floorboards. Opening the last door on the right, Morgan led them into a small office. A window dominated the far wall, curtains drawn back just enough to allow a modest stream of sunlight in. Documents and legal books were piled high on the bookshelves standing at attention behind a large desk. Two comfortable-looking chairs faced the desk, their stained feet nestled into a thick green carpet.
Victoria absorbed all of this in a flash. Her eyes fixed on the slumped bodies of two men in business suits. One man was positioned behind the desk, and the other faced him in one of the two chairs. Both corpses were the color of old milk, their skin drawn tightly over their bones. Victoria's stomach gave a flop.
"Ain't seen nothing like it," Morgan said. He and Cora bent down on either side of the body behind the desk. "I ain't even sure how it was managed, sucking these sorry fools like they was oranges."
"I got a notion," Cora said, "but I don't reckon it's one you'll take to."
"Try me." Morgan stood upright and folded his arms. "I didn't call you here to give you a free gander. You got an opinion, I want to hear it."
"Vampires."
The sheriff leaned forward. "Come again?"
"Vampires," Cora repeated. "Blood-sucking living corpses what go about doing just this sort of thing. What's more, these fellers will start moving about again come sundown looking for some blood of their own. Were I you, I'd set them out where the sun can shine on them nice and good and leave them there."
"Propping up stiffs that look like these is like to put folks right off their feed," Morgan said. "Ain't like these two was outlaws or some such so folks'd be glad to see them done in. I put a pair of fine businessmen on display like sacks of potatoes, this town is liable to string me up from my own gallows."
"Putting them out on the street's a better idea than letting them run about once the change sets in," Cora said. "You do that, you'll have another few stiffs on your hands come tomorrow morning, and that's if you're lucky."
"Forget it," the sheriff said, shaking his head. "I always figured you was a loon, but when the talk in town is that you got a knack for strange cases, I thought you'd have something worthwhile to say about this here situation, but all you got is kid stories. Go on and take your fancy lady friend with you and leave the real work to the men folk."
"Seems to me like the sheriff needs some hard evidence," Cora said to Victoria. "You got that holy water I gave you?"
"Yes," Victoria said.
"Go on and pour a little on this feller's head," she said, nodding toward the corpse.
Hand suddenly shaking, Victoria reached into her satchel. She could feel the sheriff's eyes on her as she pulled the vial out. The glass was cool to the touch. Gripping the stopper with her thumb and forefinger, she twisted to one side. It wouldn't budge. Smiling nervously, she tried again. The rubber squeaked against the glass. One more try, and the stopper came out with a small popping sound.
Careful to keep as much distance between herself and the corpse as she could, she held the vial over the dead man's head and tilted it enough to let a few drops fall.
The result surprised her as much as it did the sheriff. Where the water fell, plumes of smoke billowed from the desiccated skin. It was as though someone had poured vinegar on a hot stove. A sound like sizzling fatback filled the room. Alarmed, Victoria took a hasty step backward, bumping into Cora. The hunter held out a hand to steady her companion, a smirk playing about her lips. She nodded toward the sheriff, and Victoria followed her gaze.
Morgan's eyes were wide in his lean face, and his cheeks had gone deathly pale. His lips moved without sound. Brown eyes stole a quick, bewildered glance at the two women.
"What in tarnation is this?" he finally asked.
"This," Cora said, "is what happens when you throw holy water on something that's been cursed with unholy blood. Vampire, hellhound, werewolf, they all go up in steam and screams when you give them a good bathing." She folded her arms and cocked her head. "Still think I'm an old fool?"
The sheriff gaped at her for a moment before turning his gaze back to the smoking corpse. The trails of smoke were