The Hunt for St. Divine {CLOSED}

[priest]

The first thing he saw were the buzzards.
He'd been riding along just below the crest of the hogback and saw the buzzards swirling over the valley floor. Curious, he rode down the investigate.
The valley was small, dry, and flat. The sand was baked hard and occasionally broken up by fist-sized basalt rocks scattered around. The heat waves nearly obscured the view of the four wagons parked in a circle.
Priest was a tallish man, over six feet and very strong. He'd been riding for months tracking the vampire named St. Divine that had murdered his family and several others back in upstate New York. The hunt had taken him across the country, south to New Orleans, north to Chicago, and now deep into the Arizona desert and the Superstition Mountains.
He moved his mustang closer to the wagons, his Winchester Carbine cocked and ready. He'd been reading Indian sign all day. The wagons were typical of the era, and filled with the usual bric-a-brac of traveling families going west, to the silver mines of Arizona. There was no fire, one team of draft horses was still attached to a wagon.
Priest dismounted and lead his horse to a shady spot beside a wagon, removed his saddle, rubbed him down, and tied him off. There was no one alive. He found the three families and a trail boss, all dead. None of the bodies had the tell-tale mutilation of an Apache attack.
Priest dragged the bodies out of the wagons and put them side by side on the ground. He then searched the wagons. He found clothes, a few books, tools, some weapons, and food. He took one of the full water kegs over to his horse and broke the lid open to allow his horse to drink. Three of the wagons were unusable, the fourth was still in good condition. In one wagon he found a bag of gold, a box of silver tableware, and a diary.
Priest took an ax he'd found and broke the three wagons apart, piling the wood around the bodies. He used the canvas covers to wrap the dead. He used some lamp oil to dump over the bodies and wood. He then gave the funeral service for the dead, blessing them and sending them on their way to heaven. He then lit the wood on fire.
After loading the last wagon with all the usable or sell-able items, he lit another fire and cooked some beef, beans and coffee. Then he took the silver tableware and melted them down and poured the molten silver into his own bullet molds. He forged them with holy water and said a blessing over them. He then used old brass casings and powder to make bullets for his Winchester carbine and his Colt revolvers.
He climbed up into the wagon and proceeded on down the valley. After a few miles he came to the stage route and saw a sign that said: Behelian 10 miles.
Priest smiled at the sign. Being an educated man, he knew that the word "behelian" was an old Anglo-Saxon word meaning "to hide" and the word "Hell" derives from this. Whomever had named this town had a strange sense of humor, Priest thought, and followed the road.
A few hours later, he rode over a small hill and there was a rather large creek, and a small town. Behelian.
Priest drove the wagon across the creek and into the town.
The sun had just set.

[priest]

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Priest(My usual first person view..)
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-As I pulled the wagon into the town just after dusk, an old dog would barrel from a lonely side street. His barks would raise the suspicions of folks resting within the buildings and homes, leery faces would peer forth from the windows as I rumbled by. The wagon creaking loudly as I crept to a stop near a livery stable, lifting my leg I’d place the heel of my boot against the brake pushing it in and locking it into place before stepping over and climbing down. As I moved to the back of the wagon retrieving my saddle bag, and the necessity’s for the evening I’d turn to find an older gentleman standing near me with a lantern in hand. His eye’s would scan over me, his gaze deep as if recalling something. Speaking out with a smooth yet raspy hard edged tone, I’d address the man.-

Priest: “ You, got room for the horses ol’ man?”

Ol’ Man Mikhail: “ Oh yes! You’ll have to forgive me boy, since that other rode into town awhile back with his posse and caused so much dismay. We’ve just been a bit leery of the strangers, something about you is familiar though.. You ain’t from around here are ya, what’s your name?”

-I’d simply shake my head, swinging the saddle bag up over my left shoulder.-

Priest: “ I once went by the name McCray, I gave that name up long ago.”

Ol’ Man Mikhail: “ Oh!, I heard of a William McCray once. Or, was it Billy? Memory’s goin’ on me, rumor had it he was a real nasty hombre with some six-guns, a bounty hunter who turned outlaw round the Arizona, Nevada parts after a few heavy scraps out Dodge City way. Heard it was over some family of his turned up dead, then again you don’t get much from them dime store novels. The gossip was they called him Billy “The Blade” cause he took up the ol’ apache ways, decided to start scalping his enemy’s. And, so the story goes he disappeared after doing away with the last of the gang what did the dirty deed on his kin, turned over a new leaf and what have you. Became a preacher, got married, buried his ol’ life and such.. You any relation? ”

Priest: “ Nah ol’ man, I’m just a common drifter who tries to make his way by the good book. With a little sweat and hard work I figure I’ll stay on the lords good side. So, tell me more about this posse?”

Ol’ Man Mikhail: “ Ahhh, yes well they rode in awhile back. Ten or fifteen of em’, they started wreaking mayhem and disorder all over town. Killed a hefty lot of us to.. Nearly filled the cemetery out back of town here, they even slaughtered all the horses in the stable before they left out. Split em’ down the middle and bled them dry, what a ritual that was! They called the leader Divine, St. Divine.. He was giving em’ all the orders.”

-”He was here..” I’d simply look off into the distance.-

Priest: “ St. Divine huh?.. Doesn’t ring any bells.”

Ol’ Man Mikhail: “ Bullshit son! There’s anything an ol’ man like myself knows, it’s bullshit. From the look off ya I’d say you know exactly who he is, he left one of his boys behind to keep a watch on the town. They call him “Havoc” and he’s stayin’ across the way in our local house of leisure, ladies over there will just love you.. Especially if ya were ta get rid of him, I‘ll take care of your horses here and put the wagon out back of my place as ta keep folks out of yer belongings.”

Priest: “Thanks for the kind services ol’ man.. Suppose I’ll mossy on over and have myself a look.”

-Tipping the wide brimmed hat I’d begin to slowly move across the street, spurs jiggling with every step, boots shuffling through the loose gravel with a resonating swoosh. My tall lankly frame would cast a shadow in the moonlight, one which would tower out along the dusty streets. Reaching the edge of the street I’d step up onto the wooden walkway, the boards creaking under my feet, as my boots produced loud percussive thuds. I’d come to a halt before a pair of swinging doors, grasping each in adjacent hands and pushing them open entering with a slow swagger and scanning over the area with a calm glance.-

(Hope this works, and or gives you something to work with Ray)

[priest]

(OOC: Works better than great, Jake! Thanks! I hope I can keep up with you!!)

He stood at the bat-wing doors for a moment. The tin-panny piano was being played, and slightly out of tune. How many of these saloons had he been in, he wondered briefly.
He pushed the doors open and walked in. The saloon had the usual crowd that one could expect from a mining town, the drifters, miners, locals, travelers, drunks, gamblers, bar-girls, and those who just got into town hoping to make their fortune. There was a faro wheel, the usual card games, and the slightly loud, just starting to get drunk voices of the men. There was also the occasional giggle from a bar-girl as some flirtatious soul put his hand just a bit too high on her leg. She'd slap the hand very lightly and say 'Stop that' in voice that let the man know that she had no desire to stop him...unless he didn't have any gold.
The saloon was called The Bucket of Blood, and Priest was surprised to find a real bar. The last place he'd been in was nothing but a tent, the bar was two sawed logs over two barrels. Here there was a gaudy, gilt-edged mirror behind the bar, and the various bottles were lined up like soldiers. There were some jars of foodstuffs, like pickled pigs feet, that had to have been shipped all the way from Santa Fe, or even Denver.
Priest had no trouble spotting Havoc. He was dressed in an expensive Chesterfield long coat, with a freshly starched white frilled shirt. His string tie was a blood-red ribbon. He had a snow white wide-brimmed planters hat on the table that had a blood red band that matched the tie. Priest noticed that Havoc carried a pearl handled Colt's revolver. Havoc sat up against the side wall, well away from the face of the mirror. Sitting next to him was a pretty blonde bar girl who clearly wished that she were somewhere else.
Priest was paid scant attention as he walked up to the bar.
"What can I get you, stranger?" the barman asked.
"Whiskey will be fine," Priest replied.
The barman poured a drink in a clear glass and said,"So, you in town to mine?" as he accepted Priest's coins.
"Nope. Just loafing around."
The barman said,"Welcome to Behelian, then."
"Any idea who named this town?" Priest asked.
"No idea," the barman replied."I came to town to find my fortune in the creek, and ended up finding it this saloon. Funny how things work out like that." The barman wiped the bar a bit and started to walk away, then turned back and said,"Why do you ask, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Just that the word 'hell' comes from the word 'behelian'...in a roundabout sort of way," Priest replied with a small smile.
The barman laughed a bit and said,"No kidding? It sure fits for some folks around here. Most come to get rich, and leave poorer than when they got here."
"They always do around mining towns."
During the conversation, Priest was covertly watching Havoc. Havoc acted like it was his town, sitting back and holding on to the bar-girl. Every once in a while, Havoc would pull her close and smell her neck. The bar-girl would obviously shudder and Havoc would laugh.
The barman was still talking, oblivious to Priest wander attention, when Priest said,"Any decent chow here in town?"
"Why sure! We got some mighty fine beef and beans right here. You want some?"
"I would," Priest replied. "I'll just go sit at that table over by the fellow in the long coat. You can have someone bring it over."
The barman suddenly leaned in close and said softly,"You be careful over there, stranger. That fella is a fairly dangerous sort."
"Thanks for telling me, but I'm here to mind my own business," Priest replied.
Priest paid the barman some more money and walked over to the table next to Havoc. He pulled up the chair and sat with his back to the wall, right next to Havoc. He said," Howdy."
"Who're you?" Havoc asked.
"Just a stranger," Priest replied.
A bar-girl hurried over with a large plate of beans with a thick steak on it and hurried away.
"Maybe you should be leaving my town," Havoc said.
"Can I eat first?" Priest asked mildly.
"If I'm feeling generous," Havoc said.
Priest nodded and said,"You seem to be a mite overly generous with the lady's hand, maybe you should let her have it back."
"And if I don't?"
"She won't sit by you ever again, I'm thinking."
"Maybe you should keep your thinking to yourself,"Havoc said coldly.
"I probably should," Priest agreed,"but I have a tendency to think out loud."
"That could get you killed," Havoc snarled quietly.
"So could lightening, but it ain't likely."
"You think so? Maybe you'd like to test your theory outside?" Havoc said standing up.
Priest took another bite of steak and stood up. "Make sure no one clears this plate, ma'am, I'm not finished. This won't take long."
Havoc walked out of the bar and into the street. He was waiting for Priest to come out the door. When Priest walked out into the street, Havoc said,"I'm going to eat you." Havoc's face changed into his demon visage and flew at Priest.
Priest slapped leather and shot Havoc three times so fast that it sounded like one shot. Havoc dropped like a rock as Priest's three bullets all hit Havoc in the chest grouped small enough that they could be covered by a poker chip.
Priest knew that silver bullets would not kill a vampire, but they would knock him out. Havoc was out. Priest holstered his gun and walked over to Havoc. He grabbed Havoc by the arms and dragged him into the alley. Priest reached under his vest and pulled out a wooden stake and drove it into Havoc's heart. Havoc turned to dust almost instantly.
"A young one," Priest said and spat on to the dust. He picked up his three spent silver bullets and put then into his pocket. Havoc also left behind five gold double eagle coins, about a hundred dollars.
Priest picked up the coins and walked back into the saloon. The place was quiet. Priest walked back over to his table and gave the bar-girl three of the coins.
"Here, Havoc had to leave, but he wanted you to have this." Priest said, and sat back down and continued eating.
"Thanks," the bar-girl said,"where did Havoc go?"
"To hell," Priest said, and ate some beans.

[priest]

(OOC: Sorry, Jake...this one burned inside me..I had to write it down. BIC)

Priest finished his meal and drink and got up to leave. The conversations started back up in the saloon. The bar-girl asked,"Would you like some company?"
"Sorry ma'am, but no. Maybe some other time," Priest replied.
Priest walked out into the early night. Along the main street he could see a saddle shop, general store, blacksmith, gunsmith, and various other businesses. There were several house already lived in and some being built behind the businesses. At the far end of the street, Priest could faintly see the stone monuments of the cemetery. He knew that his horse and wagon were being taken care of at the livery stable, so he walked over to the hotel to get a room. Have to sell the wagon in the morning, he thought.
Once inside his room, he undressed, washed up and said his prayers. He got into bed and wrapped his rosary around his hands and closed his eyes. Sleep came quickly, and so did the dreams.
{..."if you're going to ride with us, you gotta pull your load, kid. No loafing, got it?" the man who called himself Johnny Comanche said. "An' you do as I say, got it?"
A young Billy McCray said,"Just point out who you want me to shoot, and I'll shoot them."
Comanche laughed and said,"You're a sharp one, ain't you? For a boy."
Billy had his 'Arkansas Toothpick' in hand quickly and said,"I ain't a boy. Those blue-bellies killed my family, I aim to even the score, with or without you."
"Well, 'Billy the Blade'," Comanche said,"we ride for Bill Anderson, and he tells us where to go."
Anderson wasn't sane. He was a murderous, blood-thirsty, bandit. Billy didn't care. He rode with them, did his share, killed when it was needed. Along the way, he rode through Missouri, Kansas, and Illinois. He met several people including a bitter young man named Jesse James. When the war ended, he found himself a wanted man. He drifted west where people didn't ask many questions. Then one day he met a Catholic priest and found a chance for redemption...then years later, coming home to find his wife and son dead. Neighbors mutilated...the funeral...}
Priest awoke suddenly at a small noise in his room. He lay still, his eyes closed. A fleeting thought occurred to him, Old Man Mikhail had referred to Billy the Blade. He much preferred that to the name the others called him in Arizona: 'Devil Anse', as he full name was Ansel William McCray.
Priest lay still listening, knowing his six-gun was near at hand, when a woman's voice said softly,"I know you're awake."
Priest opened his eyes to see the lovely young woman leaning against the door. She was wearing a long green dress, and around her neck was the same blood red ribbon that Havoc wore. The ribbon was St. Divine's trademark.
"Just in case you were going to ask,"the woman said,"public accommodation, no need for an invitation."
"St. Divine sending me a welcoming committee?" Priest asked.
The vampire woman laughed and said, "No, I just knew you were here. You made quite the entrance into town."
"So you were Havoc's friend?"
"Havoc was a loud-mouthed bore. Getting dusted was the best thing that ever happened to him. But my master's patience isn't limitless. He might start to think that you're a nuisance," she said.
"I've spent a good portion of my life not giving a damn what your master thought. Where is he?" Priest said.
"Why should I tell you?" she laughed,"that would ruin the fun. We're starting to enjoy this game."
"It's not a game to me, and it shouldn't be to you," Priest said bitterly.
The vampire looked sad for a moment then said,"But that time has passed, this is a new time."
"That time will never pass for me,"Priest said.
"William, please! Leave this place. Go home. Go to Chicago, or Paris. Just leave here, it isn't safe."
"It's about sunrise, shouldn't you be getting underground?" Priest said, cocking his gun.
"I'll go. There are old mining tunnels all over under the town. My master isn't there. He isn't close to here, but he has minions who will kill you."
The vampire moved over to the window and opened it up. Priest said, "And our son? Is he here as well, Amelia?"
The vampire stopped and looked down. "No," she replied," he rests still beside my mother, where you buried him." Then she was gone.

[priest]

After his dead wife left him, Priest could not get back to sleep. He got dressed and made his way downstairs to the diningroom of the hotel. He ordered a plate of eggs, beef, toast and coffee. There were a few other guests in the room, and they looked at Priest in fleeting glances. 'Word got around', Priest thought to himself. He ate his breakfast not caring if the people looked at him or not.
When he was finished, he paid his bill and walked out the door. He made his way over to the livery stable where the wagon was. He reached into the packages and brought out the gold he'd found, and the diary. Paging through the diary, he found a reference to family back in North Carolina. Priest took the gold and diary and walked over to the general store.
There were several people up and about the town, even at this early hour. The shops were just begining to open and start the working day. Several miners were up and grumbling about the days work ahead.
Priest walked into the general store and up the counter. The clerk was busy with arranging candy on the counter when he saw Priest.
"Help you?" the clerk asked.
"Yes, I'd like to sell that wagon, and the supplies on it back to you. Then send the money and a diary to North Carolina, is this the place to do this?"
"Sure is. I can't send money, but I can make you out a draft for the value. I hope that's okay," the clerk said.
"That will be fine."
Priest and the clerk made the necessary arrangements and just as Priest was begining to leave, the clerk asked, "Why are you doing this for those folks?"
"They died alone and in pain. The folks back home will be wishing to know what happened," Priest replied.
"Yeah, but you found that gold, fair and square. You coulda kept it, with no one the wiser," the clerk said.
"I'm not sure that would make me any wiser," Priest smiled. "But it wasn't my money, it belonged to the people that died. Now it belongs to their relatives."
"I see. Sorry, I just don't know very many honest men," the clerk said.
"Nor do I," Priest replied and walked out.
Priest walked out of the general store and down to the cemetary at the edge of town. He looked at all of the gravestones carefully. Many had died recently. 'I have to watch this place,' Priest thought to himself.
He then walked back to the livery stable to check on his horse.