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of the shifters and letting the silver do the rest.
    Winn shut one eye, set his sights, and shot. The sound of the gun firing made all the Darkin, shifter and vampire alike, pause for one second. The creature he’d shot bucked forward, one hand clawing at its back. It twisted, its eyes fully black now, and not anything close to human, while it dissolved into a thick twist of dark sulfuric smoke.
    The vampires took off running, the last shifter taking off after them.
    Winn cursed under his breath. He was clearly out of practice in this game. He’d forgotten how fast Darkin could move. He ran back around the front of the jail and grabbed the horse at the closest hitching post, kicking him into a gallop after the contessa, Enric, and the shifter.
    Beneath the dark, starlit sky, a moon, cleaved in half as it waxed toward full, hovered over Bodie. It illuminated the pale surface of the desert enough that he could see their bodies, dark and moving in the night.
    The horse huffed beneath him, hooves pounding out a solid rhythm and kicking up spurts of dirt as they galloped toward his target. Damn vampires. He knew they could move fast as a bolt of lightning under the right circumstances, but he hadn’t thought they could make it this far in the time it had taken him to get a damn horse.
    The night smelled of dirty oil from the creosote bushes, and wood smoke from the fires in Bodie. A faint tint of sulfur in the air, from the supernaturals ahead of him, confirmed the Darkin presence.
    Silver moonlight washed the desert in light and shadow, turning it surreal and painting haunted faces on the rocks where there were blank slates in the daylight.
    Winn pulled the reins, moving the horse in a wide arc so he could intercept the quickly moving supernaturals. He pulled his rifle from the holster on his back and pulled down the lever, preparing to shoot. The vampires ran straight at him, then split apart at the last moment, giving him a clear opening at the shifter.
    Winn fired.
    The shifter jerked to a stop, peering down at his chest before his whole body began to shake and convulse, exploding into a fireball, then a twisted column of smoke.
    Both the contessa and Enric walked toward him, neither of them breathing hard, because they didn’t need to, but both looking far more worn than they had in his office. “You two okay?”
    Enric gave him a stiff nod. A dark, deep set of scratch marks across his cheekbone marred his pretty face. “Was that the last of the four of them?”
    â€œFour?” Winn knew of only three. Damn. There was still one on the loose.
    A haughty laugh, deep and vile, interrupted them. All three of them turned in unison as a man dressed like a dapper plantation owner in a long, gray coat, hat, and gloves approached. He clapped, his gloves muffling the sound. Despite the dust of the desert his clothes were spotless perfection.
    â€œVery well done. Very well, indeed.” His smooth Southern drawl had an unctuous quality to it that crawled beneath Winn’s skin.
    â€œWho the hell are you?” Winn growled, his horse sidestepping beneath him as it sensed the agitation eddying in the air.
    â€œDr. Adder Morpheus, at your service.”
    Hardly. Winn caught the distinct odor of sulfur about the man. He was Darkin, Winn would bet his gun on it.
    â€œA pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Drossenburg. I’ve heard so much about you.”
    The contessa nodded briefly, her gaze flicking to Enric. Something was going on between the two vampires, Winn could tell. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but with every glance and change in facial expression, he knew they were somehow communicating and leaving him and the doctor out of the damn conversation.
    â€œWhat is your business, Dr. Morpheus?” the contessa asked, her voice steady and controlled, without a flick of emotion.
    â€œI’m afraid I must insist on Mr. Jackson’s company. You see, my employer