Lourdes: A Vampire In The Old West

16. Moonborne

Lourdes walks into the clear night. His eyes touch each of a million stars. He holds out his hand trying impossibly to reach just one. A sigh. Lourdes wraps himself in his cloak. Watching, listening, and breathing in the dark, he walks forward. The town is dreaming now. All around him, he can hear it. The soft hearts of families deep asleep. The last reserves of paraffin lapped up by lamps. Chains and locks rattling against the ebb and flow of moonborne wind. The cowboy's sharp ears hear another sound, too. Or rather, they hear an emptiness in the heart of the night. There's a black spot here, a shape that devours sound, heat, color, and light. Turning to face it, Lourdes breaks. His hair stands on end. His visage turns feral. Fear and hate pour from his skin. Terror overflows from his bones. The yellow-eyed kid's fangs sprout.

There, standing in the center of the street is a sable-colored wolf. More lion than dog, the beast that is Volga glares right through the boy.

"You're Lourdes?" The animal asks.

"I am," Lourdes hisses.

"I am Volga, eldest son of the House..." Volga starts.

"I don't give a damn," Lourdes spits.

"Oh?" The dog laughs. The jackal's jaws move with its every word, but a nightmare beset with two glowing eyes, it's the inferno within these red stones that intrudes into Lourdes's head. This fire splits his skull and sears each syllable into his brain.

"I knew everything I needed the moment I stepped onto the street," Lourdes speaks.

"Did you now?" Volga asks. "And here I am filled with so many questions. Perhaps we should walk back into the tavern for a drink."

"No!" Lourdes barks. The boy's arms spread wide, creating as big a barrier as his miniature frame can muster. Every instinct inside Lourdes snaps at the invader. "You don't belong here! This town... This desert... This country... They built it from nothing. They have dreams. They have vision. They have laws. Your kind... My kind... We have no claim here. We have no right to take it!" Lourdes stands between the dragon and the Guinevere. He stands in the same spot where he took Duncan's life, and all about him is the wreckage from that fight. Barrels, crates, and water troughs turned to kindling. Scorch marks in the sand. A pile of bones, all that remains of an existence that spanned 76 years. Yet, Lourdes displays not an ounce of confidence now. Victory is nowhere inside the boy's head.

"Look at you," Volga smiles. "The people in there mean something to you? I don't care. One lot of rats is the same as the next. And if these rats have hired a cat to watch their back, so be it. I'll just drink the next town dry." The dog licks its lips. "But you do know what I'm capable of, don't you? I mean, I assume that's why you're so panicked there. And cute, might I add. And, of course, damned. You understand my age. My blood makes yours ice." The wolf wags its tail. "If I wanted, I could incinerate this whole town with a thought."

"Monster..." Lourdes snarls.

"Sticks and stones, little boy. Now, if you stop with the name calling, I have a proposition," Volga reveals. "I have no interest in this sad city, but you certainly command my curiosity." Lourdes's quivering eyes stare into Volga's confident grin. "You killed two of my men. You demonstrated tremendous skill. How would you like to join my pack?" Lourdes looks to the Guinevere Hotel, and his ears pull the echoes still lingering there. He's a monster. Is that kid really the one? What's he still doing here? Something's gotta be done. The boy turns back to the dog.

"No," Lourdes responds.

Volga shows off a disappointed scowl.

"I can offer you a family," the fox tempts. "I'll allow you to drink at my veins. I will give you kin. This kind of proposal doesn't come by but once in a very long lifetime. Why don't you think your answer through?"