Chapter 184

Weehawken, New Jersey, 1804

This was a stupid idea. Exactly what he was doing here, Christian wasn’t sure, but Hamilton had asked him to come, so here he was.
For the past several years, Christian had floated around from one team to another. Now that a new Guardian Leader had been appointed, and it wasn’t him, he found himself at odds with several of the teams he worked with. The one local to Philadelphia, where Thomas was still the commander, hadn’t wanted him around after he’d disobeyed Thomas’s ridiculous demand to stand down in the face of an attack from a child Vampire anyone of them could’ve ended in about five seconds. When Christian had done just that, Thomas had blown up, tossing his hat down on the ground and screaming at him, like he was the child.
He hadn’t seen what the problem was then, and he still didn’t understand now.
What lay in front of them at the moment, however, was a different problem entirely. Hamilton, Aaron Burr, and a few of the others he’d met in the war, along with several locals, had been tracking a group of Vampires marauding up and down the New Jersey coast for several months. They’d been able to pick off one or two here and there, but they had yet to catch the ringleader, an attractive French, female Vampire the locals called Black Betsy because she always wore a black hat. The monster was sinister, to say the least, and she’d been able to evade the forces Hamilton was leading for so long, the war hero was at his wits’ end. It probably didn’t help that Hamilton was busy stirring up all kinds of trouble all over New York and the rest of the new country. If Christian had done wrong in having an affair with Catharine Greene, then Hamilton had one upped him, and everyone else, when it came to his secret, or perhaps not so secret, rendezvous with Maria Reynolds, also a married woman. As far as everyone knew, Hamilton and Burr despised each other since Hamilton had kept Burr from winning the recent presidential election, but that wasn’t truly the case. They were, after all, working together in their free time to rid this part of the world of bloodsuckers, one monster at a time. Parts of it were all a giant cover-up for what was truly happening behind the scenes. The rest of it may have had a ring of truth to it. After all, there was some rivalry there amongst most of the political heads currently vying for power. Christian didn’t involve himself in that world, but he did hope to one day emerge as a leader among his kind, so he understood the draw to power.
What he didn’t understand is what in the world they were doing out in a field, in a fog patch, this early in the morning when it was a common fact that Vampires preferred night time for hunting, and therefore, that was when they would be out and about and more likely to be caught. Even if they had chosen this time of day to attack because they thought they could sneak into the Vampires’ hiding place and slay them as they slept, that would be difficult since there were no dwellings nearby. No, just a foggy field with a few scattered trees.
Christian wasn’t the only one confused. As they stood in the dim morning light, far from where they’d tied their horses, Burr asked, “Hamilton, are you certain this is a good idea?”
“Yes, indeed, I believe it is,” he said with the great enthusiasm Hamilton spoke with when he was excited about a prospect. “I have it on good authority that our Vampire, Black Betsy herself, will be passing through this field in a half hour’s time.”
“Good authority from whom?” Burr asked, folding his arms. He was the current vice president of the United States of America and clearly had little time for such ridiculous fantasies as the one Hamilton seemed to be embarking on now.
“I have my sources,” the former Secretary of the Treasury assured him.
Stepping up to Hamilton’s defense, Stephen Moylan, the same man who had been present all those years ago when Christian first Transformed, said, “I have heard the same from my contacts, different folks than those Hamilton speaks of.”
“I don’t like this,” Jessup, the friend of his father’s Christian had known his entire life, said, leaning against a tree. He was back from the west, having decided that wasn’t the life for him, at least not at the moment. Jessup had always been a bit of a wanderer, much like Christian was these days, but when the unsettled area had become too much for him a few years ago, he’d returned to Philadelphia. He and Christian had been together most of the time since, though there were some missions they went on without each other. When Hamilton had invited Christian to go on this hunt, he’d decided he wanted Jessup along with him. The entire situation seemed questionable to Christian at best. But he’d worked with these Goodies dozens of times over the years and knew them all to be skilled at what they did. It just seemed as if Hamilton might be taking unnecessary chances now, setting them up in a situation with little visibility, where communication would be difficult, and not for any particularly pressing reason. It wasn’t as if they had to get Black Betsy that morning, rather than following her to his next destination and going after her later that night.
It was what it was, however. Christian just needed to make sure he didn’t get in the line of fire of any of the Hunters. That was all that mattered to him. Taking a look around, he saw Burr and four others. Two women whose names he couldn’t remember and a man called Robert something or other. And Jessup. He’d be certain not to let Jessup kill him. He owed the man his life, after all. It would be a shame to ruin that now.
“Perhaps we should switch to blades?” Burr asked, his pistol in his hand but pointed to the ground. “I’d hate for an accident to occur.”
“Hogwash,” Hamilton said, loading his pistol as he spoke. “I trust all of you.” The man glanced around. Burr’s expression didn’t change. He was worried. It was almost as if he was having a premonition, as if he could somehow see this unfolding, see it going wrong.
Burr said nothing else, though, keeping his weapon drawn. Christian pulled out his pistol. The only beings he could possibly harm by firing into the fog were the Vampires since his bullets would merely bounce off of a Hunter. But he would certainly stay in the back. Getting Black Betsy wasn’t as important to him as not being shot himself.
“Do we have a specific plan?” one of the women, a busty redhead, asked, her hands on her hips. She was wearing pants beneath some half-skirt he was certain his mother would’ve liked. Christian wasn’t sure what to think of it, but her breasts were so distracting, he didn’t spend much time looking at anything else.
“Of course,” Hamilton said, turning to smile at her. “As soon as we hear them coming, I’ll go after her, and the rest of you back me up in case she gets through. If there are others in the party, feel free to bring them down.”
“That’s it? That’s the plan?” Burr asked, keeping his pistol pointed down still but folding his arms. “That’s utterly ridiculous. We need a more substantial plan than that.”
“No, it isn’t,” Hamilton said, turning to look at him now. “It’s precise enough. It’s not as if we know exactly where they’ll be coming from. It’s a large field. What I do know is that they set out from that direction earlier this morning, and that they’re headed that direction, hoping to pass by in the fog without detection.” He pointed in each direction as he spoke, as if they hadn’t already covered that.
Burr shook his head. “All right then. Should Guardians simply hold the line then? Let Hunters attack?”
“That might be the best idea,” Jessup, who was the oldest of all of them, Christian believed, chimed in.
Hamilton looked at him for a moment and then shook his head. “Just… kill Black Betsy. Beyond that, I don't care.”
“Lovely plan,” the redhead said, her thick Irish accent more predominant this time as she scowled in disgust.
No opportunity to continue the argument befell them as the sound of approaching horses met their ears. Superhuman hearing was another of their skills, though some were more talented than others. Christian tuned in quickly to what seemed like four horses riding at top speed. It seemed odd that Vampires would ride horses when they could run more quickly than the animals, but then, if they were attempting to blend in, in case they were spotted, that might explain it.
Or else that wasn’t the right party and they were about to start firing at an innocent group of humans out for a morning ride.
As soon as the lead rider came into view, it was evident that wasn’t the case. He’d never seen her before, but he could tell by the expression on her face and the black hat on her head that this was most certainly Black Betsy. Christian moved into position not to take her out, but to be the fall back, in case the first line missed. Hamilton, delighted at the prospect of finally getting her, fired his pistol at the creature. He missed wide, and she was about to ride past him, potentially to be lost to him again.
He should’ve moved aside. He was a Guardian, after all. He should’ve let the Hunters move in. That was the way of it. The others had done him a favor in letting him take the first shot, but as soon as he missed, he should’ve moved and let the Hunters take their chances, falling back to provide support, the way that Christian and the other Guardians had done. The rest of them were all taking up various positions to block the exit of Black Betsy’s horse. The beast was startled beyond the Vampire’s control now. Animals have a deep sense of danger, so the mere fact that this creature was riding atop the animal must’ve been enough to put it on edge. Now, with the fire of the pistol, it began to buck, tossing itself around, trying to knock its rider from its back. It would’ve been easier for the team to take the Vampire out if the horse had enough sense to stand still, but it didn’t know that. The other three horses startled as well, one of them running back the direction it had come, its undead rider still in the saddle. One bucked the rider from its back, and the other sped past Black Betsy toward the redhead.
Hamilton launched himself toward the Vampire he most desired to end just as the Hunters moved to attack--as they should have. Burr was a fabulous shot, one of the best Christian had ever seen. But the horse was moving, and then, so was the Guardian, right into his line of fire.
The bullet was already flying through the air when Hamilton moved into its trajectory. Burr shouted, “Alex!” but it was too late. Hamilton spun, his precise vision perhaps allowing him to see the projectile flying at him, but he could not move aside in time. The bullet hit him, sending him to the ground.
It was a fierce injury. Blood spurted everywhere, covering the white shirt Hamilton wore beneath his jacket. Christian could see it through the fog at a distance. Unless a Healer could be found quickly, Hamilton would most certainly expire. As far as he knew, the closest Healer was in Boston. Even if they could get a message to him, it would take time for him to get there. The situation did not look good.