butted up against the base of the hill. Everything was gone now but the foundation and a few uneven feet of wall, running in a large rectangular form before him. Several small fires had been built within the perimeters of the old building, their orange tongues greedily licking at the sky and bathing all around him in a dancing orange glow. And beyond the walls stood shadows, unmoving as their eyes bore into him.

Ezra gasped and sat up, his green eyes wide. He knew this place, had been here long ago; it was the church Josiah had been working on when they first met. The pain was sharper now, mixed with a growing animal rage; he could feel himself weakening already. He had to get out of here.

He got to his feet as quickly as he could, so that as little of him was touching holy ground as possible. Soft noises came from behind him; he turned and saw Tanner, a little bruised and bloodied but still alive, climbing down the rock wall.

He still held his Remington, and in a lightning–fast motion raised it and took perfect aim at Vin's head.

An explosion shattered the cool night air, and Ezra cried out as the gun was shot from his hand, clattering on the rocks as it flew beyond the barriers of the church walls. Furious, he looked up to see a dark figure standing nearby across the wall, a smoking gun held in one hand.

"You can thank me for doin' that when this is all over," drawled a rough, familiar voice as the figure holstered its gun.

A slow grin spread across Ezra's face. "Why, Larabee, how good of you to bring yourself out here so I can continue our discussion," he said lightly. "I'm afraid I will not be able to content myself with merely choking you this time."

He took a few quick steps towards the church wall, surprised that Larabee made no further moves, and seemed to be waiting for him.

Within three yards of the wall, he was suddenly brought up short by the most excruciating pain he had felt yet; it was as if he had walked into a wall of fire, searing his every nerve and holding him in place. He staggered back, shocked and gasping, looking around for the source. At length his eyes fell to the ground, and saw that he stood before a line of water which glistened on the smooth stones at his feet.

His gaze followed the water; it seemed to be all around him. Whirling, he saw Tanner closing the circle behind him, pouring a thin stream of water from his canteen onto the ground before hurrying over the wall to join the others.

Shit, Ezra thought, and ran for the cliff, determined to haul himself back up the side. As soon as he was within a few feet of the line of water the wall of agony struck him again, pressing him back as solidly as if a stone fortification has sprung up before him. He choked and stumbled back a few steps, bewildered and enraged. He was trapped.

"It's holy water, Ezra, an' it ain't no use your tryin' to cross it."

Ezra whirled, his red jacket whipping as he moved. A large shadow was moving towards him now through the ruined doorway of the church, and it stepped into the glow of the firelight, revealing itself to be Josiah, who stood regarding Ezra with sad, serious blue eyes.

The gambler stared at him for a moment, then gathered himself and straightened, a cold smile on his face. "I am impressed that you were all able to figure it out," he said. "I hope you realize I am not about to let you kill me."

"We ain't gonna kill you, Ezra," the preacher replied, standing well beyond the ring of water. "We're here hopin' to save you."

"Then I assure you you are wasting your time," was the quick reply. "I have already achieved salvation, to a far greater degree than your limited mentalities could hope to comprehend."

Josiah sighed. "I wouldn't call this life salvation, Ezra."

"Why not?" the gambler chuckled. "Surely you are all aware of the existence I now enjoy. Eternity is now mine, as well as tireless strength. The shackles which once bound my ambitions are gone. Once I would have scoffed at such things as impossible, gentlemen, yet here I stand, their living embodiment."

"But you ain't livin', Ezra," JD's voice said from the shadows. "You lost your soul."

Ezra waved this away. "In light of what I've gained, I consider it more than a fair exchange." He looked at Josiah, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. "You can have this too, Josiah." He looked around at the dark shapes surrounding him. "You can all have this. You won't believe how marvelous it is, the freedom, the strength. It's like being reborn."

"We're mighty happy with the lives we got, Ezra," Josiah replied softly, reclaiming the gambler's attention. "An' despite what you say, I think you were too."

"Ha!" Ezra scoffed. "I may have been deluded enough at one time to think so, but no longer. And all of your words and tricks will never persuade me otherwise."

Josiah studied him, then turned as if making ready to walk away. "We don't got to use tricks, Ezra, an' I'm done talkin'."

He began to stride back into the shadows. Angered, Ezra ran after him, a killing gleam in his eyes, before once more colliding with the invisible barrier. This time it struck him with tremendous, painful force, and he fell to his knees crying out in anguish and shock.

When he looked up again, Josiah had turned and was calmly regarding him, only faintly lit now by the flickering fires.

"I don't think this is the kind of life you truly want, Ezra," the preacher said softly, walking slowly back to stand within a few feet of the ring of water. "The Ezra I knew wasn't perfect but he would never have wanted to be a killer livin' under the shadow of eternal damnation, no matter how great the rewards. It's for that friend that we're here tonight."

Ezra took a few gasping breaths and glared at Josiah, sweat glistening on his pale brow. "That is extremely touching," he breathed, "but sorely misguided. I am no longer a fool, and will use all the means in my power to fight you."

"We don't got to fight, Ezra," was Josiah's quiet reply as he turned and walked back into the shadows. "All we got to do is bide our time."

Ezra watched him with angry eyes as the preacher walked away to join the others standing beyond the wall. He expected them to attack him, or try to kill him.

Instead, they simply stood by, and waited.

Hours passed. During that time, Josiah and the others kept their eyes locked on Ezra. For a long time the gambler paced the confines of his trap, now and then trying to cross the boundary formed by the large ring of holy water. Every time he was repulsed more violently.

Occasionally he would lift his face to the dark figures watching him, a wide smile on his pale face, and declare that he had decided they were right. He repented of his wrongs and would agree to whatever terms they declared, if they would only free him from the church. These words were spoken with the deepest sincerity, in a choking and halting tone.

None of the men made a move.

Anger replaced the pleading. Nathan and Vin fed the fires, keeping them burning and ignoring Ezra's sharp comments and threats. The pacing returned, but the steps were faltering now, and slower as they crossed back and forth. He removed his coat and hat, his face now dripping with sweat and growing still more pale. His breaths were coming now in short, shallow gasps, even as the deadly glare on his face became more and more pronounced as he stared at them across the darkness.

JD walked over to where Josiah stood silently, leaning on the broken wall. "Ezra ain't gonna die, is he?" he murmured in an anxious tone as he watched their friend mop his brow on his sleeve.

"No, JD, bein' on holy ground can only make him weaker," the preacher assured him in a soft voice without moving. "We can only hope he gets weak enough for us to help him before the sun comes up." He looked over at the man standing next to him. "What time you got, Buck?"

A tiny jingle filled the air as Buck fished his pocket watch out and read the time by the orange flames of the campfires. "Gettin' close to one now, Josiah." He sighed and looked at Ezra. "Reckon he oughta be wore out by three."

"Sure hope so," the preacher replied, and they returned to watching in silence.

At length Ezra stopped walking; his legs would no longer support his weight. He sat down in the center of the circle, dropping his head into his hands, gasping for air and trembling violently. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, his skin a ghostly shade of whitish–gray.

Ezra was seething and frightened. If only Montreux could help, he thought. But his mentor was still too weakened to reach out and find him, still too far away to know he was in trouble. Ezra would have to win this on his own; if only he didn't feel so damned weak...

Ezra had been still for half an hour when JD looked once more to Josiah, his hazel eyes troubled. In one hand he held a canteen. "He ain't lookin' too good, Josiah. Is–is it okay if I give him some water?"

The older man eyed him cautiously. "He might look wore out, JD, but he's plenty dangerous."

JD smiled a little. "I know that, preacher, but–well, he's still Ezra, even if he ain't right in the head. It don't feel right to just watch him suffer like this–at any rate, I can't do it."

With that, he strode out into the circle towards the motionless form of Ezra.

"You gonna let him go?" Chris whispered to Josiah, a touch of anger in his rough voice.

Josiah was watching the young man draw nearer to the gambler. "There might be enough of Ezra left in there to be grateful for mercy," was the hushed response. "But best be ready, Vin, just in case."

Vin nodded and hefted his rifle.

JD walked up to his friend carefully, the canteen looped over his hand. The Southerner made no sign that he noticed JD's presence, sitting perfectly still with his head in his hands.

"Ezra?" JD said with hesitation, when he was within a few feet.

The other man shuddered and lifted his head to look at JD. His face was white and covered with sweat, his eyes apparently wild with fear and pain.

"JD," he gasped, wide–eyed and trembling.

He sounds so weak, JD thought with a pang of fear. "Yeah," he said aloud, holding out the canteen. "Thought you might want some water."

Ezra reached out with a shaking hand and accepted the vessel. "Much obliged," he whispered, before draining it in a few avid gulps. JD studied him as he drank; he seemed about ready to die, but something didn't feel right.

With a gasp, Ezra finished the canteen and wiped his lips on his sweat–stained shirt. "JD, please," he muttered, his head drooping with weariness, "please, you must listen to me. This is all a...horrible mistake."

JD nodded. "I know it is, Ezra."

The gambler shuddered and grasped the canteen reflexively, not looking at his young comrade as he spoke. "You don't understand what this is, none of you do. I had no choice, I was trapped, just as I am trapped now. He attacked me, forced me to adopt this existence." He swallowed and turned wild eyes to JD. "I had no chance against him, you must see that."

JD felt a tingle go up his spine. "I know, Ezra."

"Vin knows." Ezra went on, looking out into the darkness to where the others stood, watching him. "He's felt what this creature is capable of. If it had not been for Josiah, Vin would be dead now. What chance did I have, alone? There is no resistance possible against that kind of power."

A glimmer of sympathy crossed Vin's eyes, and he looked over to the others as his rifle came down a little, his face grim with understanding. The memory haunted him still, the horrific pain and utter helplessness, and he knew Ezra would have been no match for such strength.

Ezra noticed this, and an imperceptible smile twitched his lip. He hid it quickly, however, and turned sorrowful eyes to JD, who was still watching Ezra with a mixture of sadness and foreboding.

"Surely you can understand my agony, JD," Ezra said in a low, choked voice. "Every moment here is killing me. There is no cause for this, you know I am no evil monster. If there is the slightest shred of humanity in you, and I know there is, you will not abandon me here." He took a deep breath, and looked deeply into JD's eyes. "Please, JD, in the name of our friendship, release me."

JD stared at him for a moment, his expression confused and tentative. Then he seemed to come to a decision, and smiled a little.

"I will, Ezra," he said softly, and turning he nodded to Josiah and Nathan.

Josiah looked over at Nathan. "Ready?"

The healer eyed the seemingly weakened Ezra, hesitating. "What if it's another trick?"

Josiah sighed, and looked over to where Vin stood, one foot propped up on the low wall in front of him, his Winchester in one hand. Their eyes met, and the sharpshooter nodded once, his blue eyes grave.

"Then I reckon we'll have to get out of Vin's way," he said softly, and picked up a small bag which lay at his feet. "Let's go."

They each took a deep breath and entered the ruins.

Ezra watched their approach with dread. As Josiah got closer he shuddered, staring at both of them with naked hatred and fear.

"Get away from me," he said in a faint, furious tone as he pulled himself back a few inches. His eyes were riveted on Josiah; he did not even seem to notice Nathan.

Josiah stopped within a few feet of Ezra, gazing down at him with deep compassion. "I know it's causin' you pain for me to be near you, Ezra," he said, "but I got to do this if we're going to help you."

"I assure you, I do not want or require your help," Ezra rasped, drawing back as far as he could from them. "Leave me alone!" He looked over at JD with wet, pleading eyes, but the young man only watched him sorrowfully without moving.

In response, Josiah knelt down and opened his bag while Nathan walked over to where Ezra sat, shivering.

The gambler eyed Nathan ferociously. "You keep your distance, boy!" he coughed.

Nathan appeared unperturbed. "Ezra, will you just hush now!" he said as he stepped behind him. "We're tryin' to save your sorry ass, an' you best just accept it. I s'pose bein' a vampire didn't make you any less stubborn."

Josiah had begun muttering to himself in Latin, lifting first a long silk stole from the bag, kissing it and placing it around his neck. Ezra watched him in growing concern as he next removed a bottle of holy water, its contents glittering in the fire's orange glow.

Ezra let out a huge gasp and struggled backwards, even though the holy water prevented him from moving one more foot.

"Sorry 'bout this, Ezra," Nathan said, and grabbed the gambler around his shoulders.

Ezra let out a furious cry and began to thrash, twisting and turning in a violent attempt to break Nathan's grip. Loud cries and snarls issued from his mouth as he writhed about.

From beyond the wall, Vin aimed and was ready, even as his heart was gripped with regret.

JD stood riveted behind Josiah, his eyes large and staring.

"JD, please!" Ezra cried, locking his green eyes with those of the young man. "Help me–they're going to kill me–"

JD swallowed. "Not you, Ezra, just the evil that's got into you," JD replied in a frightened whisper.

Ezra grunted. "Dammit, I told you, I'm not evil!" he cried as he intensified his struggles. "Let me go!"

Ezra nearly succeeded in escaping; even in his severely weakened state he was quite strong, and more than once both Ezra and the healer fell to the ground. But the Southerner did not have the power to fight for long, and soon his efforts ceased. He was breathing heavily now, his body shaking, new sweat drenching his face and clothes, flecks of foam at his lips.

"Easy now, Ezra," Nathan said, as he pulled them both up and gently but firmly pinned the gambler's arms behind his back. "We ain't tryin' to hurt you."

"Filthy darky liar," Ezra muttered back as he panted for breath. He lifted his green eyes to stare at Josiah. "I am not...going to permit you to touch me...with that foul substance."

"An' we ain't gonna permit you to become a killer," Josiah replied as he got on his knees before Ezra. "This won't change what you are, but it will give you your soul back, an' then we can work on the rest. We got a duty here, Ezra, to protect the town an' stop the man who did this to you. An' because you're our friend. Now hush up."

He began to recite in Latin once more, ignoring Ezra's pleas and weakly uttered threats. The gambler could barely move now, held as he was by Nathan and hampered by his own weakness. As the incantation continued, the wind grew stronger, whipping the flames of the fires. Clouds hid the moon and rumbled with thunder, wrapping the land in blackness save for the small abandoned ruins.

With a somber expression, Josiah reached forward and pulled open Ezra's shirt.

"Stop it!" Ezra shrieked, trying to pull away. "JD, for God's sake–how can you let them violate me like this? Is this your gratitude for my friendship?"

JD stood motionless. "I'm sorry, Ezra," he finally said softly. "It'll be over soon."

Spent and trembling, Ezra could only watch with round green eyes as Josiah lifted the small bottle and dipped the first two fingers of his right hand into it. The small droplets of water on his fingers sparkled like stars in the firelight as he withdrew them, speaking more Latin as he reached for Ezra, his blue eyes sad and somber.

Ezra cried out and tried once more to break free; Nathan held firm, his lips pursed with the effort. The other men watched, Vin still ready with his weapon, Buck and JD wearing expressions of wonder and concern. JD crossed himself.

Josiah took a deep breath and leaned forward, continuing with his recitation of the Catholic ritual of baptism. The wet fingers brushed Ezra's smooth chest, and Ezra erupted into a horrifying scream as the skin turned a deep red and began to bleed from the preacher's gentle touch.

"Easy, Ezra," Nathan said quickly, tightening his grip on Ezra as the Southerner began to toss about as violently as he could.

Ezra's response was a burst of infuriated profanity. The faint smell of the burning skin drifted into the air, and as JD stared at the bleeding wound he went pale and backed away into the shadows.

"JD" Ezra screamed. "Don't leave me to die here!"

Working as fast as he could, Josiah wet his fingers once again and gently touched Ezra's forehead with the holy water as he continued the baptismal liturgy. Ezra lurched away, crying out once more as blood began to trickle from the small wound Josiah's touch had opened on his forehead.

"Murderers!" Ezra exclaimed in a voice thick with rage, and once more he tried to throw Nathan off, driven by pain and fear. Nathan's grip was coming loose.

"Hold on!" they heard JD cry, and Ezra's head shot up, his green eyes shining hard and triumphant in the flickering firelight. But his victorious smile faded when JD came into the light and Ezra saw what he was carrying.

A length of thick rope.

"Just hold 'im still, Nathan," JD said as he rushed over to the healer and knelt behind Ezra and began to tie his wrists together.

"Damn you, you traitorous little bastard!" Ezra gasped as he tried in vain to escape. "Little shit...you're going to let them slaughter me...after all we've been through..."

"Geez, Ezra, I ain't enjoyin' this!" JD replied heatedly as he tied the knots a strong as he could. "An' it's cause of all we've been through that I'm doin' it."

The knots were finished, and as Ezra lay gasping in exhaustion and pain JD stood and met his furious green eyes. A small amount of wetness shone at the edges of his own hazel eyes as he regarded the man who was once his friend.

"It's the only way we can help you, Ezra," he panted, "an' I'm hopin' you'll forgive me for it when this is over."

"Never!" growled Ezra, dropping all pretense of civility as he strained against the tight ropes and glared at JD with murderous eyes. But he was thoroughly tired now, and the most he could do now was unleash another profane tirade as Josiah put down the holy water and picked up a second bottle from his bag.

Nathan found holding Ezra much easier now, even though the gambler still struggled and cursed. The healer glanced up at JD, who stood pale and sweating as he stared at Ezra.

"Thanks, JD," he said with a nod.

JD took the hint and backed out of the circle, his haze eyes still locked on Ezra's white, bleeding form.

"It's almost over, Ezra," Josiah assured the sweating gambler as he opened the second bottle and dipped his fingers into it. Ezra's stream of profanity broke off as he watched the preacher's motions with round eyes. The substance was anointing oil, golden and slightly thick, and as Josiah reached towards Ezra the Southerner gasped and began to tremble.

Josiah's own hand was shaking; it broke the preacher's heart to cause Ezra such fear and pain, but it disturbed him even more to know the suffering which would result if they were not inflicted. He had rarely seen true evil, and now it was staring him in the face, using all sorts of tricks to save itself. As Josiah gazed into Ezra's angry green eyes, he nearly wavered at the agony he saw there. But something else lurked there too, an emptiness far more dire than any wound.

He braced himself to continue. There was only one way to fill that emptiness, and it was up to him. If this ritual restored Ezra to them, it would be worth all of the suffering which now tormented them both.

The gambler weakly turned his head away, still cursing, but lacked the strength to make any further efforts at evading his fate. As Josiah finished the required words, his fingers quickly and gently brushed Ezra's forehead, marking his skin with the holy oil.

At the first touch Ezra emitted a choking cry; once Josiah was finished he burst forth with a shattering howl, and in one great effort threw Nathan off and fell to the ground, shrieking at the top of his voice. In the power of his agony he tore his arms free from their bonds, and his hands flew to his bleeding forehead.

The healer rolled out of the circle and leapt up, watching the scene with alarmed eyes. Josiah, his task done, got to his feet and backed away swiftly, his gaze locked on Ezra as he did so.

The gambler was twisting on the ground, clutching his head and screaming as his body arched and writhed in seeming agony. Cry followed upon cry as he thrashed in the dust, his comrades looking on in growing dismay.

"He sure didn't like that, did he?" Buck asked as Ezra's shrieks filled the desert air. His handsome face was filled with concern as he watched his friend's sufferings. "Did it work?"

"We'll know soon enough," was Josiah's hushed reply.

For a few more minutes Ezra continued to cry out, grabbing his head in acute anguish, his expression hidden as he twisted and groaned. Then with unexpected suddenness the screams broke off with a choking sound, and Ezra rolled away until his back was to them, his body growing limp, his hands still covering his head, his shoulders heaving as he drew in long, heavy breaths. In the firelight they could see he was shaking, but there was no sign as to whether they had been successful.

The other men stood straight and alert, surprised at how quickly Ezra's torment has ceased. JD took a step towards him; Buck stopped him with a firm hand to his sleeve and a somber look of warning. It could be another trick.

For a long time no one moved or spoke. Only the rushing sound of the wind and the distant roar of thunder stirred the night air. Ezra remained motionless, still holding his head with his back to them, but after a while they discerned a new noise coming from within the ruined church. It was the soft, choked sound of heartbreaking sobs.

Josiah glanced at Vin and nodded. The tracker returned the gesture and gripped his rifle, ready, as the preacher once more stepped into the church. The other men followed him now, stopping at the boundary of the circle of holy water while Josiah approached their fallen comrade.

Ezra still had not moved, and as Josiah drew nearer he could better hear the intermittent choking groans coming in gasping bursts from the gambler's throat. He walked around until he could see Ezra's face; it now lay buried in the gambler's hands. Josiah knew he couldn't touch Ezra without causing him pain–even if his soul had been restored he was still a vampire–but he had to see if the ritual had worked.

Slowly he knelt down and said as gently as he could, "Ezra?"

A new burst of muffled sobs burst from the Southerner, but there was no other response. After a few moments Ezra heaved a huge sigh, then another, as if steeling himself for a great ordeal, and curled himself up even tighter, his face still hidden.

"Oh, Lord," Josiah heard him moan quietly between gasps. "Oh, Lord!"

Josiah bent towards him, resisting the urge to touch his shoulder. Before he could say a word, Ezra choked and shrank away.

"Go away, Josiah," the gambler pleaded as he turned his face away. "Please...I can't..."

Josiah stood and took a few steps back, his eyes still on Ezra's concealed face. He stood motionless and said nothing, waiting to see what would happen next.

Ezra took a few more hitching breaths, then slowly uncurled himself a bit, lifted his face from his hands and looked at Josiah. His pale face was wet with tears and thinly streaked with blood, the hands trembling from strong emotions. But it was Ezra's eyes that Josiah was most anxious to see, and he peered into them deeply. Their green depths were wild and haunted, full of the deepest remorse which even the most skilled of con men could not duplicate, and Josiah felt a strange relief flood his heart. Half of their battle was done now; Ezra had regained his soul.

Ezra stared at Josiah, then at the other men, trying to speak but unable to form the words. At length he let out a strangled gasp and dropped his head back into his hands. He began to pant, wiping his face roughly with his open palms.

Josiah quickly stepped away so as not to cause Ezra more pain, looking up at the others and nodding. "Don't worry, Ezra, we're plannin' to bring you all the way home. You can rest easy now."

For several minutes no further words were spoken. The only sounds disturbing the cool night air were the pops and hisses of the bright fires and the whistling of the wind as it moaned through the cliffs and trees around them. Ezra very slowly sat up, as if every movement took great effort, until he was sitting cross–legged, his face still hidden in his hands. Then he was motionless, save for the deep heaving of his shoulders as he breathed.

The other men watched him silently, sympathy replacing the uncertainty which had clouded their eyes. Finally Ezra drew a deep breath and lifted his head, facing them all with an aspect of perfect sadness. His eyes were large and glistening with tears in the firelight.

"I...apologize," he gasped, his voice low and melancholy, "but...you can't understand what this is, how it feels to know...I believe I will never be able to rest easy ever again."

Ezra sighed and wiped his face, his voice breaking once again as he shook his head, his expression one of perfect misery. Taking a deep breath he pressed his face once more into his hands. "Please...I just...can't speak at the moment..."

"It's all right, Ezra," Josiah assured him.

The desert quiet returned as they waited, keeping a close eye on the gambler as he sat alone at the center of the ruined church. A full half hour passed, and Ezra did not move or make a sound. In the far east, the first pink touches of dawn were brushing the night sky.

Finally Ezra emitted a deep sigh and raised his head, looking at his comrades through clear but troubled eyes. "Well," he said in a tremulous voice saturated with weariness, "you...have succeeded in restoring my soul, but...I confess I am not sure whether to thank or damn you. How...did you know what to do?"

"Josiah found a ritual in one of his old books," JD said as he and the others drew near. "You're lucky you didn't kill nobody for their blood yet or else we couldn't ever have brought you back."

Ezra turned his face away from them, slowly gathering himself together but still profoundly shaken. "As you know it was not for lack of trying," he muttered in a voice full of self-reproach. He shook his head slightly, as if amazed. "You all took...such a risk, doing this for me, even after I..." He choked and shut his eyes, mortified. "I assure you none of you have to forgive me. I know I will never forgive myself." He sighed deeply and put one hand over his eyes.

"We can worry about all that shit later, Ezra," Chris said in a tight voice, eyeing the gambler sharply. "We still got a hell of a fight in front of us, an' we're gonna need your help."

Silence fell again for a few moments. "Yes, of course," he finally muttered, looking at them. "You have little notion of what it is we are truly facing here, and once I regain my strength I will tell you all I know. But..."

His voice trailed off, and he once more turned his eyes away from them. "I must ask your indulgence if I seem a bit distracted. I am finding the shame over my actions most profoundly disturbing." After a pause he bit his lip and looked at Chris, Buck and Vin very hesitantly, immense guilt in his clear green eyes.

"We know you weren't yourself, buddy," Buck said, his blue eyes somber. "An' hell, when this is over, I'll punch ya back if that'll make ya feel better."

"Ain't no use fixin' blame on yourself now, Ezra," Vin offered. "You got the chance to set things right by helpin' us end this for good an' all an' make you one of us again."

"Right," Chris added, his face hard as steel with determination as he gazed evenly at Ezra. "An' I'm bettin' you already know what we got to do."

Ezra paused, momentarily deep in thought. To his surprise, he did know; it was there instinctively, along with all of the other knowledge born in him when he entered into this new way of being. He nodded once, his handsome, pale face reflecting a mixture of dire apprehension and grim purpose.

"Yes," the gambler said in a sharp whisper. "We must kill Gabriel Montreux."

His eyes met Chris' serious gaze, and the gunslinger nodded. They all knew the difficulty of what lay ahead, but were ready to face it.

The sky brightened; dawn was approaching. Seeing this, Ezra attempted to stand, but the strain of his wounds and the powerful emotions surging through him sent him trembling back to the ground. As he sighed to himself and rubbed his eyes in complete weariness, he felt a sympathetic touch at his shoulder, and looked up to see Buck kneeling beside him, with Nathan behind him. The healer walked around and carefully lifted Ezra up, bracing him in his arms.

"Hey there, buddy," Buck said softly with a slight smile as he wet his bandanna with water from a canteen. "Didn't figure you'd want t'join back up without lookin' your best. Just take 'er easy, we got ya."

He put the canteen down and lifted the cloth up to wipe the sweat and blood from Ezra's forehead. The gambler winced instinctively.

"Now don't you worry, Ezra," Buck chuckled as he gently dabbed the cold cloth across the burned skin. "There sure ain't nothin' holy about the water that comes from Trader's Creek."

Ezra could say nothing in response at first, his eyes full of shame as they stared at the ground while Buck cleaned his face and chest. At length he was able to stammer, "Thank you, Buck–all of you–I...fear I am quite at a loss for words."

"Now that's a first," Nathan said sympathetically as he helped Ezra sit up. "Just hold on now, soon as we get outta this church you'll be okay."

The gambler groaned and rubbed his head as Nathan steadied him. When he opened his eyes he saw JD watching him with great concern, and he looked away almost immediately.

"Oh, Lord, JD," he moaned. "You have every right to think me a perfect bastard."

JD forced a crooked smile. "Aw c'mon now, Ezra, you know none of us is perfect," he joked. "I know you weren't yourself, it's okay."

Ezra was shaking his head, and finally dared to look JD in the eyes once more. "Someday, son, you must explain your seemingly boundless capacity for forgiveness to me. I scarcely deserve it after how I mistreated you."

JD paused, then shrugged. "You can make it up by helpin' us kill Montreux, Ezra. Then things can get back to normal an' we can all go home."

Ezra's jaw tightened as he thought about the man who had brought such anguish to their town. "With pleasure," he murmured.

Nathan and Buck carefully helped the weakened gambler to his feet. Ezra was unsteady but able to walk, and together they all left the abandoned church, striking out to find a nearby shelter in which to plan the coming battle.


The small house was aglow in the early morning sunlight, the pale golden rays setting everything it touched afire with pure radiance. Set in the remote country, far from civilization, the small clapboard dwelling nevertheless presented a neat picture to those who ventured by. A small stable stood nearby, sheltering one old horse who even now whinnied anxiously and glanced impatiently at the house, waiting for its master.

The old weathered door swayed and rattled as it hung open on its hinges, but no one appeared at the doorway. The windows were all closed and shuttered, as if against a dust storm, but the day promised to be clear and full of sunshine. And still the old man who lived there did not appear.

Inside, the house was small but hospitable, decorated with the sparse but lovingly preserved mementos of a long and full life. A few treasured photographs hung on the walls, of a man and woman surrounded by children, then another one of the same couple, older now but still content. A smaller photograph of the same woman, still older, in a silver frame twined with dried roses. Some books and papers scattered here and there, a few sticks of old but usable furniture, and an old fiddle stored in the corner. All in all, a quiet, comfortable home.

Gabriel Montreux thought it would be the perfect place to hide and wait until sundown.

As he walked slowly from the bedroom, barely sparing a glance back at the body now lying dead and drained on the bedroom floor, he looked around to make sure that all of the windows were securely covered. Even with his recent nourishment he had to be wary of the sun. However, everything looked secure, and he settled in to gather his strength.

He was certainly fortunate to find the old man, he mused as he sat at the spare table and removed a book from his coat to read. It would sustain him very nicely, and the fellow never even awoke before Montreux dispatched him. It was almost disappointingly easy, but then he could hardly have expected a challenge.

As he flipped through the pages, his mind turned to Ezra. Wonder how he's faring, Montreux mused, I certainly hope he manages to make that catch. Now that he had fed himself, Montreux was strong enough to check on his pupil, to sense how strong the Southerner was becoming. He sat still and concentrated; it was much more difficult than normal, but after a great deal of effort he succeeded in finding Ezra.

Montreux sat up with a start, his violet eyes wide with shock and anger. He had found Ezra, but something very unexpected as well.

Standish had regained his soul.

"Damn them!" he cried to no one, slamming the book on the table and leaping to his feet. He really had no idea who was responsible–those men he worked with, perhaps, but he'd never heard of such men risking their lives that way, certainly not for a two–bit gambler like Standish seemed to be. Ezra must not have been strong enough to stop them.

After the first flush of rage, Montreux took a deep breath, assessing the situation. He would be powerless to venture outside until nightfall. but the instant the sun set he would ride out to find his errant protege. Perhaps Ezra could be persuaded to rethink his decision, but if not, the gambler would simply have to be done away with. Then it would be on to another town, and hopefully, greater success.

Ezra might be something of a problem to deal with, he thought as he sat back down; he still retained all of his strengths, and would likely put up a fight. His friends, if they were foolish enough to stay with him, would be much simpler to handle; Montreux barely wasted a moment's thought on them.

He nodded once to himself and picked up his book, thankful that he had found the old man and his house now. He would be able to rest and gather his strength for the coming fight. If fortune was with him, perhaps a friend or relative of the house's owner would chance by, and he could strengthen himself even further.

With that optimistic thought, Montreux opened his book.



"I ain't gonna let you do something that crazy, Ezra!"

"I assure you, Mr. Larabee, it is the only way we will all have a chance to survive what is coming."

The firm voices of the two men echoed faintly against the cool walls of the dusty desert cavern which now sheltered them and their five friends. In the bright sunlight outside, their horses nibbled on the desert grass and enjoyed the quiet, but within the confines of the shady cave the air was tense. While the others sat, or leaned against the walls, Ezra and Chris paced in the middle of the circle, eying each other sharply. Josiah stood the farthest away, watching intently from the shadows.

"Maybe Chris is right there, Ezra," Buck said from where he sat cross–legged on the floor. "Goin' up against this Montreux all by yourself is plain suicide, pure an' simple."

"You got to at least let us back you up," Nathan insisted as he stood leaning on a large boulder.

Ezra peered at the healer, his green eyes almost angry. In the reflected daylight the gambler's condition seemed apparent in the unnatural paleness of his skin and the dark rings which had grown beneath his eyes. His strength, however, had fully returned since they had left the church, and it was that strength which now snapped in his expression.

"I am most grateful for your offer of assistance, gentleman," Ezra replied, fixing them all with a riveting look, "but how exactly do you intend to stop this creature? Bullets will only slow him down, and before you got anywhere close to him he would merely blind or paralyze you as he did Vin. I alone possess the strength to fight him on his own terms; it is only logical that I alone must do so."

"I don't like it," Chris insisted, staring resolutely at the gambler. "I ain't about to go slinkin' back to town like a whipped dog."

Ezra sighed, frustrated. "Mr. Larabee, even the whipped dog lives to fight another day," he pointed out. "Montreux would think nothing of killing all of you, trust me, and can do so without the slightest effort."

"But you said he's recoverin' from bein' shot, Ezra," JD said from his perch atop a large rock.

"He is, JD, but even weakened he is quite formidable," Ezra replied. He hesitated, then looked over at Chris. "I know that had I wished it I could have killed Chris with no trouble at all, and I am still a neophyte. Montreux has been at this game for two hundred years, and has the power and skill to show for every day of it. I have already told you how he entrapped me."

"We got our ways of fightin' too," Chris reminded him as he turned and walked away.

Ezra chuckled. "Lord, yes, sir, you do. But this is hardly an ordinary foe we are dealing with."

Josiah shifted in the place where he was leaning on the wall and crossed his arms. "You got any ideas on how you're gonna fight him, Ezra?"

The Southerner pursed his lips. "Only that it must be to the death–Montreux cannot be allowed to ride away. There are several charming ways to dispatch him–I may decapitate him, or drive a wooden stake through his heart, and that will rid us of him for good. A bullet composed of some holy material would be ideal to paralyze him so that the job may be accomplished, but sadly we seem to be lacking one of those."

JD fidgeted and looked uncomfortable. "Well, actually, Ezra...we ain't."

Ezra looked at him, bewildered. "Ain't what, JD?" he asked in a dry tone.

"Lackin'." He pointed at Vin. "Vin's got a bullet like that in his gun."

The gambler looked at his comrade and said with arch surprise, "Really? And why pray would that be there, Mr. Tanner?"

Vin's even blue gaze didn't flinch. "We was savin' it, Ezra," he responded quietly, "in case you tried t'kill one of us before you got your soul back."

"Josiah made it from this ol' communion cup he had," Nathan added.

Ezra took a quick breath and licked his lips, his white face somber. "I see."

"It was gonna be a last resort, Ezra," Josiah reassured him from his distant place.

But Ezra quickly held his hand up. "Please, Josiah, you don't have to defend your decision. It was quite wise of you. I..." He paused, seemed to shiver a little, then pulled himself together. "Are you all quite sure that you want to risk your lives against Montreux?"

"That's why the Judge hired us, Ezra," Chris said in his rough, still–healing voice. "He's attacked the town an' killed a man there. We got to stop him."

Ezra eyed him dubiously. "Chris, you are hardly in top form."

A hearty laugh exploded from Buck's lips. "Better watch that, buddy," he chuckled. "I saw Chris take a miner down once when he was busted up worse'n that."

"Montreux is hardly a miner, Buck," Ezra observed with a slight smile before looking back at Chris.

"I don't care what that bastard is," Chris exclaimed, taking a step closer to Ezra. "He's asked for a fight, let's give him one."

"Even to the death?" Ezra asked after a thoughtful pause.

Chris nodded, his green eyes steely. "That's the way it seems to go out here."

The two men regarded each other silently for a moment, until a slight smile touched the edge of Ezra's lips. "Then let us gird for battle," he said quietly.

He turned to the others. "You should all go back to town and do what you can to prepare. Weapons will be most important." His gaze went to Vin. "That bullet may prove invaluable. If you can shoot Montreux with it before he senses your presence, we may have a chance."

Vin nodded once, his expression grim. "Reckon I can do that," he whispered with perfect, lethal confidence.

"Josiah," Ezra went on, looking to the preacher, "if there is any more holy water to be had, I would suggest gathering it at once. I shall also require a sharp wooden implement large enough to stab a man with."

"Think I can manage that," Josiah replied from his distant place.

Ezra sighed a bit and rubbed his hands together as he looked at the rest of them. "This will be a most pitched battle, my friends; while in town I would urge that you make all arrangements, in case..." He raised his eyebrows a bit. "...in case we do not survive. I will remain here, and when dusk comes we will travel to the split rock outside of town and meet whatever destiny has in store for us."

"Don't you worry, Ezra, it's Montreux that's gonna be meetin' his destiny," Buck proclaimed as they began their preparations to leave.

"This is gonna be somethin'," JD added as he slid off the rock. "Maybe we can sell the story to Jock Steele when it's all over."

Nathan shook his head. "Nobody'd believe it, JD." The healer glanced closely at Ezra as he passed him. "How you feelin', Ezra?"

Ezra's pale face took on a lopsided grin. "Never better, Nathan. You forget I have regained my full strength, which provides excellent regenerative abilities." He lifted his hat to reveal a perfectly smooth forehead unmarked by blemishes, and swiftly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it aside. The burns were completely healed.

Nathan nodded. "Just wanted t'be sure, Ezra. Just think, if you stayed this way, you'd never have to drink no more of my tea. Bet you'd miss that." He smiled a little, his brown eyes revealing the concern which lay just beneath the lightly spoken words.

The gambler laughed a bit. "Be careful, Mr. Jackson, you may cause me to rethink this entire enterprise."

Nathan chuckled and gave Ezra a slap on the shoulder before following the others out of the cave.

Josiah was the last to leave; he was almost clear of the mouth when he heard Ezra say, "Oh, um, Josiah? A moment perhaps?"

The preacher turned to see Ezra standing with an uncertain expression on his face, as if he were wrestling with an uncomfortable decision. Josiah walked a few steps back in, careful to keep his distance from his friend.

"Sure, Ezra," he said, his blue eyes concerned.

Suddenly the gambler winced sharply and threw up one hand as if to ward off an attacker. "That's–er, that's close enough, Josiah," he said quickly, the first word high and somewhat frightened. They were standing some ten feet apart.

Josiah halted in his tracks. "Sorry, Ezra, didn't mean t'hurt you," he said.

Ezra shook his head and sat on a rock. "It is not your doing, Josiah," he replied breathlessly, "I believe I can bear it for a short time. I have some matters in town which need attending–would you oblige me by seeing that they are accomplished, should I meet my demise in the coming fight, and you survive?"

Puzzled, Josiah pursed his lips and nodded. "I'll do my best, Ezra, but you know you got the best chance out of all of us of livin' through this."

"I have learned not to trust chance, my friend," the gambler replied as he fished a large wad of bills and a slip of paper out of the inside pocket of his red coat. After checking the paper, he placed both on the rock next to him. "There is the total of all the money I won the other night, and the sums and parties to whom they rightly belong. I wish that it should all be returned; you may be able to find some of them this afternoon. The horse I am currently riding was stolen from the stable when Chaucer proved too smart to allow me near him–he knew, smart fellow, that something was wrong. If you would return this horse for me, I would be most grateful."

A look of bitter remorse crossed his handsome features, and he looked away. "You may tell them all, particularly the farmer Mr. Stewart and Mr. Corning, the rather portly businessman, that I deeply regret my actions. They should not suffer for my insanity."

He rose and stepped away from the rock. After a pause, Josiah came forward and picked up the list and the money.

"I'll see it gets done, Ezra," Josiah promised in a solemn tone, looking right into Ezra's green eyes. "They'll know you didn't mean to be cruel."

An ugly laugh coughed its way from Ezra's throat, and he looked at Josiah with eyes full of self–loathing. "But we both know that to be a falsehood, Josiah," he said, shaking his head. "I did mean to be cruel, and found it to be quite exhilarating. I can honestly tell you I have never enjoyed gambling as much as I did that night. I was able to gain all that I went after, without the slightest hesitation. It was glorious."

His voice had dropped to a whisper, his eyes becoming distant and hard. "For a short time I reveled in the most vile thoughts, Josiah, against you, the others of our number, the town. Every dark urging and violent notion sprang to hideous light, and I gloried in every moment." He sighed deeply and looked back at Josiah. "It is a terrifying thing, my friend, to know the savagery one is capable of."

Josiah watched him without speaking for a few moments. "You ain't that way no more, Ezra," he finally said gently.

Ezra stood and began to pace a bit, removing his hat and running one hand through his hair. "Yes, Josiah, but as I said before it is a dubious blessing. My soul has returned, but the ability to know all of the hidden darkness in me, and remember how I used it against others–against us–Lord, it is nearly impossible to bear." He took a deep, shaking breath and rubbed his eyes. "You have no idea what it is to have this knowledge, Josiah, no matter how blighted your past may be. It is beyond description."

He took another breath, and sat down again, holding his hat loosely in his hands as he stared at the cave wall. "I realize, Josiah, that I could have asked anyone to deliver that money, but I wanted you for a reason."

"Thought as much, Ezra," Josiah said with a nod, steeling himself for whatever Ezra might ask.

Ezra hesitated, frowning to himself, then looked down at his hands. "It appears–I know for a fact–that despite your restorative efforts, my physical condition is unchanged, and that fact has rendered me irrevocably damned."

Josiah shrugged. "We ain't sure of that, Ezra–I was thinkin' only them without souls, like Montreux, were facin' the fires of Hell. You got your soul back."

"That is true," Ezra replied, closing his eyes, "but it seems to be still in the grip of darkness. I know how insane it sounds, but there is a heaviness pressing upon me which I know to be damnation. It was there before you performed your ritual, but it did not bother me then. Despite the reclamation of my soul, all things sacred remain repellent, including, I must assume, heaven."

He swallowed, then laughed, twirling the hat in his hands. "Lord! This is undoubtedly the most insane conversation I've ever had with anyone. I can scarcely believe I'm saying these words; it all seems a perfect nightmare."

"We're in that nightmare with you, Ezra," Josiah reminded him.

Ezra sighed to compose himself. "Yes, indeed, " he said, and looked up at his friend, his green eyes shining with all sincerity. Hesitation was clear in his face, but fortitude won out. "Josiah, if I am killed tonight and you survive, I would, ah, be most grateful if you would...do..." He stopped, clearly flustered and ran one hand through his hair. "Lord, this is hard to articulate!" He sighed, composed himself, and began again. "Josiah, would you pray for me?"

His friend's weathered face drew up in a reassuring smile. "You don't got to ask for that, Ezra. You know I'd put in a good word for you."

"Yes, I realize that," was the uneasy response, as Ezra began to pace a little, "and I am quite grateful, although before all this I confess I was rather doubtful that there was anyone listening to your entreaties. But now..." He ceased moving and looked up at his comrade, his voice quiet and tinged with sorrow. "There is something at work here which I do not fully understand, Josiah. I only know that there is a great darkness over me, and should I die in this...condition I will sink into its depths forever. If there is a God, He will not hear my entreaties. But He may hear yours."

Josiah eyed his friend somberly. "You know I'll do what I can, Ezra," he replied. "Ain't gonna let any of us wind up in the Inferno if I can help it."

"A most wise resolution," Ezra whispered, a catch in his voice. "At the risk of being overly dramatic, Josiah, I can say that I have felt hell's shadow brush my heart. It was quite...horrifying."

The cave fell silent. Ezra stared into the shadows, thinking, while Josiah watched him sadly, wishing there were some way he could lighten his comrade's burden. But even a touch was impossible.

Finally the preacher sighed and straightened, looking carefully at the gambler. "Anythin' we should tell Maude?"

Ezra looked back at him. "I will write a letter to her while awaiting your return," he replied in a melancholy tone. "If I do not survive, she will think I perished of a bullet wound. No one must ever tell her of any of this."

Josiah nodded; that was best. Maude would find this all impossible to understand. "I'll let the others know," he said. "But you best be sure to rest up before tonight."

Ezra inhaled deeply. "I am quite fit, I promise," he said in a light voice. "Besides, I have noticed that I do not seem to require much rest in this condition. I have hardly slept more than a hour in the past two days."

The other man smiled as he put the money in his pocket. "Reckon we'll make a mornin' person out of you yet," he said.

"One miracle at a time," Ezra cautioned, pulling out his pocketwatch and glancing at it. "I would suggest you hurry; noon is fast approaching."

"On my way," was the response, but before leaving the cave Josiah stopped and gave Ezra a resolute glance. "Don't you worry, Ezra, once Montreux is dead you'll be back to your old self."

Ezra gave him a skeptical look. "First I must survive, Josiah, and then, what sort of existence will be waiting for me, when I must remember this for the rest of my life? Do we even know for certain that I will not remain as I am now, burdened with this curse forever?"

Josiah sighed and gave his friend a sympathetic look. "Reckon we'll just face what comes, Ezra. But we ain't gonna abandon you, you know that."

A small smile twitched the end of Ezra's mouth. "Yes, sir, I do," he said softly, before flinching slightly and turning away. "You should go, Josiah."

Josiah took a step away, somewhat alarmed at the pain in Ezra's voice. "Am I hurtin' you?"

Ezra took a deep breath, and when he spoke his words were tight, as if he were speaking under a tremendous effort. "Some," he replied, "but it is nearing the time for me to nourish myself, and I am fighting a terrific urge to kill the nearest available food source, which unfortunately is yourself."

"You gonna be all right?" Josiah inquired, as he backed out of the cave.

Ezra stood in the shadows, one hand loosely clutching his head. "Yes, yes, I have some of the cattle's blood which Montreux gave me," he said quickly. "It is just...there are aspects to this life which I am now finding more difficult to control. Please do as I ask."

Without another word he spun around and sped deeper into the cave, to the place in the back where he had his horse and saddlebag. Josiah walked back to where Prophet was waiting, and as he mounted up he looked back into the cave, eager to see if the gambler really was all right.

In the shadows he could make out Ezra's dark form, drinking with great urgency from a large, dark bottle. As Josiah watched he finished, and almost as soon as the empty bottle was away from his lips Ezra looked at it with loathing and threw it with violent anger against the cave wall. As it exploded into a hundred pieces, the gambler dropped his head into his hands and remained motionless as the shards rained down on the cavern floor.

Saying a prayer in his heart for his afflicted friend, Josiah turned his horse around and headed back to town.