Dirt.  Dust and dirt.

Jimmy contemplated shaking his head, then thought better of it.  Considering it didn’t even feel like his head was still attached to his body, it was probably better to lie still for a while.  The fuzziness would wear off in a few minutes.  He was sure of it.

He was sprawled amongst the scrub grass at the side of the trail leading to Rock Creek, tiny pebbles and sticks digging into the tender skin on his face.  His entire body felt battered and bruised, and his throat throbbed as though he’d been horse-kicked.  “Can’t… not Sundancer…” he mumbled, barely recognizing the voice that broke the stillness of the early evening air. 

No, not Sundancer.  It was a man.  He remembered the man.  The man who had thrown him to the side of the road like a child’s broken toy. 

Tentatively he raised a hand to his neck, probing for the source of his pain.  His fingers came away sticky with blood.   Feeling weaker than a newborn colt, he lowered his hand to his side, searching.  Yes, the Colts were still in place.   He wasn’t completely helpless.  He’d find Sundancer, he thought, and make his way to town.  Get this wound taken care of.  And then he’d find whoever did this to him… and make him pay.

Jimmy had pulled himself to his knees when a sudden convulsion hit him and he tumbled to his side, clutching his stomach.  “What the HELL…?” he managed to choke out as darkness threatened to envelope him.  Fighting the shadows, he closed his eyes… and remembered everything. 

He’d been returning to town from a visit with Lou and Kid.  Lou and Kid.  Couldn’t say one name without the other anymore, could he?   They were practically joined at the hip anyway.  It wasn’t enough that they got married.  They had to do everything together.  They were putting up fence 
posts for their new corral, Lou arguing the whole time that the corral should be bigger and Kid insisting that it was just big enough for the horses they had. 

He’d agreed with Lou.  Big surprise, that. 

After a light supper, he’d saddled Sundancer and headed on home.  Home.  The word forced a snort from him even in his current pain.  The old bunkhouse – that was his “home”.  Real cozy.  Nobody seemed to care that he was stuck in that drafty matchbox rubbish heap when there was extra room at Kid and Lou’s.  No, his friends will let Jimmy sleep on a lumpy cot.  They’ll let Jimmy spend his nights shivering under a moth-eaten blanket while the north winds scream through the crinks in the wood.  They’ll let Jimmy suffer – hell, suffering’s what he’s good at.

The man. 

He must concentrate and remember the man. 

He’d been riding along at a good clip when he saw the man standing at the side of the road, his horse nipping at the grass alongside him.  “The same grass I’m lyin’ in right now,” Jimmy thought groggily. 

He was tall, with long blond hair that fell to his shoulders in waves.  Girl’s hair, that’s what he remembered thinking.  Girl’s hair, and no jacket to absorb the chill of the crisp spring air.  The stranger wore only a white silk shirt with full sleeves, matched with linen pants of a dark blue hue.  His boots sparkled as though the dust was afraid to touch them. 

Girl’s hair, and no jacket.  Yes, that’s all he remembered thinking. 

Jimmy winced as another spasm shot through his body. 

No, that wasn’t all.  When he’d ridden near enough… he’d seen the man’s eyes.  Every cell in his body had gone into alert.  He’d felt the danger.  He should have rode right past.

But he’d told himself that he was being foolish.  This was a stranger, alone and cold, his horse apparently lame, assuredly a city-dweller not used to the hostile environment of the west… and the man was unarmed.  How could he not stop to help?  What kind of a man would he be if he refused to help an innocent in need? 

“Yes, that’s right,” the man had said, seeming to read his thoughts.  “My horse is lame, and I’ve had nothing to eat for many days.  Surely you will help.”

He’d reined Sundancer to a stop.  Then… a blur.

He’d barely taken his feet from the stirrups when the man was beside him.  Strong hands had gripped his shoulders, long pale fingers digging into the sensitive skin of his neck.  The stranger’s face was inches from his own. 

“So hungry,” the man had said, and his voice was like the sigh of a ghost on the breeze. 

Jimmy‘s head had been wrenched to one side.  The dank breath of the stranger whispered in his ear.  He felt the tiny pinpricks at his neck, and had braced himself for the pain. 

It had never come.  What he’d felt was… indescribable.   Pleasure, more intense than anything he’d experienced before.  His eyes had rolled back, his head lolling helplessly to the side, his ears only dimly aware of the sighs of satisfaction coming from the man who held him in a rough embrace.   Jimmy knew that he was moaning, the guttural whimpers of gratification pulled from him more fully than they’d ever been in a lover’s bed. 

Then, nothingness.  Blackness.  Darkness.  He had reached out imploring hands, blinded by ecstasy, but the source of that overwhelming bliss was gone.  He felt naked.  Alone.  Alone as he’d never been before. 

Jimmy had felt himself spinning through the air.  He was unconscious before he hit the ground. 

Opening his eyes, Jimmy leapt to his feet.  The tremors that had filled him had been replaced by something else.  Something grandiose. 

He could see everything so clearly now.  Oh, not just with his eyes, though his eyesight was sharper than it had ever been.  The branches of the Joshua trees along the trail seemed to bristle with vitality, the varied greens of its leaves shimmering with life.  The dust of the trail sparkled like an angel’s wing.  He’d never noticed that the night had so many colours.

But it wasn’t just that.  Everything was clearer now.   He’d lived his life in a perpetual shade of grey.  But now there were no more ambiguities, no more worries, no more fears.  He knew what he had to do. 

He’d still like to find that man, the stranger that had set him on this new path, this exhilarating and stimulating path.   He’d like to find him… and thank him. 

Jimmy raised a pale hand to his lips, cautiously examining the now-sharpened canine teeth.  His mouth twisted in a perverse approximation of a smile.   Yes, he’d find the stranger, but first he wanted to pay a visit to his “friends”.

He was hungry.
 

Chapter One

Buck stood at the edge of the clearing, head bowed and bared, letting the merciless prairie winds buffet him.

A years worth of those same winds had long ago dispersed the embers of the pyre that had stood at this place.  But Buck didn’t need to see the circle of ash to know where it had been.  Every aspect of that day was burnt into his heart as thoroughly as the flames that had devoured the wood.

He knew that Ike’s soul was free.  Yet as the anniversary of his best friend’s death crept ever closer, he’d found himself more and more impelled to make the journey to the clearing.  What was first a random thought became an overwhelming urge, then an obsession.  He’d given in.  If something held that firm a grip on his heart, he’d learned to listen.

There was nothing here, just as he’d known all along.  Not even the residue of ash remained to remind him of the past.  Still, his spirit was assuaged by the visit.  Buck smiled ruefully, aware that this was yet another custom of the white world that he’d assimilated into his life.  He had already broken with Kiowa tradition by speaking Ike’s name aloud after his death – why not also make visiting with the dead part of his new routine?

Kneeling quickly, Buck scooped up a handful of dirt from the ground and, rising, scattered the dusty soil to the winds.  He murmured a few words in his native tongue – words of healing, words of rest – knowing full well that he spoke the incantations of his people as much for himself as his dead friend.  It was only after he’d replaced his hat and turned to leave the clearing that he heard the noise. 

Jimmy stood at the very edge of the field, clapping his hands together slowly.

Buck stopped, a look of amazement on his face.  He never considered himself a prideful man.  He simply knew his abilities.  And it was unheard of… near impossible… for Jimmy to have ridden up and dismounted without him sensing it.  Without him sensing something.

Buck scanned the area quickly, but the palomino was nowhere to be found.

And the look on Jimmy’s face…

“You all right, Hickok?”

“All right?  Buck, I am MORE than all right.  I am the most ‘all right’ that I have ever been.” 

Jimmy took a step forward, and Buck’s eyes widened.  His friend seemed to glide along the surface of the earth, the dust barely stirring in his wake. 

“But ya know, Buck,” Jimmy continued conversationally, “I am a might worried.  I surely didn’t mean to interrupt your little pow-wow with ol’ Ike.”  Jimmy cocked his head to one side.  “Think he can hear us?  HEY IKE, CAN YA HEAR US?”

“You’ve been drinking at the saloon again—”

“Get off your high horse, Buck.  Everybody knows that it’s the Injuns that always get drunk on the big bad fire-water.  And I am so SICK and TIRED of your pathetic little act.  Poor Buck, not accepted by the whites, not accepted by the Kiowa.  Maybe that’s ‘cause the Kiowa know somethin’ we don’t, huh Buck?  You always said you left… well, I think they KICKED you out.  After your mother gave herself to a white man, why would they want a sorry excuse for an Injun like you?”

“Shut up, Hickok.  You don’t know what you’re sayin’.”

Buck moved angrily towards his horse, trying desperately to keep his irritation in check.  Jimmy’s bad temper always got the best of him when he started drinking, and by the sounds of it, he’d really got into the rot-gut tonight.   But even on Jimmy’s worse days, his anger was normally directed inward.  It was when he was drunkest that he found it most difficult to handle the cards that life had dealt him.  And it was only in his most outrageously drunken stupors that he dwelt on the past… particularly Lou.  He’d never made things so personal before. 

Jimmy’s coarse laughter filled the clearing as he took another step closer.

“Get away from me, Hickok!” 

“Ooooh, are you goin’ to put some Injun spell on me, Buck?  Wave your hands around and talk that mumbo-jumbo like you always do?  I’m scared, Buck.” 

One moment Jimmy was on the far side of the clearing.  The next moment – Buck swore it was only a moment – Jimmy’s hands were clasped around Buck’s neck.   “Oh, I’m REAL scared,” Jimmy whispered.

“What the…?  Get off me, Hickok!”

Buck flailed against Jimmy’s chest, expecting to push the older rider away with ease.  Instead, the flesh beneath the coarse material of Jimmy’s shirt was firm and unyielding.  Buck gasped as he felt himself pulled forward, his toes grasping for purchase in the loose soil.  A cold finger softly caressed his cheek, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.  Fragmented memories of his youth danced across his mind.  Unnatural, his body screamed. Unnatural, unnatural…

With renewed vigor, Buck struggled to launch himself from the vise-like grip in which he was held.

Jimmy’s face suddenly broke into another malicious grin.  “You amaze me, Buck, you really do.  I got you beat, and you still think you can get away.  I love ya!”

The moon was shining brightly.  Somewhere in the distance Buck heard the distinct call of an owl, the ominous omen of his people.  The sound froze his blood.  The echoes of the cry seemed to float on the breeze, rising and falling with the whim of the wind.  He desperately searched the trees for the creature, suddenly certain that if he could only locate the owl, he could banish the terrors of the night.  The tree branches seemed so close, the cacti so near… but the skeletal form of the saguaro was abruptly obliterated by the cold, pale face of Jimmy Hickok. 

To his shock, Hickok leaned forward and placed a loud, smacking kiss on his forehead.  “Yup, I love ya,” Jimmy said again, his voice, Buck realized, coloured by something darker than liquor.  “‘Course, I’m still gonna kill ya.”

Hair and moonlit shadows obscured Jimmy’s face as he bent over Buck’s near-prone body, but his mouth – his teeth – shone brightly in the silvery light of the night.  The pieces of the puzzle suddenly snapped together in Buck’s mind.

“Windigo,” he breathed.

“Well Buck, you can call me whatever you want.  You’re gonna be just as dead.”

Buck barely felt the incisors break his skin. 

The legends were wrong, he thought dazedly.  Not a monster, but not a man.   Not a face so horrific that it sapped one of the will to live, to breathe, to think.  The legends were wrong.  Except for the laugh.  Yes, the laugh was terrible.  And the legends didn’t say how good it felt, how deliriously GOOD it felt…

Buck opened his eyes.  He was being lowered ever so slowly to the ground, his back bent as Jimmy’s lips moved insistently on his neck.  He had one chance, one possible chance… but he didn’t want it to end… not when it was like this…

In a moment of clarity, Buck abruptly arched his back, using his legs to sweep Jimmy’s feet out from under him.  Jimmy stumbled, his mouth wrenched from the life-giving blood, Buck’s shirt ripping apart under his iron grip…

And without warning Jimmy was dancing backwards, cursing, holding his hand to a cheek which suddenly dripped like molten lava.

Buck pulled himself to his feet, swaying with the effort it took to remain upright.  He met Jimmy’s cold glare for a long moment before turning his attention to the medicine pouch that dangled at his neck.  With shaking hands he held the pouch aloft. 

“Still goin’ to make fun of the Kiowa ‘mumbo jumbo’, Hickok?”

If Jimmy had been able to kill with a look as easily as with his newfound abilities, Buck knew he’d have perished on the spot. 

But after a considering glance, Hickok merely shrugged.  “Don’t matter none.”  He removed the hand from his cheek, and grinned at Buck’s astonished expression.  The cheek was healed.  “I’ve got other friends I can visit tonight.  You already gave me what I need.  And I’ll be back.  Never forget that, Buck.  I’ll be back.  You’re a dead man.  Your body just don’t know it yet.”

Buck didn’t look away, but he still never saw Jimmy leave. 

Trying to stay upright, Buck struggled to reach his horse.  He’d left the mare tied to the copse of trees at the edge of the clearing… but the trees seemed to double and triple in size, the clearing wavering in a red haze…

Buck collapsed to the ground, unconscious, his life-blood seeping thirstily into the dry desert soil. 
 

Chapter Two

Jimmy stood quietly in the sheltering shadows of an ancient oak, his breath tracing soft, silvery patterns against the deep blue of the night sky.

He’d been frozen in place for the past twenty minutes, merely enjoying the sensation of the air entering and leaving his powerful lungs.  And he’d been watching, of course.

Cody’s home had likely only been built 10 years before, but it’s dilapidated shape made it appear to be older than Moses.  It was set well back from the nearest trail, a fact that suited Jimmy just fine.  Cody was fond of saying that he didn’t care about the state of the house, since he only used the place when he was on temporary leave and could manage a quick visit home to Rock Creek.

Jimmy’s lip curled in a sneer.  Cody could SAY whatever he liked… God knows it was impossible to get him to shut up anyway.  Jimmy knew the truth.  He knew the pathetic condition of Cody’s living quarters must be driving Cody insane.   Cody, who thought he was SO important, with his ultra-secret army scouting job and his stupid stories in “True Tales of the West”.  Cody, with his chest puffed out in arrogant pride, looking down his nose at the people he’d left behind in Rock Creek.  The people he’d ABANDONED in Rock Creek.

Well, Jimmy thought, Cody was going to discover that things were a LOT different now.  His newly-sharp eyesight easily picked out Cody’s form, hunched over a table in the small, cramped front room of the house.  But his thoughts?  Jimmy’s body tensed with effort as he struggled to pick up even a glimmer of thought from the former rider.  Nothing.  Not even a hint of the emotions colouring Cody’s perception. 

Jimmy sighed, even in his frustration still delighted with the dancing spectre of his frozen breath. The longer he spent in his enhanced body, the more he enjoyed its capabilities… and the more he was able to study and analyze its limitations.  His eyesight and hearing were top-notch, yet the mind-reading abilities that the stranger had demonstrated still eluded him.  He knew such talent was not uncommon to this world.  There were gypsy psychic readers at the fairs, fortune tellers who professed to see and know all.   Was this skill something that grew with time, Jimmy wondered, or were the stranger’s own clairvoyant abilities merely strengthened by his transformation into a creature of blood and death? 

Blood.  A shiver of anticipation tapped through Jimmy’s veins at the mere thought of his upcoming visit with Cody. 

It wasn’t that he hungered for the blood.  The deep cleansing draughts he’d taken from Buck had quenched his voracious thirst… for the moment.  No.  It wasn’t hunger that set his mind and body tingling with expectation.  It was, he realized, something almost as basic and infinitely more primal. 

Desire.  He yearned for the feeling of Cody’s soft and pliant body against the unyielding coldness of his own flesh… for the heartbeat racing in terror… for the look of hopeless desperation fading quickly and silently to rapturous delight.  Desire.  So much more satisfying – and so much more complex – than simple hunger. 

Jimmy smiled.

Making his way to the sagging porch, his passage swift and soundless, he knocked loudly at Cody’s door.  By the time Cody had pulled his body from the chair and answered, Jimmy had schooled his countenance into what he hoped was an open, affable expression.

“Hey, Hickok, what’re you doin’ in this neck of the woods so late?”

Cody opened the door wide before turning back to the scarred and pitted table that dominated the tiny chamber.

“Just wanderin’,” Jimmy replied.  He took a step through the doorway, only to find himself recoiling backward as a wave of disgust and pain swept through his body. 

The sensation was akin to the delicate brush of cobwebs against skin, except in this case the cobwebs were forged in the furnace of a blacksmith’s most scorching blaze.  Jimmy’s head snapped towards Cody as his face filled with rage and fury.  But Cody was oblivious, his attention focused on the items lying on the table.  Even as the searing impression of scorched skin faded, Jimmy raised a hand tentatively to the space filling the open doorway.  The sensitive flesh of his palm was immediately awash in excruciating pain. 

“What’re you waitin’ for, Hickok, the first snow?”

Jimmy whipped his hand behind his back, smiling wanly as his mind desperately tried to formulate a plan.  The dark craving bubbled within him, and he cursed the strange alchemy that kept him from taking his weaker prey.

Cody cocked his head to one side.  “You been into that loco weed again, Hickok?  Come in before you catch your death.”

Jimmy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.  With Cody’s eye on him now, there was no way to avoid attempting another entry into the house.  Inwardly he steeled his body, planning to hit his knee on the doorjamb and throw himself backwards in “pain” if the heated cobwebs attacked his flesh again.  Screwing up his face and his courage, he stepped forward boldly… and sailed easily through the doorway and into Cody’s front room. 

His astonishment quickly gave way to understanding.  An invitation.  That’s all that was required.  And those were easy enough to obtain.  Jimmy smoothed his jacket. 

“Ain’t much chance of me catchin’ my death, Cody.”

“Well, I will if you just leave the door hangin’ open like that!”  With a sigh of frustration, Cody strode angrily across the room, banging the door tight into its frame and sliding the bolt securely into its socket.  At Jimmy’s raised eyebrow, he said, “Been some attacks by highwaymen in the last couple o’ weeks, I heard.  And raiders, ridin’ right up to people’s homes and takin’ whatever they want. Stuff like that never happened when Teaspoon was still marshal.  Can’t be too cautious these days.”

Jimmy felt a slow grin overtake his features.  “Yeah Cody.  You want to be real careful who you let into your house.”

“Yeah.” 

Cody was regarding him with an odd expression.  Jimmy smirked.  Cody would learn soon enough that there were worst things than highwaymen… much, much worse.

But he’d learned a thing or two from his little experience with the cursed Kiowa.  Then, the blood-lust has been fully upon him, the primitive need overwhelming his senses and swallowing his discretion.  He wouldn’t make the same mistakes twice. 

“Been over at Kid and Lou’s today, Hickok?” Cody asked as he returned to his seat at the table. 

Jimmy fought to keep a semblance of amiability on his face as Cody glanced up.   Kid and Lou.  Lou and Kid.  Did everything revolve around those two?  What about him?  What about JIMMY?  No, there was no “How YOU doin’, Jimmy?” or  “Won at the tables lately, Jimmy?”  In fact, Cody likely didn’t care about those things at all.  Jimmy could fall off the face of the earth, and Cody wouldn’t notice… but he’d sure as hell notice if Kid or Lou got a blasted hangnail. 

Not trusting his voice, Jimmy merely nodded before turning his back on Cody and surveying the small room.  It didn’t take long.  The small cot tucked in one corner was in disarray, and the footlocker against the door was locked up tight.  Completing his turn, his body tensed as he noted the raging fire that burned in the large brick fireplace at Cody’s back.  The orange flames flickered and tumbled, eating at the tender bark of the wood, devouring everything and anything in their path…

With a staggering effort, Jimmy pulled his eyes away from the twisting pyre. 

That odd look again.  Jimmy ignored both the look and the questioning gaze in Cody’s eyes.  He strolled casually to the mammoth table, glancing at the papers strewn along its length.  To his surprise, the documents were neither army missives nor reports of troops movements.  He rolled his eyes.

“You’re writin’ again.”

Cody was so caught up in his “accomplishment” that he missed the derisive tone.  “Yup,” he said proudly.  “This one’s called ‘Adventures in the West: The Continuing Exploits of William F. Cody’.  Think that’s too wordy?”  Before Hickok could reply, he continued, “I don’t.  And don’t you think I’m goin’ to leave out my friends.  There’s a whole chapter… well, half a chapter… maybe a quarter of a chapter, but it’s a LOT… about that little adventure we had in Copper Mills last year.  You remember, with the claim jumper.”

“Right.”

Jimmy took a deep breath, letting the stifling air of the tiny cabin fill his lungs.  Getting Cody to talk about his stupid book was just what he needed.  The adrenaline was pumping through the smaller man, making his heart race with excitement over his “masterpiece”.  Each pulse filled Jimmy’s senses, the smell of the blood and the beat of Cody’s heart awakening a throbbing need in his own body. 

“I’m thinkin’ that this is too big for ‘True Tales of the West’, though,” Cody was saying, the sound of his own voice apparently music to his ears. 

Jimmy barely nodded, his eyes closed, lost in the atmosphere of visceral desire created by Cody’s exuberance and enthusiasm. 

“So I might send it off to the publisher that JD Marcus writes for.  Now I know what you’re thinkin’…”

“I doubt that,” Jimmy murmured.

“… But I’m tellin’ ya, Marcus ain’t that bad a guy.  I’ve exchanged a few letters with the man, and he seems truly sorry for all that stuff he wrote about ya, Jimmy.  He says his publisher would probably take a look at it for me.  Thing is, I just ain’t sure it’s… well… good enough.”

Opening his eyes, Jimmy flashed a grin at his “friend”.  “Well, tell you what, Cody.  I’ll be glad to take a look at it for ya.”

“Really, Jimmy?  That’s great, that’s just great!”   Rummaging through the papers on the makeshift desk, Cody finally came up with the almost-completed manuscript.  He ran his hand delicately over the cover, even pressing a quick kiss to the bound parchment, before holding it out 
to Jimmy proudly.  “This is the first draft.  I’m still workin’ on some corrections and additions. That’s what all this mess is.  But I’m pretty happy with what I’ve got so far.”

Taking the papers, Jimmy ruffled through the first few pages, pretending to read and trying to ignore the tantalizing aroma seeping from Cody’s pores as he hung over Jimmy’s shoulder, eagerly awaiting judgment.   The few paragraphs he caught were just as he figured they’d be – worse than a penny dreadful.  Cody’s penchant for exaggeration had not been tempered by age. 

“If you’re lookin’ for the part about Copper Mills, it’s in Chapter Four,” Cody said earnestly from behind him. 

Jimmy flipped the manuscript closed.  “I think I’ve seen all I need to.”

“Well?”

“I can tell ya right now that this shouldn’t be goin’ to no publisher.”

“It ain’t THAT bad, Hickok,” Cody said petulantly, reaching to take back the fruit of his labours.  Jimmy quickly shifted his hand out of the way, enjoying the incredulous expression that spread over Cody’s features.  The movement had felt languorously slow to him, but he knew that he had actually moved so fast that the gesture had been little more than a blur to Cody’s eyes. 

“In fact, I know just where it should go,” he said softly.  Before Cody could do more than open his mouth, Jimmy had moved around the table.  He lifted his hand slowly, laughing at the sound the parchment made as its pages rippled in the gentle air currents moving throughout the room.  Then he relaxed his grip. 

It seemed that time slowed, and perhaps it did.  Perhaps whatever fiend allowed the birth of something like him also had the ability to alter time, just so that his creations could enjoy their devilment all the more.  For it seemed to take an eternity for the manuscript to make the long slow descent into the fire, and Cody’s face twisting in shock and horror during that time was almost more delight than Jimmy could endure.

“What do you think you’re DOING?” 

Cody’s yelp of agony and disbelief was a symphony to Jimmy’s ears.

“I think,” Jimmy said, shoving the mammoth table aside with a casual flick of his wrist, “that I’m puttin’ an end to your dreams of a literary career.”

In two long strides, he had reached Cody.  One hand casually gripped Cody’s neck, pushing him slowly and inexorably into the rough-hewn wall of the cabin, trapping him between the wall and the firm flesh of Jimmy’s body.  Cody’s right hand was crushed between them, while his left scrabbled ineffectually at the cool, hard hand that held him so tightly.  Cody’s eyes bulged as his airway was efficiently blocked, his struggles becoming weaker as his strength dwindled.

Yes, Jimmy thought, I HAVE learned my lessons well.

Tenderly, he let his fingers brush through Cody’s long blonde hair, relishing the multitude of sensations that roared through his body as the silky strands swept across his icy palm.

“Shhhh, I know, I know,” he soothed, lowering his head to the tempting vein that he could resist no longer.  “It’ll be all over soon.”
 

Chapter Three

“Hickok?”

“What?”

“I don’t get it.”

“Now there’s a surprise.”

Cody scowled at Jimmy, former rider and current mentor since his awakening to new “life”.  And that’s exactly what it was, Cody realized.  An Awakening.  He had been reborn, both physically and emotionally.

The physical aspect had almost been too much to endure.  He’d lain, incapacitated, on the rough wooden floor of his cabin, as rippling waves of fire and ice waged war within his body, feeling like a helpless spectator to an age-old battle.   As sinew and muscle screamed in protest at this alien transformation, he could only observe the proceedings through a red-tinged haze.  Jimmy’s face had wavered into focus once or twice, an inscrutable mask of indifference.  Finally, unable to prevent the shuddering sobs from escaping his lips, he’d merely hugged his stomach and prayed for death. 

And death had come. 

Death.  Cody’s lips curled into a smile.  This “death” – this Awakening – was glorious.  Yes, he’d been reborn… as a superior being.  Reveling in his newfound strength and consumed by ravening hunger, he’d been anxious to leave the confines of his shabby chamber.  He wanted to hunt.  He wanted to feed.

The girl had been beautiful, and vaguely familiar.  It had taken him a few moments to place her.  Sarah – one of the new girls that Miss Ruby had brought back with her from her journey to California.  Cody’d been away, so he hadn’t yet been able to pay a visit to Miss Ruby’s to sample 
the pleasures of the lovely Miss Sarah. 

Sarah’s face had been flushed with drink and her eyes unfocused.  Even after he and Jimmy had stopped her buckboard and forced her into the wagon-bed, she’d still been oblivious.  Her long chestnut hair had been elaborately coifed with strands of imitation pearls.  Cody let his hand drift through the rough soil at his feet as he remembered the feel of those jewels against the calloused flesh of his palm… the delicate music they had made after he’d ripped them from her hair and they cascaded in glistening waves to the floor of the buckboard.  And when he’d drawn her close to his chest and taken what he wanted – oh, the exhilaration!  It was more than the scent of her, more than the taste of her, more than the knowledge of her sudden fear mingled with excitement.  It was that, and more than that, and if he had a hundred years and an endless supply of parchment and ink, he knew that he could still never capture in words how it felt.  What it MEANT… to be the creature he now was.

Cody leaned back against the tree trunk, letting his gaze wander from the recent past to the present landscape. 

The corral, only half finished, like a child’s playset left abandoned in the dirt.  The house was large and spacious, each whitewashed board seeming to gleam as brightly as the stars that filled the sky overheard.  The stars… a kaleidoscope of shifting, shimmering gems that sent him into paroxysms 
of delight.  Cody shook his head, reminding himself not to look up at the stars again tonight. Instead, he drew up his knee and turned his attention back to his companion.  Jimmy’s own gaze had hardly wavered, his attention focused solely on the house and its inhabitants.  Cody didn’t mind.  He was sated and content, and willing to wait as long as Jimmy felt was necessary.  As long as he didn’t get hungry again. 

Still, the situation with Sarah bothered him.

“Hickok?” he tried again. “Why’d you make me stop?”

Jimmy’s eyes flicked briefly to Cody’s, a scornful glance and small shake of his head the only indication that he had even heard his companion, before he returned to his vigilance. 

“But ain’t she just goin’ to run to the marshal and tell him—”

“She’s dead, Cody.  She was barely breathin’ when you was finished with her. She ain’t tellin’ nobody nothin’.”

Nodding, Cody closed his eyes.  Sarah’s pulse had been weak, her heartbeat an intermittent flutter against his chest.  His own body had been afire, the warm and heavy current of her blood flowing to all parts of him, a fever of ecstasy.  Clutching Sarah closer still, he had bent his head to his wrist, her body a rag-doll in his arms.  THIS is what he wanted, this girl, this moment… to share what he had been offered, to share this glorious gift.   And when he’d felt Jimmy’s hands grasp him from behind, he’d resisted.  His body howled for the completion of the act, and when Jimmy had thrown him from the buckboard to land facedown in the dirt, he hadn’t felt angry, or upset, or irritated.  He’d felt cheated.  Cheated out of that last succulent taste, the last pungent scent, that final gasp when Death took Sarah’s hand and led her towards the darkness.

Opening his eyes, he saw Jimmy watching him intently.

“We can’t make ‘em all like us,” Jimmy said softly.

“I know,” Cody replied, just as quietly.  But his heart still ached for that last, lost moment.

Putting his back to the homestead, Cody sighed.  “What’re we waitin’ on, Hickok?”

“We need to get ‘em outside.”

“Oh heck, is that all?”  Cody’s smile glimmered in the moonlight.  “Well, I got a plan…” 

“Help!  Lou, Kid, we need some help out here!”

From his position, doubled over clutching his stomach and with Cody’s arm “supporting” him, it was easy for Jimmy to hide his smile. Cody had pitched his voice just perfectly, a subtle mix of fear and anxiety, a tribute to the stage actor he might have been had fate not decided differently.  Within moments, the sweet sound of the front door crashing open filled Jimmy’s ears.  The mice had taken the cheese, but they had no idea what powerful cheese it was.

“Oh my god!”  Lou’s voice carried melodically on the breeze, filled with worry.  Elation and excitement flowed liked nectar through Jimmy’s veins.  Worry!  Yes, she was worried, as well she should be.  Jimmy’s body tensed with the longing to leap forward and take his prize. 

“What happened, Cody?” 

Jimmy sneered at the false sincerity of Kid’s tone. 

Cody’s nervous answer split the evening air.  “Highwaymen.  He’s been gutshot!”

Jimmy could only imagine the looks of shock and horror on the married couple’s face – Lou’s genuine, of course, and Kid’s merely hiding bitter triumph.  To Kid’s credit, he masked his true feelings well. Years of practice, Jimmy thought scathingly. 

“Lou, you help get him inside,” Kid began issuing orders.  “I’ll ride for the doc—”

“That won’t be necessary, Kid.”  Jimmy straightened slowly, pulling his Colt and noting that Cody had also raised his own weapon.  “I’m feelin’ better already.”

“What the –” Lou’s tear-filled eyes blinked from Jimmy to Cody, then back to Jimmy.  “This ain’t funny, Hickok!  What the heck do you—”

“Lou!”  Kid’s arm snaked out, drawing Lou into his protective embrace.  He eyed his friends warily before looking down at the petite woman in his arms.  “I don’t think they’re foolin’ around, Lou.”

“Don’t be crazy, Kid!  Of course they’re foolin’!  This kind of low-down stupid stunt is just like Cody!”  Twisting out of Kid’s sheltering grasp, Lou confronted the two former riders with fire in her eyes.  “Well, it ain’t funny, so put them guns away!”

Jimmy let a cold smile play across his features.  The grin grew even wider when he saw Kid surreptitiously reaching for his gun – the gun that was currently hanging on a peg in Kid’s front 
room.

“Jimmy?”  Lou suddenly sounded small and weak and very lost.

“Don’t worry, Lou.  We’ll put the guns away,” Jimmy said softly as he gestured for Cody to follow his lead.  In a motion that he knew would be a blur to Kid and Lou, he moved to Lou’s side and crushed her against his chest.  Rubbing his cheek against her hair, he lowered his face to hers so 
she could get a good look at him.  At his mouth.  At his teeth.  “It ain’t like we need ‘em anyway,” he finished gently.

For a moment, Lou was perfectly still, a virtual statue of rosy flesh, shining hair, and crisp gingham cloth.  Then… a dervish.  A mad, whirling wild beast, she twisted and spun in Jimmy’s grip like a woman possessed.  As Kid dashed toward them, Cody nonchalantly threw out an arm, blocking his path and sending him tumbling twenty feet backward into the dirt. 

Tightening his grip across Lou’s chest, Jimmy threw back his head and let out the laughter that welled within him. 

Across the clearing, Kid struggled dazedly to his feet.  He was visibly mystified, unable to reconcile the incredible power and cruelty he witnessed with the “friends” he knew and loved.  But, Jimmy thought as another peel of laughter escaped him, Kid was well aware that the rules of the game had changed.  It wasn’t about KID any more.  No, the rules had definitely changed.

Kid shook his head, his gaze locking with the man who held his wife captive.  “What… what happened to you?” 

“Somethin’ beautiful.”  It was Cody who answered.  “Somethin’ spectacular.  It’s about… it’s about…” Cody groped for the words to describe their miraculous transformation.

“It’s about blood,” Jimmy whispered, ducking his head and running his tongue greedily along Lou’s neck. 

Kid’s eyes widened as his face paled.  “Don’t hurt her, Jimmy.”

“I have to admit it, Kid.  I’m impressed.  You ain’t got a clue what’s goin’ on here.  I kind o’ figured that by this point you’d’ve tried to jump me or somethin’, and I’d’ve been forced to kill ya.  But there ya are, not even a tremor in your voice.  And all cause of sweet little Louise.”

“Jimmy, please…” Lou struggled vainly against Jimmy’s grip.

“Now, Lou knows.  She’s got a real up-close view of the new and improved Jimmy Hickok.  She might not be sure of what’s to come, but she’s got a darned good idea.”

Jimmy looked down at the woman in his arms, her soft and pliant flesh warm against his icy skin, and smiled.  Years – years of pining in silence – years, all come down to this one, simple moment.  Lou, in his arms.  Was he ever really that… that CHILD… who’d shoved all his own dreams and wishes down into the dirt?  For whose benefit?  Lou’s?  The laugh wanted to bubble to the surface again, and he clamped it down with an effort.  Years of sacrifice, years of denial, years of pretending to be her friend when his body craved only to be her lover.  Years of misery.  Over now.  Now he had the power to take what should have belonged to him from the beginning.  And it felt extraordinary. 

“I said it was about blood, didn’t I?  Yes, I believe I did.  And that’s ALL it’s about, Kid.  Blood.  Lou’s blood.”  Ignoring the whimper from the woman in his arms, Jimmy continued relentlessly, “Lou’s body in my arms, my hands on her skin, touchin’ every part of her, makin’ her mine.  And tastin’ her, Kid, drinkin’ up every last part of her till the shell that’s left belongs to ME.”

Kid took a shaky step forward, fists clenched at his side.  “I swear to God, Jimmy, you hurt her and I’ll—”

“You’ll WHAT?” Jimmy laughed.

“I’ll—”

“Tell ya what, Kid.”  Unconcernedly, Jimmy tossed Lou to the side, nodding at Cody to watch her.  The unspoken order was accepted without question as Cody quickly pulled Lou up and braced his arm around her still-struggling form, clapping a hand across her mouth to muffle her protests. 

Jimmy crossed his arms at his chest, returning his attention to the Kid.  “I’ll give you a chance.  Least I can do for a friend.  All ya got to do is… beg.”

“Jimmy…” Kid moaned.

“Beg, Kid.  Beg for the life of your wife.  Do it good enough… and maybe I’ll let her go… and take you instead.”

Kid swallowed past the lump of fear and clutched his hands in front of him.  “I’m beggin’ ya, Jimmy, don’t do this!”

“Not good enough.  On your knees, Kid.  I think you should be on your knees for this, don’t you?”

Dropping to his knees, Kid looked up at the ruthless form that had somehow replaced his friend.  “Don’t do this, Jimmy.  We were friends.  We can be friends again… whatever’s happened to you, we’ll fix it somehow.  Just don’t do this, please!  Remember everything we’ve been through together… no matter what happened, we always got through it.  But if you do this, Jimmy… if you hurt Lou… there ain’t no comin’ back from that.  Please don’t do it, Jimmy!  Take me, take me if you want, but let Lou live!”

“Well, that was real nice, Kid.  Kind of eloquent, Teaspoon might’ve said.”    Resting a hand on his hip, he thrust out one leg.  “I think you know what you have to do next.”

Jimmy’s face twisted in a cruel smile as Kid shuffled forward on his knees.  For a long moment, their eyes locked and held… riders together once, rancher and gunslinger yesterday, now rancher and blood-drinker.  Windigo, Jimmy thought.  That’s what Buck had called him.  Windigo.  It was as good a name for “blood-drinker” as the next.  Then their gazes broke, Kid’s face dipped toward the ground, and his cold lips pressed a kiss onto Jimmy’s dusty boot. 

Without raising his eyes, Kid whispered, “Don’t do this, Jimmy. Whatever’s goin’ to happen… take me instead.”

“Well done, Kid.”  With one hand, Jimmy seized the collar of Kid’s worn shirt and lifted him aloft, Kid’s legs dangling helplessly as he twisted and turned in Jimmy’s strong grip.  “Well done,” Jimmy sighed, “but not quite good enough.” 

Flinging Kid effortlessly to one side, Jimmy gestured for Cody to release Lou.  The moment she was freed from Cody’s powerful hold, she rushed to Kid’s side, wrapping her tiny arms around his waist.  Kid strained to sit upright, his arm wrenched at an awkward angle and his face distorted by pain. 

“Well, ain’t that sweet?”  Jimmy crossed his arms at his chest.  “Ain’t that sweet, Cody?”

“Get out of here, Jimmy!” 

Jimmy raised an eyebrow at Lou’s vehement shout.  Though her face was tear-stained and her voice belied her fright, she still had gumption.  Spunk.  Fire.   All those great characteristics that made him fall in love with her in the first place. 

“I’m sorry, Lou,” Jimmy said softly.  “I can’t ‘get out of here’ quite yet.  You see, I was aimin’ to finish a few things up tonight.  Now, the first thing I was plannin’ to do was get rid of Kid.  In a permanent sense, if you get my meanin’.  Don’t worry.  I ain’t goin’ to go through with it.  Well, leastways I might not.  That’s up to you.”

“Whatever you got planned, she ain’t gonna do it, Hickok!”

Jimmy’s eyes flickered briefly to Kid before dismissing him entirely.  This was between Jimmy and Lou – just as Jimmy had intended all along. 

“All you got to do to save Kid’s life,” Jimmy said, holding out his hand, “is come to me of your own free will.”

Kid fought to get to his feet.  “Get the hell away from here before I kill you!” 

Jimmy’s hand didn’t waver.  “I’ll kill him, Lou.  You know I can.  You know I will.  Just come to me… take my hand… and Kid lives.”

“She ain’t goin’ anywhere with you, Hickok!”

Lou buried her head in Kid’s chest, stroking his cheek tenderly before raising her face to meet Jimmy’s eyes.  “Promise me you won’t kill him, Jimmy.”

“Lou!  You ain’t—“

“Kid, I love you and I ain’t goin’ to see you dead!  Not when I can do somethin’ about it!”

“Don’t do this, Lou!”

“God, KID!  You’re my life; you’re everythin’ to me!  You think I can go on knowin’ that I could’ve saved you?  You’ve been my knight too many times in the past, too many times to count.  You can’t save me now, Kid.  But I can save you!”  Clutching Kid’s shirt desperately, Lou’s hands traced patterns in the fabric as though trying to memorize every contour of his body.  There was steely determination in her voice when she spoke again.   “Promise me, Jimmy.” 

Jimmy nodded.  “I promise.”

With one last look at Kid, Lou straightened her back and raised herself from the ground.  An unintelligible moan was all that came from Kid’s lips as he reached out with his injured arm, frantically trying to keep Lou at his side. 

She didn’t look back. 

It appeared to Jimmy that the night air suddenly crackled with possibility, a blast of energy that seemed to light the darkened sky.  In the silence he could hear the singing of cicada in the long grass, crying out a mating call to others of its kind.  The scrub grass rustled under the sensitive paws of a field mouse searching for prey.  Far above them, a lone eagle made his way to the east, his wings slicing the air with formidable power.  And when his fingers closed upon Lou’s small hand – warm and soft and smelling sweetly of fresh bread and lavender oil and blood, dark, delicious, vibrant blood – the possibilities became reality. 

“Tie him up.”  Even as Cody moved to obey the order, Jimmy didn’t look away from Lou’s dark eyes… suddenly fascinated by her lashes, each tiny fibre of hair gleaming in the darkness. 

Pulling Lou into his embrace with a suddenness that startled her, Jimmy pressed his body against hers, every curve beneath the flimsy fabric of her dress melding and molding against his body.  His breath hot against her neck, he let his hand wander across her form.  Lou tensed, standing rigidly in his arms and staring unwaveringly at the field of wildflowers at his back. 

“Don’t worry, Lou.  It’ll feel good real soon.”

“Drop dead,” Lou gritted.

Jimmy’s lips curved into a smile against her neck.  “Too late,” he whispered into her hair. 

He fed. 

It was better than with Cody, better than with Buck, better than having been taken by the stranger.  Was that only earlier THIS evening?  As Jimmy’s lips moved fervently on Lou’s neck, taking what he needed, what he wanted, what he desired, it seemed impossible to him that the reconstruction of his life had occurred only a few short hours ago.  Drinking draught after draught, he filled himself with her, his body shivering with a rabid passion that was matched by the woman in his arms.  The sighs and moans of satisfaction and pleasure coming from Lou only urged him on to greater lengths… the rapid patter of her heartbeat against his ribs a staccato rhythm that he tried to match.   Lou’s hand snaked up to his neck as she endeavored to pull him closer, eyes closed, lost in the fever of dreams become truth… lost in the bliss of Death’s embrace. 

Jimmy’s body cried out in anguish when he felt her heart race, the last final gasp of a body trying to remain chained to the earth.  What was the earth, Jimmy wondered, but a playground for the rich and powerful?  And now, HE was the powerful. 

With renewed commitment, Jimmy drank.  And when the pulse of Lou’s heart finally slowed, he carefully gnashed at his own wrist with his powerful incisors, offering her the unfathomable gift of darkness and power that would bind them together.  The viscous liquid flowed over her lips, first a gentle stream and then a torrent as Lou’s mouth clamped eagerly on his flesh. She drank greedily… and when her heart finally stopped altogether, it was with gentle hands that he lowered her to the ground.  Wrapping his arms around her frail body, he waited.  He would be there when the confusion set in.  He would be there when the spasms of pain shook her.  He would be there when she began her new life as one of the undead. 

He would always be there.

Cody returned from saddling the horses, crossed his arms, and sighed.  “What’re we goin’ to do with him?”

Lou’s eyes flicked momentarily to Cody before returning to Jimmy.  She trailed her hand along his chest, marveling at the cold and solid flesh beneath the simple black cotton shirt.   She wanted to remove that shirt… feel that satiny skin beneath her fingers.  She wanted to run her hands across his stomach, and follow the trail her hands made with her lips.  It seemed this yearning was all she could think about. 

She watched Jimmy from beneath long dark lashes.  “Welllllll… I am hungry,” she offered.

Jimmy’s eyes darkened.  “No.  Kid lives.”

Curling her hands in his shirt, Lou put on her most imploring expression.  She could get what she wanted… she just knew it.  “But Jimmy—” she began.

Thrusting her hands from his body, Jimmy pushed her back and stalked toward the corral post to which Kid was tied.  Kid’s hair hung into his eyes, his arms coupled behind his back and his clothing torn.  Roughly, Jimmy grabbed a handful of Kid’s hair and forced his head up. 

“No,” he repeated.  “Kid lives.  Kid lives… so he can remember this night.  Ain’t that right, Kid? So you can spend the rest of your days rememberin’ that Lou came to me.  She came to ME, Kid.  She chose ME.  She chose me, and you couldn’t do nothin’ about it.  And for the rest of OUR days, she’s goin’ to be at my side.  I’m goin’ to be lovin’ her, Kid.  Lovin’ her and feelin’ her body against mine, and you’re goin’ to be an old man sittin’ in a rockin’ chair and rememberin’ that night when everythin’ changed.”

Letting go of Kid’s hair abruptly, Jimmy laughed as he drew Lou back into his arms and lost himself in her eyes.  “Besides, I promised you I’d let him live.”

Nodding, Lou regarded Kid with cold eyes.  Slowly, she ran a hand along his cheek, laughing with delight when her long nail left behind a thin trail of blood.  Delicately, she raised the finger to her lips.  “It’s fittin’,” she said to Jimmy without taking her eyes from her husband.  “It’s always been about Jimmy, Kid.  I just never had the guts to go to him before.  I felt sorry for ya, Kid.  Moonin’ over me all the time, and gettin’ all worked up about marriage and vows and stuff that didn’t mean nothin’ to me.  Live with it, Kid.  You never were a MAN to me.”

Turning her back on Kid, Lou took the hands of the two new men in her life and walked with them to the horses.  She stroked the mane of her mare tenderly before placing a soft kiss on the nose of the horse.  Only then did she turn back to Kid with a wicked smile.  “And don’t worry, Kid… I’ll take 
real good care of Katy.” 
 

“We’ve got to make some good time.” As they mounted their horses, Jimmy inclined his head upwards.  The sky was still dark, but it wouldn’t be long before the first rays of sunlight began to creep across the horizon.  He was suddenly reminded of the fire in Cody’s cabin.  Bright and unrelenting, it had leapt and cavorting amongst the dead wood, taking what it wanted.  There was no escape from its merciless surge.   The thought of the sun filled him with equal dread.  His body screamed to be inside before dawn. 

He glanced back at the ranch-house, the fence posts of the unfinished corral standing out starkly against the sky.  His keen eyesight easily picked out the Kid, tied to one of the posts, his eyes straining to make out the three riders on horseback.  A sudden shiver made its way along Jimmy’s spine.  What had Sam said so long ago?  Never leave ‘em alive.  Jimmy studied the tightly trussed body of the rancher before shaking his head.  What did he have to fear from KID?  He pushed the sudden irrational concern aside, turning instead to drink in the sight of Lou.  His beloved. 

“Where are we goin’, Jimmy?” Cody asked.

“I’m thinkin’… Kansas.”

Cody grimaced.  “What’s in Kansas?”

“Oh,” Jimmy said, “Just a particular saloon I think I might be fond of.  Run by a nice lady we used to know.”

“Amanda O’Connell.”  Cody found his spirits lifted, the hunger that had begun to gnaw at him abated somewhat by the thought of a visit with the lovely Amanda.   A nice looong visit.

“And who’s visiting Amanda right about now?”  Jimmy voice carried gently on the night breeze.

Lou grinned with anticipation as her mind filled in the answer.  Teaspoon Hunter, paying a visit to his “daughter”.  Oh yes, they were going to have a LOT of fun in Kansas. 
 

Epilogue

The horse staggered to a stop a few yards away from the vacant corral, disgorging its lone rider into the dirt like a sack of feed. 

Buck lurched away from the feisty animal, weaving his way across the barren yard.  The buzz from the hornet’s nest that had replaced his brain slowly receded into the background as he gained his bearings. 

“Hold it RIGHT there!”

Wincing, Buck made a slow turn, careful to keep his hands up and away from his weapon.  The red-golden sunrise from the east momentarily blinded him, its cornucopia of colours causing him to squint his eyes against its angry rays.  His challenger could only be viewed as a darkened silhouette against a glimmering backdrop of light.

Then the speaker took a step forward.

“Kid,” Buck breathed.

The rancher looked… well, he looked like hell, Buck thought.  The state of Kid’s clothing matched his own, ripped and torn and covered in dirt and grime.  He gripped his rifle at an awkward angle…but the point was, he still gripped his rifle, and his aim would be true.  The red-rimmed smudges on 
his wrists bore mute testament to some of the abuse he’d suffered.  And his eyes –dark and haunted, yet pure with a sense of purpose.  Buck’s mind flashed on an image – a gladiator, thrashed and beaten but not defeated.  Never defeated. 

Kid.  Buck sent a silent prayer to the spirits of the earth.  He even added a prayer to the white god, because Kid’s survival was surely a blessing to be shared. 

Kid!

“Kid,” he sighed again, taking a stumbling step forward. 

“Come one step closer, and I’ll pump ya so full of shot they’ll have to knit ya back together!”

Buck stopped. 

Raising his hands, he pushed the matted hair out of his eyes before carefully reaching for the hastily-made patch he’d constructed for his neck.  The torn remnants of his shirt had stuck to the bleeding flesh, and as he pulled the cotton fabric away the wound began to flow anew.  Staring dumbly at the bright red blood that saturated the fabric, he fought to remain upright as the memories of the night threatened to overwhelm him.  Had it really happened?  The attack, the assault, the… pleasure?  In the cool light of a sun-washed prairie, the thought sickened him.  HAD it really happened?  He’d been lost in memories of Ike, dwelling on the past.  Maybe he’d been attacked by a dog or a wolf or…

Buck had only to meet Kid’s eyes to know that the horrors of the evening had been all too real.

Wordlessly, he offered his torn throat to Kid’s scrutiny.  The hardened look on the rancher’s face shifted into silent misery. 

“Jimmy,” Kid mouthed softly. 

“Jimmy,” Buck confirmed.

Tearing his eyes away from the seeping mass of Buck’s throat with a visible effort, Kid let the barrel of his rifle dip towards the barren earth.

“Kid,” Buck said softly, “where’s Lou?”

Kid’s mouth set in a grim line, and Buck knew.  He knew.  But he had to hear it from Kid’s lips, or it wouldn’t be real.  And the irony was, none of it should be real.  This should be some horrid nightmare caused by too little sleep and too much Edgar Allan Poe.  He shivered, trying to tell himself that it was being shirtless in the brisk morning breeze that caused the goose bumps to rise on his skin.  But he knew that wasn’t true, either. 

“Kid?” he tried again, closing the gap between them to lay a gentle hand on his friend’s arm.

The touch was what did it.  The dam broke as Kid’s eyes suddenly filled with unshed tears.  “He took her, Buck.  He took her, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it!  But you… how did you… oh God!”

“I don’t know, Kid.”  With shaking hands, Buck lifted the medicine pouch.  “A long time ago, Cody asked me what was in this.  Do you remember?” 

How long ago that seemed.  They’d been boys, mere boys playing at being men.  Life had seemed to be an endless procession of mail runs and dances and games and fun, and the fun would go on forever.  The sun had been a blistering ball of fire that day, and sneaking away from work to take a dip in the stream had seemed the only reasonable thing to do.  And it HAD been fun, even with Cody’s endless prying into his beliefs. 

“I remember,” Kid said.  And yes, Buck knew, by the look in Kid’s eyes that day was as crystal clear in his memory as it was in Buck’s. 

“I told him that the spirits told me what I needed.  What I needed to protect me.”  He shrugged.  “The spirits were right.”

Kid straightened.  “Cody’s with HIM now.”

Blanching, Buck strove to keep the world from spinning.  “Jimmy, Cody, and Lou,” he murmured.  His head whipped up to meet Kid’s determined gaze.  “What are you goin’ to do, Kid?”

“Find ‘em.  Find ‘em… and kill ‘em.”

Buck shook his head.  “Not with that, you’re not.”

“The HELL I’m not!  You don’t know what it was like, Buck!”  Kid’s voice suddenly blazed across the clearing.  “You don’t know!  I begged, God knows I begged for her life, and he tossed me aside and TOOK her.  God, the sound of it, Buck!  The sound of it, and then… then… oh God, the things she said!”

“I DO KNOW!”  Buck’s fury rose just as unexpectedly as the Kid’s.  He angrily thrust back his hair, his fingers accidentally brushing the open wound and sending a searing bolt of pain through his spine.  “I DO know!”

Buck gasped, swallowing back the misdirected rage.  Hesitantly, he wrapped an arm around Kid’s uninjured shoulder.  “I do know,” he repeated softly.

Kid’s eyes were as tearful as his own, his anger dissipated just as easily.  “It was like… it wasn’t her no more.”

Memories of childhood came crashing powerfully back, fragmented recollections of stories told around a flickering campfire to a rapt audience that seemed to consist only of wide eyes and open mouths.  “It wasn’t,” he agreed.  “Whatever she said, whatever she did… it wasn’t Lou.  My people call it… them… ‘Windigo’.”

“You KNEW this thing existed?  YOU KNEW??”

“NO!  No.  It… the Windigo… are a legend among my people.  I always believed they were nothing more than a ghost story, to scare the children.”  Buck shuddered as another shiver waltzed across his spine at the lie.  He had believed.  Sitting in the circle with the other children, he had never believed in anything so forcefully in his young life.  The voice of the storyteller had risen and fallen on the whisper of the night air, drawing his youthful charges into a story unchanged since the Kiowa had risen from the bowels of the earth. 

“There was a Kiowa warrior, one filled with strength and bravery,” Buck began, trying to weave together the morsels of the story he could remember into some kind of coherent whole.  “He was the shaman of my people, and he served with more truth and justice than any before him.  Yet the time came when he was tempted… tempted by overwhelming desire for the wife of the great chief.” Buck’s voice trailed off.  Tempted.  Yes, he remembered the shame in the storyteller’s voice as he recited the tale.  The sense of disgrace has been palpable, as though it was the storyteller himself who had committed such a grievous transgression. 

“He began neglecting his solemn duties, foolishly letting the Sun see him in wasteful disregard of his responsibilities.  One night, while the rest of the braves were on a hunt, he arose from his pallet and stormed to the tipi of the chief, forcefully taking the woman he had hungered after for so long.  When he was done, he declared himself the leader of the tribe, asserted that the woman and her children belonged to him, and dared any to challenge his power.

“The battle between the chief and the shaman was prolonged and furious.  The shaman used any weapon at his disposal… his hands, his nails, his teeth.  But in the end, the youthful chief was victorious.  The joy of the tribe was considerable, for they loved and esteemed their leader.  The shaman suffered many agonies that night as the braves vented their rage and horror upon his head.  Finally, as the hour neared dawn, the shaman was staked to the ground and left to burn in the relentless heat of Mother Sun.”

Buck took in a deep shuddering breath.  Kid’s eyes were wide and fearful, reminding him all too clearly of his own reaction when he’d first heard the legend as a child.  The rancher was obviously lost in the tale, momentarily forgetting the present as the vivid descriptions of ancient Kiowan past overwhelmed him.    But how much worse was it for Kid, Buck realized, to hear the story of the shaman and know that it was real?

“Father Moon knew that his domain over the earth was coming to a close that night, as Mother Sun would be rising all too soon to take his place and to watch over his Kiowa children.  And Father Moon felt remorse for the fate of the shaman, HIS child, with whom he had communed so many times in the past.  So Father Moon gave the shaman his life… at a cost.  Because he had coveted the bride of his Kiowa brother, he would be incapable of sharing his body in love with anyone, man or woman.  Because he had spilled the blood of his revered chief, only blood would be able to offer him sustenance. Because he had violated the sanctuary of his leader’s home, he would be unable to seek shelter where he was uninvited.  Because he was a child of the Moon, he would only be able to walk in the darkness.  And his name would be Windigo… blood-drinker and flesh-eater, scourge of the Sun.”

The silence between the two men stretched out for what seemed like an eternity.  When Kid finally lifted his face to Buck, his eyes were clear and filled with renewed purpose. 

“How do I kill them?”

Wincing, Buck ducked his head to avoid the faith that shone in Kid’s face.  Faith that he feared was misplaced. 

His body tensed when he felt Kid’s fingers clamp powerfully on his arm.  “Buck, TELL ME there’s a way to KILL THEM!”

Forcing himself to meet Kid’s desperate gaze, Buck drew in a gasping breath.  The gash in his throat blazed hot against his skin, the flesh in the area swollen and sore.  He knew he had to find herbs for a poultice to cleanse the wound and purify his body and soul.  But first… first…

“Not with that,” he repeated his earlier statement, gesturing to Kid’s useless rifle. 

Kid glanced quickly at the weapon before throwing it down in the dirt. 

“Then how?” he asked quietly. 

“Scourge of the Sun,” Buck said.  “The Windigo walk in darkness.  That,” he pointed at the brightly glowing orb cresting the mountains, “is death to them.” 

Kid waited expectantly for a long moment before breathing, “That’s IT?”

“Fire,” Buck added.  “Maybe.”  He threw up his hands.  “I’m not an expert, Kid!”

“No.  No.  Sorry, Buck.”  Gathering his rifle from the ground, Kid started to turn towards the corral.  Buck’s hand snaked out to halt his progress.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?”

“Buck, they don’t have much of a head start.  I can track ‘em—”

“Not today, you can’t!”  Buck’s grip tightened on Kid’s tattered shirt, suddenly afraid that he wouldn’t be able to force the rancher to listen to reason.   Kid had lost his wife, after all… but more than that, Kid has lost his LIFE.  Because Lou was his life, his eternal soul-mate, and that bond had been ripped from him by preternatural hands. 

Buck tried to make his voice sound as reasonable as possible.  “You’re injured.  I’m injured.  You need a doctor and I need—”

“I ain’t goin’ to leave Lou out there like that!  It ain’t right, it ain’t natural, and I’m goin’ to end it.  For her, and for me.  Don’t try to stop me, Buck.”

“LISTEN TO ME, KID!  They’re underground… they can’t travel during the day!  We both need to rest and get fixed up.  We can track ‘em, Kid… I can track ‘em… but we both need to recover some first.  We need to heal… we need to plan… and we need to grieve.”

“We’ll lose the trail,” Kid said, and Buck knew that Kid was wavering.  He strengthened his hold once again, trying not to show how much he needed that firm grip just to keep his own balance.  Buck didn’t know how much blood he had lost, but he did know one thing for certain:  if he tried to find Jimmy now, he’d only end up facedown in the dirt.  And Kid’s arm needed to be tended.  But more than that, they both needed time.  Time to reconcile all they’d seen, and time to come to terms with what they now had to do.

“I can find it,” Buck said confidently.  “Besides,” he added as his face took on a new pallor, “there’ll be another kind of trail.”  As their eyes met, both men offered a silent prayer to his god that the trail of bodies would be mercifully short. 

“All right,” Kid agreed after a lengthy silence broken only by the distant chirping of a meadowlark in the nearby field of wildflowers.  The bird’s call was stark and sharp and completely incongruous to a discussion of blood and death… yet Buck found his heart lightened by the happy sound.  Life goes on, and life would continue go on.  And on and on. 

“I’ll rest up for one day,” Kid was saying, “then I’ll be headin’ out.”

“We’ll be heading out,” Buck corrected softly.  Slinging an arm around his comrade in this new and astonishing world – a world that could contain both the beauty of the meadowlark and the horror of the Windigo, each startling and unique in their own fashion – Buck led the way to the ranch house. 

They had a lot to do before nightfall.