The horses were in a lather from the hard run, though Book still held his head high. Cora pulled her Winchester from Our Lady's saddle and chambered a round before running for the door.
A young face answered her frantic knocking. When the boy saw her, he seemed to deflate with relief. She clapped him on the shoulder, knocking him to the floor. Other faces peered at her from various doors as she passed. Making eye contact with one, she pulled her bandana down from her face.
"Where's Ben Oglesby?" she asked. The man replied with a blank look. "How about Townsend? You seen him?"
That got her a nod and a finger pointing further down the hall. Cora followed the silent directions, her rifle still in her hands. As she walked, she took note of the retreat's condition. The defenders watching her pass looked tired but still wary, and none of the furnishings looked disturbed. If there had been a fight here, it must not have been serious.
She found James Townsend in Harcourt's study, seated in one of the chairs facing the fire. He looked up as she approached. "Cora? What brings you here?"
"Where's my husband?" she asked.
"Your husband?" James looked confused. "I haven't seen him. I thought I told you as much earlier."
"You did," Cora said, "but now he ain't anywhere." The panic in her voice became impossible to hide. "You're sure you ain't seen him around? I thought he might have come up here to help you out."
"I'm sorry, but he hasn't stopped by," James said. He rose out of his chair, a concerned look on his face. "What made you think he was here?"
"Because he ain't anywhere else," Cora said. "He ain't anywhere, and that vampire said that he…" she trailed off, unable to say the words aloud.
"What vampire?" James said. "Surely you don't mean the nosferatu?"
"You know another vampire that talks?" Cora asked.
"Well, I just wanted to be sure–"
"Ain't nothing that's sure now," Cora said, her breath coming in gasps. "My husband may have been killed by that monster, and I need to find out for sure."
"My God," James said. "Are you sure you heard right?"
"I seen it with my own eyes," Cora said, the rifle shaking in her hands. "If it wasn't a trick, anyway. First, I saw old Boots, then he turned into that Wash Jones feller, then he" – she took a breath – "he turned into the spitting image of my Ben."
James raised his hands. "Just calm down for a minute. You're not making any sense."
"Then you ain't listening to me!"
"I assure you, I am," James said. "Take a deep breath and tell me everything that happened."
Cora wrung the barrel of her rifle. Her voice wavered as she recounted the details of that afternoon. The memory of seeing Ben's eyes filled with such murderous hatred nearly choked off her tale, but she took another breath and forced herself through it. When she finished, she looked down at her rifle so the brim of her hat would hide her tears.
James stared into the fire, digesting her story. After a few moments, he turned back to her. "This is quite dire news. You're sure you've left nothing out?"
"Not a thing," Cora said, bringing her head up.
"My colleagues will want to hear this information at once," James said. "Your research has provided us with a critical piece of the nosferatu puzzle. With it, we will be able to better equip hunters and protect the innocent from this menace."
"I don't much care about all that," Cora said, anger swelling in her chest. "All I care about is finding my husband. Did anything that bastard said sound like a clue?"
"Of course," James said. "My apologies. Tell me what he said again." Cora did, and he stroked his chin with a thumb and forefinger. "From what you say, he sounded rather surprised that you believed your husband would rescue you from his clutches. That strikes me as more than a little odd."
"Why's that?"
"If the vampire had murdered your husband recently, he couldn't have expected you to know of Benjamin's death." The firelight danced in James's spectacles as he thought. "We must conclude that the creature believed you had prior knowledge of the event."
"How could he?" Cora asked. "I'd seen Ben maybe fifteen minutes before my showdown with that spook." James's words gave her a thread of hope, and she clung to it with everything she had.
"A curiosity, to be sure," James said, "but something else about your account bothers me