That night she didn't go back to her tent. She was a bit too wobbly to make the walk so, I let her sleep in my tent with me. Nothing funny happened that night. We just slept, wrapped around each other. I wanted to stay there forever. The next morning she told me she was going to try to sneak back to the other tents but I shook my head. "No point in tryin to be quiet now. Somebody is outside. I think it's Ole Rasp."
She laughed at me and elbowed me in the ribs. "Don't call my Grandma Gerty names." She scolded.
I grunted with the impact and chuckles. "It's true though. Old woman got a personality that could strip wood."
We got up. I took a deep breath and stepped outside the tent. The moment I poked my head out Ole Rasp swung a cast iron skillet, in an open attempt to break my nose. I got my hand up with ease and the pan stopped dead, Ole Rasp squeaked and dropped the pan. Vibrations ran down her hand I guess because she started rubbing it, her old leathery hands creating a cringing sliding sound to my overly sensitive ears. "That's a fine howdy do. And how are you this morning ya old witch?" I asked, irritated. Deirdre jabbed me hard in the short ribs, behind the tent flap. I stepped out of the way and let her come out.
"Deputy, you are a worthless cad!" She bellowed at me. If looks could kill, those beady sunken eyes would have got the drop on me for sure. "How dare you defile my little angel! Did you get her drunk? Did you take advantage of her? You'd best be prepared to make an honest woman of her, you worthless dog!"
Deirdre sighed, then crossed her arms. Oh God here they go. "Grandma, Dodger didn't do anything untoward! He was a perfect gentleman!" She pointed at the old woman. "And besides, even if we had done something a little forward, it ain't none of your affair!"
"You little tart!" Ole Rasp accused. "You let him have you then, didn't you? Idiot girl! Now no man is going to want you!" She spat on the ground at Deidre's feet. "You are a soiled dove now! A whore who bent over for a pretty face!" Now, on a general day, I don't let my goat get got by a lady, even crotchety old women. But this was no lady. And I could taste Deridre's hurt. It was like she had been slapped. All of her fire was put out. Gone was the stubborn girl and arrived was the hurt child. My gorge rose and a low menacing hiss escaped between my teeth. Then the old crone went too far. If the first salvo had hit my Deirdre like a slap, this next phrase was a brick. "If your mother was still alive she would be so ashamed of you! I almost thank God that she isn't here to see this."
Tears began to fall down Deirdre's face, her pretty brown eyes closed and she buried her face in her hands. "But I didn't do anything..."
"Lying tramp!" The old woman said and swung her hand, slapping Deirdre in the mouth, hard. "You shut your whore's mouth! You are a disgrace!"
I could taste her hatred. Her ignorant rage as a taste like sweet caramel in my mouth. I did not like it. I hated it, hated her. She raised her hand to slap Deirdre again but I had had enough. As her hand swung forward, my hand lashed out. I felt her finger pop, not out of joint but enough to cause pain. She shrieked and took a step back clutching her wounded paw. I stood tall, even my short height seeming to tower over this wretched old thing. "You old bitter bitch." I said and my voice was an icy hiss. I was almost beyond control, my mind retaining just enough sanity to know I couldn't go too far. "You can insult me. You can hit me. You can spit in my face. But you will not speak to the woman I love in such a fashion. And you *will* not strike her." My eye blazed blue fire. I wanted this old battleaxe afraid. I wanted nothing more than for her to regret. I wanted her to understand that she had picked a fight with the devil. A small drift of fog came from my mouth and the old woman took a step back. Fear had seized her. Fear of her actions. Fear of the repercussions. Fear of me. "You will not insult her. Especially for something she hasn't done. Nothing happened, you stupid old crone! Nothing! She is too pure! Too beautiful for one as lowly as I! But as low as I am, you are lower still!" I stepped forward and Gertrude stepped back. "You slapped an angel! Do you know how lucky you are to have her? I would have left your sorry ass to die, old and alone in Louisiana. Buried and forgotten in an unmarked grave. You have been nothin but rude to me and the marshal. We saved your life and you repay us with your spite, your disapproval. Gratitude seems to be beyond you." I forced her back another step. "And now you turn your pitiful wretchedness on your own blood! You ask how dare I? You worm! How dare you?! Apologize, you old bag. Now." I turned my back to her. In my icy hatred I didn't care about the consequence of my words. "Or I will..." A touch on my shoulder brought me out of my rage as if it had never been.
"She's had enough, Dodger." Deirdre told me. Her voice was small and her emotions a jumbled knot I couldn't figure out. Then what I had done caught up to me faster than a fox on a rabbit. What in hell was wrong with me? My emotions were all over the place! And something was familiar about that outburst but I couldn't put my finger on it.
Gertrude spoke up. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. I'll never bring it up again. I shouldn't have slapped you darling. 'Specially without knowing. And..." she turned her old bleary eyes at me. "I do thank you and the marshal. I'm just old and mean. I'm sorry."
She turned to hobble away and I looked up to see Dusty bolting toward us in a dead run his pistol in his hand. When he saw Deirdre and I though, he stopped short and holstered his piece. I looked down. I had taken her hand without realizing it. She was shaking. I felt it then. Her mixture of fright, disapproval, love, and hilarity. Dusty sauntered over, stopping to tell the old woman that I was only young and in my heart for the first time. He coaxed her back to calm and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. Then he continued on to me. "Dodger. A word?" He said and started to walk off, knowing I would follow.
I looked at Deirdre. "If he doesn't kill me, I'll be right back." She nodded and kissed my cheek. I turned toward Dusty, adjusted my hat and pulled my guns from my holsters, stowing them in a nearby bush. Even if he drew on me, I wasn't going to fight Dusty. I would take my punishment like a man. I walked up and looked up into his face.
He looked, not angry but confused somehow. For a moment he didn't say anything then, "Explain, boy. And use another language. I have a feeling that this is a story not to be over heard." I obliged and told the truth about everything in Latin. Every detail, from feeding from Deirdre to the argument with the battleaxe. I told him about the mood swings. The ignorance of my thirst. The whole kit and kaboodle. He looked at me pensively. "Hmmmm, and you remember the fog from your lips?" He asked and I nodded. I was ashamed of myself. He thumped me on the head with his cane. "Ignorant boy." Then he lightly cracked himself on the head with it and smiled. "Ignorant teacher. I cannot believe I did not see it before." I was utterly confused. I said so.
He chuckled. "It seems, my boy that you have a unique gift. I should have picked up on it immediately after the conflict with the Enenra but I was too much a fool in chasing after Sumter."
I was suddenly impatient. "What is it, Marshal?" I growled in extreme frustration. "Just spit it out already. Stop dancin like a spooked horse." I blinked. "Sorry about that... ya see what I mean?"
He chuckled again. "Of course I do. I live through it every single moment of every single day." He pointed at himself, still speaking Latin to avoid the others hearing us. "You see, we incubi feed on emotions. But we also feel them intensely. We learn to fight the swings early. But you seem to have inherited this problem when you drank from me. But you also gained an incubus' ability to detect and manipulate emotions. I believe that this ability, plus the human donation amplified the ability to near incubus levels." He shook his head in wonder. "And I believe that the same thing happened when you fed on the Enenra. It gave you a limited control over shadows. Fascinating. I have never heard of a talent like this, outside of Doppelgangers of course. Truly marvelous."
It made a weird sort of sense. But there was a hole, I thought. "But I can't control shadows anymore." I told him. "It's not there."
He shook his head at me, like you would an ignorant child who wouldn't listen. "Of course not. That blood you would have used up years ago. To think it would still be fresh in your veins now is idiocy of the highest caliber." He grinned. "When it comes to being a hunter, you may be the most perfect fit in a hundred years. Now, about that old lady..."
There is nothing like an insult in Latin. *Stulte! Vos postulo ut ipse contineas! Cogitare! Vos utor vestri caput!*. What it means? You fool! You need to control yourself! Think! Use your head! Then he cracked me with that cane. And that was it. I walked back to Deirdre, half smiling and rubbing the crown of my head. She looked at me. "Was it bad?" She asked. "I tried to eavesdrop but you two were babbling at each other in some other language. At least I think it was." She said pulling me into her arms. "You sounded a little like a priest." I laughed. It was the most ridiculous comparison I had ever heard. That was the one thing in the world that I most certainly was not. The last stretch of our ride was incredibly peaceful. Deirdre and I enjoyed each other's company. We pulled into Little Rock and immediately went to check in with the local Sherriff. He was a big burly man with thick wild hair, and a black beard that hung to his chest and arms like a bears. Huge and hairy. The man looked more like a blacksmith than a lawman. He nodded that he understood and thanked us for getting the ladies here safely. He offered to let us put up for the night in the bunk that was at the back of the jail. Dusty's face said he would rather have his jewels kicked by a donkey.
So, Dusty and I checked into a hotel. Almost immediately once night fell, Dusty headed out for the local house of ill repute. I wished him luck and took myself down to the bar. I needed a drink. I slid up to the bar and the barman came to me. Tall skinny fella with white hair that had begun fallin out. Poor man had tried to conceal this by combing his remaining strands over the bald patches. It didn't work. Should have just shaved it. I ordered myself a rum and water.
As I was sitting there I drank three of them. It was a quiet contemplating sort of evening. I could slightly feel a little tickle, maybe sort of kinda feeling the rum. Unfortunately, my body treats alcohol like it does any other poison and drives it from my system. More's the pity. I knew Deirdre and her lady friends would be putting up for the night at that ladies only hotel down the road. A ladies only hotel, oh the times they were a-changin. So I sipped my drink and thought about what Dusty had said. Stealing gifts was my gift. It was a neat concept when you thought about it. I was sitting there mulling the effects of this over in my head when a voice from the end of the bar spoke up.