Page 10 of High Noon

“What sort of work?”

“Oh, just about anything’ll do,” I answered vaguely.

“So, you’re sayin’ you ain’t got money to pay for the whiskey you cost me.”

“No, but…”

Bill was fast with guns. Faster than I could blink, a pistol was pointed at my face. “Then this is where we part ways, mister.”

Does he mean go on my own way, or does he mean he’s going to kill me and continue rolling toward the trading post?

I didn’t give him time to shoot. I ran like hell.

He hollered after me, but I didn’t pay any attention to what he said. All I knew was that Bill didn’t like the fact I’d landed in his stuff – not that I could blame him – and Bill liked guns. I wasn’t sure if he would think twice about firing one at me and didn’t want to wait around to find out.

I could make it to the post faster on foot anyway. Bill’s horse looked like he was as old as Bill. Probably walked like him, too, I told myself.

Yep. My run-in with Bill taught me a valuable lesson: The west was wild, and if you forgot that for even a split second, someone wouldn’t hesitate to shove a gun in your face to remind you. And if you happened to be unlucky enough to be stuck staring down the barrel of a gun, it might be too late.

* * *

Abram

I crashed through a roof, breaking support beams and landing in what once was a bed, luckily unoccupied. It was small, only large enough to hold one man, and even then, only a short, skinny one. I realized it was stuffed with feathers as I watched them fly into the air, pause and then begin their delicate descent.

This is not home. The thought sank in as the feathers drifted to the dusty floor.

I had to kill Titus and Eve. I couldn’t let them return home and claim any rewards for their traitorous behavior. I was sure they’d make up lies and feed them to Victor, who would no doubt buy into everything Eve said if she batted her lashes at him.

She would tell everyone what we’d been through; a harrowing tale of near-death experiences, one she was lucky to have escaped unscathed. And then there would be me. The one who was attacked but survived. The one chosen by God to take on the foul beasts that terrorized humanity throughout the ages. The one who remained loyal. But would Victor see that? No. He would only see that I’d been turned and would have me put down like a dog. He would choose Eve over me. He had every time before.

Either I had to get home before her, or I had to keep her from leaving this time. I just needed to figure out how.

With a strategic attack, I could remove her tech, maybe even turn her. Then I could do the same to Titus for following her around like a pathetic mutt.

Loud music filtered up through the floor boards. I sat up, listening. Someone was playing an upbeat tune on a piano. I pictured the pianist’s fingers tickling the ivory keys. In addition to the boisterous music, the din of conversation flowed beneath the notes.

A man wearing a long duster jacket and a tattered cowboy hat opened the door. “Excuse me. I thought this room was mine,” he apologized politely, tipping his hat. Then he looked around the room and pushed the door open wider. “What happened in here?” He took in the feathers, the broken bed, and then his eyes travelled to the hole in the ceiling. “What the hell happened in here?” he demanded louder, in a gruff, raspy voice.

Heated blood thrummed through his veins. I sped across the room and pulled him away from the music and bawdiness below, drinking in his short-lived struggle along with his blood. When I dropped him to the floor and stepped over his legs, his fingers twitched. Soon, he would wake. The people celebrating downstairs had no idea how thirsty he would be.

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