The Coming of Dusk

THE COMING OF DUSK

Part 1:

Dinner with the Cartwright’s

             A pair of wary riders trotted beneath the dry Colorado sun, a humble sand-beaten farm lay in the distance…  

            The Chosen Children, that’s what they called us. We proud and lucky few, baptized in blood and horror. Our parents snatched away from us and dragged into the darkness, left to the mercy of the things that most dismiss as nothing more than legend. Thanks to us, its almost true. We hunt the terrible and kill the evil, not heroes, just hunters.

            The sun was hot and the air was dry. The wind didn’t help, only kicked up the dust of the plains and stung the eyes. I was young, very young, and so appearances were everything when on the job. Sent on my first independent assignment, my first real chance to shine after crawling from the shadow of Dutch Hawthorne. Until now, Dutch had watched my every move; criticized might be more accurate. The old bastard wasn’t one for soft scolding or a gentle touch. He was less a tit from which to nurse and more a bitter glass of brandy after the job was done. A pat on the back and a rusty grunt were the only signs of affection old Dutch ever let himself show. Of course, he wasn’t here this time. For the first time since he had found me passed out in a pool of my mother’s blood, I was on my own, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thrilled.

            “You sure this is the place, Caleb?”

            Okay, so I wasn’t completely alone. Luke, my oldest friend, was riding beside me. It was his first time out from under Dutch’s watchful eye as well. Unlike me, I heard the nerves in his voice. He was trying to act confident, but like a green guitarist he kept plucking the wrong chords.

            “Everything we’ve found points here.” I replied flatly.

            A string of gruesome murders in three of the nearby towns all pointed to somewhere out in these plains. A small farm with a small family in the middle of nowhere; seemed about right.

            The farm was home to the Cartwright’s, no one we questioned had much to say about them. They were nice, unassuming sorts. The sort me and mine had come to regard as suspicious. It takes effort to be liked and even more effort to remain anonymous, the type of effort only someone with something to hide would bother with.

            There had been a dozen victims and counting, of those missing we had only come across a pair of bodies. Pale and drained, their throats had been ripped from their necks and their bodies were discarded in the bush. Both were fit young men, and I’d bet my ass that the other young men who were missing had met a similar fate. Of the dozen it was an even split of men and women. All of them young and, I would imagine, all of them quite attractive. As if on cue, a young raven-haired woman walked out of the farm, carrying a bucket on her arm and approaching the spout outside.

            At the sight of her, Lucas spoke up again.

            “Wow. Supposing we’re wrong about them and they aint the lot we’re looking for…” He watched her hips sway from side to side as she walked back toward the farm, sticking her head inside and calling to the others. “What do you say to sticking around for a while?”

            I stifled a laugh.

            “Sure Lucas, if I’m wrong.” I wasn’t. “But then you get to explain to Dutch why we were so late.”

            Lucas sneered.

            “I’ll bet that old bastard has fucked as many monsters as women.”

            This time I laughed openly.

            The raven-haired girl waved to us as we approached, the closer we got the more vivid she became. From a distance she had been beautiful, up close she was divine.

            She stuck her head back in the doorway.

            “Mother! Father! Our guests are here! Is the table set?”

            “Yes dear!” Another heavenly voice called back from inside.

            If we weren’t careful, it would be the two of us they were carving up and passing along the table. She was a fiend if I had ever seen one, not born that way but made that way. Turned from a young woman into an immortal predator. I’d pity her, but having come from a similar situation, I found little sympathy.

We are not born monsters, we choose it. The gruff words echoed in my head.

            “What’s the plan?” Lucas asked.

            “You let this one show you the grounds.” I gestured to the raven-haired girl “I’ll entertain our hosts.” I stared at him gravely “She makes a move, don’t hesitate.”

            “Jesus. No wonder Dutch put you in charge. You sound just like him.”

            “Fuck you.” I chuckled.

            The beautiful young woman waited patiently for us as our horses came to a stand still at the edge of the property.

            “You can tie your horses to the post. Though feel free to use the stables should your stay prove longer than expected.”

Her smile was beaming, almost difficult to observe directly. Her eyes were an emerald green and even with the stink of the horses beside me, the scent of her skin made my heart pound in my chest.

“Thank you, ma’am. Your hospitality is a relief after the harshness of the road, but we shouldn’t take very long.” I tipped the brim of my hat in her direction, she blushed.

“Very well.” She said, “But before we head inside may I inquire what brings you two out this way?”

“Of course, ma’am…” I began.

“Priscilla, please. I’m far too young to be called ma’am, and my mother is far too proud. My name is Priscilla and I must insist you both call me that.”

“If you insist.” I said with the most charming smile I could muster. “We are actually here on business and I’m afraid, Priscilla, that it is no coincidence we find ourselves out this way.”

“Do tell.” She said with piqued interest.

“My partner and I…” Lucas tipped his cap having been staring at the young woman this entire time. “are investigating a series of strange disappearances. Signs have thus far pointed us in this direction.”

“I see.” She said looking from me to Lucas with an excess of concern. “I’m not sure how helpful me and my folks will be to you, we’ve only heard rumors you see, but we will help however we can.”

“We would appreciate that mightily… Priscilla.”

 I had nearly called her ma’am again.

“Where are my manners? I do apologize.” Priscilla said with as warm a tone as I had ever heard. “You must be dying in this heat. Come inside, have a drink, some food. My family will love the company.”

“Sounds delightful.” I affirmed.

We followed Priscilla up to the front door of the farm. Passing through the threshold it was clear to see that while the exterior had been beaten and worn by seasonal erosion, the interior was spotless and elegant. A warm and snug little home, finely knitted blankets adorning the furniture and an assortment of knick-knacks and heirlooms lining the shelves and dressers.  

“Right this way.” She said, humming gleefully as she walked through the house. I half expected her to start skipping.

We reached a dining room which rested just beyond the lounge and bedroom. A back door led from the dining room out into the yard. The room had a modest Elm-wood table at its center and a bureau in the corner. Nothing much seemed out of the ordinary, like pulled from the pages of a children’s picture book, and therein lay the suspicion. The only object which shattered this carefully sewn illusion was a small black box atop the bureau. It was no larger than the canteen in my saddle bag, but it was a deep obsidian black with a thin gold trim around its edges. It was too affluent for such a modest farming home, and even if it were somehow the property of normal God-fearing farmers, it broke the aesthetic of the room.

Two individuals rose to their feet to greet me and Lucas as we entered. Another beautiful woman, this one blonde and with a more refined maturity than Priscilla. The other was a man. He looked no older than his early thirties which still made him north of five years older than either of the two women. He had a meek look about him, the look of a scholar or a priest. Harmless to the eye, but like the beauties that stood around him, he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

I extended my hand to his wife.

“Beautiful home you have here, Mrs. Cartwright.”

She shook my hand tenderly.

“You’re too kind, sir.”

“Call me Caleb.” I said with a tip of the hat. “This is my partner Lucas.”

“They’re lawmen, here about the murders.”

Priscilla spoke out excitedly.

“Now, now, Priscilla don’t be rude. If they wish to share their intentions, they may.” The man spoke, chastising the young woman. “Andrew Cartwright, at your service.” He shook my hand firmly. “Anything you wish to know; we will do our darndest to help ya.”

He was folky, chummy, like a character from an old play.

“The young Miss has done no harm, I assure you. She’s only made our intentions more clear. Must seem strange, the two of us riding in out of the blue. We have no mind to scare you, or bore you…” The whole room shared in an awkward laugh “We will simply ask a few questions and then be on our way.”

“Surely you will stay for dinner, won’t you?” Andrew Cartwright asked. “Mary is a wonderful cook; you would hate to miss it. Nothing but miles of dirt beyond this point, it would do you good.”

His hair was long and pulled back in a ponytail which bounced up and down as he chuckled at his own sickening hospitality.

“Pressing matters, I’m afraid, Mister Cartwright. But…” I sighed “Perhaps we could stay for a bite. Provided we get the formalities out of the way.”

It was excruciating, being forced to converse with them like this. Forcing myself to look them in the eye and regard them as though they were people. The way they were so desperate to accommodate, so carefully careful, only to tear you open once you’ve dropped your guard. It would be nice to pull my revolver and put a silver bullet square between his eyes, but that wasn’t how we did things, not how Dutch taught us to do things.

I had mixed feelings toward Dutch and he had mixed feelings toward me. On one hand, he saw me as his most promising apprentice; on the other, he saw me as a brash temperamental brat. On one hand, I loved Dutch, he was the only father I ever knew. On the other hand, I hated the salty old cunt.

I would have to continue as though I didn’t already know that the cheery faced fucks in front of me were monsters. Until we had proof, we couldn’t risk killing any innocents.

“Come, have a seat.” Andrew insisted. He was a stunningly handsome man, his eyes were soft but fierce and while his body was lean and meek, his jaw was firm and chiseled.

“Actually, Mister Cartwright.” I began as if the idea had just occurred to me. “My partner and I must first observe the grounds…”

“After dinner, Caleb, after dinner.” He implored merrily.

“I’m afraid I’m the one who must now insist, Mister Cartwright.” I pinched my chin, feigning consideration. “Of course, if either your lovely wife or daughter would be willing to show my partner around, we could have this nasty business sorted well before dinner.”

I saw only a faint look of suspicion drift across Andrew’s eyes. He quickly returned to his same hospitable smile and nodded toward Priscilla.

“Priscilla, my dear, would you mind showing our guest around the grounds. Once he’s satisfied, bring him straight back.”

Priscilla beamed an even brighter smile.

“Yes, daddy. Come with me Lucas, I’m sure you’ll find it quite lovely.”

“I have no doubt.”

Lucas spoke with the face of an adolescent just before his first kiss. Either he was playing his part better than I could have ever hoped or he was too blinded by her beauty. Regardless, everyone in the room could see the eagerness on his face. Lucas and Priscilla exited the farmhouse through the back door.

I took my seat, removing my hat and gently placing it at the center of the table. Andrew took the seat across from me as the beautiful Mary rushed back and forth behind us, prepping the food.

“What are we having?” I asked, noting the look on Andrew’s face when he saw how much younger I looked without my hat.

“Duck.” He said. “Mary makes a fine duck. You’ll love it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

There was a long silence, I could not resist my eyes looking to the window. Fool or not, Lucas was my friend and my partner, I couldn’t help being concerned.

“I’m sure they’ll be along soon. Priscilla does love company, probably just chatting away.” Andrew spoke from across the table. I turned back to him and saw that he was studying me with less subtlety. “She says you’re a lawman. May I ask for what office?”

“My apologies, Andrew. She misled you, we are not lawmen, not exactly. She came to that conclusion on her own.”

He observed me with sudden suspicion, but quickly suffocated it beneath a smile.

Andrew was about to speak; I spoke over him.

“She’s quite the charmer, that Priscilla. She’s your daughter?”

“Yes.” Andrew smiled, raising a hand as if about to speak again, I continued.

“How old is she, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“Eighteen.” He said, his smile eroding.

I whistled.

“A beauty like her, she ought to be married off before long.” I leaned back in my chair. I had to prod him, press him into breaking his composure. “If you aren’t careful Andrew, my partner might just tie her to his horse and ride out of here. But who could blame him?”

I laughed the most insufferable laugh I could bellow.

Mary placed a glass of water in front of me, her hand on my shoulder. Andrew took advantage of the silence.

“You’re a young handsome man yourself, Caleb. Perhaps you should speak with Priscilla.”

“Don’t tempt me now.”

I laughed and he joined me, more flaring our teeth at each other than smiling.

“She’s your daughter, you say?” I asked again, this time he grit his teeth as he answered.

“Yes. Yes, she is.”

“Remarkable.” I said looking out to the distance. “She looks nothing like you. I mean, sure, she has her mother’s beauty…” I gestured to Mary who was rigid and facing away from me. “and her father’s hospitality. But where in the world did she get those green eyes and black hair, I wonder?”

I gulped down the water.

“Her grandmother.” Andrew answered, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

“Of course!” I said. “No doubt a beauty herself.”

“But enough about my family.” Andrew interjected. “You’re here on business and seeing as how you are not a lawman and you are barely more than a boy; I must ask what business it is that brings you here?”

I straightened in my seat, carefully adjusting my hat at the center of the table.

“Actually, Andrew, mine is a family matter. A family business, in fact. So, if we’re done talking about your lovely family, let me tell you about mine.” Looking across the table I could see straight through him. “My family specializes in very specific types of crime. When the law can find no answers and no suspects, that’s when we step in. These recent murders have left the law baffled.”

“It’s gruesome stuff.” Andrew said.

“It’s downright evil.” I smirked. “The type of wicked shit that turns your stomach. So far, twelve missing and I’m guessing eleven dead…”

“Eleven?” He interjected nervously.

“Yes, Andrew, we’ll get to that.” I assured him.

 Mary was chopping something in the corner with a kitchen knife.

“Well, I should hate to speak up and make a fool of myself…” Began Andrew.

“Then best you don’t speak at all.” I cut him off.

Mary’s grip tightened on the knife.

“I was only going to say…” Andrew’s lustful rage was bubbling to the surface. He was the king of this wooden, wind-beaten castle and I had insulted him more than once now. “Unless you know something the law doesn’t, the twelve victims were only missing.”

“Missing and presumed dead.” I corrected with an extended index finger “And if the bodies we found in the brush outside of Littleton are anything to go on, I’d say it ended badly for them.”

“Bodies? You found bodies?” Andrew sounded less frightened than agitated, as if he had been told a lie.

“Yes, we did. Throats torn and bodies drained. Strangely, the corpses were just thrown haphazardly a mile off the road. A bizarre misstep from someone who had previously been so careful.”

Andrew was tapping his fingers on the table unconsciously. I looked at his tapping fingers then back up at his eyes. He was breaking, little by little.

“Again, I apologize. I know this isn’t really appetizing conversation, but I swear we’re almost done.”

He gestured for me to continue, but he didn’t bother with a charming smile this time.

Mary placed a plate of chopped fruit on the table. I watched her as she walked away, making a point to ogle at her ass which was snug against her dress. Feeling Andrew’s hateful eyes on me I looked up.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, Andrew.”

“Thank you.” He said mirthlessly.

“See, here’s the real funny thing about the bodies. They were both male. We know that the disappearances occurred in pairs, one boy and one girl. One can deduce that the other four boys met a similar fate to the two we found. A shitty way to go. But what about the girls…?” I asked.

Andrew stared at me; his arms folded against his chest. He said nothing.

“Now, the law would assume their dead, or maybe they’re being raped and then killed once the son of a bitch has had his fill. Fortunately, I’m not the law. I already know what happened to them.”

“Enlighten me.” Andrew said.

“My brother and I know we aren’t looking for some desperado with a record, we’re looking for a lonely farmer with a beautiful wife.” Mary would not look in our direction. “Your kind are too predictable. You’re settling down, you and your wife. She’s your first, your favorite, but your kind always prefers a harem. You’re always greedy for more. Can’t be virgins though, that’s important. So, you targeted couples, killing the beau to get to the babe. Turning isn’t easy work, of course, the bodies of your failures are probably buried on the property, the men are scattered through the countryside, just meals for you and your wives. That Priscilla, she’s beautiful, but she’s new to this life. She was sloppy, left the bodies out in the open. It was only after finding the bodies that I could be sure and put it all together.”

Andrew was making a physical effort not to leap across the table and rip my throat out. I wanted him to try, any excuse to blow his brains out.

“Well, aren’t you clever. You’re a hunter.” He said.

“Bingo. Now you’re getting it.”

“So, you’re going to slaughter me and my family?”

“That’s a bit dramatic for me. I’m going to kill you and your wife, as well as any others you’ve managed to turn.” He looked close to tears; I was surprised but it didn’t dull my hatred for the thing sitting across from me.

“And you call us the monsters. We’ve been living here quietly, trying to start a family.”

Mary placed her hand on his shoulder, his fists were balled up tight.

“You’ve killed a dozen people, Andrew. If you breed, you’ll kill countless more.”

“I could change… we could change.”

I had anticipated a great many things, but not begging.

“No, you won’t, your kind never does.” Beneath the table I was already gripping the handle of my pistol.

“Please. Just let me and my family go, we’ll leave here, you’ll never see us again.”

I said nothing, but my expression was enough.

“What would you have me do?!” He cried.

BANG!

A shot rang out from somewhere beyond the stables. Lucas had fired. I leapt back from the table, my gun drawn and aimed squarely at Andrew’s head. He was standing up, our chairs crashed to the floor and the table was askew.

Mary whaled.

“Priscilla!” She was sobbing, but Andrew was seething. They believed Priscilla was dead, I only hoped she was. Mary continued to cry, the kitchen knife still in her hand. My heart was pounding, but I couldn’t fire until I was certain. Dutch’s voice blared in my head.

We never kill the innocent.

Mary’s sobs turned to snarls and her wild eyes tracked over to me. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the kitchen knife.

“Mary.” I said, cocking the gun which I kept aimed at Andrew. “Put down the knife.”

She turned to face me, her brow furrowed with rage and her teeth flaring.

“Put down the fucking knife, Mary!”

In a split second, she whipped the knife in my direction. I ducked as it buried into the wall behind me. I snapped my aim toward her and fired a shot through her chest. She fell backward, a spray of blood painting the wall behind her. Andrew roared, an inhuman cry. Flipping the table over onto me. He sprang forward like a cat, his teeth now jagged and his nails replaced with talons. The table had knocked the gun from my hand, I dove to the floor to retrieve it. I reached out, but Andrew’s talons caught my coat and he threw me against the wall. He pinned me there, his slitted eyes burned as I peeled at his fingers. He was too strong.

“I’m going to bleed you slow, boy! You and your partner!”

I drew the knife from my belt and drove it into his throat. He released me and stumbled backward. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt like hell. Crashing to the floor I stumbled over to my pistol. Andrew pressed his hand against his neck, stopping the bleeding. He leapt at me again, I fired. The bullet passed through his collar bone; he fell to the floor unmoving. I stood over him, he wasn’t dead. Only a shot to the heart or the brain would kill him. Fortunately, a silver bullet would leave him paralyzed. He looked up at me, the crimson pool around his paralyzed body growing and seeping into the floorboards. In his frozen eyes I saw only hatred and sorrow. I held the gun over his head and pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out, Andrew Cartwright was dead.

Part 2: Little Black Box

For a long moment I was frozen, my barrel smoking over his corpse. The once neat, cozy home was now a spattered mess. I heard hurried footsteps and turned my gun toward the back door. Lucas rushed in and held his hands up.

“Don’t shoot!” He yelled.

I gave a heavy exhale.

“Jesus Christ.” I let my gun hang by my side and reset the hammer.

Lucas attentively walked past Andrew Cartwright’s body. He looked over at Mary’s unmoving body, the blood spattered all around her.

“She’s dead?” He asked.

I walked over. The bullet had passed straight through her chest cavity, rupturing her heart. A damn good shot considering the pressure.

“Yeah. She’s dead.” I looked to Lucas. “And Priscilla?”

He nodded.

“The sick bitch was all over me. Flirting with me all the way up to where they kept their snacks. She thought she was being real clever. The moment she made her move, I plugged her.”

“So, you found the others?” I asked

“What was left of a couple of the men, sure. But I think they’re keeping the women somewhere else.”

I picked my hat off the table and placed it back on my head.

“Guess we need to take a look around. You start out by the fields, I’ll take a closer look in here.”

Lucas nodded.

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your boss.”

“The hell you aren’t.” He said with a laugh. “I’ll get started on those fields, boss.”

I smiled.

“Hey Lucas.” He turned back. “Be careful. Try not to play too much with the next one.”

He pulled a silver chain from out from his shirt collar, it was a necklace. His old lucky necklace. He had always claimed it wasn’t just lucky, but enchanted. If I hadn’t taken him to be completely full of shit, I would’ve said it was an interesting story. He claimed it once belonged to an old priest in Rome and found its way to his family’s house in Pennsylvania. Of course, his whole family was dead; so much for enchantments.

As he grinned his way out the door something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. It was the black and gold trim box on the bureau. Almost entranced, Lucas moved toward it. Extending his hand toward it as if to pick it up or possibly open it, I spoke out.

“Stop.”

I was concerned but wasn’t sure why.  

“Why? It’s just a piece of junk. Might catch a good price.” His eyes were fixed on it.

“Just leave it. We’ll turn this place over after we’re sure we’re done here. That’s an order.” I winked.

He tipped his cap with a grin.

“Aye, sir. I’ll get goin’ on those fields.”

He left.

Alone in the room, I tried to get my mind right. Tried to think out my next move. If I was a blood-sucking, flesh-eating shit-head where would I bury my mistakes? My eyes panned to a door in the corner of the room, by its placement in the room I could assume it led to a cellar. Seemed as likely as anything else.

I moved toward the door when a strange feeling overtook me. Curiosity, all consuming and unignorable. It fluttered lightly to the crown of my head. I turned; my eyes found it in an instant. The black box. It was slightly askew and had worked its way to the edge of the bureau. No doubt, the scuffle with Andrew and Mary had nearly knocked it from its place. Before I realized I was moving, I had made my way over to it. It was a conspicuous little thing, yet somehow unassuming. My index finger extended I carefully pushed the box back into place. It was subtle, elusive, yet powerful. A feeling surged up my hand and through my arm, straight into my chest. The moment I removed my hand from the box I felt normal again. That was all the confirmation my suspicions needed, it was no ordinary box, no piece of junk. I looked to the window; Lucas was nowhere in sight. Staring at the box, I was torn. I wanted desperately to pick it up, but Dutch’s gravelly voice shouted through the back of my mind, don’t.

“Fuck it.”

I placed both hands on the box and lifted it from the bureau.

It was light in my hands and while it felt empty, I knew it wasn’t. The feeling surged back up my arms, my hairs were standing on end. It was a hungry feeling, a pleasurable pain which made me grind my teeth in anticipation.

My mind felt distant, almost like a light dream.

Open it. No. I don’t know what’s inside. Open it and find out. No, I shouldn’t. Cellar door. The cellar door just opened. Opened. Open it. No, Dutch said not too. Dutch isn’t here. Open it. Behind me. I hear something behind me. The box. The box. Open it. The cellar door is open. Behind me. Open behind me. Something. Someone. Open it. There is someone behind me…

I regained control just in time to see her sharp teeth and feral eyes. I dropped the box onto the bureau and stumbled away. She lunged, I reached for my gun. Too late. Her teeth dug into the side of my neck and as I peeled her off, a chunk of my flesh went with her. I grabbed the side of my neck feeling a torrent of warm liquid streaming down to my boots.

I fell back and already felt woozy from the blood loss, shock and adrenaline were the only things keeping me on my feet. She was hunched over and primed for another attack. Her face was smeared with blood, my blood, and her skin was white as snow. They had turned her, but not entirely. Now, she was more an animal than a young woman. She only wanted flesh and the blood hidden beneath it. She would have mine, more of it, if I didn’t act fast.

Leaping forward, she was on me in an instant. Screaming and crying like a rabid beast, she pinned my arm to the wall. One shot from my revolver and the silver bullet would leave her paralyzed, the rest would be textbook. Then, maybe, I could do something about the wound on my neck. I wanted to believe it wasn’t that bad, but I knew it was. I fired, the bullet missed, burying into the floorboards by her feet. Feral or not, she understood enough to be enraged. She used her talons to slice across my stomach, it was a sharp pain, the sharpest I had ever felt in my entire life. The shock didn’t lessen it. I screamed.

“Lucas! Lucas! Help!” I was crying and only vaguely aware of it. I had never been so scared in my life.

She slashed again. I could feel the blood, warm and wet, running down my pelvis to my toes. My clothes were soaked, and I was getting dizzy. She screamed and bellowed, I fought but felt my strength beginning to fail. I was dying.

Oh Christ, I’m dying.

My legs went numb and I tumbled to the floor. She followed me down and lunged for another bite. She went for my neck, instinctively I blocked it with my arm, but her jagged teeth sunk straight through my jacket and the blood gushed out from my forearm.

“Lucas!” I cried, more faintly than before. “Help! Help!”

Dizzy as I was, I heard the hurried steps of his boots against the dirt. I saw the backdoor swing open. I watched as a cloud of red mist burst from the center chest of the feral woman and fluttered gracefully to the floor. She fell and lay motionless just in front of the bureau. Lucas knelt down beside me, pulling a white dinner napkin from the floor. He pressed it to my neck and lifted my shirt. It was thick with blood. My blood. He had to pull the shirt from my skin. He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. It was bad. I was dying. I knew it.

“Don’t worry about it, Caleb…” He was holding back tears, mine were already steadily streaming. “We’re gonna get you fixed up. Dutch will know what to do.”

He tried to lift me. I moaned in pain.

“Stop! Lucas stop! Please stop!” The pain was excruciating, as if my insides were about to spill out.

He wiped his eyes, trembling helplessly Lucas ran his hand through my hair.

“Just stay with me, boss. It’s gonna be fine. I need you to be tough, alright? Right now, I give the orders. I need you to be tough so we can get you to Dutch.”

He went to lift me again. I was getting sleepy, distant. I could feel the warm pool of blood sticking me to the floor.

“Please Lucas… Please no….”

He let me be and pulled his hands away.

“Okay, Caleb. Okay.” He sobbed and watched me as I faded away.

I was dying. I was going to die because I fucked up. Dutch would find out from Lucas. He’d tell him I died with my boots on, but Dutch would know the truth. I fucked up. He’ll know and he’ll be right. Right about me; right to have doubted me. I was rash, stupid and now I was dead.

The feral woman began to move again. Lucas was still crying over me. He didn’t notice.

“Lucas…” I spoke softly, trying to speak through the blood rising in my throat. “Lucas…”

“I know Caleb… I know.” He said, not understanding.

“Behind you…”

His eyes opened wide. The feral woman was fumbling to her feet, almost drunk from the effect of the silver. Locking eyes, she lurched forward. Lucas seethed with hatred as he raised his gun to her head.

“Fuck you.”

He pulled the trigger. Chunks rained out from the back of her skull and she tumbled straight into the bureau. The black box fell from its place and struck the ground.

The latch shattered on impact, and the box opened…

The entire world seemed to leap out of place. A cold splitting pain cut through the center of my body. The windows and glassware all shattered on impact. The floorboards and all the wooden structures in the house splintered and cracked. A high-pitched ringing enveloped the air. Lucas pulled his hat over his ears and ducked from the shattering glass and splintering wood. That’s how it felt, like my bones had done as the wooden beams had. As if they had splintered and popped. I think I was screaming, but it was hard to tell over the piercing din.

Beneath it all, behind my closed eyes, inside the dark ether of my mind, I heard it. A voice, calm and charming, almost seductive.

Do you want to die? No. You want to live? Yes. Good, so do I.

The din quieted and then steadily faded into silence.

Lucas panned from one side of the previously tranquil farmhouse to the other. It was now a battered broken mess of a home. The entire house was filled with shattered fragments of furniture, knick-knacks and heirlooms.

“Christ… What the fuck was that?” Lucas asked no one in particular.

Suddenly, I felt the air rush to my lungs, heavy and painful. I gasped and coughed. Lucas leaned over me.

“Caleb? Caleb! You’re alive!”

I coughed and sat upright in a cold sweat. Patting my stomach, I felt no pain, no wounds. My hand shot to my neck and wiped at where she had sunk her teeth. Only wet blood came back. It was impossible, and yet it had happened. I was alive.

Lucas laughed in relief and hugged tightly to me.

“Easy… easy…” I said, I was still in a bit of a daze. My stomach turned and I felt ill.

I rushed out the door and keeled over. I vomited up some chunky pink and white bile. Lucas was still laughing behind me, too overjoyed to control himself.

“You lucky son of a bitch. How the hell did you do that? How do you feel?”

My stomach empty and my wounds healed; my vigor was rapidly returning. I stood up, light as a feather, strong as an ox. I had never felt better in my life.

“I’m… fine.”

I looked out into the dry Colorado plains. Thinking it over, I had only one explanation. I walked past Lucas back into the dinning room. The black box lay open on the floor. Holding it in my hands, I turned it from side to side. No markings, nothing to discern from it. I felt Lucas looking over my shoulder, his joyful disbelief fading into concerned skepticism.

“What is it?”

I don’t know.

“I think it’s time we met up with Dutch.”

Part 3:

Shadows

We put the farmhouse to our backs and headed toward town. It would be a few hours before we reached it. Lucas beside me, making a not so bashful attempts to study me. Every few paces I’d feel his eyes, the same concern in them as he looked me up and down. I was grateful for his concern, but worried that it would get the better of him. He had promised me before we set back out on our horses, he wouldn’t tell Dutch what happened. We would ask him about the box, that’s all. It was a conversation I wasn’t exactly excited about and didn’t mind that it would be a few more hours before we would have it. As long Lucas kept his mouth shut, Dutch would give us the answers we needed or point us toward someone who had them, and the old man would never need to know about my fuck-up.

‘Course, keeping his mouth shut was never one of Lucas’ strengths. In fact, this trip to town was the quietest he had ever been. I didn’t like it, not one bit. It was hard, after nearly being gutted, not to be a little on edge. I needed Lucas’ carefree bullshit now more than ever. Having lost my parents to a monster when I was still south of ten years old, Lucas was the closest thing I had to a family. He lost his when he was only six years old. To this day not a single detail of that night has faded from my memory. Not the way my mom screamed, the way my father went limp or the way that small boy with a brown hat looked when he first crossed the threshold, a surly looking man in a black coat following him in. Dutch had only found Lucas about a year previous; he was damn close to leaving me there in that bloody mess. He had killed the monster and even if I had starved or died in the cold a day later, Dutch’s conscience would have been clear. But Lucas wouldn’t let him leave me. He tugged on his jacket, kicked and screamed even ate a stiff backhand across the cheek for his troubles. All that and then Dutch finally softened, at least in his own way. He put a gun in my hand and asked:

“You know how to fire that thing?”

“I think so…” I said, lying. I was still covered in my mother’s blood; I had clung to her body the whole night until they showed up.

“Good enough.” He said.

I remember Lucas looking at me and smiling. He had always been that way, and still was. I remember being a happy kid before that thing came and took my parents, but somewhere along the way I changed. No more smiles for me, not unless I’m with Lucas. But that’s why I loved him. He never changed, somehow in a world that took everything from him, he never changed.

“You sure you’re okay?” Lucas’ voice pulled me back to the present.

“I’m fine.”

“You know, you’re a piss poor liar.” He smiled.

I turned to him, our horses were side by side.

“I’m fine, really. Just tired.”

“Well you know Dutch; the old man is always late. We could probably fit in a few drinks before he gets there. Sound good?”

I considered it. The thought of a cold stiff drink came to mind. Best idea either of us had all day.

“Fucking fantastic.”

Lucas let out a loud laugh.

“There he is! You’ve been through hell, but nothing a good drink can’t solve. Besides, I’ll be damned if I’m gonna talk to that old cunt sober.”

I snorted. Lucas always knew the best way to pull a laugh from me; just talk shit about Dutch. It wasn’t like I hated him, just liked knocking him down a peg. Just as the laugh passed through me, I felt it again. That same rush I had felt when I was touching the box. A tingling rush, my teeth grinding I gripped the reigns tight until it was gone. Lucas didn’t notice.

I’m no fool. I know whatever happened back there couldn’t be good. It was nice to be alive, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t supposed to be. Me and Lucas had quietly decided not to talk about it. He didn’t press me for answers, partly because he knew I didn’t have them, but partly because he knew that if I did, they wouldn’t be good. Vaguely, the voice I had heard still lingered in my mind. In all my years of hunting, I’d never experienced anything like that, or even heard of anyone else who had. The way the farmhouse had been decimated upon my awakening, the way my wounds had been healed, those things aren’t supposed to be possible and me and Lucas knew that. A little black box hidden in the home of a vampire, not the type of thing you’d expect to save your life.

No enchantment I had ever come across was powerful enough to do that. Not one was strong enough to bring someone back from certain death or destroy an entire home in the blink of an eye. Even this far out, my eyes would track to the occasional tree or branch which had been splintered through the middle. Whatever force had been contained inside that box had reverberated out for miles. Briefly I considered blood magic, lord knows those toothy fucks liked to dabble in it, but that didn’t seem right either. Blood magic only affected the one who casted it. It was beyond my reckoning and for that reason alone, I was trying not think about it. Of course, that didn’t stop Lucas. Even now, I glanced over to see the gears inside his head rotating. He was fiddling with the chain around his neck and thinking so hard it strained him.

“Are you okay?” I finally asked.

He turned to me.

“You almost died Caleb. Of course, I’m not okay.”

We were less than an hour from town, the sun was to our backs as we continued east. That feeling, the rush up my arms and into my teeth and toes, was coming more and more frequently. Lucas hadn’t noticed, I would swig my water or wipe my brow anytime the fidgeting became too great. Any other strange behavior must have been logged away as normal for a man who just had his stomach torn open. It wasn’t until the smallest sliver of the town could be seen on the horizon that I noticed it. Reaching for my canteen during another one of my fits, I saw it, or maybe felt it behind me. A dark figure tucked below the sun, a rider approaching from behind us. He was too far away for me to make anything out, just a silhouette against the setting sun.   

I shook my head. It couldn’t be real, no one would be out this far on their own. It had been difficult enough to keep calm after what had happened but now with the fidgeting and some stranger in the distance, I was beginning to worry. My heart was racing, I took a deep breath and looked behind me again. He was still there, the rider; trotting along in the distance. With the sun overhead I had to squint to make him out, but he was there.

“You sure we got everyone.” I asked.

Lucas gave me a funny look.

“Counting the girls we found in the basement, yeah. None of the men would have been turned. Twelve went missing, and now thanks to us there were twelve bodies. Fourteen, counting Mister and Misses Cartwright.”

“We should double back. Give it one more look.”

I peeked back and this time I couldn’t see the rider.

“You think? We’re more than halfway to town. Dutch doesn’t care much for waiting, that’s why he’s always late.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I’m just being overly cautious. Don’t want to fuck up our first big chance.”

I smiled a twitchy smile at Lucas. He was far from stupid. Young and naive, but not stupid.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or are you gonna keep fucking around?”

I looked at him. I was still shivering; it was starting to feel more like a fever. I was hot, but frozen, tired but jumpy. How could I tell him I was seeing things now, seeing strange shapes in the distance? I turned my head back toward the sun, his gaze followed me.

“I think someone’s following us.” I said. The rider was there again, even closer than before. This time I barely needed to squint to see him. “If Cartwright had any friends. Any friends like him, I mean, they might come for us.”

Lucas held his gaze where mine had been.

“What makes you think we’re being followed?” He asked me.

If he couldn’t see him, then he wasn’t there.

“Just a bad feeling, I guess.”

For a long moment he stared at me. Finally, he smiled.

“You really do need a drink. Well in less than an hour we can get you some medicine. You won’t have any bad feelings after that, in fact you won’t be feeling anything at all. Not ‘till morning, anyway.”

He laughed. He was trying to keep me calm, trying to take my mind off of it. He thought I was still a bit shook up, just dwelling on what happened back there in the farmhouse. But that wasn’t it, I knew there was more to it than that. Someone was following us, even if he couldn’t see it. I didn’t need to look back this time, I knew the rider was there, following us into town.

Part 4: The Coming of Dusk

We arrived in Thornton when the sun was parallel with the town. The embers of orange sunlight engulfed humble buildings and announced the coming of dusk. It was a small rickety old town. Nothing special to look at, the perfect place to lie low after a job. As expected, Dutch was late. Me and Lucas sat at the bar surrounded by some scattered round tables, only a few of which were being used. A table with four men playing cards and another table where a young man and woman were enjoying a quiet drink. Not great company. One table was cursing like sailors and making complete fools of themselves, while the other was an awkward exchange of quiet flirting. One was the prelim to a brawl, the other a prelim to something equally intimate. However, drink after drink, we warmed up to the company.

The only other individual in the bar, aside from the prostitutes who were staying busy upstairs, was the bartender. He was lean like a cowboy but handled the bar with a practiced ease. If I were to venture a guess, I’d say he had got himself into trouble some years back and ducked his way into this town for cover. Years later, he became a damn good bartender. Not unlike our old friends the Cartwright’s, he was another predator lying low. But, unlike them, I actually liked him. He knew what to say to his guests and when to say it. More importantly, he knew when not to say it. Only making himself known when he filled our glasses, never asking about our business or how long we’d be staying. He knew, from experience, we were no tourists. As our title, The Chosen Children, suggests every new member of our family is found as a child and every member is expected to one day adopt a child of their own into the ranks. Both me and Lucas were just north of twenty years old and hadn’t felt like children since the day Dutch dawned our doors. Well, at least I didn’t. Lucas always found a way to be child, even now.

Beside me, Lucas was still playing with his silver chain, he was nervous, even with the drinks in his system. It had been a tick of his since I first met him. When things got hairy, he’d fiddle with the chain. Anytime I saw him do it, it brought me back to when we were still kids. Back when his hat swallowed his head of brown hair and the chain hung like a millstone about his neck. I don’t remember my family, not my mother’s voice or my father’s face, but I remember every word Lucas ever said, every breath he ever took. It was like when they died, so did everything that came before. To this day I couldn’t be sure if it was because the monster’s killed them or because that shaggy haired little boy stepped into my life and promised to be my brother. Either way I was grateful.

As much as I hate to admit it, it was the same with Dutch. Bitter, brutish and overbearing, I could hardly stand the old man, but I respected him more than anyone I had ever met. It was an honor; he was the elder of the Chosen Children and he chose me; even if Lucas had to talk him into it. It’s a rule, though not hard and fast, that you can’t parent your own children if you live the life of a hunter. You hunt, that’s it. When the time comes you find a young boy or girl and you raise them to carry on the way of our people. A family of orphans, but a family all the same. I had seen blood relatives that never spoke, that treated one another with disdain. Not us though, even if you hated each other you still respected them. We were thick as thieves, only thicker. We were thicker than blood.

Dutch, Freeman and Angelica were supposed to be here by now. It wasn’t uncommon for the old man to be late, but paranoid as I was, it was beginning to concern me. I kept a straight face and sipped on my whiskey, but I knew Lucas saw straight through me. We would both feel better the moment the others got here and gave us some answers. It would be nice to see them, not Dutch, but Freeman and Angelica. Angelica especially, she was Dutch’s daughter, his real daughter. Like I said the rules weren’t hard and fast, just a suggestion. I always liked Ang, lots of the others didn’t, they felt she was getting ahead because of her relationship with Dutch but I never saw it that way. She was just better, faster on the pull and quicker on the trigger, sometimes too quick, but I could relate to that. She was smart too, brilliant even. Always seemed to have the answers when no one else did. The only advantage her relationship with Dutch granted her was that she was more like him than the rest of us. Not too much though, thank Christ for that.

Israel Freeman on the other hand was a black man, raised by former slaves. He had known monsters his whole life, even before he was adopted. I liked him; he had a chip on his shoulder but carried it with grace. Dutch never understood the slavery business, even if at times he treated us no different. In fact, Ang was half black, her mother was a black woman from Mass, only met her the one time, but she was a lovely woman. What she was doing with Dutch, I’d never understand. One time a man asked him why he would lay with a black woman, Dutch damn near broke his jaw.

“There’s too much evil in this world for us to waste time fighting each other.”

That’s what he said, the closest he ever came to poetry in my book. Of course, he then spat on the man and called him a cunt, but still, not bad.

 “What’s got you all bothered?” I asked Lucas as he continued to fiddle with his chain.

“Just all that business back at the farmhouse.”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. But I’m not talking about that. I mean all of it, the whole thing. Twelve people died just because that bastard wanted to fuck a few more women. All of that so he could father a child.”

I looked at him, surprised. It hadn’t bothered me one bit, not since I put a bullet in old Andrew’s head.

“I wouldn’t dwell on it that much. That shit can drive you crazy.” The feverish feeling rushed through me again. The irony of my words was not lost on me.

“Can’t help it.” Lucas said, looking down into his nearly empty glass.

“I don’t get it.” I said. Lucas looked at me, tilting his head. “All the jobs we’ve done over the years, not one of them bothers you, but this one, suddenly this one is different.”

He gulped down the rest of his drink and swiveled to face me on his stool.

“First off, I never said the others didn’t bother me. Second, usually its some brainless beast, not a refined looking man with a beautiful wife. We’re not usually killing something that smiles back at you, that has real goals and intentions.”

“That wasn’t your first vampire.” I said, matter-of-factly.

“No, it wasn’t. But it was my first beautiful woman, I shot her right in the heart. And tell me something Caleb, if she had been pregnant or God forbid there had been a baby, what would you have done then?”

I felt my blood boiling, I don’t know why it pissed me off, but it did. I spoke coldly.

“If she had been pregnant, I would’ve plugged her in the stomach first, then the head. If we had found an infant, I would’ve pressed my boot into its skull.” Lucas looked away from me. “Or did you expect me to sympathize with them, let another one of those monsters into the world so it can do the same shit that Andrew and his wives did? I was raised to kill monsters, if you have a moral objection to it then tell it to Dutch, because I personally don’t give a fuck.”

“We were raised to kill monsters, sure.” Lucas began, calmer than me. “Not babies. Not children.”

“They come in all shapes and sizes.” I said.

“Exactly. What if we had found Andrew, a vampire, but he really was just a quiet farmer with a beautiful wife.”

“He was a vampire, they both were.”

“What if he was a vampire and a farmer who never killed anyone.”

“But he wasn’t. He was a monster that had already killed six men and was going to kill or turn any number of women. The reason your speaking in hypotheticals Lucas, is because what you’re talking about doesn’t exist.” He spun his empty glass on the table, refusing to look me in the eye. “Besides,” I continued “even if it did exist, I’d kill it anyway. It’s a monster, I kill monsters. If it’s before they’ve done something terrible, all the better.”

“That’s not what he taught us.” Lucas said.

“What?”

“That’s not what Dutch taught us. He showed us how to kill monsters, taught us how to protect ourselves from them, but he also said that we are not born monsters, we choose it.”

I wanted to drop it; we wouldn’t get anywhere with this conversation. Not to mention, he had me at checkmate. He was right, but as far as I was concerned, I was too.

The bartended saw that things were cooling down between us. He topped off Lucas, I extended my glass and he did the same.

“Much obliged.” Lucas said.

The bartender nodded.

We sat in silence for a longtime after that. We had a funny way of making up after a disagreement. It was far from out of the ordinary for us to fight, almost always my fault, but we always made up. It was like clockwork, never failed. We wouldn’t apologize, not one of us ever said the magic words; ‘I’m sorry.’ Yet, at some point we would both feel it. The air would lighten between us, some good conversation would ensue, and we would exchange our apologies in the form of laughs and smiles. It might take another drink or two, but we would find our way.

There’s no doubt that the real reason I snapped wasn’t because of Lucas at all, it was because I was still on edge. No matter how many glasses I gulped down, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being followed, watched. The whiskey tasted like piss to begin with and now, it seemed, it wasn’t even good for getting drunk. At least the bartender was alright. The card players were guffawing good and loud now, one of them had won a few big pots and so the others were accusing him of cheating. Meanwhile the love birds at the other table were nice and busy at this point. The boy had moved his hand up the young lady’s skirt. Class all the way. The sun was setting, me and Lucas kept our backs to it.

All at once it happened, the rush ran cold and stiff through my neck, my hairs stood on end and a shadow passed. Against the streaming rays of light from the windows, the shadow of a man on horseback passed, I watched as it tracked along the wall in front me. He was here, not Dutch, but the rider. He had followed us, and now he had found us. Like a child who heard a bump in the night, I was frozen stiff not finding the strength to turn and face the source until several moments later. At last, I spun around, hand on my holster.

Nothing.

No one was there. Just a nearly empty saloon.

Jesus, get a hold of yourself! I thought.

“Are they here?” Lucas asked.

“Nah, thought I saw them.” I lied.

“No worries, they’ll be here.”

I peaked over my shoulder again.

“You nervous?” Lucas said jeeringly.

“Anxious is more like it.”

“I won’t say shit about what happened. We tell him the job is done; we show him the box. Once we get our answers and our credit, we can get some sleep and shove off in the morning.”

“I thought I was the boss?” I smirked.

“That was before you got yourself killed. The job fell to me now, coming back to life doesn’t change a thing.”

We laughed. Apology accepted.

“We don’t have to head out too early. Maybe we could take a day or two.”

“Oh yeah?” Lucas asked suspiciously.

“Ang is gonna be here, right? Freeman too. Might be nice to catch up for a bit.”

Lucas roared with laughter. Seeing right through me as usual.

“Cool it, cowboy. Angelica is off limits. You’re asking to catch a bullet, Caleb. You were just granted a second chance at life and you’re gonna throw it away that quickly?”

A second chance. Guess I hadn’t looked at it that way.

“She’s her own woman, Dutch has no say in who she spends her time with.”

He snickered again.

“Try telling that to the old man. Besides, she’s just as likely to shoot your dumbass as he is.”

He wasn’t wrong. Ang was the strongest woman I had ever met. If I got involved with her and tried playing the handsome rogue with any other women on the side, I’d be as good as dead. But maybe that was what attracted me to her, I didn’t scare easy, but she was terrifying.

“Don’t you want a woman Lucas?” I asked.

“No, Caleb. I want women. As many as I can get until my luck finally runs out. Until I’m too old to woo ‘em or too dead to care.”

He wasn’t lying. Lucas was never one for settling down and his boyish charm always made him a hit with pretty girls. They liked him, but they didn’t take him too seriously. That way, they’d let him into their bed at night, but come morning they weren’t too upset when he left.

“Yeah, sure. But don’t you want something more serious, something real?”

“Shit.” He said. “You really must be shook up. You’re talking crazy right now.”

I raised my brows.

“C’mon, seriously.” I said.

He sighed and shrugged.

“I mean; yeah, sure, with the right girl it might be nice.” He snickered like a child. “If that Priscilla weren’t a blood sucking monster I could’ve seen myself with her for a long time.”

I smiled.

“All beautiful women are monsters, Lucas.”

“Angelica included.” He warned.

“Well,” I said, cupping my hands behind my head with a cocky smile. “Guess it’s a good thing I know my way around monsters.”

We both laughed. The bartender walked over, sensing a lighter air around us than when we entered.

“Long day?” He asked.

“Aren’t they all?” I replied.

He smiled and filled our glasses.

“Young love.”

The bartender said with a gesture to the young couple at the table behind us. They had gotten even busier. Seems they had each drank enough to get over the embarrassment of the other table watching them.

“Is that what they call it?” Lucas said. “I call it a trap.”

“A trap?” The bartender smiled but didn’t quite get the joke.

“At that age, in a dump like this…” Lucas raised a hand in apology, the bartender waved it off. “… one of them is using the other for something. A cheap thrill or an even cheaper place to stay. Just can’t tell whose using who.”

I looked at them, putting aside my disgust at their lack of modesty, I tried to study them. Tried to get to the bottom of who was using who.

“Maybe…” The bartender interjected cautiously, “…They’re both using each other.”

I nodded pensively.

“Yeah, young love.” I affirmed.

That was that from the bartender. We never got a name, no back story, he was good at his job and didn’t overstay his welcome. Lucas was quiet for a long time. Seemed what the bartender had said struck him deeper than it did me. For me it only seemed accurate, for Lucas it tested something he had been telling himself for a longtime. Knowing Lucas as well as I knew the back of my own hand, I could tell this was something that would keep him up tonight. Not the hunting, not the killing, not the memories of our shitty childhood, but this. We were different in that respect. While Lucas was no doubt a better man than me, the type of man who could be so sweet it made my teeth hurt, he still wasn’t a good man. I would hesitate to call him my anchor or my conscience come to life, because he wasn’t. Lucas wanted to be a good man, but he wasn’t. He wanted to hate what we did, hate the way we did it, but he didn’t. The same way he wanted to believe love was something ideal, so ideal he would never need to strive for it because it couldn’t possibly exist. He wanted to hate himself, but he just couldn’t. Despite his best efforts, he was as indifferent to it all as the sun dipping below the horizon.

For such a romantic, it must have hurt to hear that love could be so simple.

I never wanted to be a better man, never wanted much of anything myself. That’s where me and Lucas differed. I had no interest in being good or bad, just in doing my job and doing it better than anyone else. I wanted a woman; I suppose that’s something. But never did I dream of being a great father or lover, I just wanted a woman. Wanting and taking, that’s all there was for me and it was enough.

The feeling was still methodically needling into my bones, the feeling of being watched. However, it had changed subtly. No longer did I feel I was being followed, it felt more as though what ever had been following had already found its way here. While fiddling with my glass and focusing on the passing of time allowed me to keep a straight face, I was steadily being beaten down like rocks against the shoreline. Beating waves of panic would soon whittle me down.

The shadow of a man on horseback strolled across the wall, I turned back and again I saw nothing. Except this time, something had changed. One of the men at the card table was looking at me intently, leaning toward his neighbor he whispered something. Keeping my calm, I observed him. One to the next, they whispered and glanced at me. Soon the entire table was looking back at me, not one looked to their cards. Whispers filled the air, voices of many people, some which I could not see. I felt the eyes upon me before my own darted to the table. The young couple was staring at me.

I wiped at my brow. Am I sweating? Am I shaking? Why are they looking at me? Talking about me?

The whispering was growing louder, their stares heavier. Overlapping one another it was impossible to make out what they were all saying, the voices. Their mouths weren’t moving but the voices rose in pitch and number.

Lucas looked at me. His face was one of worry and surprise. I felt distant, as though I were only here in spirit, only a passenger.

He said something to me, but it was muffled below the whispers.

What’s wrong? Are you okay? I’m breaking. Somethings breaking. I’m breaking. My bones are splitting. I’m breaking. The whispering, they’re all whispering. They followed us here, followed me here. I almost died. I died and now I’m breaking. What’s wrong? I’m breaking. Are you okay? I’m breaking. He’s here. He followed me here. I died, but now he followed me here.

            The bartender leaned over to me.

            “Are you okay?”

            “I’m breaking…”

            BANG!

            I drew my gun and blasted the bartender between his eyes.

The bottles behind him shattered and the contents of his skull mixed with the spilling alcohol below. The whispering was loud and peeled at the deepest layers of my skin. The men at the table were monsters, they were all monsters. Their eyes were yellow, and their skin was grey. I fired as they tried to flee. One by one their bodies littered the floor and their blood painted the walls.  The young couple were monsters, bearing their fangs and their talons. I felt Lucas try to pull my arms down, he was screaming for me to stop, but he didn’t understand. He hadn’t died, it didn’t follow him here. They were all monsters and they all needed to die. I fired and they were both nearly dead, drawing my second revolver to finish them.

Standing over the young man, his monstrous eyes looking up at me, pleading for me to stop. I drew back the hammer, a pair of hands grabbed mine. Only seeing yellow eyes, I turned and fired.

Just as suddenly as it began, it fell away. The gusting winds outside and the dreadful silence within, announced that I was still alive and back in control of my body. Hazy and suddenly exhausted, there were no bearings beneath my feet. Nearly falling, I braced against the bar. Only as my tired eyes panned up did I see the carnage left in my wake. The liquor was still steadily dripping from the shelf, the glass shattered about the room. An almost blackish red splattered the wall, behind the bar lay the body of a man. My heart was racing and my breath was erratic, looking about the room I saw many limp bloodied forms. Smoke filled the air and the scent of gunpowder flooded my nostrils.

I didn’t imagine it…

“Caleb…” A familiar, but weary voice spoke out.

Too dazed to realize who it was I pressed firmly against my eyes, expecting to reopen them and find the room as it should be. Alive with the chatter of drunks and the laughter of others. Lucas on the stool beside me, no blood sprayed upon my jacket or resting in my hair.

“Caleb…”

Lucas!

Only his boots were visible behind a nearby table. I wanted to rush over to aid him, but my legs were still unsteady. Like a fawn which stumbles into the world for the first time, my mind was as uneasy as the legs it attempted to govern. Stumbling over to him, glassware shattered across the floor, I found him laying in a pool of his own blood. His expression was one of shock, a mortal bewilderment. He was not surprised by my actions, or the events that had brought him here, but dumfounded by the unseen world which only his eyes could see.

“Caleb…”

So soft was his voice that only by reading his trembling lips was I able to decipher what he had said. At last I crumbled to the floor over him. I was shaking, partly out of illness from the fury that had overcame me but also out of a numb fear. I had shot him. Clean. The blood bubbled up from his chest and mouth, a lung shot. Before I was aware that I was crying, my tears dropped down onto my brother’s bloodied chest and pale cheeks. Even now, as sober and clear as I had been all day, I felt the madness trying to claw back to the forefront of my mind.

Finish him. Kill him.

I shook my head and cried deeply.

“Caleb…”

I caressed his face, but his eyes never looked my way. They probed the ceiling for a face and place that was not there.

“I’m here, Lucas. I’m here.”

I brushed his light brown hair, his healthy sun-kissed hue fading with every bubbling breath. While his eyes no longer saw what was in front of him, but only whatever mystery lie ahead, he spoke with purpose. His hands groped his bloody clothing until they finally rested on the silver chain.

“Caleb… here…”

I rested my hand on his.

“I know, Lucas. I’m still here. I’ll be here ‘till the end, I promise.”

His hands trembled, too weak to lift the chain.

“Here… Caleb… here…”

Finally, I understood. But I didn’t want it; didn’t want to understand it.

“No.” I said. “No, Lucas. You need that. C’mon. It’s yours, your lucky chain. Just squeeze it tight. Hang on. Stop talking, just breath. Dutch will be here soon; he’ll know what to do.”

I was lying. Not for his sake, but my own. The peaceful tone of Lucas’ voice told me he was more accepting of his fate than I was willing to be. Dutch had done amazing things, but no man nor monster has ever had the cure for a punctured lung.

“Wait!” My eyes lit up with sudden remembrance. “Keep breathing Lucas, I’ll be right back.”

Rising to my feet, I swayed to and fro as a branch in the wind. Practically falling onto my pack, I opened it. The black box with its gold trim beckoned from withing. The moment I snatched it I felt the difference, but I ignored it. There was no pulsing, no burning. Lucas was still alive when I reached him.

“Good boy. Stay alive. Squeeze that chain tight.”

If it worked for me, it will work for you. You’re the better man, even if its only by a little.

His breath was shallow, whistling and gargling.

“C’mon, goddamnit! Work you stupid fucking thing!” I fiddled with the box, opening and closing it, but felt nothing. No sudden shocks or pains. Not even a voice. Nothing. Just an empty box. “Please! Why me?! Why me and not him?”

Like a mad man pleading with an indifferent deity, I shook the box. Desiring to wring its neck, if only it had one.

“Caleb…” He clutched the chain again only this time he was choking. Every cough brought up a thick glob of bubbling pink saliva.

“No, no, no! Please Lucas! Dutch will be here soon! He’ll know what to do!”

I was crying heavily. Holding Lucas tight I tried to shake it out of him. The bullets, the blood, the death. I just wanted it to stop, to let him live. I cried and cried, holding him tightly to me. Soon, beneath my own sobbing, I realized he was no longer coughing.

“Lucas…”

I looked into his eyes.

They hung open, almost lazily. They looked off into a vast nowhere. I was no longer holding Lucas, the light in his eyes had vanished, I was holding nothing but an empty box.

Gently, I placed him back on the barroom floor. Wanting to bury him, wanting to give him the dignity in death that he deserved. His hands were, despite their slack muscles, still clinging to the silver chain. I did not wish to disturb him, or the body which had once been his, but I knew he had wanted me to take the necklace. With the greatest of care, I removed it from his neck. It was stained with blood and was heavier than it looked. Passing my hand over his face, I closed his eyes and slung the chain around my neck. Outside, the sun had descended below the horizon, only the lamplight lit the bar. The floorboards raw with blood and the air thick with smoke. I sat on the floor, looking out passed the windows. Only earlier that day, Lucas had been kneeling over my body, now I knelt over his. Yet, there was no magic, no savior, he was dead.

How would I tell this to Dutch? Tell him I killed my brother, killed his son. I couldn’t. I went to stand and get my jacket. Perhaps I could leave before he arrived. It was cowardly, but maybe that’s all I was. As I went to stand, a voice broke out from the end of the bar.

“What are the odds?” It was a melodic voice, a masculine one.

I drew my gun and aimed it in the direction of the words. A man was sitting at a table in a dark corner of the room. His eyes flashed out from the darkness, but I could not make out his face.

“Woah, woah, easy there, friend.” There was a sickening sarcasm in his words, as if he did not take me seriously. “You’re awfully quick on that trigger. I’d hate to go the way of your friend. Shot dead in a dump like this, that’s no way to go.”

A grotesque sound scratched at the walls and the ceiling, taking me a moment to identify it as laughter. He was snickering in the dark.

“Watch it.” I hissed with venom. “Or I’ll show you just how quick I am.”

“Come now, Caleb. I meant no offense.” The man rose from his seat and swaggered into the light. He was dressed in a fine suit, his build lean and fit. He was a young handsome man with oily-black hair. While he mostly looked very dapper, a black suit with red undershirt, his hair jutted out in all directions as if he just got out of bed. Though he had yet to explain himself, I felt like I knew him. He had said my name, and somehow it barely surprised me. “My deepest sympathies, really. I know how much he meant to you. But this… well, this is no place for a man to die.”

He prodded the lifeless body of Lucas with his dress shoe. I cocked the pistol.

“Don’t fucking touch him!”

The dapper man glanced at me from the corner of his eye, his face contorted into a sinister grin.

Wagging a finger, he spoke.

“Now, now, Caleb…”

He raised his foot and stomped down hard onto Lucas’s head. The skull shattered and splashed into watery chunks. I fired without hesitation.

The man laughed as my eyes went wide in disbelief. The bullet had passed straight through him and shattered the front window.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“…I couldn’t touch him if I wanted to.”

Glancing back at Lucas, his body was untouched. Only the wounds from my gun remained.

“What are you…?” I asked, still too dumbfounded to look away from Lucas.

“What am I? Who am I? I always wonder what they’re going to ask first. The first question tells you a lot about someone. The ‘whats’ are aware that I’m not human. The ‘whos’ are expecting a name from an old book or scripture. Occasionally, you get someone who asks why, but you can never get anywhere with those people.” He was looking into the darkness with a self-satisfied smile. “To answer your question, I’m a demon. A damn good one, if I do say so myself. Many of my kind would lie and say they were the devil himself straight out of Paradise, but I won’t do that, not to you Caleb. You would know better anyway, being a seasoned hunter. There is no one evil, only a world of it. As for the who, which you were going to ask next...” He searched the air for a satisfactory answer. “You may call me Danny.”

“Danny?” I asked, too taken aback to ask a more sensible question. However, Danny looked pleased with the question.

“Yes, well, I have a great many names Caleb. Each of them older and more boring than the last, so to make it easy for you, we will stick with Danny.”

He took a seat at the table beside the corpse of Lucas.

“You’ve had quite a long day, haven’t you Caleb?”

My eyes tracked to the black box on the floor.

“It was you. You were locked in that box. You’re what saved my life. Why?”

I lowered my gun but held it firmly. If he was what he claimed to be, silver bullets would do nothing against him.

“Now you’re catching on. Forgive me. I often forget how slow you apes are. While it can be amusing at times, it can also be tiresome. Why I saved you should be obvious but being human I’ll try and talk slowly. As I said before, I couldn’t touch a hair on his handsome little head.” He gestured to Lucas; I couldn’t bear to look at him. “But you can. With a host, I can do a great many things, but I can only enter a host after making a deal with them.”

I went cold.

“Let’s just say you were an ideal candidate. Zero leverage, a well-trained body, and access to a particular sect of humans with whom I would love to become more deeply acquainted.” He wore the same sinister grin, his teeth shinning like that of a predator. “You hunters. You fancy yourselves so clever, yet there are so few of you left.”

He gestured across the table for me to take a seat. I hesitated at first, but it was clear I had nowhere to go and the smart move was to get some answers.

“I’ve never heard of a demon strong enough to bring someone back from the dead.” I spoke accusingly.

“I’m sure you haven’t. But your teacher has.”

“Dutch.”

“Yes.” He hissed. “Dutch. It would have been nice, using you to kill him. The protégé killing the master, poetic.”

“How do you know Dutch?”

“The old fool has a debt to pay. Purely business. Of course, when I found you, I couldn’t help the idea of mixing business with pleasure. I’ve been trapped in that box for decades and I needed a little bit of fun.”

“If you’re so powerful, how is it you got trapped by some vampire? Not as clever as you think, aye?”

He grit his teeth, an almost joyful rage burned in his eyes.

“That cocksucker- excuse me- bloodsucker, Andrew Cartwright used ancient magic to imprison me. He was supposed to dispose of me, but he couldn’t resist the idea of having his own personal deal maker if things went south. I think he believed I would keep him safe…” He looked at me intently and then roared with laughter. “…fortunately, you disillusioned him!”

His laughter made my stomach turn.   

 “Alright.” I said, quieting his laughter. “So why tell me any of this? Why not just use me to kill Dutch and be on your way.”

He looked at me curiously. No doubt he was surprised at how easily I resigned myself to such a fate. I had no despair in my voice, no self-pity. The only person who really mattered to me was dead on the floor, if Dutch’s checkered past catching up with him gave me my body back, then so be it.

The demon’s smile returned.

“It seems fate has a sense of humor.” He began. “You were almost the perfect vessel, if not for your friend.” He looked down at Lucas. “He was suspicious and in the way. That’s why I needed you to kill him. Strong as your will was, it took quite the effort on my part. I’d been trying to invade your mind since I entered it at the farmhouse, but you resisted. Finally, a little deception and you did the job for me. But, even in death, the boy remains a nuisance.”

He was eyeing the chain around my neck with a venomous contempt. I ran my fingers over it.

“It’s real.” I said, barely believing it.

“Quite.” Danny sounded disappointed. “In the end, I simply traded one prison for another. Don’t get too excited.” He looked at my smile with resentment. “The object does not work as your friend claimed. It is not designed to keep evil spirits out, but rather to keep them in. So, while I can’t control your mind, I also cannot leave.”

“Sounds like you’re fucked.” I said, smiling across the table at him. “When Dutch gets here, I’ll explain everything, and he’ll know how to kill you.”

The demon sighed.

“Talented as you may be Caleb, you’re awfully slow. If I’m removed from your body, the deal we made is forfeit. You never specified how long you wished to live or under what circumstances. You only live as long as I inhabit you, if that chain is removed or I am destroyed, you will die.”

I felt my heart skip up into my throat. My fists were clenched.

“You’re a liar.”

“Yes… However, right now I’m telling the truth.” He grinned. “It’s in both of our best interests to leave here now and never look back.”

Grinding my teeth, I looked about pensively for some other answer.

“Dutch will have an answer. He’ll know what to do.”

I nodded, trying to believe my own words. The same graining sound echoed about the room, Danny was snickering again.

“Poor boy.” Danny shook his head. “Why do you think Dutch gave you this job? He was the one who enlisted Andrew Cartwright to trap me all those years ago. When the vampire never returned with the box, Dutch realized the mistake he made. He’s been tracking the fool ever since. The old man will pay any price to kill me, including your life. Anything to save his own skin. The least you can do, is save your own. I’ll bet ol’ Dutch never spoke about making deals with monsters. Did he?”

My eyes burned; I knew he wasn’t lying. He had no reason to.

“If…” I struggled to speak the words. “If it rids the world of you, then I’ll give myself up.”

“How noble of you, Caleb.” The Demon was nodding his head condescendingly. “But don’t lie to me. I saved your life after all. I was there when you were dying, felt what you felt. You’re terrified of death. You’ll do anything to avoid it, to run from it. So much like the old man you are.”

For a long moment we just stared at one another. I wanted to say a million things, wanted to say some heroic line of rejection, but nothing came forth. He was right.

The bar door creaked open and the jangling of spurs moved into the saloon. The lamplight revealed all. All my sins, and my own cursed life. Standing in the room, stoic looks of horror on their faces, was my family. Anj and Israel were side by side. They were about to run to my aid when a hand raised. Without a word they froze, and a gruff voice croaked out.

“Caleb. What the fuck happened here?”

Dutch stood there; his piercing blue eyes hung on Lucas for no more than a second.

I tried to speak, but a swelling mixture of shame and fear sealed my mouth shut.

“Answer me, Goddamnit!” He roared.

I said nothing as Israel Freeman approached the body of Lucas and examined the small black box beside him. I watched as the look of horrible recognition dawned Dutch’s face. The grizzled veteran pulled his gun and barked another order, this time at Israel.

“Don’t touch it!” Instead, the silver haired man lumbered over to it himself and lifted it from the bloodied ground. The latch was shattered, and the inside was empty. His eyes tracked cautiously to me. “Did you open the box, Caleb? Did you or Lucas open the box?”

“Time to make a decision, friend.” Danny spoke from across the table, but only I could here him or see him.

My heart was racing and as my eyes moved from Danny to Dutch, I saw the old man’s understanding. He eyed the empty chair across from me and then aimed his gun at my chest.

“What happened when you opened the box, Caleb? What did you hear? What did you see?” He was speaking calmly, but the look of fear on the faces of Anjelica and Israel painted a different picture. Two other men were standing behind Dutch, men I barely knew, and they had looks of purposeful indifference toward me.

“Dutch?” I said, it was all I could manage. Everything was moving a mile a minute.

“You’re not his son anymore.” Danny said, he was suddenly standing beside me.

“That’s right, kid. It’s me. Just stand up and come with us out of here. We can discuss everything.”

Anjelica was close to tears.

“Please Caleb, come with us.” She said, but she didn’t know. She didn’t see the look in her father’s eyes. The hate and the fire. He had made up his mind and so had I.

I stood from my seat.

“That’s it. That’s it.” Dutch eased.

“You’re not human to him anymore.” Danny said from beside me.

I remembered what Lucas had said at the bar, about what Dutch had taught us. We’re not born monsters…

“To him…” Danny whispered. “…you’re a monster.”

            … we choose it.

I drew my gun, fast as lightning. Pulling the trigger, I aimed just beside Dutch’s head. The bullet grazed his cheek. I sprinted for the side exit. The two nameless men fired, hitting nothing but the wall and bottles behind me. Dutch drew down on me, but the last thing I saw was Anjelica pulling his arms down as he fired a shot into the floor. Israel was kneeling over Lucas, watching as I sprinted away, only the two nameless men chased me out into the night. I ran, ducking and weaving between the many wooden shacks and shops. Their gunfire cracked and popped from behind. Soon, I had lost them at the edge of town, only their shouts followed me, but I did not stop running; I would never stop running.

Danny, the devil on my shoulder, the fiend living in my mind, laughed into the night sky, but I alone heard him.

END