Free Dead of Winter by Lee Collins Page B

his arm as his blue eyes looked up and down the street.
      "Make sure it's got a good view," she said. "You know how I like to see the mountains."
      Ben nodded and started on his way down the street. Cora watched him go for a moment before ascending the big stone steps. The church building, though modest, was still new, having only been built in 1865. The Vatican had commissioned it in honor of Denver's appointment as the capital of the Colorado Territory. Before its construction, Father Baez's congregation had met in a small Spanish mission on the eastern end of the city. Cora had never been there, but the way Father Baez had spoken lovingly of the new church on their last visit, she figured it hadn't been very nice.
      She challenged the big front door to a brief Indian arm wrestle before earning her way inside. The smell of stained wood and resin incense drifted out of the shadows to greet her in the darkened foyer. Candles winked at her from their stands on either side of an archway that opened into the small sanctuary. Beneath her feet, thick carpet muffled the sound of her boots as she made her way inside.
      Once past the arch, she looked to her right. A small marble basin stood at attention behind the first row of pews. She reached over, dipped her finger in the cool water, and crossed herself. Satisfied, she began walking down the center aisle. Solemn saints watched her progress from their painted windows of red and purple and yellow. Their rich colors were fading with the daylight, shifting from a dazzling display of light to a soft evening glow. Candles burned atop iron stands at either end of each row of pews, casting their pale light toward the rafters. In front of her, a crucifix hung above the altar, illuminated by rows of candles on either side. A purple sash hung down from the Savior's arms as He looked skyward in pious agony. To the left of the altar, the water in the baptismal font reflected the orange candlelight.
      The smell of incense grew stronger, mixing with the sweet scent of candle smoke as she approached the altar. She knelt before the crucifix and crossed herself again, bowing her head in reverence. The carpet was soft on her knees, so she lingered for a bit, savoring the silence.
      "What can I do for you, child?" a voice behind her asked. A grin blossomed on her lips as she turned to face the voice's owner.
      Father Baez stood in the aisle, his hands clasped in front of him. His white hair and beard were bright above his black vestments, making him look a little like a candle himself. The look of concern on his face melted into a wide smile when he saw her face.
      "Ah, Cora," he said, stepping forward and holding out his arms. "It is good to see you again."
      She accepted his embrace, stooping a little in the process. Father Baez was one of the few men in the world shorter than her. "I'm surprised you remember me, Father."
      "Well, I don't get the chance to meet many vampire hunters," he replied, a twinkle in his dark eyes. He stepped back and looked her over. "The years have been kind to you, I see."
      "You'd sing a different tune if you saw me in the daylight," she said. "You look the same as you ever did."
      Father Baez smiled. "Not much changes when you reach my age." Despite his years, he still stood upright, not stooped like so many old men. He sat down in a pew and motioned her to sit beside him. "So what brings you here?"
      "Well, I'm in a fix," she said, taking the offered seat and crossing her legs. "Got me a monster up near Leadville that I can't lick or even put a name to."
      The priest's white eyebrows drew together. "You've never seen one like it?"
      "Not a one," Cora replied.
      "Tell me what it looked like."
      "Well, it looked like a cross between a frozen corpse and a spider. It had black skin like frostbite on its fingers and hands and lips. And it was missing its nose. The head and chest was normal-sized, like the kind you'd find on