When Scott was mortal, he didn't do well with dust. It affected his sinuses terribly and sometimes embarrassingly. Now here he was, sitting in ages of dust, not at all comfortable and in fact psychologically repelled. Oh sure, Scott could drink human blood and look upon the goriest remains with great interest, but dust was too much for him. Needless to say, he was not able to sleep. Jack and Jeremiah had both zoned out by this time. Scott was surprised that Jack was taking his rest, as he'd just been wakened from a year-long nap, but apparently that did not disable his desire for unconsciousness. So, Scott sat in all that dust, wide awake, but not bored – he kept hearing disembodied footsteps all around, ghostly voices (which were not directed at him, apparently), and the occasional odd knocking sound. Now, since Scott was a vampire, and had been a ghost himself for a short while, he was not scared, or even much concerned. He was annoyed, however. The cowboy who suddenly appeared in front of him (A different cowboy from the one he'd seen earlier) annoyed him even further.
"Is that Jack?" The cowboy asked. "The vampire, Jack Turner?"
"Uh," Scott usually didn't field queries from ghosts, yet here was one talking to him. "Uh, yeah, that's Jack, the vampire."
"That son of a bitch!" The cowboy pulled an old Merwin Hulbert from the simple leather holster on his belt and pointed it at Jack. He cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger. Since the revolver was as spectral as the cowboy, it had no effect. The hollow click didn't even awaken Jack. "Aw, dammit!"
"Who are you?"
"Amos McCoy, Esmeralda County Deputy Sheriff and Agent of Ministry. Who are you?"
"Scott Campbell."
"And what are you doing with that undead son of a bitch Jack?"
"He's my prisoner."
"How the hell did you work that out?"
"Not easily."
"I'd reckon not. So, what's your story? You work for Ministry?"
"Yeah, on a part-time basis. The other fellow over there is Jeremiah. You ever heard of Jeremiah?"
"Why, I'll be!" The cowboy tipped his hat to get a better view. "Of course I heard of Jeremiah! Who hasn't, in this line of work? Why, when I was younger, I was hoping for the chance to stick a stake in his gut. But then I got word he changed and was working for the side of Ministry. Never thought I'd hear of such a thing, a vampire working for Ministry, especially not one as prolific as Jeremiah!"
Scott then got an evil thought. Okay, maybe not evil, but certainly mean, and if there was someone who deserved being treated meanly, it was Jack. "Hey, Amos, would you like the chance to tell Jack what you think of him? I'll get him awake for you, if you want!"
"Yeah, okay. You do that. I got me a few words for the bastard!"
"Hey Jack!" Scott shouted into his ear. He mumbled something but otherwise did not react. So, Scott pulled out the remote.
"Waaa!" Jack cried as several thousand volts of electric pain woke him from his slumber. "What the fuck, Scott? Why the hell did you go and do that?"
"Jack," Scott said, "We have a visitor. Jack, this is Amos McCoy."
Jack looked at the spectral sheriff with disinterest. "Huh, okay."
"Yeah," The ghost snarled, "Amos Eliphalet McCoy, Esmeralda County Deputy Sheriff and Agent of Ministry!"
"Huh. Good for you. I'm going to go back to sleep now."
"You don't remember me, do you, you blood-sucking bastard!"
"Not really. Okay, no, I don't remember you at all."
"You murdered me!"
"I did? Small world."
"Don't you remember the act? I was here in Goldfield on the trail of you and Phillip, and I knew you'd be up to your old tricks here at the Hotel. But someone tipped you off and you ambushed me. I didn't have a chance. You sucked every bit of blood from my veins. Well, I hope it gave you the runs, you murderous son of a bitch!"
"Don't remember."
"What? You don't remember killing me?"
"I've killed a lot of people. What's your point?"
The cowboy sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "I just thought you'd have remembered ol' Amos McCoy!"
"Nope."
"Well, that just does it. Look, Jack, I'm mad you did me in, and I demand justice!"
"Oh well. There ain't no justice in this world, huckleberry. Now get over it."
"Now just you wait, you son of a bitch—"
"No! Just you wait! You're dead. Shouldn't you be heading toward the light? You know, a big, shiny light, full of hope and comfort, just waiting for you to discover it. Now doesn't that sound good, uh, what's your name?"
"Amos McCoy!"
"Amos Mac... yeah. Anyway. Find the light. Isn't there a light around here?"
"I... I don't know."
Jack turned over, away from the specter and toward getting more rest. "Yeah, well, why don't you go and find it. Write if you find work."
The ghost shook his head. "That bastard didn't even remember me!"
"Sorry," Scott apologized. "I wish I could have helped."
With a resigned frown, the cowboy began to fade into the air. His slowly disappearing image was replaced another image, one with more solidity and mass: that being Grace Montoya. She burst forth from room 109 and ran up the stairs, Dawn hot on her tail, and the real fun part of this is that she was carrying a stake and seemed resolved to use it.
"You murdered her!" Grace cried as she lunged towards Jack, who had not managed to return to his slumber. Dawn tried to restrain her, but was failing. Scott leapt from the ground, hoping to restrain Grace's homicidal rage.
"What?" Jack cried. "What did I do now?"
"You murdered her, you son of a bitch!" Grace growled as she struggled against both Dawn and Scott. "You murdered her and laughed about it!"
"Who'd I murder this time?"
"Libby, you sick bastard! Libby Walker!"
"Grace," Scott said, "Calm down, please!"
"She was pregnant and chained like some kind of animal! And you fed on her, like it was nothing!"
"Grace!" Dawn cried, "You're not making any sense!"
By this time, Jeremiah was well awake and involved in this little confrontation. "Grace! Control yourself!" He commanded. "What has gotten in to you?"
"He needs to die!" She cried, as tears of rage streamed from her eyes. "He needs to die for what he did to her!"
"Yeah, okay," Scott said, "He's done a lot of stuff he needs to answer for. But right now, we need him, okay? Please, Grace, just calm down!"
"He's a monster! You're all monsters!"
Scott didn't like being lumped in with Jack, but she was right; they were monsters. Scott fancied himself a monster who did the right thing in the hopes that his remaining humanity was real and not just a façade. But in the final analysis, he was yet a monster. "Okay, Grace, you're right: we're monsters, but some of us are trying not to be. Okay, Jack's not one of us, but the rest of us are trying our best to rise above our expectations. We fail, like anyone else, but we try. And right now, I'm hoping we can all rise above our expectations, because my brother's life is on the line, and if you kill Jack, then you may as well kill my brother. Although he's not perfect by any means, he's also not a vampire. So, Grace, please, drop the stake and let's talk about this, okay?"
Scott locked eyes with Grace, not in order to compel, but to make a connection. She stopped and looked directly at him. Then, lip wavering, she dropped the stake and fell into Scott's arms, sobbing. Dawn came and put her arms around Grace as well.
"What... what am I doing?" She asked between sobs. "What's happened to me?"
"It's that god damned girl's ghost, I'll bet," Jack snorted.
"No one asked you!" Dawn spat.
"Yeah," Grace said, her tears no longer flowing, "Yeah, he's right. Her ghost showed me what happened and what those monsters did to her. She was young, and scared, and pregnant, and you murdered her, Jack."
Jack looked away, although it was more from disinterest than shame. "Yeah, I do that."
"And the vampires weren't the only monsters," Grace continued, "There was a man. A wealthy man. He thought she was an inconvenience, so he asked Jack to kill her. He was as much a monster as the vampires. Maybe more so, because he was too cowardly to get his own hands dirty."
"Oh, yeah," Jack said, "Yeah, old George Wingfield. What a great guy he was, at least for a mortal. He really fixed Phillip and me up!"
"And this 'great guy' had a scared, lonely young woman murdered," Scott said, "Really great guy."
"Hey! Guys, I am a vampire. It's what we do. We kill. We feast on human blood. And I don't give a shit for your sob-story Sunday school moralizing. It has no effect on me. You can hate me all you want. I don't care."
"Scott and I are vampires, too," Jeremiah said, "And we do care. We do not give in to the baser instincts that come with vampirism. We have overcome."
"Well, good for you! You have overcome! Now let's all hold hands and sing 'Kumbaya' and maybe, just maybe, that evil rat bastard Jack will reform, come and see the light, and hallelujah! I'm saved! Thank you, Jesus! Fuck."
"He'll never change," Grace said, "Why even try?"
Jack leaned back against the wall. "Thank you! That's the point I've been trying to make. Now, if ya'll are done preaching, I'm gonna get back to sleep."
They watched as Jack slowly slipped from consciousness, none of them saying anything until he was out. "And now Jack sleeps the sleep of those unburdened by a conscience," Scott said. Grace simply nodded as she and Dawn went back to their room. Jeremiah, looking sadly resigned, sat down next to Jack. Scott could not find any rest, so he remained awake. Nothing of note occurred again that night. Scott just stood there, in that moldering old hotel, listening to the occasional odd knock, groan, and disembodied footstep.
*
Elizabeth knew why she had been summoned to Father's office. She did not look forward to the meeting. She tried to cover up for Scott as long as she could, but that only got her so far. She stiffened herself for the possible onslaught before daring to enter Father's office. She grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. Father was sitting behind his desk. As usual, she could not gauge Father's exact emotional state from the expression on his face; as usual, he looked his typically stony and non-emotive self. Perhaps she did not need to see an expression as she already knew what he was feeling.
"Father, I--"
"It's Jack, isn't it?"
No emotion, just a solid statement of fact. Damn that lack of emotion.
"Right. I am checking all possible leads on how he may have escaped. So far I've come up with a short list of--"
"Campbell."
"He is on my short list, Father."
"You may eliminate all further suspects. It was Campbell."
"Very well, Father."
"You are to apprehend Scott Campbell and Jack and bring them both to me. I have declared them fugitives from justice."
"Uh, very well. How will I begin to track them?"
"They are headed to Mexico. You will find them there. They are looking for a legendary Mexican vampire known as the Santa Muerte. You will use this information to locate them."
"Yes, Father. Santa Muerte."
"And one more thing, Elizabeth."
"Yes, Father?"
"You will use everything at your disposal to bring Scott Campbell and Jack back to face justice. Exhaust every possibility, and if needs must, you may bring back their ashen remains. Do I make myself clear?"
"Absolutely, yes, Father."
"Oh, and one more thing. I know Scott had inside help."
Oh, shit. "You're sure of this?"
"Absolute certainty. You will find this traitor among us and bring them to me."
"And what do you plan on doing with this 'traitor', Father?"
"That is not your concern. Bring them to me."
Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, Father."
"I have already made arrangements for a flight this afternoon from Portland International to Mexico City. You will be on this flight."
"Very well."
"You haven't much time. Johnny is waiting in the lobby with your tickets. You are dismissed."
Elizabeth bowed her head. "Yes, Father."
Before she could turn to leave, Father stopped her once more. "Oh, Elizabeth?"
"Yes, Father?"
"I will not expect you to exercise mercy. You have my full permission to exercise lethal force on Jack – and on Scott."
Elizabeth hesitated before answering, but knew she had to say something. "I hope it will not need to come to that."
Father thought it an odd thing for Elizabeth to say. She had never hesitated before, and she had never been known for her acts of mercy. "Be that as it may. You have your assignment. That is all, Elizabeth."
"Yes, Father. Thank you, Father."
Elizabeth left with no further discussion. As she hurried down the hall away from his office, Father leaned forward, folding his arms on his desk. He could barely restrain his rage.
"Campbell. Damn that man..."