will prove himself a useful servant, just as this portly bartender has."
"Till we came along, anyhow," Cora said. "Boots ain't no servant of yours no more."
"You destroyed his body, yes, but men are more than mere flesh and bone." The bartender's eyes sparkled in the light. "Sometimes, their true usefulness lies in their other natures."
"Your usefulness sure ain't in getting to the point," Cora said. "I didn't figure you'd try to kill me with talk when you dragged me in here, or I would have ate my own gun to spare myself the misery."
"Such spirit in you," Boots said. "It will make the breaking of it so much the sweeter."
"I reckon I'll have a better time breaking your neck."
A single laugh shook the bartender's shoulders. "Such unpleasantness as well. Still, if you would only stop interrupting, I might get to the point you are so eager to hear."
Cora opened her mouth to reply, then shut it. If she could keep this creature talking, it would give her more time to think of a way out. Ben could come crashing through the door at any minute, too, which would solve things nicely.
"That's better," Boots said. He raised the lantern and walked behind a set of crates. "Come over here."
Cora stepped around the crates and looked down. The dead eyes of Wash Jones stared up into the darkness between them. His jaw hung open as if in shock, and his arms and legs were crumpled beneath him.
"Look well, Cora Oglesby," Boots said. "Look at the early stages of vampiric metamorphosis. When the sun sets tonight, Mr Jones will arise anew, a soldier in an unholy army."
Sickened by the glee in his voice, Cora nonetheless found herself drawn to the corpse at her feet. Kneeling down, she looked at his open mouth. His teeth still looked human, not sharp and elongated like those of the vampires she'd killed that day. No blood seeped from the puncture wounds on his neck; his body was completely dry. Cora shook her head. Wash Jones had been an arrogant fool, but he hadn't deserved this. She made the dead man an unspoken promise that she would see his body put to rest.
"Don't waste any thoughts of pity for Mr Jones," Boots said. "He chose to become one of us so he might settle his score with you. I merely provided him the means by which he could achieve such power."
"So you're as honest as the serpent in the garden," Cora said. "Can't say I'm surprised."
"I assure you, I am a man of my word. I did have every intention of allowing him the pleasure of ending your life, but it seems he will not wake up in time. I had not counted on catching you so easily. Still, I suppose I might save some of your blood to serve as the first meal of his new life."
Cora was getting bored with such threats. "Ain't like he'll be around to enjoy it. James already told me that the weaker vampires ain't got their own minds."
"I have reason to believe he will be present." The bartender's voice changed as he spoke, becoming deeper and raspier. Cora looked up at him, and her breath caught in her throat.
In front of her, where Boots had stood a moment ago, the cold blue eyes of Washington Jones looked back her.
Cora fell back against the wall as the living image of the dead man leaned toward her. His sandy-colored hair framed his face, and the same mocking smile spread beneath his beard.
"You seem surprised, Cora," the voice of Wash Jones said. "Surely your Mr Townsend informed you that a nosferatu's power is far greater than that of a lowly vrykolakas."
Cora glanced at the corpse, then back up at the living image of Wash Jones. "He did say that your type could do different things, but he didn't mention taking on a dead man's body. Mostly just that you had your human soul."
"Correct on both counts," the vampire said. "Let us explore the first mystery, then." Cora was silent, so he continued. "As you know, sunlight is fatal to a vrykolakas. We nosferatu find it rather uncomfortable as well, so we prefer to use more indirect means to influence the sunlit world. To accomplish this, we have learned to use the souls of those we drink as familiars."
"The souls?" Cora asked. "Ain't the soul of a vampire stuck in hell?"
"A common belief, but one I find rather insulting," Wash said. "I prefer to think