Night of the Wolves (7 page)

“So you fought with them?” Cody asked.

Tall Feather nodded gravely. “Many of our maidens were at the stream. They were set upon by the outlaws, and our young warriors heard them screaming and ran to save them. We killed several of their kind, but they killed one of my warriors, as well. He was buried in the caves, as is our custom. But soon after that, my daughter Gentle Doe, who had loved the warrior and awaited his payment of ponies for marriage, began to see him by night. Then, last week, Gentle Doe vanished into the darkness. I will not see her again.”

Cody hesitated. “How do you know that?”

Tall Feather offered a sorrowful smile. “We smoke the pipe, and the dreams and visions come to us, Cody Fox. We see what others cannot. My daughter is…dead. At least to me. This I know.” He hesitated. “Now I fear for another warrior, for he has been ill. He tells me that he has visions of my daughter. He fears to tell me the whole truth, but I believe that the vision attempts to seduce and lure him from his resting place.”

Cody said, “I believe everything you have told me, and it fits with what I know of the evil terrorizing this land. The monsters must be found and routed out, and I believe you will understand my methods more than many a white man would. There are men like you and I who ride with those who are…diseased, because the diseased men need the help of those who are not tainted. But it’s often difficult to tell the difference between them. This is a Spirit World enemy, Chief Tall Feather. Brendan and I have brought you some new weapons that you and your men must use. We have stakes as sharp as spear points—and your own lances must be made equally sharp. A single bullet, even in the head or heart, will not kill the diseased men—or women—though many bullets or arrows will wound and weaken them. Once they have fallen, they must be destroyed completely. The head must be severed from the body, the heart cut from the chest. We have brought you army swords, to make this task easier for you, and knives that work just as well. It is not easy to sever the head from a body, but it is necessary. Also, the enemy may come in daylight, but they are far more powerful at sunset and by night.”

The chief gave him no argument, simply nodded gravely.

Cody hesitated, then went on. “When someone has…disappeared, he—or she—cannot just be welcomed back with open arms. You will know if they are…infected. Their eyes will be different. They may look perfectly normal otherwise, but their eyes will give them away. But when the infection is new, as it is…with any of your people, they will not know how to handle it. They will not be good at guile and pretense, and you will know they are not…as they were. Do you understand?”

Tall Feather stood stiff and straight as, again, he nodded. Then he spoke.

“An Apache warrior knows that he may die in battle, whatever that battle may be. A diseased warrior who fell in battle against evil will still be accorded the honor of one who fought well, even if he lost.”

Cody was aware that someone else had come into the tepee. He turned and saw a young maiden in bleached white buckskin, her hair arranged in shiny black braids, bearing pottery cups. She dipped liquid from the pot above the fire.

“I will accept your gifts, but first we will share a welcome drink,” Tall Feather said.

“Thank you,” Cody told him gravely. He was anxious to get started, and worried about what might be in the pot. The Apache were not averse to hallucinogens.

“There is more, Chief Tall Feather. You must take us to the grave of your fallen warrior.”

Tall Feather frowned, about to argue.

“Chief, we believe he may have been tainted. He will not be strong yet, but in time, he might taint your entire clan,” Brendan said gently.

The young woman handed Cody a steaming cup. He
smiled his thanks, and she blushed. “This smells like coffee,” he said.

Tall Feather grinned. “It
is
coffee. We knew you would come, and we wanted to make you welcome.”

They drank the coffee, praising its taste—despite the fact that they ended up chewing on the grounds. When they had finished, Cody rose. “Tall Feather, forgive me, but it’s imperative that I see your dead warrior. He is a danger I can stop.”

“It will be as you say. Come. I will send for the horses.”

I
T WASN’T EASY FOR
A
LEX
to get Dave to ride out with her.

He and Cole were talking when she got to the sheriff’s office, but he made himself scarce when she entered. Cole greeted her with a hug, offering his sympathies on her father and her fiancé. She hugged him back with equal warmth. A lot of people, including her father, had always thought that she and Cole should get together, that they would have made a perfect couple. What they didn’t understand was that, though she and Cole loved each other, it wasn’t a romantic love. They were both only children who had lost their mothers when they were small and grown up lonely. He was like her brother, and you didn’t marry your brother.

She sat down across from him as he went back behind his desk, grinning pertly as she threw her legs up on the desktop and eased back.

“I must say, Miss Gordon, that all that time you spent back in Washington didn’t do much for your manners,” he teased. “What are those feet doing on my desk?”

“Resting,” she said with a laugh, but then she grew serious. “I need one of you to take me out to the place where my father died,” she said.

Silence greeted her words.

“I won’t be leaving the limits of this town again,” Cole finally said. “Not anytime soon. I leave, and that band of filthy thieves comes in. Thank God for those two fellows from back East. And speaking of them, I sure hope they get back from wherever they went in time for the town meeting I’m planning for tonight. The men in Victory can’t be cowards. They have to step up and fight.”

“I’m sure they’ll be back. The trouble out here seems to be the reason for their appearance in town, after all,” Alex said.

Cole nodded. “And that trouble means this isn’t the time for you to be running around out there. Can’t you go…bake a cake or something?”

“Cole Granger, how dare you?” she demanded as she swung her legs off the desk and stood. “I’ll find the place by myself.”

“Damn it, Alex!” Cole said, rising as well. “Look, right now it’s daytime—”

“And everyone knows the danger comes by night. So instead of arguing with me, have Dave take a quick ride out there with me now. Cole, you know me, and you knew my father. I have to see where he was killed…where he was found. I have to know what happened to him. I don’t believe it was Indians, but I need to be certain.”

Cole thumped his fist on the desk, staring her in the face. “Alex, God help us all, I know who killed your father. The outlaws. Milo and his crew. And I mean to bring them to justice. So you need to stay here and stay safe, and let me do my job.”

She turned away from him. “I’m going now. Great to see you, Cole.”

“Alex!”

“Cole?” She turned back.

He was frustrated. “I’ll put you in a cell,” he threatened, pointing toward the two rarely used cells at the back of the room.

“No, you won’t.”

“If your father were alive…”

She smiled sadly. “That’s just it, Cole. He isn’t.”

As she had expected, Cole let out a growl of irritation. “Dave,” he called, and the deputy appeared from wherever he had been lurking.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Alex wants to see where her father was killed, and I need you to—go with her. Just make sure she’s back by sunset. And then…hell, make her bake a damned cake!”

T
HE WARRIOR HAD BEEN
called Running Cat. He had been buried with honor, dressed in his finest buckskin and plumage. His body had been wrapped in buffalo hide, and he’d been placed on a natural shelf within the cave, then covered with rocks.

Only the chief had come with them, but Tall Feather had not helped them remove the stones.

Nor did he speak when they stared down at the corpse, though despite the absolute composure of the older man’s features, Cody knew that he was surprised to see no sign of decay on the body.

“Chief, you won’t like what I have to do next,” Cody told him.

“I will like whatever saves my people,” Tall Feather said gruffly.

Cody looked at Brendan, who nodded.

Quickly, Cody drew a stake and hammer from his pack, then drove the sharpened stake into the warrior’s heart. There was a horrendous sound, a loud, ghastly hissing, and the warrior shot up, his eyes flying open. They were the color of glittering onyx, but scarlet fire gleamed in them.

Those eyes fell on Cody, and a few soft words escaped the warrior’s lips.

Then he fell back.

Cody finished his gruesome work, severing the head. It was enough. He didn’t cut out the heart.

Through it all, Chief Tall Feather stood stoic and silent.

“It is done,” Cody said, standing over the body, which would now begin to decay as it should have days ago.

Tall Feather nodded.

“What did he say?” Brendan asked.

“He said ‘thank you, by the Great Spirit,’” Tall Feather answered.

They turned to pick up the rocks and replace them over the body, but Cody heard a rustling from the far side of the burial ledge and turned swiftly, the stake, still bearing a trace of blood from the warrior, at the ready. He saw her, and his heart sank.

It was a maiden, a stunning Apache maiden with huge dark eyes and gleaming black hair. She had strong, beautiful features. All that marred her beauty was the look of madness in her eyes, the fire that burned at the back of them—that and the contorted twist of her features, which spoke of nothing but rage and pure hatred. She bared teeth that came to a fine point.

Tall Feather turned then, too, staring in horror. He cried out in pain and misery.

He spoke, and though Cody didn’t know much of his
language, he understood the man’s meaning. This was his daughter, his lost daughter Gentle Doe.

And she was indeed lost to him forever.

There was no help for it; she was about to attack, and she was fueled by full-blown rage. She had lain silent during the staking and decapitation of her lover, but in the end it had proved to be too much for her. She wouldn’t have understood that he had already been dead—that she herself was no longer among the living. The word “vampire” didn’t even exist in her language, much less her mind, and she had become one without knowing that the hunger it created would drive her to murder her own people.

There was no choice.

In another second, Tall Feather would be taken, or killed.

Cody spun, the stake pinning her directly in the heart.

Tall Feather let out an anguished cry. There was nothing Cody could do to save the chief from having to watch as his daughter reached out to him while death throes racked her body and her face contorted further in pain. Her death had been so recent that she wouldn’t crumble into dust and ash, but, like the warrior, would begin to decay naturally.

Tall Feather reached out to his daughter, his expression both beseeching and welcoming.

The innocence and beauty of youth were back in her eyes, along with recognition and pain. And love.

Then her eyes closed, and Tall Feather howled, the sound deep and shattering.

Cody stepped between him and his daughter, then eased her down to the pallet where the warrior she had loved in both life and death still lay. He quickly drew his knife and
severed her head. Then, while Brendan set his hands on Tall Feather’s shoulders and forced him outside, Cody respectfully arranged the remains of the lovers, ensuring that they would go together into the next world.

He hadn’t known either of them or, until this morning, Tall Feather, and yet he felt great sadness for the father, a compassionate man in a world of violence, who had lost both a daughter and a man who would have become a son.

He replaced the stones that sealed the burial place.

When he stepped out of the cave, the other two men were mounted and the sun was just beginning its descent in the west. The first glorious streaks of sunset were already painting the sky.

“I must hurry back to my people,” Tall Feather said, his expression stoic and his back straight atop his mount. “And you must return to yours.” The Indian nodded gravely to them and turned his horse’s head toward his village.

Cody climbed quickly into the saddle. They did need to return to town. When the sun fell, the heat of the day disappeared with surprising speed, and the pink-and-gold-streaked sky would turn to darkness—and shadows.

A sudden sense of urgency filled him, and he kneed his mount into motion.

“The chief is right—it’s time to get back,” he said to Brendan, and their horses began a swift thundering across the plain, the animals’ hoofbeats matching the pounding of his heart.

A
CHILL WIND SEEMED
to sweep the plain as they reached the spot where her father had breathed his last.

They were just east of the woods. A hard ride downriver led to John Snow’s trading post, while bracken, brush and pine forest led off to the west. They could see the cliffs that shielded the Apache camp but not the camp itself; they might as well have been in the middle of nowhere. Truthfully, even in the center of Victory, Alex reminded herself, they actually
were
in the middle of nowhere. Here, alone, with the whisper of the trees in the background, the sky overhead and the plains seeming to stretch forever, a waving sea of tall grasses, the world seemed a vast and mysterious place.

“There,” Dave said, and pointed to a spot where the grasses seemed deepest. “Right there is where we found him.” He looked away from Alex. “He was cold, Alex. We couldn’t tell when he had died.”

She dismounted and walked to the place Dave had indicated, where she sank down to her knees. She had been afraid she would burst into tears, wondering how he had ended up dying here, all alone. He should have grown old; she should have been there to hold his hand at the end. It hadn’t been his time.

She didn’t cry, though. Instead she felt the breeze touching her cheek. A wave of nostalgia swept through her, and she just wished she could let him know how much she loved him, what a fine man and fine father he had been.

She looked up at Dave. “How did he die?” she demanded.

Dave dismounted and came over to sit across from her. He looked at her gravely. “We don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Alex demanded. “Was he shot? Stabbed?”

Dave shook his head. “No.”

“Then what happened to him?” she persisted. “Dave, come on, help me. You’re not making sense. Please, Dave, he was my father!”

“His horse was gone, his personal effects were gone. He might have had a heart attack, and then someone came by…or…someone might have scared him into having a heart attack. Cole thinks it was Milo and his gang, but the truth is, we just don’t know. Things were happening…. Brigsby was dying, and…we didn’t even know what was happening until it suddenly became a ghost town. And your dad…there wasn’t a mark on him. Weren’t no doctor in the town at the time. Jim Green, over at the funeral home, was the closest we had to a medical man. Anything serious, we sent for Dr. Astin over in Brigsby or Dr. Peters in Hollow Tree, but now…” He shook his head as if to clear it of thoughts too terrible to dwell on. “We brought your dad home. We prepared him for burial. And we mourned him. And then we got the news to you as quick as we could.”

She nodded, then looked out across the plain. “Not a mark on him,” she repeated.

“Not that we could see. Jim bathed him and embalmed him for viewing, and he didn’t see a thing. Everyone loved him, Alex. No one in town would have wanted to see him dead.”

They sat in silence. Then, just as she was about to speak, the comfortable quiet between them was shattered by an earsplitting howl that seemed to shake the very earth.

“My God!” Alex exclaimed.

Dave had started, too, and he laughed ruefully at himself. “It’s just a wolf.”

“I’ve never heard a wolf sound like that,” Alex said.

“It must be wounded,” Dave said, and shrugged. But then he looked past Alex and hurriedly got up and headed in the direction of the horses, which had been grazing un-tethered. They had been lazily grazing, but now both animals were prancing and snorting, disturbed by the cry of the wolf.

“Quiet down now, you two,” Dave said, walking toward them.

But as he spoke, the howling began again, so eerie and high-pitched that it was painful.

It wasn’t a single wolf anymore. It was many wolves, and as they let loose their mournful wail, it was almost as if they were giving a cue for the sun to fall.

The sky had been blue. Now, pink and gold streaks suddenly started shooting across it. Then pink darkened quickly to purple, gold to amber.

“Hey!” Dave cried. He’d been trying to soothe his horse, but the gelding was not about to be soothed. It reared, and Dave backed away. “Hey, who feeds you, you bastard?”

Alex hurried toward her own horse, but the palomino mare was backing away. “No, no, not you, Cheyenne,” she said. “Please, come on, baby, it’s all right, it’s me. I’ll protect you.” What a lie. She? Protect the horse from a wolf? Not even if only one wolf was on the prowl. And if a group of hungry wolves were on the hunt…?

She realized she was letting fear set in and forced it back and focused on trying to catch her horse. She had a gun, and she was a damned good shot. She hated killing a creature as beautiful as a wolf, but if it meant survival, she would do it.

“Stop!” Dave cried, and she looked up to see his horse racing off—heading like a maddened being into the woods.

“No,” Alex whispered desperately.

Too late. Her mare looked at her with wide eyes, then took off after Dave’s gelding.

Alex stared after Cheyenne, then turned to stare at Dave, guilt filling her. They were there because she had insisted, and now night was coming. Night, when the evil everyone was afraid of came out to play.

She sighed. “I’m sorry—I didn’t figure on wolves.”

“Think we can catch the horses?” Dave asked worriedly.

“I think we have to. Maybe they stopped once they made it into the woods.”

“Unless the wolves set them off again.”

“Well, let’s go look. We can’t wait here forever for them to come back,” Alex said.

Together, they started walking toward the trees. There were pines and wild oak, with shrubs and an occasional flowering bush. There were trails, because the Apache
sometimes came here to hunt, but they were overgrown and narrow.

As they started down the trail the horses had taken, Alex found herself looking up at the sky, catching glimpses through the trees. Already the pastel colors were fading to darkness. Pink had become magenta, and now even that magenta was darkening.

“Stay by me,” Dave commanded.

“Oh, you can count on that,” she assured him.

He stopped and motioned her to do the same, listening. Earlier a gentle breeze had stirred the air; now it was as if it rustled through the trees with an edge of warning.

She spun around when it sounded as if something large had moved in the brush behind her. “Cheyenne…?” she said tentatively.

“No horse could hide in that bush,” Dave said worriedly.

Simultaneously, they drew their guns.

A black shadow swept across the trail ahead of them, a shadow like the wings of some immense bird. It had to be her imagination, she told herself, a trick of the dying daylight, the time when the sun wasn’t completely gone and yet the moon was rising.

“What the hell was that?” Dave asked, demolishing her hope that it had been only a figment of her imagination.

“I don’t know…. An owl, maybe, or some kind of bird,” Alex said, trying to come up with a rational explanation.

But she didn’t feel in any way rational. It was as if something in the woods had awakened every primal fear that had been lurking unacknowledged within her.

“A trick of the light,” Dave said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

The wolves began to howl again, the sound more high-pitched than she had ever heard, and as loud as if every wolf in Texas had joined the chorus.

Instinctively, Alex whirled around, so that she and Dave were back to back. She held her Colt firmly, her finger on the trigger.

The shadows began to rise and fall around them. She heard a strange swishing sound, as if giant wings were beating unseen just above their heads.

Soon there would be no more shadows, though. For soon the darkness would fall, and the light of the moon wouldn’t be strong enough to penetrate the canopy created by the great oaks and pines.

“Be ready,” she said to Dave.

“I am.”

The sound, like the
whomp, whomp, whomp
of beating wings, was suddenly very close.

Dave fired, then fired again.

“Save it until we can see something,” Alex said. “I have a feeling we’ll be needing all our ammo.”

“Save it until we can see something?” Dave protested, as the light continued to fade around them. “It’s like we’re fighting…invisible birds!”

Alex felt her muscles contract. She could hear those wings again, coming closer and closer. And again that sound.

Whomp, whomp, whomp.

The air around her was moving. Whatever it was, it was coming. She could already feel the caress of the air against her cheek, as if it was about to touch her.

T
HEY WERE GALLOPING
flat out, and Cody thanked God that his horse was sound and healthy. And fast.

Brendan raced close behind him.

They could hear the wolves, and Cody knew it was not the ghosts of long-dead Apaches inhabiting the creatures and crying out in hopes of revenge. These wolves were howling in fear. They were predators, and they knew another predator was loose in the wild, trespassing on pack territory, and the scent of the intruder was driving them insane with terror.

Suddenly he reined in.

“What is it?” Brendan asked, jerking his own mount to a stop.

“A horse—there!”

Cody started forward at a more cautious pace. The animal didn’t move. It stood, trembling, in the tall grass, facing the edge of the forest. He could see the broken brush where it had crashed through from between the trees. Even at a distance, with darkness falling, he could tell that the animal was trembling. It was amazing that the creature’s heart hadn’t burst from exertion.

“Hey there…” Cody said soothingly as he approached the horse.

His own horse was starting to prance nervously, as if he scented something frightening.

Brendan rode up beside him. “That mare is from the boardinghouse stable,” he pointed out.

“I know.” Cody was already leaping down. He unstrapped his large bow from the saddle, along with his quiver of arrows. Brendan followed suit, choosing a sharply pointed stake.

At the edge of the trees, Cody paused. He let the breeze surround him, and he felt the movement of the descending night. Her scent came to him before the sound of her voice.

“Dave, you’re shooting too wildly. We have to hold!” she cried.

“But it
touched
me!” Dave replied.

“We need to make our shots count, Dave,” Alex replied.

Cody could tell that she was close, and even now, with the monsters all around, something about her seemed to call to him, arousing a soul-deep longing in him. She was in danger, but she would never give up without a fight, even though she had no idea what she was fighting and would never believe him if he told her.

What the hell was she doing out here?

He dismissed the thought and called her name.

“Alex?”

“Over here!” she shouted back.

He and Brendan raced in the direction of her voice and found her in fine defensive position, standing back to back with Dave, which might be what had saved them thus far. It was easier for the creatures to pick off a single man or woman, to swoop down and avoid the bullets. Bullets that wouldn’t kill them, of course, but would certainly hurt, causing damage that might last for hours or even days, depending on age and other factors.

He and Brendan hurried to help the others, taking up their own positions. While Brendan fell to his knees, stake held firmly, his arm steady, Cody focused on listening. His hearing was acute, and he quickly located his target and sent the first arrow flying. He was pleased to hear a shrill scream and an erratic flapping as his shaft found its target. The shadow veered off, and he heard it crash somewhere far away.

Again he listened, took aim and fired.

And again.

And then the wolves went silent and the beating of wings stopped. The shadows were gone.

They all went still and silent for several seconds, instinctively waiting to make sure that the danger was truly gone.

“Thank you for another timely arrival,” Alex said. She sounded assured and unafraid.

Damn it, he thought. What was wrong with the woman? She should be terrified.

“What the hell were those things?” she demanded.

Cody didn’t answer her at first. He was too stunned by the strength of his response to her, and finally he swung around to stare at her, shaking with the desire to take her by the shoulders and emphasize his point. “What were they? They were death, that’s what they were. What the hell are you doing out here?”

“This is where my father was killed and I wanted to see the place where he died, not that it’s any of your business,” she responded quickly. She had stiffened like a bowstring and was staring back at him, eyes narrowed, everything about her announcing that he had brought out her defenses—and hostility.

“Cody…” Brendan said warningly, but without effect.