Abraham Lincoln_ Vampire Hunter - Seth Grahame-Smith [93]
As the smoke from Lamon’s revolver hung in the air around his head, Abe became aware of a sharp pain coming from his chin.
I pressed my hand to it. [The vampire] had come close enough to open a gash with the tip of my ax. Blood dripped from the wound and down the front of my shirt as vampires clashed before us in the light of the flames—jumping impossible distances, crashing into each other with enough force to shake the ground beneath our feet.
Here, for the first time, I saw Henry Sturges in battle. I watched him run headlong into a Southern vampire and drive the devil into a tree—the result being that its trunk split in two. Yet Henry’s opponent was hardly affected, for he pushed back and began to swing wildly with his hands, as if holding a sword in each. Henry defended each of these strikes with his own clawed hands, until, being the better swordsman of the two, he saw an opportunity and ran his opponent through the middle—forcing five straightened fingers into the vampire’s belly and out his back, snapping his spine in the process. Henry withdrew his hand, and his opponent fell to the ground, unable to move. I watched him twist the vampire’s head backward and rip it from his shoulders.
The living men unfortunate enough to find themselves in the middle of this melee were torn apart, their limbs taken by errant claws, their bones crushed by the force of the vampires colliding around them. Realizing that the numbers were not in their favor, the remaining Southern vampires made a hasty retreat. Several Union vampires gave chase—the others, including Henry, hurried to meet us where we stood.
“Abraham,” he said. “I’m pleased to see you alive, old friend.”
“And I to see you dead.”
Henry smiled. He tore a sleeve from his shirt and held it to Abe’s chin to slow the bleeding, while his companions attended to Lamon and Speed (who were shaken up but otherwise unharmed).
The Union had been given false information by a traitorous spy—information meant to lure me to my death. Henry and his allies did not learn of this treachery until after we left Springfield. With no means of getting word to us (for we traveled under false names), they rode for two days and nights to head us off, while sending word to the trinity to have Mary and the boys placed in hiding.
“And you’re sure they’re safe?” asked Abe.
“I’m sure they’re in hiding, and protected by three of my most cunning, most vicious allies,” said Henry.
It would suffice. Abe knew that the trinity took their work seriously.
“Henry,” he said after a long pause, “I was certain that I was going to—”
“I told you, Abraham… it wasn’t your time.”
It would be the last hunt of Abe’s life.
On November 6th, 1860, Abe sat in a cramped telegraph office in Springfield.
The tide of well-wishers and appointment seekers had risen to unbearable levels as the election approached. When the 6th came at last, I declared that I wished to see no one until all the votes were in. My only company was to be the young [telegraph] operator. If the outcome was the one I and my supporters expected, there would be few peaceful days in the coming years.
He’d grown a beard for the first time in his life to conceal the scar on his chin. * It gave his face a fuller, healthier appearance. “More distinguished,” as Mary said. “A face befitting the next president.”
Mary was, at first, quite opposed to my running—having not enjoyed her previous time in Washington, and being all too aware of the time such an endeavor would require of me. As my campaign met with increasing success, however, her position began to change. I suspect that she rather enjoyed the well-wishers who came to our door at all hours; the wealthy couples