“Chee, I think we…” Hollister started to say, but never finished-for out of the woods to their right and up above the mine shaft, plunged a lone figure on horseback. The horse was a large, black stallion, and the rider was cloaked in a hooded duster, covered in black from head to toe. The horse ran impossibly fast, and whoever guided it was obviously experienced in the saddle.
“What in God’s name…” Hollister muttered.
“It is the woman,” Chee said. “She has followed us here.” He had no proof of this, but he was sure of it just the same.
“Get ready, Chee,” Hollister said.
Chee said nothing, unsure of what he was supposed to get ready for, but he took a few short steps back, easing his way toward the horses and the cover of the buildings.
She reached the outskirts of the camp, reining the horse around the buildings, barrels, empty wagons, and other obstacles. Surprisingly, she headed straight toward the Ute war party. Dog was up now, his hackles raised and a low growl sounding in his throat as he watched the mysterious rider confront the Indians.
“Dog, hold,” Chee said. Dog moved so that he was now in front of Hollister and Chee, his rump pushing into Chee’s legs. He quieted but never took his eyes off the rider.
The woman spurred the stallion again and it bounded forward another thirty yards, where she reined to a stop. The Utes looked as surprised and confused as Hollister and Chee did. But after a moment, they regained their senses and started forward again.
The woman threw back the hood of her duster and her long blond hair unfurled.
Chee and Hollister kept backing toward the horses and the general store, taking advantage of the diversion. Dog crept along with them, his muscles tensed and coiled.
A Ute war cry pierced the quiet and the sound of it nearly made Hollister jump. To his surprise, the Utes turned their horses and rode hard back to the north instead of charging. In shock, Hollister and Chee watched until they disappeared from sight.
Their eyes went to the solitary figure on the horse. With the Indians gone, the woman dropped her head, slumping at the shoulders. Hollister wondered if she might be praying, but then she raised back up, stretching back and forth as if she had just woken from a nap. She turned the horse and slowly trotted back toward where the two confused and surprised men stood.
Hollister couldn’t be sure, but he could almost swear that smoke was rolling off her face and hair.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Shaniah could not guess what instinct had commanded her to intercede on behalf of Hollister and the man- witch. When she saw the Ute warrior advance toward the two men, it became clear to her the situation was rapidly deteriorating. If Hollister was killed here, she might never find Malachi and his band. Without thinking, she spurred Demeter to action and raced down the rise toward the oncoming Utes.
Her desperate charge had momentarily surprised and stunned the mounted warriors. When she pulled back her cowl, unleashing her long, flowing blond hair, they were further confused. Who was this strange white woman riding to her death toward them? they must have thought. When she skidded to a stop, perhaps thirty yards remained between her and the startled Ute leader. She had only a few seconds. The sun was already heating her skin and she could not be without the cover of the cloak for much longer.
With her back to Hollister and the man-witch, she was able to transform, showing her Archaic face to the Utes. Knowing the superstitious nature of the people confronting her, she was sure they would be frightened away. As her eyes blazed and her face moved, her jaw dropping and her fangs descending, the Indians went wild-eyed with fear. The leader’s horse reared and whinnied, nearly tossing him from its back. With all the strength he could muster, he steadied the animal and retreated toward his men, their shouts joining his as they rode off the way they had come, not sparing the quirt to their horses.
When they were gone, she sat still on her horse, feeling her facial features return to normal. Archaics could survive for a limited amount of time in the sunlight. And unlike some other vampire species, it would only burn and weaken them, not kill them. But she could not afford to let it weaken her any further. She raised the cloak back over her head, turning Demeter and spurring him at a trot toward Hollister and Chee. She reined the horse to a stop twenty yards away from the two men.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chee kept his hands on his pistols as the woman advanced toward them. He knew it was her, without question, could sense it without having ever seen her face. She was the one who had followed them, had come to the warehouse in Denver, for reasons he didn’t know. And he was fairly certain she was a Deathwalker. The cloak, hiding her face from the sun and light-all of it pointed to her being one of Van Helsing’s vampires.
“What the hell just happened?” Hollister whispered to him.
Chee didn’t answer, never took his eyes off the woman, who sat on the great stallion as still as a statue. He was tense, instinct telling him to pull his guns and shoot her down, but he remained calm, waiting to see what the major wanted to do.
“Can I help you?” Hollister said to the woman.
“Sir, I don’t think we…” Chee started to say, but the major held up his hand, silencing him.
Don’t do this, Chee thought. Don’t bring her into your circle, Major. She is death. He was more certain of this than he’d ever been of anything in his life. The woman on horseback before them was death.
“I say, can I help you?” Hollister repeated. The woman on the horse said nothing. A few paces behind him he heard the squeak of Chee’s holster as the young man gripped his pistols so tightly Hollister thought he might shatter them. The sergeant was tensed and anxious, ready to fight.
“Easy, Chee, let’s see what she has to say,” he said quietly, “and see if you can steady your friend there.” Dog was still on alert, ready to pounce on the woman.
“Major, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Chee said.
Hollister turned away from the woman to study the young soldier.
“Maybe not. But she just chased off forty Ute warriors without a weapon. I have a feeling if she wanted us dead, we’d be dead already.” When he gazed again at the woman, she removed her hood, revealing her face.
With his first clear look at her, Hollister felt her beauty strike him like a punch in the gut. She was beyond gorgeous, her blond hair hanging below her shoulders and green eyes peering out at him from a face carved from alabaster. Her clothing hid most of her figure, but even as she sat in the saddle he could tell she was tall for a woman, her knee-high boots and leather riding pants covering long legs.
Jonas suddenly realized how long it had been since he’d really stopped and looked at a woman. Even after four years locked away in Leavenworth, most of his thoughts had gone only to getting out. And in the past few days, events had moved so quickly, there hadn’t been much time to think about anything else. At West Point, and after the war, he had courted women as an eligible bachelor, but he’d never met anyone who really made him think about marriage or a life beyond the army. Now he stood twenty yards away from what he thought might clearly be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life, and for a moment it was difficult to speak.
“Who are you?” he finally asked.
The woman stared at him. Her face was a curious mixture of fear and anxiety. It looked to him like she was wrestling with something: a problem so big the weight of it might crush her. It made Hollister want to help her. Take off his hat and hold it in his hands and ask her, like a Knight Errant might ask his queen how he could be of service.
She stared hard at him for several seconds.
“I am called Shaniah,” she said. Her voice was low and Hollister and Chee had to strain to hear her.
“What are you doing here?” Hollister asked.
She did not answer but pulled the cloak back over her head and reined the stallion around, giving him the
