I start reading aloud:

  “You left without saying goodbye,” said Jackson, his voice as strong and gentle as his scarred and calloused hands.

  “I hate goodbyes,” said Carlotta, her eyes darting from his lips to his eyes to his golden-brown curls glowing in the rays of the setting sun. Her heart galloped in its cage like a saddlebred, but to where was it racing? The war was over.

  “Then don’t say one,” said Jackson, gently running his fingertips down her cheek. “Don’t leave.”

  “Why are you here, Jackson? Why would you come after me?”

  “Isn’t it clear, Carlotta?”

  “Nothing is clear with you.”

  “Then I’ll make it clear,” he said, squeezing her even tighter in his warm embrace. The cool breeze of early twilight rushed about them, but could not come between them. “I’m tired of fighting. The war is over. All this talk of resurrecting the Confederacy boils my blood with contempt. A gentleman understands when the fighting is done. He understands when it’s time to build a home and raise a family.”

  “And a lady understands when she’s in the way of a gentleman’s dreams of glory.”

  “Then the lady before me understands: the only dream of glory I have is to marry you and raise a dozen, happy children. To grow old with you, wearing hoary wreaths of wisdom on our heads.”

  “I thought—”

  “That all I wanted was battle? A career as a warrior? I’ve done my fighting, Carlotta. I want a warm bed and a beautiful wife. I want my house to become a home. But, what do you want, Carlotta?”

  “I…” She hesitated as his warm hands, damp with the sweat of riding, touched her face and neck.

  She couldn’t fight it any longer; now she understood the war she raged against her longing had been so misguided. His darling, passionate eyes melted her will to go on.

  “What of the Colonel?”

  “Tonight, I strike him down. Once and for all. I’ve sharpened the stake to pierce his heart. My bloodline will be free of this curse, once and for all.”

  “Wait,” says Clara. “Who’s the Colonel?”

  “Oh, that’s the vampire.”

  “What?!”

  “Yeah, he’s this ancient vampire that’s been plaguing the Jackson family for generations. I forgot to tell you about him. Just let me keep reading.”

  “A vampire…”

  “No, Nathan, you can’t. He’ll kill you!”

  “Then let me die knowing you loved me. Let me die with my heart in your hands. Would you do such a thing for a cursed man?”

  He leaned in and pressed his lips to her. She tensed then once again melted in his arms, and there in twilight with the stars rising around them, they stood in each other’s arms for both a moment and eternity.

  “Why is he going to fight the vampire at night?” asks Clara. “Don’t they sleep during the day? He should just kill him then?”

  “There’s no way to get to the Colonel during the day. He has too many guards. He only takes an audience at night, so that’s Jackson’s only chance to get close to him.”

  “Oh, that makes sense.”

  “Anyway…”

  “No, wait,” says Joe. “What’s the curse? Jackson clearly isn’t a vampire. What’s he so worried about?”

  “On their eighteenth birthday, Colonel Maximilien takes the daughters of the Jackson family as his concubines. He’s been doing this for about the past seventy years.”

  “Well,” says Joe, “someone should have done something sooner then.”

  “They tried. That’s how Thomas Jackson and Henry Jackson were killed. They challenged the Colonel. Nathan Jackson, our heroic captain, had hoped to become a general in the Confederacy so that he would outrank the Colonel, giving him power over the vampire.”

  “That’s absurd,” says Joe.

  “Yes, that’s a bit silly,” says Clara.

  “No, see, you know how vampires have to follow all of these rules: they can’t enter a home unless they’re invited in, they can’t move over running water, and stuff like that? Well, they’re also innately bound to military rank and decorum if they were a soldier in their lifetime. That’s Livingston’s idea. I think she invented that.”

  “What’s the point in a story where you’re just making things up?” asks Joe.

  “Well, let me keep reading and maybe you’ll get it.”

  “Alright. Fine. I’ll hush up then.”

  “So…”

  Jackson released Carlotta, but she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her head against his chest. She felt his heartbeat against her face. Surely, it raced just as quickly as hers. And so, tightly she held him, and tightly he held her with one arm as he stroked her hair with the other.

  Then, she felt him push her away, both his hands upon her shoulders, and she looked up into his eyes and saw the blazing fire of resolve, the fierce gleam of a man determined.

  “The choice is yours to make, my dear beloved: I will take you West if you so desire, never to see you again, even, or you can ride back to Nashville with me, back into the darkness where we’ll put an end to this evil. Not merely for myself. Not merely for us, but for our sons and daughters yet to be. A man is born to fight for the next generation, born to die even, and it woman alone that he asks to stand beside him in the fierce, whirling melee of destiny. Would you be so bold? I would think no less of you if you told me no.”

  “Oh, you stupid man,” said Carlotta with tears welling in her eyes. “You stupid, stupid man. Don’t you know I could never—”

  “Detective…”

  Gah! It was just getting good.

  “Yes?”

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “You’ve tortured me enough now. I think … I’ll try speak.”

  People need a reason to talk. Sometimes, being a friend to them is reason enough.

  “His Carlotta voice is especially grating, isn’t it?”

  Clara smiles at that, though her eyes are still dulled with melancholy.

  I put the worn paperback on the table. It’s early afternoon now, and I finally notice how warm the common room is. My back is damp with sweat.

  “Mind if I take my coat off?” I ask. “It’s getting quite warm in here.”

  “No, go ahead, Detective,” she says.

  “Sorry you two don’t like the book,” I say with a smile half a chuckle as I pull an arm out of my suit coat. “I guess it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I’ll try to find something we can all enjoy next time.”

  I hang my coat on the back of the chair.

  “It’s not that,” she says.

  “What is it then?” I ask while rolling up my sleeves.

  “I…” she starts, but the next word gets caught in her throat like a mouse in a cat’s claws. I just sit there and care. It’s all I can do.

  Joe takes his coat off and starts rolling up his sleeves now.

  “I tried to tell them,” she says.

  “Tried to tell who?”

  “The police.”

  “What happened when you tried to tell them?”

  There are tears in her eyes now.

  “They…” she says, fighting back a sob. She sniffles. “They didn’t believe me. I don’t blame them. I don’t believe me.”

  Joe crosses his arms, then puts a hand on his chin, furrowing his brow in deep concern.

  “What’s so hard to believe?” I ask.

  She stares back down at the table.

  “Maybe,” I say, “we change the subject. Why don’t you tell me about yourself first? Who are you, Clara? What do you do? Where did you go to school?”

  She takes a deep breath.

  “None of that matters,” she says.

  This still isn’t going to be easy.

  “It matters to me.” I’ve got to keep showing I care. She needs support more than anything. “You matter. Don’t ever think differently, Clara.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “No, I don’t. But I’m here to try and understand. Tell me about yourself first, then we’ll talk about what happened. I promise I’ll listen. I promise I’ll take you seriously. You can trust me not to write you off, kid.”

  She takes another deep breath while still staring at the table, and lets out a long, exhausted sigh. She uses the sleeve of her housecoat to wipe the tears out of her eyes.

  “Where do you want me to begin?” she asks.

  I can already tell she’s very sane. Troubled, but not hysterical. Perhaps she’s on a razor’s edge. Best not push her over if I can help it. Who knows what interviewing her will do, though? As much as this might hurt her, I have to ask these questions, and I have to get answers. She’s my only real lead right now. I’m going to find you, Jack Wolfgang, and I’ll either see you safe, dead, or behind bars. This mystery won’t go unsolved.

  “You’re nineteen, right?” I ask.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you go to high school?”

  “No, sir. Papa has a general store that we run. Family business. After eighth grade, we all thought it was best that I start working there more to try and inherit the business one day.”

  “High school education is good, but overrated. Not everyone needs it. Does your father pay you for your work?”

  “Yes, sir. As much as anywhere else would. I’ve asked friends what they make, and I’ve never felt any unfairness about the way Papa runs things.”

  “So, I take it the store is successful.”

  “It’s the only one in town, so yes, sir. Papa keeps the prices fair as he can. Says that if he didn’t, it would make room for competition, and that’d be bad for all of us. Especially if it was outside competition. You know, some big business from the city trying to step into a small town market. Also says he has a responsibility running the store to make sure that everyone has a chance to get what they need. To him, it’s not just a business. It’s a vital service, and if he doesn’t do it right, who will?”

  “Your father sounds like a good man.”

  “He’s the best man I know.”

  “You sound like a good daughter. Do you have any siblings?”

  “No, sir.”

  “All the more reason to be a good daughter to him. If you don’t, who will?”

  “That’s exactly right, sir.”

  “What do you do outside of work?”

  “Go to church, mostly.”

  “Is there only one church in town?”

  “No, sir. We’ve got a few small churches. Most of them are Christian, but we go to a New Faith Unitarian Church.”

  “Oh. I’m unfamiliar with that sect. What’s the difference?”

  “Not much, I don’t think. We all worship God. The New Unitarian church is just closer to home, and our friends go there. We sing hymns like a Christian church, but there’s not as much talk about Jesus. We think it’s silly to put so much focus on just one man when there are so many good moral teachers out there.”

  I write down the essential parts of that: New Faith Unitarian Church. Not Christian. Open to many religious teachings. Visit. Investigate.

  “That’s interesting. I’m something of a scholar of religion myself,” I notice Joe giving me a skeptical side glance, but he stays quiet, “though I don’t believe anything in particular myself. Not yet, maybe. I’m open to new evidence. I think it’s fascinating how spirituality motivates people. I’m surprised you’re not Catholic since this is a Catholic hospital.”

  “God calls all of us to be loving, not just Unitarians or Catholics. We shouldn’t discriminate just because people have different ideas about something so much bigger than us. God is love, but love shows up in countless different ways.”

  “Then you’re surrounded by people who love you?”

  “I think so. Yes.”

  “That’s good. Hopefully, you can recover with their support behind you.”

  “Recover…”

  “You’re not going to be here forever, Clara. I’m not directly assigned to your case. I’m assigned to another one that happens to overlap with yours. But I represent the law, and I’m part of this process. We’re going to get to the bottom of what happened and find the men we need to find to see that justice prevails. I want you to think about that while you’re here. Society stands beside you. We want what’s best for. We want you to recover and to go back to living your life the best that you can. If we didn’t want that, we wouldn’t have a reason to exist. Our cities would be worthless.”

  “Kind words from someone who doesn’t know…”

  “What happened, Clara? You went to the cabin. Why? Were you taken there against your will?”

  “No. No, sir. I know it looks bad, but Barry is … was…”

  I sit and let her try to sort things out. Is she uncertain how to refer to him because this Barry betrayed her, or because something else happened?

  “He was a friend from church,” she says. “I think he’s dead now. I think they’re all dead now.” Her eyes well up with tears.

  This is an old goal from before the reformat. I'm leaving it up because I'm proud of my readers and extremely thankful for them. I was very happy to hit this goal.

  We're still climbing! We hit our first goal! Thank you so much!

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  ?????? 50 of 50 Favorites - Bonus Chapter!!! ??????

  ■■■■■■■■■■ 100%

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