Cat leaned close to her against the bar. “A cloud of dust and a hearty Hi-yo fucking Silver!”
And everybody, save Annabelle, laughed. She looked downright angry. “Would someone
“Silver bullets,” said Father Adam. Then he paused and, with a nod toward Jack, amended, “Holy silver bullets, blessed by the Church.”
“But I thought silver bullets were for werewolves,” Annabelle asked.
“They are,” replied Adam calmly.
Too calmly, thought Jack. He held up a hand to cut off the questions all had turned to ask the young priest. “No!” he barked firmly. “No! I don’t even want to know, Adam.”
Adam smiled, eyed his glass.
“You hear me?” Jack insisted.
“I hear you.”
Jack turned to Carl. “Can you pour the bullets?”
Carl grinned smugly. He sat back down. “Sure, I can pour them. But can anybody here shoot except me?”
Jack frowned. “You’re not going, Joplin. You’re the base man. How many times do I have to—”
“This is different,” Carl insisted. “I’m a marksman. Somebody else could…”
Jack leaned his elbows on the bar and stared him into silence. His voice was gentle but absolutely final. “It’s not going to happen, my friend.”
Carl hated this. “Well, dammit!” he retorted. “Can
“Qualified whenever Uncle Sam asked.”
Carl snorted. “Qualified! Shit! Any fool don’t shoot himself in the foot can qualify!”
“Then good news, everyone,” popped Cat brightly. “I can probably qualify.”
Jack sighed, looked at him. “That bad?”
Cat smiled back. “Pretty bad. I
“But what?”
“It would help some if I was
Jack put his face in his hands. “Oh, great.”
“Jack,” Carl began. “I…”
“Shut up, Carl. You’ll do no shooting.”
Carl laughed. “Like hell I won’t, big boy. I’ll have to just to teach you bums.” He turned to Adam. “Unless you’re a fast draw or something.”
Adam smiled thinly. “They didn’t teach that in seminary.”
Cat nodded. “It’s why
“Quiet, Cherry Cat,” snapped Jack. “Carl’s right. We need the training. Tell me, Crack Shot, how long till we get as good as you.”
Carl took a sip from his glass. “Forever.” He held up his hand before Jack could say anything. “I’m serious. Jack, this is a very different, very special tool. You’ve gotta have a knack for it. A certain touch. I was just thinking that it’s small enough that you could both carry it as a backup. That damn crossbow of yours is too unwieldy and too tough to load in a hurry, and Cat needs something besides those stakes and wooden knives he carries. Always has.”
He sat back, drained his glass. “But neither one of you is good enough to depend on your shooting. If you were that good, you’d already know it. I can teach you to be better than you are. But if you’re serious about this you’re gonna need something else.
“You’re gonna need a gunman.”
Annabelle spoke up. “You’ve already said you need at least two more men.”
Jack looked at her. “At least two.”
“Then one of ’em had better be a shooter,” added Carl.
“Or both,” said Adam.
“Or both,” Jack agreed.
Carl rattled the ice cubes in his empty glass. Jack took it and started to refill.
“The thing is,” Carl mused, almost to himself, “that the kind of man we need, the kind that fits in around here, well, he’s not likely to be good at this sort of thing.”
Annabelle frowned. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Well, no…” Carl admitted.
“You’re good at it.”
Carl nodded, took a sip from his new drink. “I am. An expert pistol shot. But the real gunmen I’ve known… and for our work it’s what we need… real gunmen. That’s just a different kind of a dude.”
Jack stood up suddenly. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He grinned and looked at the others. Then straight at Carl. “Carlos! Everything you say tonight reminds me of something. Silver bullets, and now…”
“A gunman?” Annabelle asked quietly.
Jack ignored the question. “Adam, call the Man and have some silver shipped to Dallas in a hurry. Annabelle, give him the address.”
“I can get us silver,” protested Carl. “Can’t the kid here bless it?”
“Kid.” Adam frowned. “It should at least be a bishop.”
“Okay,” said Jack. “Call the Man. Have him send an ingot or three… Hey! How about a shotgun? Anybody could with
Adam shook his head. “It must be a single bullet. It must be a small one. And it must have been part of a cross at one time.”
“How do you know this?” Carl wanted to know.
Jack did not. “Never mind. How small a bullet?”
“Any pistol will do.”
Jack looked at him. At his confident face. The kid knew his facts, it seemed.
“Okay,” he said. “Have ’em send us enough for a thousand rounds.”
Adam smiled. “How much is that?”
“We’ll know when it gets here. Carl, you sure you can melt the crosses? Pour the silver?”
Carl snorted. “Fuck off.”
Cat, grinning, leaned close to Adam. “Allow me to interpret. ‘Fuck off,’ in
Adam smiled readily, but distantly. Cat noticed it. “You still with us?” he asked smiling.
Adam shook his head, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking.” He looked at Jack. “For over four hundred years… longer, really. But for four hundred well-recorded years man has been fighting vampires. And nobody has ever thought of using silver bullets before.” He paused. “His Holiness was right. You do have good instincts.” And then he blushed and sipped.
And when Cat saw that Jack was almost doing the same thing, he about laughed out loud. But he didn’t, thank God.
“Yeah… well…” mumbled Jack and then, abruptly, shook all that away and raised his glass in a toast. Everyone else did the same.
“Here’s to the great ones…” he began.
“There’s damn few of us left,” finished Cat and Carl and Annabelle and for a single instant, as Adam watched, a look of infinite sadness and… and what? Something else, passed between’ them. What is that look they share? wondered Adam. And then he recognized it.
Fatigue.
Bone-aching, soul-grinding tiredness. Because this job would never, ever, ever be over.
“So!” began Jack, suddenly almost cheerful again. “Tell me about the house in Big D.” The goddamn toast had been just a little too pertinent in this great empty house. “How many bedrooms?”
Annabelle offered him her empty glass. “Seven,” she replied. “And quite lovely.”
“There’s even room for Carl’s hobby,” Cat added, grinning wickedly.
Carl growled, drained his glass. “Hobby, my ass!”
