as many human beings as they could. And it was his job to stop them.
He stood in the street, the saloon on his left directly in front of him. Going back in was suicide, he told himself. He didn’t know why, but they were in there. At least some of them. And they either had Billy with them or knew where he was. He would keep killing them until Jonas himself was dead, or he found the kid.
Where was the woman? he thought. Wouldn’t they be trying to draw her out as well? The guns felt suddenly heavy in his hands and he realized he was very tired. Nothing he could do about it though.
He moved slowly forward, the saloon door coming closer. He held the Colt in his left hand straight out in front of him and his right hand was cocked at an angle at his waist. Holy water and silver to slow them down, Chee had said. Wood to kill them. Hollister almost laughed. Chee reduced everything to its simplest terms.
The swinging doors were right in front of him. He couldn’t see inside the saloon-it was too dark and not much of the moonlight penetrated the interior. He could sense the vampires inside now, waiting for him. Slowly he reached out with the Colt, pushing on the saloon door. It creaked on its hinges, sounding as loud as a cannon shot in the quiet night.
He was about to step through when, without warning, he was jerked off his feet and pulled backward into the street.
What the hell?
Chapter Forty
As he flew through the air he had enough presence of mind to hit the dusty street in a roll and come up with his pistols raised. Shaniah stood in front of the door to the saloon, a long knife in her hand. It was dripping with blood that was now pooling at her feet.
Hollister kept the Colts leveled at her.
“If you go in there now, you’ll die,” she said.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance. Again. I’m going to have to ask you to step aside, though. There’s a young boy who has gotten separated from our party and I need to collect him,” Hollister said.
Shaniah snorted. “You mean the little idiot that ran out of your jail in the middle of the night, with the town full of Archaics?”
“Archaics?”
“I’m not sure what you might call them. Vampires, perhaps, which would be a close description but not entirely accurate. The boy is already dead.”
“Oh. Well. That changes everything. Thanks so much for letting me know. I’ll just mosey on elsewhere then.”
Though she had been chasing Malachi for several years now, she always made an effort to keep her distance from humans. The human language was rich in nuance and subtlety, and she could not be sure if the man named Hollister was serious.
“Good. Now since I have saved your life, it would be easier if you returned to your jail. Wait until morning, when it will be safer for you to venture to your train.”
“Sorry, I can’t do that. I need to find the kid.”
“I told you, he’s already dead,” she said, puzzled at why he would doubt her.
“So you said,” he stood slowly, the pistols maintaining their aim at the center of her chest.
“I don’t understand… If he’s dead…”
“I’m afraid I can’t just take your word for it. I’m going to have to find it out for myself. Now, I appreciate what you’ve done here and in Torson City. You probably saved our hides with those Utes. But I need to find Billy,” he said.
“If you go into the saloon you will die,” she said.
“Then I guess today is my day for it,” he said. “Now, kindly step aside.” He took a step toward her, holding the guns steady. In reality he was squeezing the handles so hard he wasn’t sure he’d be able to fire them even if he wanted to. She didn’t move, and he was sorry for that as he didn’t know what his next tactic would be. His only hope was that she wouldn’t try to use the big knife on him.
“There are four Archaics inside this saloon. They are waiting for you to come in. You’ve killed two Archaics tonight. That is far more than any single human has done in centuries. You’re too late to save the boy. He has already been fed upon. Walk in this door and you will die. I cannot make it more simple than that.” She watched his face expectantly, waiting and wondering what he would do next.
“I’m still going after the kid,” he said. “Maybe I can save him.”
“He cannot be saved. You can only die,” she said.
He was only a few feet away from her now, and even in the soft moonlight he could see the lines of her face. She was stunning. He knew he needed to focus, but his mind was all jangled up, trying to figure out why she was here. Why she had saved him twice and what her endgame was.
There was nothing else to discuss. He moved to his left to go around her and enter the saloon.
If he had to, he would shoot her.
Chapter Forty-one
Shaniah was surprised at Hollister’s reaction to being pulled back from the saloon door. Most humans had horrible reflexes, and were she so inclined, he could have been dispatched with little effort on her part. But Hollister had reacted quickly, like a cat, rolling on the ground and rising smoothly, his guns still out, ready to fire. This human confused her. He was sure to die if he entered the saloon, but he seemed determined to do it anyway. All in pursuit of a child who was likely already dead or well on his way to death.
Hollister had been or still was-she wasn’t sure-a military man. She wondered if he considered it his duty to find and protect the child. Regardless, for him, entering this saloon would only result in his demise. And if she let him, she would be that much further from finding and stopping Malachi. She had to keep him out of the building.
Her plan almost worked. He circled to her right, his guns still pointed at her, not yet convinced she was here to kill him. She remained rooted to her spot.
“Are you going to move? Or do I have to shoot you?” he asked.
“You won’t shoot me,” she said.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because if you kill me, you’ll never find Malachi.”
“Who’s Malachi?”
“The Archaic who nearly killed you in Wyoming four years ago. Tall. Long white hair.”
She was not expecting the reaction she got.
Hollister’s face turned white, then seconds later red again as the heat rose in him.
“It was you! You were there! Why?” he demanded, his voice low.
As he spoke, his left hand wavered and the Colt dropped slightly, no longer pointing at her chest.
Shaniah made her move.
Her plan worked, at least partly. She grabbed for the Colt, her hands moving like a cobra. She twisted both pistols from his hands, but the major shocked her again. Almost as if he’d been expecting it, he pulled the long knife from his belt and held it at her neck. She dared not move.
“I read somewhere your kind has an aversion to pointy sharp things,” he said.
She remained silent.
“Now. Very slowly turn the pistols around, handles first…”
“Major… you have to trust me. I know you are after Malachi. I can help you.”
“Help me what?”
“Find him.”
