Blood-Born

Chapter I - Part 3

Goblin's Toe, Wyoming

Smoke swirled to dance and settle like a cloak of protection while Abby slowly made her way along to inspect the stoked fires and freshly seasoned ovens of the town forge.

Her late afternoon patrol routes eventually always seemed to find their way through the air here that ran thick with sulfur and coal where a walking death head scorpion now labored with iron and steel.

"You should really stop perturbing the sheriff at my expense." Rose observed with mirth as she approached while carrying half finished bits and pieces across her many hands and arms.

"What friendship that he and I hold between us is just that; less so than ours perhaps but a friendship none the less."

Abby simply smiled as she leaned back against a pillar without having offered to help while she watched Rose go about her business.

"Just encouraging some healthy thoughts for the man to take his mind off a certain deputy; or as you may know her, she who shall not be named."

Air quotes offered with crooked fingers of each hand with not so subtle emphasis only showed her irritation at the ongoing situation with Poe's original deputy.

"Running-Deer ..." Rose corrected solemnly, "... from what I've gathered she lived a good life here with her white man Poe."

"Everywhere that you go in this damned town since that robbery went awry, she's still found thicker amongst us like a damned ghost than she must have been in the flesh when she last walked these streets."

Rose carefully selected wood and bits of coal while she stoked and blended the fires; her skin flared from light to dark blue and back as the heat roared up to envelope her like a glove.

"Well that certainly explains a lot ..." Abby observed from where she watched, "Figured if I'd asked, you'd have managed to make some entertainingly false tale for me to enjoy."

"And now you know ..." Rose replied as she walked away and the blue quickly faded. "Exactly what I wanted you to know and perhaps much less than you actually can believe."

"I was talking about ... all this ..." Abby offered, having moved to gently caress a wired dream catcher that seemed to float untouched just above the furnace door.

"What on earth were you talking about?" She inquired with a smile of amusement.

Rose simply stopped and sighed while she wiped her brow with her second left arm.

"Abby, I have managed to barely keep up with orders as long as I'm not disturbed by your continued attempts at distraction or persuasion."

With all six hands on her hips out of resigned frustration, even she failed to keep a straight face for long and finally laughed as she watched amusement grow after she had been looked up and down several times by her old friend.

"Alright ..." Rose begrudgingly raised all of her palms up in mock surrender, "... it occurs to me that your simple methods are still a shade or three away from being right near enough for me to admit; but clear enough that your attempts at humor may yet have saved this wretchedly long day from a bitter end."

"As it turns out, I would like to place an order for a couple more sturdy stocks to be built near the base of each water tower." Abby replied, once she had placed a toothpick between her jaws in an apparent unintentional gesture that mimicked the ever insufferable Franklin Tombs.

"It seems that they entertain the locals rather wickedly when used ... along with our Mister Poe; which under the circumstances may just find some healing that we all seem to agree that he needs."

"I rather doubt that you'd get much argument from the witch Clementine on that particular point; although the locals may disagree that will undoubtedly suffer from their use in time."

Abby pulled at the pick as she bit down on it.

"Are you implying that she was here ... recently?"

"I'm not implying anything ..." Rose corrected with amusement as she realized Abby had been clearly caught unawares.

"I'm saying that she is, or was at any rate ... she came through here on her way to visit with Poe, a bit before you arrived. I'm somewhat surprised that the two of you didn't run into each another, although in her case she appeared far more wisp than wicked little white witch at the time."

"Your prankish attempt at humor has been found lacking ..." Abby muttered as it dawned upon her that it was she who had been made fun of by the mists and elegantly delayed, "... but purposeful and well played ... for such a simple smith."

With that she turned and quickly made her way out of the forge.

Their witch had returned and wanted time alone with Poe, clearly without her interruption.

She was not entirely sure yet if that was good or bad.

As she walked up the street toward the Long Branch to find out, her thoughts were deeply muddled as to what might await her there.

Just past the dark mouth of an ally, she stopped and almost turned; having caught herself in time.

Something of a warning spark had drawn her attention, the kind of familiar something that caused her hand to smoothly reach down and unhitch her pistol and ease it from the holster to lay ready and flat against her leg.

Without turning, her thumb eased the hammer back before she whirled to crouch low against the building while she listened as only a vampire could.

Eyes shifted, her fangs slipped into place as her body made ready.

Nothing appeared to move near where she lay in wait but something was there that her senses had alerted her to; perhaps having barely moved, but there to be found, none the less.

In the late afternoon shadow of the building she waited for the right time, while everything hung in the balance brought on by old habits of ingrained caution.

Small hairs on the back of her neck rose like the twitched antenna of an ant in search of scent.

Her other hand carefully moved to the center of her back where she pulled the fist knife found sheathed there, turned it back and flat against her wrist as slim fingers moved through the knuckle guards.

Whatever was about to happen, would happen bloody and fast; just the way that she preferred it.

Ever cautious, she eased back from the ally, where she followed her instincts for safer position; ready for a fight that must have been ready for her all along.

Perhaps it was good the witch had done as it appeared that she had with her spirits holding foresight and all that other god-forsaken mystical crap.

It had slowed her down just long enough that whatever had been waiting had grown impatient and slipped a hard tell of its hand.

Now she was the hunter and they were the prey.

Surgeons' scalpels were at the ready in both toe and heal of each boot as she took quick inventory.

She was a trained doctor and could deal with bloody.

It was not only her job, it was her very nature.