Between the Marshal & the Vampire Page 4

  Settling into the familiar grip of a saddle appeared to sharpen Clay's awareness, for he sat straighter and gripped the reins suddenly before twisting around in his saddle. He relaxed when he saw Mariel waiting beside him on her horse.

  "I'm sorry," he murmured. He passed a hand briefly over his face as if fighting off exhaustion but then straightened again, resolve burning in his whiskey-colored eyes. "I'll get us out of this, Mariel."

  "It's alright," she told him, watching from the corner of her eye as Vellum smoothly mounted his own horse. The vampire moved like liquid but she hadn't forgotten his incredible speed. He could move faster than a striking rattler. "I told him we'd go with him. He promised to let us go at Everton Fort."

  Clay clenched his jaw at that, but nodded stiffly. "We'll see."

  "We're not going to make another escape attempt," she whispered to him, though Vellum had already proved he could hear them no matter how quiet they thought they were being. "I can't risk losing you. Please…we're safer now that Vellum eliminated Beaufort's gang. Even you have to admit that."

  Clay didn't look to be in a mind to say anything positive about their current situation. He faced forward, his shoulders stiff, back ramrod straight. He looked ready launch himself from his saddle directly at Vellum.

  "Let's move along," Vellum said from ahead of them. "We'll travel until dawn and then make camp."

  "Where's my gun?" Clay demanded as he and Mariel's horses fell into step bracketing the crate hitched to the back of the vampire's horse.

  "In my safekeeping, Marshal. I'll return it to you upon reaching the fort."

  "If I can't kill you with it why not give it to me now?"

  "You can't kill me with it, that's true. However you could inconvenience me with it, and that I won't allow. You'll have your gun back in due time."

  In the distance, Mariel could just make out their disabled train, glowing like a line of hanging lanterns in the dark. She wondered what the other passengers would do and how long help would take to reach them.

  "Why are you going to Scar Tooth Mountain?" she asked Vellum as they crossed the moonlit desert.

  "I have business there."

  She frowned at the unhelpful answer. "What business could you have in uninhabited mountains?"

  "Who says they're uninhabited?"

  She wished she knew more geography. Her sheltered life in Willowtown was more than an embarrassment; it was a hindrance.

  "Why are you dragging this box with us?"

  "Haven't you figured it out yet, Mariel?" Vellum glanced over his shoulder at her. The moonlight highlighted the aristocratic smoothness of his face. "It's where I sleep when the sun is out."

  She couldn't help glancing at Clay, who'd tensed, causing his horse to shake its head.

  "You won't be able to kill me while I'm in there," Vellum continued, almost pleasantly, "so I suggest not wasting energy trying to come up with a scenario in which you'd succeed."

  "Scar Tooth is over a month's travel. How do you expect to keep us alive if you're going to be bleeding us?" Clay demanded. He rubbed his free hand fretfully over the empty gun holster lying along his hip.

  "I'm very experienced at feeding from men. And women, too, of course. Don't concern yourself, Marshal. I won't drain you dry. I have a vested interest in your continued good health."

  "That makes me feel so much better," Clay said dryly.

  "I'm pleased to hear that. I want you in a good mood, Marshal. If we're pleasant to each other, this journey will go that much faster."

  Clay subsided into grumbling, but Mariel was fascinated by their captor-host. Who would have thought a terrifying monster who subsisted on the blood of men and women could be so polite and intelligent? It made no sense to her. She dared to air a theory that had begun to form in her head.

  "Were you once an ordinary man?" she asked him.

  Vellum didn't turn around, but she heard his quiet laughter. "Yes, Mariel. I was once ordinary. A long time ago. Now, as you see, I'm extraordinary."

  "By choice?" she asked, watching him closely.

  "What is choice but the illusion that life has fallen into place to allow us options? Nothing of this life is a choice. We're all fated to walk the paths we walk. Even you and the Marshal were always destined to ride with me. Resisting will do you no good."

  "So you remember what it feels like to be human," Mariel pressed.

  Vellum turned, putting his face in profile to her. "I remember nothing of that time."

  ~~~~~

  They rode for hours, until the adrenaline from the attack and their failed escape drained completely from Mariel's veins, leaving her exhausted and swaying in her saddle.

  "We need a break," she heard Clay say. "She's about to fall from her horse."

  Mariel straightened up. "No, I'm fine."

  "She can ride with you, Marshal," Vellum said. "No breaks until sunrise. If we're all on the same sleep cycle we'll all enjoy each other's company that much more."

  "You don't need her," Clay insisted. He held something in his hand that flickered brightly in the moonlight. A knife? A small pistol?

  "I need you both, for reasons both practical and not," Vellum said.

  "What does that mean?" Clay's horse danced sideways beneath his agitation.

  "You'll find out soon enough, Marshal."

  "The Empire will come after you for this. You realize that, don't you?"

  "Do you really want your colleagues to pursue me, knowing what you do of my abilities?"

  She watched Clay stare down at whatever it was he held in his hand. He shook his head. "No, I guess not."

  "I knew you were a smart man when I first laid eyes on you, Marshal."

  Vellum's tone had been free of mockery, but Clay's mouth still twisted downwards at the compliment.

  He moved his fingers, allowing Mariel to glimpse what he held. When she realized what the dark stain on it was, her heart settled heavily in her chest.

  "He seemed to be a good man," she murmured, "from what I knew of him."

  "He was a very good man," Clay agreed quietly as he stroked his thumb over the face of the silver star badge. Bits of dried blood flaked off the metal and were carried off into the night. "He took me under his wing when I first joined the Marshals. I trusted him with my life."

  "Was he married? Did he have a family?"

  Clay shook his head. "Not many Marshals have family. It's not encouraged because of the danger. Darrell had a sister, though." He pocketed the star. "I'll give this to her, assuming the nightwalker keeps his word."

  "I'm better at keeping my word than you apparently are, Marshal. And if you call me 'nightwalker' once more, I will tie you to your saddle."

  "The horses need a rest," Clay snapped as he glared angrily at the back of the vampire's head.

  For long minutes, Vellum didn't reply. Then he nodded decisively and brought his horse to a halt. "I agree."

  The thought of kicking her horse into a gallop and racing off flashed through Mariel's mind when Vellum dismounted, but the fantasy didn't linger in her head for long. She and Clay would gain a small head start, but eventually Vellum would catch up to them, either on horseback or by foot. Maybe he could fly. She had no idea what vampires were fully capable of. So with a small groan of discomfort, she slid out of the saddle, as did Clay.

  Stretching her legs reinvigorated her some, though she remained beside her horse, watching as Vellum checked on the condition of the crate.

  "It's a coffin," she guessed. "Isn't it?"

  He nodded as he brushed his fingertips over the lid. "Modified for my use." His dark gaze found her. "I'm not the undead, if that's your fear."

  She flushed. "You're not dead. I—" She caught herself from saying, I felt how warm you are when you were inside me. "You're not like us but you're something else. Something in between."

  He cocked his head as though he liked that. "Something in between is an accurate assessment. Better than a man, but not immortal. I am nearly so, howeve
r," he added with a sly grin at Clay. "Immortal, that is."

  The Marshal stretched his back, arms raised over his head. "There's a way to kill you and if all goes well I'll find it eventually."

  "No," Mariel said sternly, "You won't." Clay would get them both killed with his stubbornness.

  "He doesn't trust me as you do, Mariel," Vellum said softly, watching Clay. "Then again, he doesn't know me as well as you do."

  Vellum moved away from the crate, his steps measured, like those of a prowling wolf. A warning cry rose to her lips as she waited for the vampire to attack Clay. Instead, Vellum veered left to approach her. Clay tried to block his way but the dark-haired male merely pushed Clay aside as though he were a weightless boy and not a tall, muscled man.

  Clay cursed but Mariel held up her hand to stop him from coming to her rescue. She didn't need rescuing. The look in Vellum's eye didn't promise pain or danger. Maybe those things would have been better, actually. As she looked up into his strong face, she couldn't deny that she was intimidated. Vellum was beyond the realm of her understanding, not only because of his physical ability and need to drink blood, but because he made her hyperaware of herself as a woman in a way she'd never experienced before, except perhaps in a few choice instances with Clay. Not even her deceased husband had made her this aware of the sensuality inherent in her body, in her breath. Was this the work of Vellum's power? His thrall? Or did she feel these things naturally?

  "Thank you for trusting me," he said softly as he stood before her, trapping her against her horse like a mountain of night. "It seems you'll be the one who keeps the two of you alive."

  "Pretty words until it comes time for you to drain the blood from our bodies," Clay said cuttingly from a few paces away. "Mariel trusts you because she's good-hearted. I don't trust you because I've seen what your kind can do. I'll be watching you, vampire, and make sure you treat her right."

  "Believe it or not," Vellum said after surprising Mariel with a wink, "I admire that about you, Marshal. Mariel deserves a man of your ilk."

  He stepped away from her then, and it was as though the sun broke through the clouds. A feeling of suspension, like thunderclouds about to dump their payload of rain, lifted, allowing Mariel to breathe easy once again.

  Clay immediately stepped in to fill the void, his whiskey-colored eyes soft with concern. His large hands were warm and comforting as he pulled her into his arms and held her. "It'll be alright," he murmured against the top of her head. He rubbed her back gently. "I won't let him hurt you. It'll be alright."

  He smelled of horse and gunpowder and masculine sweat. She realized that in contrast, Vellum had smelled of cool earth and little else.

  She felt Clay kiss her temple. The desire welled in her to surrender to his strength and allow him to take care of her. He wanted to. She sensed it from him like a yearning, as though he felt he was half a man if he couldn't be her strong protector.

  She tilted her head back to look up at Clay and admired the firm line of his jaw as he warily watched Vellum. Without thinking about the consequences of it, she reached up and cupped his cheek, drawing his surprised gaze.

  "Please stay alive with me," she whispered. She stroked along his stubble-covered jaw. "Please don't leave me alone."

  Frustration shaded his eyes for a moment but it dissolved behind a firm determination. "We'll both stay alive." He turned his face slightly, until his lips found the center of her palm.

  His lips were warm as Vellum's had been, and slightly chapped, but all the more human for that. He kissed her palm as he held her gaze. There was more than a promise to keep her alive in that gaze.

  "When we're together in Everton, I'm pampering you," he told her in a low voice. "A night at a show and the best dinner in the fort. And I'll buy you a dress to wear for the occasion. Something made of velvet, not this gingham."

  "Fear turns you into a romantic," she teased, but she was thrilled by the words. She believed that Clay meant them. Lord, I hope I survive this so we can do as he's promised.

  As if he'd heard her thoughts, Clay looked to Vellum. The vampire stood eerily motionless beside his horse, moonlight casting part of his face in shadow. But it was clear that he watched them like a hawk might watch a pair of rabbits. Rather than the fear she knew she should feel, Mariel shivered for an altogether different reason. A fleeting fantasy of Vellum storming up to her and tearing the bosom of her dress open made her heartbeat leap. But the fantasy didn't end there: in it, Vellum seized Clay by the back of the neck and forced the handsome Marshal's face against her bared breasts, where Clay's tongue curled delicately around a nipple.

  Shocked by her thoughts, she was rougher than she intended in breaking from Clay's embrace and pushing him away from her.

  He frowned at her behavior but only for a moment. His attention was all for Vellum. "When do you intend on feeding from us?"

  "No need. I've fed well tonight."

  "Beaufort's men?" Clay asked sharply.

  Mariel held her breath in dread. How would Clay react to the news that Vellum had fed from her? She was afraid the last of his already thin restraint would snap.

  "Turns out they were good for something," Vellum agreed amiably.

  Mariel released her breath in relief, though she studied Vellum thoughtfully. He seemed willing to keep their previous contact a secret. Why? For her sake or for the sake of peace among the three of them? Or had what they'd done registered hardly at all for the vampire? Perhaps he was like Clay in that way, a regular seducer of women. The Marshal surely wouldn't find it too amusing to share that in common with a vampire.

  "Come along," Vellum said before he mounted his horse. "We have miles to go before the sun rises."

  Disconcerted by a feeling that the vampire was only playing with her and Clay, Mariel mounted and rode out. The slithering sound of Vellum's coffin-sleeping crate accompanied them.

  ~~~~~

  It was still dark when Vellum announced they would set up camp, but Clay assumed that the vampire, like he himself, had an innate sense of when the sun would rise.

  Vellum had stopped them beside a small butte where there were numerous hollowed out crags on its north face to provide a decent degree of shade for all three of them. Clay didn't offer to help as the other male unhitched the crate and positioned it deep into the side of the butte so it would be shaded no matter which way the sun traveled. Clay's help wasn't needed anyway; the vampire had the strength of at least three men, which didn't alleviate Clay's concerns in the slightest.

  He glanced askance at Mariel, but she only watched the vampire's preparations with interest. No hint of fear showed on her beautiful face, and Clay had to wonder if she was too ignorant to realize she should be afraid…or if she knew more than he did.

  The latter was likely true. The vampire had already known her name when Clay discovered them together in the cargo car. How long they'd interacted he didn't know, but it seemed to have been enough to shave away Mariel's wariness and convince her the vampire would be true to his word.

  If only you knew what I know, Mariel.

  But he'd prefer to spare her that knowledge, if he could.

  As he watched Vellum hobble the horses, Clay assessed the male. He'd already known the vampire was dangerous and could move faster than human thought, but Clay hadn't known a vampire could look as Vellum did. Clay had always assumed they were misshapen, monstrous creatures, or that if they did took human form, the horror of their natures was evident in their appearance.

  But Vellum looked like a man, albeit a pale one. His dark hair was thick and lustrous, his skin healthy-looking. Despite his literally thin diet, he was built as strongly as Clay, and was maybe an inch or two taller. And he was attractive, which really stuck in Clay's craw. Vellum was a male who'd be competition for women if he and Clay were in a saloon together.

  But they were out here, with only Mariel for company.

  It was then that Clay realized why he was so concerned for her: he could see that the
vampire and she had made a connection. It wasn't plain curiosity that caused her eyes to track the vampire's every move. She found him attractive. Maybe his thrall continued to work on her, compelling her interest. Or maybe it was Vellum himself, who was definitely attractive enough to garner such attention from her or any woman. Hell, even Clay found himself glancing from time to time at the vampire with something other than wariness.

  Clay's fears that he and Mariel wouldn't make it to Everton Fort took on a new nuance. Maybe Vellum would decide to keep her for himself.

  "Alright, Marshal. Mariel. Time for sleep." Vellum studied them both for a moment, sizing them up. "I want you to be well-rested in the morning, so hog-tying you isn't going to be an option."

  "Thank the Lord for small kindnesses," Clay drawled.

  That drew a twinkle from Vellum's eyes that made Clay uncomfortable. Last thing he wanted to do was provide amusement to the vampire.

  Vellum pulled a pair of bedrolls from the horses. They'd belonged to Beaufort's men but Clay wasn't of a mind to be picky if it'd spare him from sleeping flat on the dirt and rocks. Vellum spread the blankets into a makeshift bed and uncoiled a rope around the area to deter snakes. Wouldn't do for the food to become contaminated with snake venom, Clay supposed.

  Finished with his preparations, Vellum said to Clay with a polite smile, "Kindly remove your boots, Marshal, and hand them to me."

  Having anticipated as much, Clay didn't complain as he did as asked, though he did grit his teeth when Vellum's fingers brushed his as Clay was handing over the boots. The vampire's fingers hadn't been cold like that of some undead creature, but had been warm. Warm as any man's.

  "Thank you, Marshal."

  Vellum placed the boots inside his sleeping crate, at one end. He then turned and smiled at Mariel. "I won't ask the same of you. I trust you."

  She didn't smile, but Clay was worried to see her nod, very slightly. Vellum was winning her over. Clay had to keep an eye on that.