Chapter 89
Macon, Georgia, USA 1890
Jamie stood in a valley, gazing up at a mansion atop a hill. He recognized the Italian Renaissance Revival architecture from some of the houses in his neighborhood which had been built around the same period from which this structure dated. The ornate pillars on either side of the entryway appeared to be made of marble, though it could’ve been the terra cotta often associated with architecture from the period. Most of the house was made of brick, and he imagined the view from the third-story would’ve been breathtaking back before any other houses came to occupy the area. Now, the yard was a mere acre and a half in front butting to a roadway that led to neighbors just a half-mile down the road, though the back of the house was still surrounded by rolling grasslands that ended in a forested area some distance from the house.
Georgia was an interesting territory to Jamie. Headed by a Guardian who had to have been around since before the American Revolution, the accents were more foreign to him than even the ones he’d encountered in his visits overseas, and he had a hard time understanding Bo, the Leader, whenever he gave instructions.
The group gathered at the base of the hill before the palatial home was relatively small in Jamie’s opinion, considering what they’d been tasked at doing. This house had been in the same family for half-a-century and was known to be the sort of place where people visited and never left. Col. Gage, the patriarch of the family, had fought, and died, in the Civil War, defending his home from General Sherman and his marauding soldiers who burned so many other homes in the area on his infamous march to the sea. If it hadn’t been for an apathetic bloodsucker, Col. Gage’s bones would be lying in a shallow grave somewhere instead of occupying his soulless body inside his house of horrors.
Though Bo wasn’t exactly sure how many other vampires resided here, the story went that Col. Gage had returned home and immediately turned his entire family and some of the house servants so that he’d never have to be alone. If that were the case, his wife, four daughters, two sons-in-law, and who knows how many former slaves dwelled in the 18,000 square foot home.
“Our mission,” Bo began, surveying his troops the best he could from his squatting position in front of the hill, “is to get in, slaughter all them sons of bitches, and get out unscathed.”
“Seems simple enough.” Margie had been assigned this same mission by Jordan Findley by coincidence, not because she or Jamie either one had been looking to join forces again. In fact, Jamie had been happy to be free of her ever since their last conflict in Boston, a town he hadn’t spent much time in since he’d come back from London almost two years ago. Findley had given him several other high-risk assignments, and he supposed he’d eventually be sent back to help out Ward and his team if they ever got a handle on the Ripper. For now, he was happy for the experiences working with so many other teams were garnering him, although he wasn’t excited to see his sister.
She ignored him as well, content to focus on the task ahead of her. He noticed she was no longer wearing wide legged trousers and was dressed like a man, which he paid no mind to. If that’s what made her comfortable, then so be it. Margie’s reputation for handling Vampires had preceded Jamie at almost every other destination he’d arrived in.
Margie’s face was not the only familiar one in the group Jamie huddled with now. Kit was here as well, having been asked to come up from Atlanta to join Bo. Though she would never outlive the embarrassment she’d suffered when she’d accidentally shot him in New York City, to Jamie, it was a thing of the past, and the Hunter had drastically improved her skills such that she was now the Hunter Leader for the Atlanta area, which was quite an accomplishment.
The others consisted of four Hunters and three more Guardians that Jamie didn’t pay too much attention to. He’d been a part of so many teams these last few years, he’d decided long ago it made no difference who the others were. He’d learn their names and then forget them before he saw them again. Instead of trying to store useless information in his brain, he gave them each nicknames to help him remember who was who during the battle, and then as soon as he boarded the train to go off to the next, he expunged the information from his mind. Most of the time, his assignment was the same, to hang back and make sure everyone who was injured got patched up, so there was really no reason to know who Bo was referring to as he told the teammates what to do.
This time did seem a bit different, though, and Jamie’s ears perked up when he heard his name. “Jamie, I want you to stick with Kit. You’ll be her protection as she sweeps the cellar.”
His eyes wide, Jamie, asked, “You mean you want me active? The entire hunt?”
“You gotta problem with that, son?” The old man’s white beard picked up the moonlight, and Jamie absently wondered exactly how old he must be too actually look like an old man.
“No, sir,” he replied promptly. “It’s just… I’m usually held in reserve so that if anyone gets hurt, I’ve got enough energy to repair them.” He didn’t add “without having to heal myself first” to his comments because he was certain Margie would have something to say about that. As it was, she snickered as soon as he was done speaking. Jamie peered at her in the darkness, daring her to say something.
“I think ye’ll be fine,” Bo replied. “Kit’s a deadeye, anyhow.”
Glancing at the pretty brunette next to him, Jamie saw her swallow hard. So she was still carrying her gun, then? While he’d consulted some with her father about perfecting the weaponry, he hadn’t had enough time to focus too much attention on it, and as far as he knew, no one else was packing. He looked around at the others and could see the sort of weapons he expected—stakes, flasks he assumed contained holy water, and silver blades. His shoulder ached a bit at the memory of the bullet the beauty had injected there, but he said nothing.
