Between the Marshal & the Vampire(8)

Compelled, she couldn’t refuse. "Mariel. Mariel Johnston. Why did you—why didn't you kill me just now? Isn't that what nightwalkers—I mean, vampires, do?"

"Do we?" He sounded amused. "Very few humans know anything about my kind. It's refreshing to come upon an expert…and such a lovely one, at that."

He was mocking her. Vampire or not, she wasn't about to let him get away with it. She received enough condescension from men who thought they knew better than she did just because she was a woman.

"Maybe if you didn't skulk about at night like an opossum we'd know more about you," she retorted.

When he grinned, the weak light gleamed on teeth that looked surprisingly normal. No fangs that she could see. Not yet.

"Perhaps the mystery is preferable," Vellum purred. "It grants me a certain…power."

Oh, he had power. Mariel could sense it filling the train car, a sort of charisma that made her want to draw nearer to him. Her knees trembled as she resisted, even though a voice in her head promised that if she obeyed the summons she'd enjoy carnal delights even more amazing than what she'd already experienced.

"Stop," she said through gritted teeth.

"Stop what?"

He was closer now. Had he moved or had she? Weakness infiltrated her limbs, making her yearn to lie down. Would he lie with her? Would he move on top of her as he had before and touch her, excite her with a touch that seemed to know her inside and out? Funny, she'd thought Marshal Carson would be the first man to touch her that way had he been given the chance.

"No!" she forced out, her thoughts clearing. "I have to help them. The Marshals are outgunned. I-I came in here looking for a weapon."

"A weapon won't deter the men outside."

"Maybe not, but I'm not about to sit here and wait for them to kill me. I'll take as many with me as I can."

"Is that necessary?" Vellum drawled, suggesting that perhaps it wasn't.

Just then, the connecting door to the passenger car banged open and Clay stumbled in, carrying with him the smell of dust, gunpowder and blood. He held a crank torch in one hand whose weak yellow light suggested it was on its last breath, much like he and Mariel.

The sickly light illuminated his desperate expression and the grief in his whiskey-brown eyes. "Thank the Lord. Mariel, you're alive."

But then Vellum moved, proving he wasn't merely a shadow. Vellum, who was a striking figure of a man despite not being one. No wonder Mariel had thought he was the night. The vampire was dressed all in black: trousers, shirt, and a duster that just brushed the tops of his leather boots. His hair wasn't quite black but was nearly there, and was long, swept back from his face and curling above the collar of his coat.

Mariel had seen all types of men come through her inn, but she couldn't recall a man like Vellum, whose pale face demanded her attention. From the elegant eyebrows to the strong, high cheekbones and the aquiline nose, Vellum was the antithesis of the typical frontiersman who made a home in Mountain Sky Territory. He wasn't like a dandy, either, because every inch of him radiated power, both mental and physical.

He cut a gorgeous, masculine figure and yet, his beauty didn't diminish Clay's rugged good looks. Side by side, the two males were very different: Vellum obviously alien, while Clay was salt of the earth. But Mariel found it difficult to choose one man over the other in terms of their effect on her.

"Nightwalker!" Clay exclaimed, raising his gun to point it at Vellum.

"Don't waste your bullet, Marshal," Vellum drawled, turning to face the other male. "It's the only defense you possess, isn't it? And you're running low on ammunition."

Frustration etched lines into Clay's face. "I only need one to put you down. Step away from her."

"Your bullets won't do anything but inconvenience me. Lower your weapon, Marshal."

Vellum spoke the truth, Mariel knew. He could be killed only by beheading or burning by sunlight. Some reports claimed that piercing the heart could also kill a vampire, but no one of any reliability had seen it happen. Clay's gun would do nothing but aggravate Vellum.

"Listen to him, Clay," she said, pleading with him with her eyes. She was afraid of escalation. If Vellum chose to, he could kill Clay in an instant, leaving Mariel alone with the vampire…and Beaufort's gang.

"Listen to a nightwalker?!"

"I thought the Empire Marshals were more intelligent than their law enforcement brethren," Vellum said. He watched Clay with an intensity that would have buckled Mariel's knees had it been aimed at her. But the Marshal glared back, not in the least bit intimidated or affected. "You can't kill me. But neither can those men out there."

Clay's fingers flexed around the torch's handle. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I could remove the threat of them, if you like."

Mariel's jaw fell open. The best she'd hoped of this encounter was to survive it, not to have Vellum assist them in defusing it.

"Why would you do such a thing?" Clay's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Nightwalkers don't typically involve themselves in our business."

"Vampires," Vellum said distinctly, "are possessed of a keen sense of self-interest, as you've noted. I need to get to Scar Tooth Mountain. This train will no longer transport me there in a state of hibernation. Therefore I must ride by horseback, but it's a long journey."