At the Rusty Gear...

Marcus Bishop did not consider himself an impulsive man. Decisive was the word that he preferred. Other men might have, upon reflection, wondered if they had been too rash killing the Sheriff so quickly. Marcus was untroubled by such concerns. Marcus Bishop knew his place in the world, and did not concern himself with what other, lesser, folk might think of him and his actions. Mr. Campbell had asked for Billy Rook to be captured alive, and Marcus Bishop would burn half the state of Arizona and flood the other half to see it done.


Marcus Bishop was a man untroubled by conscience and untouched by doubt. He was Campbell's man through and through, and believed the surest remedies for the many ailments of the nation were Alexander Campbell, silver, flame, iron, and Christ. Preferably in that order. So while other men might have had second thoughts sitting for hours watching a town where they had just murdered a man, Marcus Bishop only waited, his thoughts only disturbed by a mild curiosity as to who might turn up.


A horse left town and began making its way towards the bluff that Marcus lay atop. At first it was impossibly to make out any detail, even with the fine scope attached to Marcus's gun, but after fifteen minutes the black smudge resolved itself enough for Marcus to pick out a few details.


The bleeding stranger. And behind him...


Marcus's mouth quirked up in a sneer.


The Vampire loving whore.


What a pleasant surprise. The world could not help but deliver up whatever Marcus needed and desired. Could there be any surer sign that he resided in the favor of the Lord?


They were making their way along cautiously, and at their current pace it would be another half an hour before they were in range. Marcus took another look at the man in black. He seemed very healthy indeed for someone who had nearly bled out on Marcus's shoes the night before. Best take all possible precaution then.


Marcus unloaded his rifle and carefully opened a small wooden case containing five silver rifle rounds. The rounds were extremely expensive and less effective than lead. Their lower weight reduced their range by nearly a third, made them highly susceptible to wind, and reduced their stopping power by nearly half.


They would also kill any thrall or Vampire less powerful than a Sire outright, stop any Vampire less powerful than a Master from transforming or commanding familiars, and poison any human with Vampire blood with a whole variety of terrible maladies and afflictions. Marcus had once shot a full-blooded half-Vampire with a silver bullet and watched in fascination as the young boy's very blood had caught fire in his veins. Marcus settled in to watch the pair on the horse get closer.


With the silver bullet he'd have to wait longer to take his shot. Then he'd see if his suspicions about the surprisingly robust stranger were correct.
 
They had been riding for nearing on an hour, Claudia firmly hanging onto Nick's waist in a manner that might have made his heart race at one time. That was long ago, though, in another life. If the silence bothered her she gave no sign, and Niklaus had never been very keen on making menial conversation. Instead he kept his eye on the sprawling Arizona landscape, mostly flat, dry dirt and scrub brush. Tall cacti rose up here and there, branching into strange, twisted shapes. Perhaps even out here the soil had been touched by Blight, the plant life poisoned by the corruption.


If Billy Rook was hiding out in an old copper mine, then the low hills that were slowly rising on the right were likely the place. According to Claudia they had to skirt around two miles to the north to find the secret entrance. Niklaus was about to turn Delilah toward the hills when he was rocked back in the saddle, his shoulder a bright flare of pain as the crack of gunfire followed a second later. He was nearly thrown from the horse, gripping the reins tight in his right hand and reaching back with his left in an attempt at preventing Claudia from losing her seat as well. Somehow they managed to stay on, and Niklaus snapped the reins hard with a "Hya!" that sent Delilah galloping.


"Hang on!" he called back to Claudia a second late, transferring the reins to his left hand so he could draw his revolver. He fired a round in the general direction that the shot had come from, but he couldn't yet see anything to aim for. Another shot came whizzing by them, a fortunate miss, and Niklaus urged Delilah on; there was a small pass through the hill ahead, and if they could reach it they would have cover until they could hopefully get out of range.


Niklaus chanced a moment to crane back and look at the hilltop. If it was one of the mechanical deputies shooting at them, the massive metal monstrosities should have cut an obvious figure on the hilltop, but Nick couldn't see anyone. Probably the dandy himself, then, which meant that maybe he hadn't gotten to Rook yet. He also didn't seem keen to waste any more ammo on them, and soon they pulled into the sheltering walls of the pass.


Nick slowed Delilah from her breakneck pace, still keeping things brisk but not a full gallop. He holstered his gun and reached for his shoulder: the bullet had lodged itself in the armor plate there. He dug it out with his fingers and immediately flung it away with a hiss, the skin of his fingertips angry and red. The slug bounced off the rock walls of the little canyon with a ping!


Shit, Nick thought, Silver. Pretty damn pure, too.


Once this little showdown was over, he might have to go back and find that slug. He could always melt it down into a new bullet, and pure silver was hard to come by. Most hunters alloyed the metal with something else. It wasn't quite as effective, but it worked well enough and stretched the supply. This dandy must be pretty high in Campbell's ranks to be carrying around bullets of that caliber... heh.


A little less than ten minutes later they came upon the boulder and scrub that Claudia had described as marking the rear entrance to the mine. There was a seemingly random wooden post sticking out of the ground that just so happened to be a convenient hitching spot for a horse, so Nick hopped down and helped Claudia to the ground as well. He hitched Delilah up and drew his revolver again, dumping the empty case and reloading before turning to Claudia.


"Alright Ms. deBower," Nick told her, "This is your rodeo, so you get to call the shots. I'll wager we don't have a lot of time if that was that cream-suited bastard shooting at us, so whatever our next move is going to be, we'd better make it quickly."
 
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Claudia took Nick's proffered hand--by now she was unable to control the shaking of her own--and slid down from the horse, her knees buckling slightly as she hit the ground.


"Son of a bitch," she murmured, wrapping an arm around her stomach and breathing deeply to try to slow her heartbeat. Claudia had fired off plenty of warming rounds in her time--and she could be a damn good shot when she needed to be--but she wasn't accustomed to being shot at. Even on the frontier, most men were reluctant to shoot a woman.


The incidents of the past 15 minutes, blurred in a haze of adrenaline and confusion, began to resolve themselves into recognizable facts. The dandy had tried to kill them. He was likely tailing them to this spot in his search for Rook and...

"You're a vampire."


She'd noticed the now-familiar sizzle of silver on skin when the stranger in black dug the bullet out of his shoulder. That explained a few things but left a laundry list of questions in its wake. Nick shifted his weight, but they both knew the job couldn't wait. Claudia shook her head. "I guess you can tell me about it on the way back to town, assuming we live that long."


Placing both hands against a boulder that appeared to weigh considerably more than she did, Claudia gave a swift push then stepped back. After a short series of clicks and pings emanated from behind the rock, it slid smoothly to the side revealing a dark entryway low enough that even Claudia had to stoop to pass through. It was an ingenious bit of engineering and plasterwork, virtually indistinguishable from the landscape with the gears well oiled and the mechanisms maintained to an impeccable standard considering their exposure to the elements. Just inside the entry a lit lamp hung from a hook in the wall, a sure sign someone was home. Claudia hitched up her skirt revealing leg, garters and gun, which she took in one hand before grabbing the  lamp in the other. After Nick stepped inside she kicked a small wooden lever on the cave floor, and the boulder slid back into place.


Inside the mine sounds were both muffled and amplified in an eerie reversal of the above-ground world. The ambient silence--free of the whipping of wind or chirping of birds--pressed against the eardrums. But the drip of water or the heavy beating of a heart seemed to echo off the walls, announcing their arrival as unwanted visitors. Other tunnels appeared on either side, the weak light of the lantern only traveling a few feet into each before blackness overtook it. But Claudia kept to the main path as it wound its way into the hill. Neither of them spoke. Nick didn't seem inclined to conversation in general, and Claudia was calculating: How long would it take the dandy to find the place? How long before he discovered the entrance? How long before someone raised the alarm to Rook? A sharp click from a tunnel to the left snapped Claudia out of her thoughts, and she immediately raised her revolver. A figure stepped into the lamplight, and Claudia sneered.


"Hello, Billy."
 
Marcus watched the man in black rock back from the impact of his shot and just as a surge of triumph began to bloom in his chest it soured. The man regained his seat atop the horse and the gear work screamed as the agitated beast went clattering past. Marcus didn't waste any time on enraged expletives and instead grimly levered the bolt back and loaded his next shot. Just before they cleared his line of sight Marcus eased out a breath and squeezed the trigger.


The shot went high, missing both the man in black and the saloon girl. Another breath and they were gone. Marcus frowned, the first shot should have blown a hole through the man's shoulder. There must be some heavy duty armor under that black coat of his. That raised even more questions about how he'd come to be in such a sorry state the night before. Most worrying, Marcus still had no way to be sure if the man in black was a Vampire or not. Marcus pulled himself to his feet and beat some of the dust from his clothes.


They had gone up a different path than the Sheriff had told Marcus about. They must have some other way of getting into Rook's hideout. With them on the horse and Marcus on foot there was no point in chasing after them. Instead Marcus gathered his things and neatly packed his rifle back into his case. Then he went to collect the Auto-Deputies and see what he could sniff out. Marcus wasn't concerned about finding a hidden entrance, sniffing out rats was a specialty of his. Besides, if they had truly managed to go to ground, he one final trick up his sleeve, a gift from Mr. Campbell should the situation become dire enough. Billy Rook was going to keep his appointment with Alexander Campbell, one way or the other.


* * *
​




Billy Rook had never been a handsome man, his features tended towards thin and his eyes carried a sullen, guarded, meanness from a life hard-lived. His looks had not been improved when a red hot horseshoe had been flung against his temple and now he had a puckered arc of scar tracing from above his right eye to the ruined top half of his right ear. But for all that, he could still turn on the charm when he deigned to smile.


Billy Rook was not smiling now. In the light of Claudia's lantern he looked sallow and exhausted.


"I don't-" he began, then shut up, seeming to chew on his words. His eyes flicked from Claudia to the man behind her and back to the revolver in her hand. He gave a small shake of his head but the gun in his hand didn't waver. "Not very nice of you to drop by unannounced, Claudy. Especially not with a gentleman completely unknown to me and mine. Especially not while I've got a pair of giant iron lummoxes stomping around up top trying to sniff me out." He gave Nick another glance, "I don't suppose you two are here on behalf of my good friend Sheriff Milton?"


The moment stretched out in claustrophobic silence of the tunnel. Finally, Billy's mouth quirked up in a small crooked smile. He looked younger when he smiled, but still so tired. He holstered his pistol without flourish. Claudia couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. Billy Rook never missed an opportunity to show off how deft his hands were with a pistol.


Billy shook his head again and turned to gesture deeper into the tunnel. "Here I was thinking you weren't getting my letters. Anyway, come on. Claudy, you know the way. You'll forgive me if I don't walk in front of you and your new friend."


He looked down at the scuffed wooden brace at his feet that separated the tunnel he was standing in from the main tunnel where Claudia and Nick waited. "By the way, stranger, everything past this threshold is my home," here he looked Nick dead in the eyes, "and I do not invite you in.
 
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"You're a vampire," Claudia had said outside the secret entrance to Rook's hideout. It didn't really come out as a question as her dark eyes locked onto him with one eyebrow quirked.


Nick opted to remain silent, neither confirming nor denying her accusation, the ghost of a smirk turning the corner of his mouth as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.


"I guess you can tell me about it on the way back to town, assuming we live that long," she sighed, shaking her head. She headed over to what looked like a normal boulder and gave it a shove, revealing a secret passage with a churning of gears. Going underground didn't bother Niklaus. Too much sun was bad news, and he was still in pretty rough shape from the night before. A wave of relief washed over him as he stooped almost comically through the low entrance and into the dark closeness of the rock, the musk of earthy dampness surrounding him in a comforting embrace.


When at last they came upon Billy Rook himself, Niklaus couldn't rightly say that he was impressed. The man looked exhausted and half dead, the spectre of a harsh life lived on the frontier. Niklaus had to give credit where it was due, though: the outlaw soon proved himself to be quite clever.


"By the way, stranger," he said, shooting Nick a glare, "everything past this threshold is my home, and I do not invite you in."


Rook took a few steps back, clearly daring Niklaus to cross the threshold. Nick had to smile at that, though he did so without showing teeth. He narrowed his own eyes slightly but kept his voice polite and pleasant.


"Well, seeing as I've agreed to assist the lady here," he said, gesturing to Claudia, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to impose myself upon your, ah, hospitality."


The tall hunter strode forward, stepping boldly across the threshold. It was... Well, if Niklaus had to describe the sensation, it was like walking into a wall of day-old oatmeal. Something thick and sticky sucked at him, drawing out an invisible part of him to leave behind, barred from entering the outlaw's hideout. Niklaus was surprised by the barrier's strength; it was by no means the strongest he'd encountered, but it was more than he was expecting in an abandoned mine.


Humans had awfully messy psyches. They had to fit a lot into their often short-lived existences, and so they felt acutely and intensely, their florid displays of emotion leaving psychic traces all over like a particularly messy painter. Whenever someplace was inhabited by people who called it their own, eventually the place would begin to pick up on that feeling of ownership, and the more memories and experiences were had there, the more that it felt lived-in, the more that that place became a home. The stronger the feeling of home, the stronger the threshold surrounding it grew, creating a psychic barrier against all sorts of supernatural nasties. Billy Rook and his merry band must be quite the chummy bunch to have a threshold like the one Niklaus walked through.


He strove to keep his face neutral as he pushed past the barrier, but it was tough coming out on the other side. His left shoulder was suddenly on fire, and he was keenly aware that he had lost a great deal of blood just a few hours prior. The stitches in his side ached, his stomach grumbled in hollow protest, and he was very, very thirsty. He turned and beckoned to Claudia, taking a moment to surreptitiously brace against the stone wall of the mine. He had to be careful. It wouldn't do to show weakness around a man like Rook.


"Shall we, then?" he asked. At least his voice carried strength, even if his body didn't feel it.
 
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Billy watched the stranger cross his threshold and kept his expression neutral as both of the man's boots crossed the invisible barrier that marked the entrance to Billy's home. The man definitely had the Blood in him but he wasn't, himself, a Vampire. That meant that, on this side of the threshold, the man was mostly human. A wounded human at that, Billy noted with narrowed eyes. For all that, Billy was going to make double sure he kept an eye on the stranger. The man was clearly a fighter, and wounded or not, Billy had no desire to tangle with a man who was as obviously prepared for a fight as this one.


The stranger turned to wave Claudia through and Billy took a moment to search her face as well. He'd used that pet name she hated twice and she hadn't batted an eye. She looked somber and angry, and for once the lion's share of that anger didn't seem to be directed at himself. A hot wash of acid churned through his gut as his own expression flattened back to distrustful resentment.


Well it seems we've all be having it rough lately.


Claudia murmured something Billy didn't catch to the stranger as she brushed past him and then she was striding grim-faced past Billy. He caught a whiff of her perfume and for a moment he could hardly stop himself from grabbing her wrist and spinning her around to face him. To look him in the eye.


Her hand would be warm in his. Her eyes would sparkle in the half light of the lantern. Her breath would catch as she was caught somewhere between an indignant protest and wondering what he would say or do. Her lips would part slightly with a refusal she could not quite bring herself to utter frozen in her mouth. He'd greet her properly. He'd apologize. He'd make her see that she was wrong about him. He'd lean close and...


Claudia moved deeper into the tunnel and the stranger followed after with a look at Billy that the outlaw couldn't even begin to read in the gloom. Then the man was walking after Claudia with his back to Billy, trusting, at least for now, that Billy was honorable enough not to kill him outright. Billy threw another glance down the dark tunnel they had come from. There was only silence and stillness. They were alone.


For now.


Billy turned and hurried after Claudia and her new friend. Apparently she did remember the way. They would deeper into the mine, past vaults and false tunnels that made the place a maze to the uninitiated. Here and there were signs of habitation. A pair of boots, a knapsack, a tin plate, or an empty bottle of whiskey. But no people. There was not another soul stirring in Billy Rook's hideout.


Finally they reached the wood floored vault that was the communal mess and sleeping quarters for Billy's gang. A few lanterns burned low on the tables and the shadows jumped and flickered high on the walls. The last time Claudia had been here it hadn't exactly been pleasant but it had been brightly lit and boisterous and there had been laughter and food and too much whiskey. Now there was only the echoing drip of water and the rancid old sweat smell of someone who's lived too long in the same place.


Billy followed her in and turned up one of the lamps. He then slumped at one of the tables and waved for them to take a seat. "I'd offer you a coffee but we seem to be fresh out."


In the brighter lantern light, Billy didn't just look worse for wear, he looked to be on the wrong side of half-dead. Neither Claudia or the stranger seemed to know what to do with his weak joke, so Billy just gestured for them to sit again. Dirt trickled down from the ceiling as the earth shifted slightly above them.


"Ok, Claudy, you're obviously not here to kiss and make up. Why don't you introduce me to your new friend and then tell me what brings my fiance out here to visit.
 
One hour ago, the entire town learned of the murder of the sheriff, and the theft of the two emergency deputies. And apparently the sheriffs' horse. And one of the Johnson family's tractor wheels, but nobody really thought that was related. The news rippled quickly, as all news does in small towns. The problem was, nobody actually saw anything happen. Tinka had, as a consequence, got to listen to two stories about aliens stealing our technology, one about the Big Government trying to take over the lives of its people, and an overenthusiastic ramble about God inhabiting engines to punish everyone for their sins.


Thirty minutes ago, what was left of the local police force had come 'round to clear up any 'misconceptions' and settle the townsfolk. Words like 'tragic accident' and 'it's all being handled' were thrown around a few times too often to be the truth, in Tinka's opinion. She looked at TOM. TOM looked back. Even it wasn't buying that. 


Fifteen minutes and one quick break out back later, Tinka had returned the de-fairy-flossed train to it's rightful owners, and picked up a bit of gossip of her own. The Thompson twins lived on a farm further out than most others, the last stop before you reached the stretch of nothingness before the mines. And while they were waiting for their momma to come out and walk them into town, they heard a familiar noise bouncing across the rocks from that nothingness. 


Gunshots. It was too early yet for coyotes to be out, and no reason for anyone to be out that way to shoot them. Damn it, Claud.


Five minutes and she made up her mind.


 Lunch was over so now it was just drinks and peanuts and gossip, easy enough that she wouldn't be missed. Uncle Buck wasn't thrilled, but let her go. He had recognized the look in her eye, and didn't feel like getting steamrolled in front of his customers.


On her way out, Tinka slung an arm over TOMs shoulders (a comforting but not necessary design choice, but it helped keep the humanoid silhouette), "TOM, I am sensing rough waters ahead. Rough, molten, steely waters. You get it?"


After a long moment of contemplation, TOM replied, "No Ma'am, I'm sorry." He really did sound sorry. Fantastic voice reel, really.


"That's ok, TOM. I'll do the thinkin', you do the liftin'." She gave it a friendly pat, "But if anyone comes causin' trouble while I'm out, give 'em hell." TOM clicked.


"Yes ma'am."


With a quick wave to Ruby (now elbow deep in dishes), she was sprinting to her house. Apparently, she has a rescue to perform.
 
Claudia raised an eyebrow and allowed her gaze to travel over first one man then the other, unsure which looked most likely to keel over on the spot. It certainly has been a day of surprises, she thought, and it's not even noon yet.


Nick and Billy both turned to her, obviously awaiting her lead. She sighed and walked ahead, holding the lantern aloft to light the way but not holstering her revolver. Billy looked tired. Beyond tired--he looked bone-weary, an exhaustion of the soul as much as of the body. But that didn't mean this little party couldn't turn ugly quickly, and Claudia wasn't about to give up any advantage against one of the fastest gun slingers in the West.


"Well doesn't this just put a brand new spin on 'ladies first,'" she muttered under her breath with a roll of her eyes as she made her way through the familiar tunnels toward the heart of the mine. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Billy stopped them at the threshold and told Nick in no uncertain terms he was unwelcome here. Claudia was rather impressed with his powers of perception. Nick seemed to force himself over the threshold, looking all the weaker on the other side. He braced himself against the wall--surreptitiously but not undetected--as she passed. "Whatever happens down here," she whispered, "let me handle it." She squeezed past Billy as well, drawing herself up and in, refusing to make eye contact with him. She saw--almost felt, really--a nearly imperceptible flinch of his hand as she brushed her skirts away from him and continued at the head of their little line. It became apparent long before they reached Billy's inner sanctum, as it were, that he was alone and had been for some time. Something about this both unnerved Claudia and created a tiny pinprick of...what? Pity? Guilt? She turned the feeling over in her mind a few times, following the passageway by rote memory without really seeing. Not that there was much to see other than emptiness where once there hadn't been.


"Your letters..." It came out in a murmur, more a question to herself than anything as the words he said earlier--glossed over in the confusion of the moment--came back to her. Since when did Billy Rook  send finely penned letters on linen stationery? Billy's voice shook her out of her reverie.


"Ok, Claudy, you're obviously not here to kiss and make up. Why don't you introduce me to your new friend and then tell me what brings my fiance out here to visit," Billy said.


"Don't call me Claudy, and I'm NOT your fiance," she said a little too fiercely, flinging the words at him carelessly. She winced as the tone of her statement echoed off the stone walls. Softening her voice as well as the look on her face she said, "You know I returned your ring."


The silence that followed stretched uncomfortably into the space and seemed to erode the feeling of home. Suddenly the cave was just a cave: cold and damp and lonely.


"This is Nick. He came into the bar last night half dead followed quickly by one of Campbell's men who looks like a patsy but isn't afraid to murder a sheriff or two in the course of his assignment. Or, apparently, to shoot a lady when it comes down to it. I warned everyone in town who needed to be warned, but he said he was looking for you in particular. I needed a ride, Nick had a horse and here we are."


She shrugged then put her hands on her hips and rounded on Billy with an intense stare.

"That's my story, but yours leaves more than a few questions. You want to explain what kind of fresh hell you've wrought on us?"
 
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Billy didn't take the news graciously. His sallow face turned nearly purple in the wan light and he looked as though he had just attempted to swallow a cat. A cat that was even now trying to claw its way back out of his mouth. His jaw worked a few times and after a moment he turned and spat. When he turned back to Claudia and Nick his eyes were burning like an overheated boiler.

"Me? I didn't bring nothing down on no one. I've been holed up here minding myself for weeks and been no trouble to no one. Now you tell me one of Alexander Campbell's fine dressed killers is here for me? Look around Claudy-" here he caught himself and almost looked guilty, "Claudia, does it look like I've been causing trouble?"

Claudia just gave him a flat look and Billy bristled harder. He shook his head. "Campbell's dandy and pair of Auto-deputies besides... what did I do to deserve this?" As if to punctuate his point, there was a low rumble that echoed through the tunnels and more dirt showered down from above them.

Billy shot a look upwards and neither Nick nor Claudia could miss the fear on his face. The realization struck Claudia like a horse-kick to the chest. Billy Rook, who fancied himself a daredevil, Billy Rook who never met a dangerous job he didn't consider a challenge, Billy Rook who once fought a duel in a burning barn just to prove he could, was terrified. All his bravado had been stripped away, burned out of him, leaving him a shell of the outlaw that she remembered. Something, or someone, had come damn near to breaking Billy Rook.

Annoyance pricked her then. Cowardice suited Billy Rook even less than the horseshoe scar on his face. She folded her arms and put on her best this-behavior-will-not-be-tolerated-in-this-establishment face. With exquisite poise and years of practice, she slapped him full across the face. The crack of palm hitting skin reverberated through Billy's shabby sanctum. The surprised O of his mouth and the wide shock in his eyes was almost worth the trip out here. Almost.

While he was surprised, Claudia spoke as evenly and clearly as she could. "Billy, I was shot at today, by a man with terrible taste in suits I might add, solely because I decided to try to come warn you about the thunderstorm that rolled into town with your name on it. The only reason that cretin tried to kill me was because of you. So now, you are going to tell me what you did. And if, if, I your excuse is worth a damn, my new friend," here she nodded towards Nick who was doing his best to be stoic and imposing despite his blood loss, "and I might just see our way to helping you live through this."

She leveled another no nonsense look at Billy. "So start talking."

Billy rubbed his cheek and gave a slow shake of his head. "Never could win an argument with you Claudy, could I?"

Claudia almost slapped him again, but refrained as he seemed to be working up the courage to tell them something.

"I didn't do anything. That's true, I'll swear it on whatever you want. But I think I know why Campbell's man is coming for me. A bit of information about Campbell came my way a few months ago. I didn't know if it was true, but it was dangerous enough that most of my crew split. If Campbell's sent a man to find me I guess I know it's true."

He looked back and forth between Claudia and Nick. "Did you ever meet a man named Sam Warwick?" He didn't wait for Claudia to respond, "Well, it doesn't matter... he's dead now."

Billy stood up and headed back towards the door. "Well, you'll never believe it from me." He beckoned for them to follow, "Let's go talk to Sam, shall we?"
 
"Let's go talk to Sam, shall we?" Billy said, gesturing for Nick and Claudia to follow him down another offshoot tunnel.

Nick's jaw clenched as he stood. So, they were going to go talk to a dead man. That notion led down several possible paths, and most of them arrived at places Nick was hesitant to tread in his current state. On the other hand, Billy Rook looked to be in somehow worse shape than even he was, so it was probably safe to assume that the overall danger of the situation was low. Nick sucked his teeth and picked up one of the lanterns from the table, absently fingering the hilt of a knife with his other hand. He was unable to shake the feeling that maybe there was more to his being there than simple happenstance. This, ah, touching reunion between Claudia and Billy and the fact that they were all clearly about to encounter the undead, all facilitated by the feckless reaching of Alexander Campbell and his Anti-Sanguinist cronies... was it really a coincidence that he, Niklaus Dietrich, hunter of creatures who clung to life longer than they should and preyed upon the living, had been forced to stop in that little town and subsequently had gotten swept up in all of this?

"Ladies first," he said to Claudia with a nod.

She flashed him a look that said she wasn't sure if he was teasing her or not, but after a moment she shook her head and followed Billy deeper into the mine, muttering under her breath. Nick smirked but otherwise pretended not to hear the choice words she used.

Once Claudia and Billy were both ahead of him, Nick pulled the small vial of pills from a pouch and swallowed two more. Without the use of his alchemy kit to make more he was going to need to be more careful about how many of the pills he used going forward, but he figured now wasn't the time to be stingy. He could feel it when they hit his gut like two squirming ice cubes, and he suppressed the urge to retch. As they wound deeper into the warren of tunnels Nick was grateful that his sense of direction underground was still keen. He was reasonably certain he could navigate his way back out on his own, though he would honestly prefer it not come to that.

Eventually they wound their way to one of the deepest parts of the mine. Nick could practically feel the weight of the earth and rock above them, and even he was suffering a slight sense of claustrophobia. He couldn't imagine how it must feel to normal folks. Billy stopped them near an abandoned shaft, pushing past a wooden barrier with a faded sign that still barely read "DANGER" in big, bold lettering.

"Best you stay on that side," Billy warned, hanging the lantern he carried on a hook that pierced a nearby wooden beam. There was a winch perched over a pit that plunged down into blackness below, and Billy grabbed the crank with a grunt and pushed his weight against it. The thing squealed in protest, but the chain that hung down into the black abyss grew taught as something began to be hauled up from the depths. Niklaus definitely could hear water sloshing followed quickly by something else: screaming.

Even in the gloom he could see Claudia's face grow paler as the inhuman howling grew louder. Billy turned and turned the crank, sweating and straining; it was a wonder that the man had the energy. At last a shape emerged from the pit, a long wooden box made from pinewood: a coffin. Now the distinct sound of rattling chains could be heard from within as well as the cries that already seemed more tired than moments before. A familiar smell hit Nick, then, a not-quite-rotten reek that immediately told him what they were dealing with.

Sam Warwick was a ghoul.
 
The main problem with the desert is that is can kill you in various and terrible ways. A sand storm could turn you around, rendering you lost, and therefore dead. Run out of water? Dead. Found by bandits? Dead. Found by coyotes? Dead. And if someone wanted to shoot you? Well, there wasn't anything to exactly hide behind, so. Dead. And Tinka was going into this assuming someone was going to shoot at her eventually. She had come to find it was a side effect of being Claudia's friend.

At least she knew where she was going. After all, that ridiculous facade of a boulder needed maintenance and occasional repair, lest it stick at an inconvenient moment. Dubious ethical implications aside, she enjoyed working with large machinery. There was beauty in it, how the smallest mis-balance could topple a proverbial giant. Well, maybe not her giant.

She shifted, said giant easily adjusting to her change in weight distribution. The finest of the Steam Stallion line, though never produced further than prototypes due to cost and mounting interests in a more city-streamlined model. Taller than any standard stallion marketed today, he thundered across the dessert, his sharp-ridged hooves handling the shifting sand with ease. His case was hot-dipped steel, parts almost seamlessly over lapping and interlocking like muscles of a true animal, keeping out particles whipped by the wind even as the sun flashed over the almost rippling metal. The Romulus MK III War Horse, first and last of his kind.

Tinka patted him fondly. She didn't take him out much, but relished the moments she did. He was built for battle against both the living and dead, not for a simple country life carting cow feed or pulling up stumps. A bit like trying to make a vampire join the clergy, it just didn't seem right. His engine rumbled and he snorted out a burst of steam as if in agreement with her thoughts. She leaned forward against his neck.

"Alright, Brass, we're almost there. If we're going to get in trouble, here would be the place. Let's go!"

Tinka couldn't suppress a cackle of laughter as the horse jolted beneath her, tearing off through the desert, kicking off a cloud of sand behind them.
 
Above:

Marcus could hear the steady rolling crash of approaching hooves. The sound rolled across the desert, building upon itself, thrumming in the middle of his chest. He turned from the closed off vent shaft he had been sniffing at and scanned back towards town to see who was coming his way. There was definitely a horse coming. He was surprised to see that it was still as far out as it was, from the sound of it he would have thought it was nearly on top of him. It must be a powerful specimen indeed, and the person riding it was no slouch in the saddle to push it that hard crossing the open desert.

He gave one more mistrustful glance at the vent shaft and then turned back to retrieve his case. A few moments later he was looking down the sight of his fine rifle, and didn't bother to suppress the snorting laugh of disbelief that escaped his chest when he saw who it was bearing down on him on the finest stallion he'd ever seen. The rude, mousy barkeep was flying towards him as though the very flames of perdition were struck from the hooves of her steed.

What was it about this town? What was it about these women? It was improper and unnatural for womenfolk to be so forward in their opinions and actions. He gave a little shake of his head. Just another thing he'd have to sort out once Mr. Campbell made him Sheriff of this vile little town. With two fingers in his mouth he gave a quick sliding pitch whistle. It bounced around the canyon below him and after a moment he was rewarded by seeing the closer of the two Auto-deputies heave itself into view. The great iron lummoxes had been about as useful as a mute rooster when it came to turning up Billy Rook's hideout but that wasn't the only reason Marcus had commandeered them. It was just about time to put them to work.

The Auto-deputy loomed over Marcus and awaited his instructions. To Marcus it almost seemed to be cocking its head at him like a dog and he laughed again at the absurdity of that mental image. "There's a rider coming out this way. You and your partner go out and kill her for me."

The Auto-deputy gave a deep grumble of acknowledgement and swiveled away to collect its compatriot. Marcus chewed his lip for a moment as a thought struck him. "Hold a moment."

The Auto-deputy swiveled back to look at Marcus and again he couldn't shake the mental image of a hulking metal bulldog trying to figure out what "sit" meant.

"You go kill the girl, but you make sure that horse is brought to me unharmed. Not a scratch you hear." The Auto-deputy gave another grumbling assent and trundled away. Marcus grinned, Not even Alexander Campbell had a horse so fine as that in his collection. It would be a fine gift indeed once this business was concluded.

Now about that business...

He turned back towards the closed up vent shaft and sniffed deep as he rolled his shoulders. It was time to go see Billy Rook.

***

Below:

The coffin turned slowly on the creaking chain as Billy locked off the winch. Water poured from cracks in the wood and the corpse stench rolled forth from it in waves. Billy grimaced as he reached out with a metal pole to pull the coffin closer. Nick, caught somewhere between revulsion and fascination, helped him pull the coffin onto more solid ground at the edge of the shaft. Billy gave a grunt of acknowledgement that Nick chose to take as thanks and then turned towards Claudia.

"I'm thinking you'll want to stand back."

He then bent down and pried loose the black metal pin that was holding the lid of the coffin shut. As the pin scraped free the rattling sounds of struggle from within the coffin went still. Billy shook his head. "Give it up Sam, we know your in there."

He then set about unlocking the two heavy padlocks that secured the chains keeping the coffin shut. It took a few moments of fighting as being submerged in water clearly wasn't doing the padlocks any favors. Finally the chains slipped free and everything was, relatively speaking, still.

Billy threw the lid of the coffin back and then scrambled away as something within lurched upwards, desperately trying to find Billy's throat with its gleaming fangs. Billy got to his feet and brushed himself off. "Now Sam, be polite. You're in the presence of a lady."

Sam Warwick didn't seem particularly concerned with manners at the present moment. He was a corpse, sunken-eyed and gaunt, with most of his clothes turned black and rotting from the time submerged in his watery prison. Heavy chains bound him and he shook and struggled terribly as he tried to free himself from them. His throat was a ruin. The Vampire who had killed him had ripped it out, leaving an open rasping wound.

Billy gave a ghost of his charming smile, "You'll have to forgive him. He's not his best when he first wakes up. I need to keep him in the water or else-"

"Or else he is too strong." Nick finished, not taking his eyes off the ghoul.

Billy nodded, "That's right. I heard that running water wasn't too kind to our fanged friends, so I've been keeping him submerged in a shaft that flooded when they broke through into an underground river. Keeps him from breaking the chains and getting to feisty."

Nick edged closer to the coffin and its extremely irate occupant. "Why haven't you killed him properly? What possible reason could you have for keeping him like this?"

Billy shrugged, "Well now, maybe I'm just the nostalgic sort. You'll notice that I don't have much in the way of company down here."

Claudia simply stared at him in disbelief, and Billy's smile turned sheepish as he realized that neither of his living companions appreciated the joke.

"All right, all right. No need to look at me like that. Sam here is a font of fascinating information, and I needed to keep him around until I could figure a way to prove what he told me or escape."

Claudia gave Billy a questioning look. "What do you mean? He clearly can't speak."

Billy grimaced, "Well like I said, Sam's a bit cranky when you first interrupt his beauty rest, but he'll perk up after breakfast."

Nick started in surprise, "You can't mean-" but before he could even finish his sentence, Billy had pulled a shiny knife from somewhere and opened a long cut down his left arm. He grimaced as blood dripped from the wound to splash into Sam's waiting mouth.

At first the ghoul became even more frantic, driven seemingly berserk by the scent and taste of fresh blood. But after another moment his thrashing began to calm and some of the murderous intent seemed to drain from his frame. Billy gave a small nod of satisfaction and began binding his cut closed. Nick strode forward and silently helped clean and bind the wound. No wonder the outlaw looked so drained, he'd literally been feeding himself piecemeal to this ghoul.

Billy gave a nod and quiet thanks to Nick as the tall hunter tied off the bandage, then turned back towards the coffin.

"Howdy Sam. Sorry to disturb you this way, but we got a bit of company that'd be mighty interested in talking to you. You back with us?"

Nick could have sworn he saw something like recognition or alertness flicker in the ghoul's white eyes. That shouldn't be possible, not unless this ghoul had been created by an extremely powerful Sire.

The ghoul's jaw worked and it's lungs wheezed wetly as tried to draw air in past the water filling them. Finally, a whisper rasped out from it's ruined throat.

"Hoooow...dy... Bi... bi... leeeeee..."
 
Claudia had never considered herself to be particularly brave, though her steely resolve (not to mention her impulsiveness) sometimes came across that way. It was resolution, not bravery, that saw her flee family, comfort and respectability in Boston. It was her conviction that no one should suffer at the hands of others the way her sister had that inspired her defiance in the face of the vampire hatred that gripped the country.

But for all her conviction and resolve, Claudia was still young and, at least in matters of the supernatural, naive. And in this moment, with the stench of death pouring from a dripping coffin and a butchered once-man rasping through a torn-out throat after being fed on Billy Rook's blood, there was not even a hint of bravery about the haughty saloon girl who moments ago had relished the sting of her hand flung hard against a gunslinger's cheek. She took several uncertain steps backwards, too transfixed by the impossible scene to tear her eyes away. Tripping over a loose stone she landed hard on the dirt floor, skirts askew and bustle crushed, then scrambled back further until her back hit the wall of the cave. The hiked up skirts revealed the three embroidered droplets of blood that adorned every pair of stockings she owned, and even in the shock of what she was witnessing Claudia had to give a derisive snort at that symbol of her own naivete. Clearly she knew nothing; passing messages in the night, running supplies, shuttling refugees through town discretely, none of that had prepared her for this. Several dark curls escaped from their neatly pinned coiffure to brush against her cheek as she shook her head slowly. Claudia needed a drink, and badly.

She'd seen dead bodies, of course.The run-of-the-mill kind you come across in a frontier town, crushed by livestock, shot in an overzealous bar fight, the usual. And a few vampire victims as well, though Copperhead's undead community had tried hard to coexist quietly and peacefully with their fully living neighbors. And then there was the one small, broken body she fervently wished to forget... But she had never seen anything like this. Though she wanted to turn away, she forced herself to look at the ruined creature. Sam Warwick. Claudia studied his face, trying to ignore the gaping wound and see past the decomposing, water-logged flesh to the man he once was.

"I remember you..." she murmured. Fine features and a swoop of blonde hair. A shy smile. He'd sat in the corner of the Rusty Gear, grinning and taking in the raucousness of a Saturday night crowd. His friends had drug him on to the dance floor to much protesting, and he'd bowed, his cheeks deeply flushed, before asking her to dance. "You didn't know where to put your hands when you danced with me..."

The rotting cheeks lifted slightly in what might have been a smile. The effect was altogether horrible, and Claudia didn't know whether it was pity or fear she felt.

"Billy," she said, her voice shaking, "This isn't answering any of my questions. What in the ever-loving fuck is going on here?"
 
Even in his current state, even with the reek of the animated corpse that had once been Sam Warwick all around them, the smell hit him like a slap in the face as soon as Billy cut open his arm: blood. It made Nick's mouth itch and his brow sweat, and he was suddenly keenly aware of the hollow pit in his stomach, the dry rasp in his throat. He watched as the red drops spattered into the ghoul's waiting maw with an ugly twinge of envy that made him grimace. Nick watched with some fascination as the meal seemed to calm to ghoul, then Billy was backing off and attempting to bind the wound himself.

Unthinking, Nick strode forward, perhaps a touch too quickly, and took the injured arm into his hands. For half a heartbeat he imagined himself leaning in, drawing the cut to his mouth, his tongue snaking out to-

He grit his teeth and pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket, pressing it against the wound as he popped another vial off his bandolier. He dribbled a bit of the clear liquid over the angry, torn flesh and wiped it clean before wrapping Billy's arm in a fresh bandage. With a brusque nod and murmured thanks, Billy turned back to his ghastly house guest.

"Howdy Sam. Sorry to disturb you this way, but we got a bit of company that'd be mighty interested in talking to you. You back with us?"

Nick's brows came together; surely it was impossible for a ghoul like this to possess anything more than rage and animal cunning, let alone be coherent, but sure enough after a few moments a wet, gurgling reply came haltingly from its rotten mouth and that seemed to push Claudia over the edge. She backed away, fell, and scrambled back still, until her back hit the wall and she stared, wide-eyed, at the monster before them.

"I remember you... You didn't know where to put your hands when you danced with me..." she murmured, then her voice grew stronger, "Billy, this isn't answering any of my questions. What in the ever-loving fuck is going on here?"

"What's going on here," Nick said, "shouldn't be possible. Where did you acquire this ghoul from?"

"Well, why don't we ask Sam?" Billy replied, "Say, Sam, where was it that we met? You know, after you became all ghoulified."

The ghoul's jaw worked for a few moments before that rasping voice answered again.

"Co... Congressss... Arizonaaa..."

"And what was it you was doin' there?" Billy asked, "You was stealin' something, right?"

"S-silver... sssspike..."

"Right, right. But you and your boys didn't get that spike, did you?"

"No..."

"And why was that?"

"All dead... Killed..."

"Killed by what?"

"V-v-vampire..."

Billy grinned, excitement lighting his sunken eyes as he closed in on whatever piece of information he found so precious.

"And who was that vampire?" he asked.

Here Sam's already ruined face twisted further, his mouth splitting into an angry snarl. When his voice came from his torn throat again it was clear as day, the name unmistakable as the ghoul spat the words into the air with a growl.

"Alexander Campbell!"
 
People did not just "get shot". There were warning signs. A terse word, a tense conversation. Maybe a sudden hush, or sometimes an abrupt uproar. Almost always a few too many to drink. Then a lot of standing. Some posturing. Sometimes punches would be thrown first, sometimes not. Either way, they were ushered out into the streets to either settle things, or settle down. You don't just walk up and shoot someone, not around here.

This is, admittedly, a very limited worldview, but one held firmly by Tinka, who had never known any different. Which is why when the first shot went wide and above her head, it took several moments of inaction until she realized what had smacked past her and into the sand. The sound of hooves on sand thundered in her ears, almost drowning out the second crack of gunfire. Her steed moved for her, dancing to the left to avoid an alarmingly sized bullet, more of a fist sized cannon ball.

"What in all seven hells?" Tinka squinted against the glare of the quickly moving sun. Something had landed at the base of the canyon and was clanking it's way in a beeline towards her. What it lacked in stealth, it made up for in firepower. Her eyes widened. "The missing deputies." Technically, she was only being pursued by one, but only for now.

Tinka grimaced. Her options were limited. She was smaller, and faster, but had no firepower to speak of and no where to hide. If she stayed out and uncovered for long, the other mechanical monster might join the chase. Obviously, she was already well spotted by whoever (and Tinka had her guesses) was in charge of them now. But if Claudia, Delilah....and Nick, she supposed, were already in the mines, her current route would land the lot of them smack in the middle of the deptuties crosshairs. Her only hope of safety would be to ride directly into the mines more visible openings and hope nothing load-bearing broke when her pursuer smashed into the side.

Thock thock thock thock thock thwick.

Tinka shrieked in alarm and jerked Brass hard to the right, narrowly avoiding a line of cabled spikes, all aimed at her head. She was not being pursued, Tinka realized, a slick, cold feeling dousing her spine. She was being hunted. Someone wanted her dead. Actually, earnestly dead. She was going to die out there, and no one would know, and they would probably take Brass and no one would find her body and she'd just be gone and dead and bones with no one to take care of Oscar and poor TOM and

A sharp tug pulled her out of her head, reality smashing her in the face.
The cold slime of fear replaced with electric, hot pain as Brass twisted, turned under her panicked control. A spike hadn't missed. Hadn't made it's mark, but hadn't missed, a good 2 or 3 inches in under her left collar bone and now her horse was pulling away as the cable snapped taught and pulled towards and Tinka s c r e a m e d.
 
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