Dusty clicked his tongue, then went and grabbed his cane. "Well... that's not something you see everyday." He twirled the thing lightly. I was in a place of weird equilibrium. I had been battered so much, in a short amount of time that I actually think I might have been in shock. I went over and poked the bone dust. The gray little pile was poofy and moved like flour. A shadow leaked from the pile and I jumped like I had been galvanised.
Dusty spoke to me, running a comb through his short blonde hair and mustache. "Don't worry, boy. It's quite dead. Nothing survives being drained in such a fashion." Then he cracked me lightly on the head with the crown of his cane. Not lost in the battle rage, it smarted something fierce.
I cried out and clutched the top of my head. "Whadya do that for?"
The dapper man clucked his tongue. "Consider this your first lesson. If you are pursuing a person or creature, do not EAT something that can provide you information."
He attempted to wipe some of the blue jelly stuff from the breast of his white vest then flapped his hand in irritation. "Dash it all. This will have to be replaced. Ah well, c'est la vie." He turned his attention back to me. "Well, c'mon lad. Let us attend to the damage." With that he walked over and knelt next to Ms. Kary. "Miss, are you well?" When she nodded, her eyes still large as saucers, Dusty reached under her arms and helped the woman to her feet. "There we are. Movement helps these situations, more often than not."
She looked at him, her coffee colored skin as pretty as always. "What was that... thing?" She managed to stammer out.
Dusty began brushing her off, like she was a toddler who had taken a fall in the yard. "It was called an Enenra. They are normally native to the Orient but with all of the recent immigration I suppose it drifted this direction." He smiled at her. "I suppose that this calls for a bit of praise though. Only two types of people can survive an attack like that, or even remember it. Those who are monsters themselves or those who are pure of heart." His face broke into a grin. "You do not happen to be a wolfman, do you?"
With that he lead her downstairs and began explaining things as he poured out 2 glasses of brandy and then a bumper of wine. Funny enough, he pushed the brandy toward us, on the other side of the bar. 1 for Ms. Kary and 1 for me. "Knock those back, will you? I have found that it helps settle things. "Now, Ms. Kary. I hate to run on this note, but do you have spare horses?" He swallowed his wine, and made a face. Apparently the wine said something offensive. Then he continued. "As you can see, the boy is not safe here."
Ms. Kary still looked shaken. "Those people... what did that thing do to them? They just aren't there anymore." She squeezed her glass till her knuckles were white. Dusty reached over and poured her another snort and motioned for her to drink it. She obliged then asked, "What do I tell Jarrod's wife? What about that other man, Malcom... he had a son. And Mrs. James, she ran a barbershop at the edge of town. What about..."
Dusty laid a hand on hers and squeezed it gently. I sat silent, thinking about her questions. What did you say to something like that. Hi, I shot your loved one then they were turned to dust by an Oriental shadow monster? That didn't exactly sit well. Dusty explained. "Like I told you. They will not recall it. At least not the way it actually happened." He poured himself another glass of wine and sipped it. He looked disparagingly at the glass, twitching his mustache. "Awful stuff. Must have been stomped yesterday."
He shook his head and continued. "Most people that were here... their minds will simply fill in the gaps with something that makes sense. A husband met a pretty woman and ran off. A wife met a man and did the same or they suddenly decided to commit suicide via immolation. Or they were simply in a drunken gunfight and they had their loved one cremated or burnt on a pyre." Despite his distaste for the wine he continued to nurse it grimacing with every sip. "Terrible... just absolutely dreadful. Anyway, those who were not in the conflict will either accept it or go and seek answers. But, such is the burden we must leave."
Kary looked like she didn't believe him. She said as much but Dusty merely waved his hand dismissing her protests. "Watch and see. I have done this too many times to count. And other than rare folks like you, Marice, it does not stick. Now, I need to get myself and the boy out of here." For some reason, it suddenly irritated me that he kept calling me boy and son. I had been taught to keep my mouth shut when adults were talking but I couldn't.
"Mr. Holmes, please stop calling me boy. My name is Dodger... Dodger Williams." I squeaked. I was irritated but I didn't want to sound like I was so I tried to hold back and it came at as a squeaky sound.
Dusty blinked at me then laughed. "Well, forgive me, Dodger." He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Your parents named you Dodger?"
I flushed and shook my head. "No, sir. It's because whenever I was in trouble I either asked questions till my daddy laughed or if he was gonna whup me I tried to get away from his switch." I sniffled. "Said I was always trying to dodge the stuff what come from my horsein up."
Ms. Kary began to smile. It wasn't just the fond memory. It was Dusty. His frank nonchalance about these things which seemed so dark, so heavy well they just kind of... lost their gravity, I guess you could say. I mean this dandy was sitting there complaining about the wine and talking about these God-forsaken things like he was talking about the state of the roads or a game of bridge. Made you feel like you were making a mountain out of a molehill. So, Ms. Kary smiled. It was a small smile, barely a twitch of the lips. But it made her seem the confident saloonkeeper she was. "I remember once, about a year ago, he had snuck a whiskey bottle. Just to try it. He apparently had a taste for it because he drank about a fourth of it. When the sheriff came in, little Dodger here was drunk as a newborn colt. But when his daddy went after him, lighting into him with a stern talking to, about to snatch off his belt... Dodger had a response everytime. My favorite was," and here she put on the exaggerated face of a drunkard. It didn't look anything like me, but she barreled on. "But daddy, you drink da whiskey all da time. Once you came home riding da horse in a circle around the fencepost trying to find da fencepost and fell into da water barrel. I could fall into da barrel and still find the fencepost." She laughed then. Ms. Kary had a good laugh. It was a bawdy sound that somehow managed to seem ladylike at the same time. I liked the way it sounded and it always made me smile. "His daddy couldn't argue with it and started laughin. Oh they were a pair those two."
"Well, I could've..." I chimed in, my cheeks turning red. But the thought of my daddy drove my joy right out of my heart. He was still gone and I was in a crypt. The dead in this alcohol filled catacomb I could lay solely at the feet of the man who killed him. The man who wanted me. "I'm sorry, Ms. Kary. I brought bad people to your saloon..."
She hugged me then. Ms. Kary was the closest thing I had to a momma and she held me to her chest and I broke down. I finally let all of it out. Not the bursts of tears that had plagued me up to now. No, this was a full-blown snot jerkin messy cry. That kind of cry your soul, no matter how damned it might be, needs every once in a while. To cry on your momma's shoulder. She shushed me and kissed my hair, telling me it was alright and that everything would be ok. That time heals all wounds and that there was always going to be good in the world. That it wasn't always going to be so black as it was right now. I blubbered on for a good 15 minutes or so and I guess at some point she was cryin with me because when I got done I sat up and my hair was damp. Then I saw the red on her dress.
"Oh, no! Ms. Kary! Are you hurt?!" I asked touching the mass of red liquid.
"No baby... Oh God! Dodger! What happened to your face? My poor baby!" She reached and grabbed a towel and I wiped my nose. My hand came up red. I panicked a bit and then Ms. Kary shushed me again. "C'mon now, baby. Just let me take a look." She used some water from the bucket at the end of the bar and wiped it away. The white towel came away covered in gore. "My god, Dodger! Are you cut? Do you need sewin?" She rinsed the towel and wiped my face again. When she was done, she turned my face this way and that, inspecting me closely while I sniffled, more red coming from my nose. "Oh, baby, you're skin is so clammy. I can't see a wound. I'm gonna go fetch the doctor." She said, her warm brown hands running over my face. She went to stand when the marshal reached across the counter and eased her back into her seat, his hand firm on her shoulder.
"Calm yourself, good lady." He told her. "You don't see a wound because there isn't one." Once again, that calm assurance was in his voice.
"But his face... there's blood everywhere."
"Of course there is." He told her, abandoning the wine and pouring brandy into his glass. "He was crying. Just another sign that the bastard got his claws in good and deep."
"You mean my eyes is bleeding?!" I asked. The aforementioned organs must have been open as a barrel because Dusty quirked an eyebrow. I was coming to understand that this was sarcastic disapproval.
"No. You little rustic. I'm saying your tears is blood, now." The way he stressed the word "is" in the sentence made it clear he was mocking me. "I guess we have time for a talk and a smoke before the word gets about. I'm not going to have you hounding me with basic questions as we ride. I have too much to do and not a lot of time to do it in." With that he grabbed the brandy bottle and the glasses and made his way toward one of the tables. Before she sat, Ms. Kary went and latched the batwing doors and slid the French doors shut, displaying the closed sign. Then she joined us at the table.
Dusty reached into his coat and pulled a match. He struck it on the band of his hat. I learned later the band was actually a piece of sandpaper he kept for emergencies. Though for some time I thought only God knows what kind of emergency could call for sandpaper. Anyway, he lit the match and stuck the cigar in his mouth and took several puffs, getting the end burning. It was a perfect light and Dusty inhaled heavily on the thin brown tube. At his first taste, He looked approvingly at the thing, smacking his mustachioed lips. "Your wine may be horse water, but madam you offer a fine cigar." He settled himself in his chair, leaning back and putting his boots on the table.
"Now, let's begin, shall we?" He puffed and exhaled. "What do you want to know first?"
Ms. Kary and I sat in silence for a moment then I asked. "Why did Sumter kill my daddy?"
Dusty shook his head, taking another puff off his cigar. "I cannot answer that right now. We will have to figure that out as we go along. What I can tell you is that Sumter Allen does not just do things at random. There was a motive behind it."
"Sumter Allen?" Ms. Kary chimed in, stunned. "The outlaw? The real life 'Gentleman Bandit?' Leader of that group... call themselves Highwaymen?"
"One and the same." Dusty told her motioning with his cigar "I saw the scene as soon as I got in. I recognize that work. Sumter meant to do some killing and did everything to make sure he got his man. Also, he left his name carved into the posts of the farmhouse." Dusty explained. He leaned forward and grabbed the ashtray from the table. He was going to set it on his chest then thought better of it and laid it on the floor next to his chair. "But as I've said, he isn't just an outlaw. He's a vampire. A monster that feeds on the blood of his enemies. He is no more alive than this ashtray. Some fell magic keeps them moving about and feeding but their hearts do not beat anymore."
"Does that magic have something to do with what happened to me?" I asked with a sniffle. "I haven't felt right since I woke up..."
Dusty took another long draw. "Good heavens this is good. Been a long time since I've had a cigar like this." He continued. "Yes, he has done something to you alright. He's tainted your blood, Dodger. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately we'll see, Mr. Allen has turned you into a child of two worlds." He leaned forward dropping his feet to the ground and resting his elbows on the table, staring at me intently. "You are now what they call a dhampir or a thinblood or a daywalker. Take whichever one suits you. All of it means the same thing." He looked at me, his eyes serious. "You are no longer human, Dodger. You exist as a vampire, but you still live. The curse has you in its grip but not wholly."
"What does that mean?" Ms. Kary chimed in, pulling me close and stroking my hair. "How did it happen?"
Dusty opened his mouth to speak but I beat him to the truth, speaking into her dress. "He made me drink his blood, ma'am. Only thing it can be." I said. My voice sounded strangely calm. I had acknowledged it. What I had known since it happened. For some reason, it didn't bother me. A thought kept pounding through my head as he puffed his cigar in silence. Only those who are monsters or pure of heart could survive an attack like that. "There was blood in that wine you gave me, wasn't there Dusty?"
He nodded. "You have to have it now. Luckily, since you are not fully damned, you can feed from animals. It was rabbit blood in the wine." He leaned back again and thumped his ashes into the tray.
Ms. Kary was still confused. "How does that work? Some sort of satanic ritual?"
Dusty shook his head. "No, no. Nothing of the sort. No. You see, vampires don't have children like people do. They can't. They are, as I told you, dead." He poured the brandy and sipped it. "Instead they turn people. Make them vampires. Normally, they drain the victim to death. Up until their heart beats its last beat. Then they refill the person with their own tainted blood. After a night underground, the person awakens a new blooddrinking creature of the night. With their full powers and their weaknesses."
"What weaknesses?" I asked excitedly. On hearing that these creatures weren't completely invulnerable I was near to dancing. "Can they be killed?"
"Ah, therein is the rub." Dusty said with a sigh. "It is not that simple. You see, there are different... breeds I suppose you could say. Each of them has their own particular flaws." I guess I looked sort of down because he hurriedly continued "But, never fear. For there are a common set of weaknesses they share."
Ms. Kary piped up. "Daylight, right? They can't stand daylight. I read that in a penny dreadful somewhere."
Dusty nodded. "You cannot trust everything you read in those things but that one is accurate to a degree. In direct sunlight, vampires burn like it was fire, most becoming nothing but charred bones in a moment. Older ones seem to be able to fend off the effects to a degree, though they are not immune. And as long as they can avoid direct sunlight they are fine. Cloud cover, fog, and even murky water is enough to stop the burning effect, though they are still drastically weakened by it. The other one they share is decaptation. You take their head, you take their life." He took another puff. "Still each clan has some special weakness. Some are harmed by garlic, some by bells tolling, most are harmed by trappings of faith. Though most certainly not all of them. Why, I know of one of these creatures that is a priest. Leads masses at night to avoid the sun." He puffed again. "Solid man,that fellow."
I looked outside nervously. "Will that happen to me? Will I burn if I go out there?"
Dusty shook his head. "No. It is one of the benefits of being a dhampir. Sunlight does not harm you, though as I understand it can give you a dreadful headache." He leaned forward again making sure He had my attention. "You must understand, Dodger. You are a rarity. The limits of a dhampir are not truly understood. Most people who drink enough vampiric blood to begin this transformation don't survive it. You were lucky, blessed or the toughest little boy in the territories."
"He's all three of those, marshal." Ms. Kary chimed in again tousling my hair, then pouring herself another snort of the brandy. "You said that these vampires have powers. Like what?"
Dusty swallowed the last of his own drink and suddenly belched. "Oof. Pardon me good madam." He continued after she excused him. "That's hard to say. As I said, there are different breeds. Some control shadows, some have powers of hypnosis. They are all stronger than normal men. A lot stronger. Some stronger than others. They are faster too. Again with varying degrees. Also, as you have seen firsthand Dodger, conventional weaponry is mostly ineffective. Unless the ammunition is prepared right, of course. Enough rounds can put some of them down but it takes a lot. More likely you will simply knock them down or send them into shock. Then have to finish the deed by hand." He looked at the clock on the far wall. "The rest I will have to explain on the road. Ms. Kary, the horse?"
She stood. "Oh, yes. I have a draft horse you could take. She is a bit large but she's tame as a lamb."
Dusty nodded. "You will have to ride on a simple rope and blanket rig for now, Dodger." He told me. "We will have to move quickly." He stood and thanked Ms. Kary for her hospitality then gathered his things and paid the bill. He insisted on paying the bill. She lead us around to the stables and showed us the horse.
"Good Heavens!" Dusty exclaimed when he saw it. "That's not a horse, that thing is a dinosaur! The boy can't possibly ride that!"
"Sure I can!" I told him. "I ride Rosie all the time!" I reached up and patted her on the nose. She wickered and lipped at my hand. Now, in Dusty's defense, Rosie was a Shire, one of the largest of the breed. She was 18 hands high at the shoulder. For those of you who don't speak cowpoke, that's six feet. And she weighed more than a ton. She was a black horse with a lovely white star pattern on her face, that looked kinda like a rose. Hence her name.
Rather than have to ride on a simple blanket and rope setup, Ms. Kary gave me her saddle. She started to the lengthen the stirrups so I could mount the massive beast, but Dusty waved her off. "Jump." He told me. I opened my mouth to tell him there was no way I could do it but before I got a word out, he cracked me with that cane again. "Don't argue. The apprentice listens to his teacher. If you want to learn my trade, you'll do as I say. Now, jump."
In an irritated attempt to show him I couldn't do it I jumped as hard as I could, making like I was going for Rosie's back. When I looked down, I was falling right at the saddle the soles of my boots were a good 24" above the leather seat. I landed with a thump and Rosie gave a whinny and danced a bit in protest at the sudden impact. I stared wide eyed at Dusty and Ms. Kary and clapped her hands over her mouth.
Dusty was readying his own mount, a gray spotted Mustang gelding. When Ms. Kary gasped he rolled his eyes, "Yes, yes. The boy knows a neat parlor trick. We will figure out more as we ride."
As we turned to head out of the stable Ms. Kary suddenly ran toward me and lifted me out of the saddle and gave me a hug. "I'm going to miss you, Dodger. You and your daddy were ny favorite part of this town and now I've lost you both... I am sorry we didn't spend more time together."
I hugged her back. Then for some reason, I told her. "I think my daddy fancied you, Ms. Kary... I think I would have liked it if you had married my poppa." Then embarrased I turned and jumped onto Rosie and galloped out of the yard, and for a time out of the place I had called home.