Chapter One

1880 Missouri

The tin cans rattled and pinged as Pearl Thompkins' bullets found their mark again and again. Sweat trickled down her brow under the midday sun, but her hands remained steady on the well-worn grips of her Colt Peacemakers. Out here on the frontier, a woman had to be quick on the draw and even quicker on her feet. Especially a Pinkerton detective like herself, sworn to uphold justice in a lawless land.

She holstered her irons and surveyed the remote expanse of dust and scrub brush. Satisfied with her practice, Pearl reached for her canteen. The lukewarm water did little to quench her thirst, but she knew better than to waste a single drop. In this harsh terrain, even the smallest comforts were hard-earned.

The sound of hoofbeats snapped her to attention. Pearl's hands hovered over her revolvers as she squinted against the shimmering heat waves. A rider approached, silhouetted by the glaring sun. Pearl held her ground, ready for trouble.

As the figure drew closer, Pearl recognized the lean, wiry frame of her mentor, Sarah "Quickdraw" Quinn, legend of the Pinkertons. The older woman reined in her mount and dismounted with a grace that belied her years.

"Pearl." Sarah nodded in greeting, her weathered face bearing a grim expression. "I've got a new assignment for you."

Pearl arched an eyebrow. "Who's the unlucky drifter this time?" She expected the usual fare—some lowlife cattle rustler or good-for-nothing bandit terrorizing frontier towns.

Sarah's steely gaze met Pearl's questioning look. "Maverick Richman." She spat in the dust, as if his name left a bitter taste.

A vampire. A creature of the night preying on the innocent. Corruption made flesh and fang. Bloodsuckers were treacherous prey, but Maverick wouldn't be her first vampire or her last.

"All right. Execution or trial?"

"Either. But HQ thinks he could be of use if he's willing to make a deal and come work for us."

"A vampire? Working for the Pinkertons?" Pearl stared at her old friend in disbelief.

"I'm glad I'm retiring," Sarah said. "I never thought I'd see the day when we put a badge on the monsters we hunt."

"So why are we?"

"There's something big coming on the horizon and having a vampire on our side could turn the tide."

"Like what?" Pearl didn't like the sound of that.

"Like if we don't evolve, we could die out."

"The Pinkertons?"

"Humanity."

"Fuck," Pearl said, and wished her canteen had something stronger than water in it. This country couldn't take another war so soon after the last one. They were still putting the United States back together.

"I don't have the details, and I'm not sure I want them. I'm getting too old for this shit."

"HQ thinks we can trust a vampire?" Pearl couldn't believe that they were willing to make a deal with a bloodsucker.

"They trust you," Sarah said.

"Great." Pearl considered just driving a stake in the outlaw's heart and calling it a night.

Sarah seemed to see that conclusion in her eyes and said reluctantly, "We need him, Pearl. Hell, we need his whole gang, but we can start with him. President Hayes is counting on us."

"That's a heavy weight." The President of the United States had eyes on her mission. No pressure.

"Here's the offer." Sarah handed her a thick contract. "He'll get full immunity for his crimes after fifty years of service. We'll provide him with nourishment."

Pearl made a face. "Really?"

Sarah gave a half shrug. "There are volunteers, and then there are prisoners."

"Volunteers?"

"I don't understand it either. But some people liken a vampire's bite to drinking a bottle of whisky. It's probably cheaper too."

"There's more than one price to pay for that," Pearl said with a grunt.

Sarah continued, "We'll also provide him with safe lodgings. In return, his nights belong to us as a Pinkerton employee."

"Do you really think he'll go for it?" Pearl knew that a lot of human outlaws would rather shoot it out with her to the death than join up with the law.

"Maverick isn't the only vampire we're courting," Sarah said. "But he's our best shot."

"Why is that?" Pearl thought one fangster was as good as the next.

"He fought alongside George Washington as a Revolutionary War soldier."

"What?"

"He was on the good side of the law for a while."

"What happened to him?"

Sarah handed Pearl a well-worn journal. "You can read all about it here. It has everything we know about Maverick Richman and vampires in general. We think he's hunkered down a few hours away. You should start your search there." Sarah pointed to a town on a roughly sketched map.

Pearl flipped through the journal and shook her head. "All right. I'll see what I can do. If he wants to come quietly, we'll travel by night and meet you at the Pine Valley Pinkerton's office. If he wants to put up a fight, I'll stake him." She was happy that her voice sounded matter-of-fact. Because deep down, she wasn't sure how she was going to pull this one off. Any vampire she'd ever gone after had immediately attacked. They were fast and deadly. Pearl didn't think she'd even get a chance to give Maverick the Pinkertons' offer.

Sarah remounted her horse. "Good hunting."

As Sarah rode off in a cloud of dust, Pearl studied the journal. It was detailed and organized, like Sarah's brain. There were sketches taken from Maverick's wanted poster. Even rendered in stark ink, his presence was magnetic, dangerous. She traced a finger over the bold letters proclaiming his crimes: murder, theft, devilry.

But Pearl was no stranger to danger. She'd faced down human monsters and inhuman beasts alike, always emerging victorious. This mission would be no different. As she swung into the saddle of her faithful steed, Pearl felt a grim sense of purpose settle over her like a mantle. She urged her horse forward, its hooves kicking up clouds of dust as they set off toward the unknown. The sun beat down mercilessly overhead, baking the cracked earth and shimmering off the distant mesas. Sweat trickled down Pearl's neck, but she didn't pay it any mind. Discomfort was an old companion, a reminder that she was alive and on the hunt.

Mile after mile fell away beneath her steed's relentless pace. The landscape shifted from sun-bleached plains to jagged canyons, prickly pear giving way to twisted scrub brush. Pearl kept a watchful eye as she rode, knowing that danger could lurk behind any rock or in any gully.

As the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, Pearl reined in her horse at the outskirts of the ramshackle settlement where Maverick was last reported to have been seen. Dilapidated buildings huddled together like wary conspirators, their weathered fa?ades speaking of hard times and harder people.

The scent of horse manure and body sweat hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of whiskey drifting from the nearby saloon. In the distance, a dog barked, its cry echoing through the sparse expanse.

Pearl dismounted, her spurs jangling as her boots hit the dusty ground. She tied her horse to the hitching post outside the saloon, giving his flank a reassuring pat. The faded sign above the bat-wing doors proclaimed the establishment as the Rusty Spur, though the lettering was barely legible through the grime.

Pearl pushed through the doors into the dingy interior. The saloon fell silent as every head turned to stare at her. Pearl met their gazes with a steely one of her own, her hand resting casually on the butt of her pistol.

She strode up to the bar, ignoring the suspicious glares and whispered speculations. The bartender, a grizzled man with a scar bisecting his right cheek, eyed her warily as he polished a cloudy glass.

"What'll it be?"

Pearl tossed a coin on the scarred bar top. "Information."

The bartender raised a bushy eyebrow. "In these parts, information costs more than a drink."

"I'm looking for Maverick Richman." Pearl held the man's gaze, unwavering.

A hush fell over the saloon, thick with unspoken tension. The bartender's eyes darted nervously to the shadowed corners of the room before leaning in close.

"Best forget that name, missy." His breath was sour with cheap whiskey. "Maverick ain't the sort you want to tangle with. They say he's not...natural. Got darkness in him."

Pearl's lips curled in a mirthless smile. "I'm not afraid of the dark."

The bartender shrugged, his expression closing off. "Suit yourself. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Pearl tossed back the shot of rotgut he'd poured, relishing the burn as it slid down her throat. She turned to face the room, her posture a challenge.

"I'm hunting a vampire outlaw," she said, her voice ringing out clear and strong. "Anyone here got the guts to point me in his direction?"

Silence greeted her words, heavy with fear and mistrust. Pearl's eyes scanned the room, searching for any flicker of recognition or defiance.

Just as she was about to give up, a figure detached itself from the shadows in the far corner. A man, lean and weather-beaten, with eyes that glinted like flint in the lamplight.

"I might know something about Maverick." His voice was a low rasp, tinged with amusement. "But information like that don't come cheap, darlin'."

Pearl's hand tightened on her pistol grip. She didn't like the man's tone or the way his gaze raked over her like she was a piece of meat. But if he had information on Maverick, she couldn't afford to be choosy.

Pearl held up a dollar coin between her fingers.

He grinned, revealing a mouth full of tobacco-stained teeth. "Well now, ain't you a bold one? I like that in a woman."

Pearl's jaw clenched, but she held her tongue. She needed this lead, no matter how much it galled her to play nice with scum like him.

The man sauntered closer, his spurs jingling with each step. He leaned in, his breath hot against Pearl's ear.

"Come back around ten p.m. tonight. You just might see him."

Pearl nodded curtly, pressing the coin into his chest with enough force to have him back off a few steps. "Much obliged."

She turned to leave, the weight of the saloon's collective gaze heavy on her back. As she reached the door, the man's voice called out after her.

"Maverick's got a taste for pretty little things like you."

Pearl's fingers tightened on the door, but she didn't look back. She stepped out into the gathering dusk, her mind already racing ahead to the confrontation to come. But since she had some time, she might as well get a place to stay for the next day or so until she could finish her assignment. The clomp of her boots echoed hollowly as she made her way toward the boarding house. A weathered sign creaked in the dry breeze.

A group of men lounged outside, eyeing her with a mix of suspicion and leering interest. Pearl tried to ignore them. Unless they were blind, they could see the badge she wore on her leather duster.

"Ain't no place for a lady lawman 'round these parts," one of the men called out, chewing on a wad of tobacco. He spat, the glob landing near Pearl's boot.

"Good thing I ain't no lady then." Her voice was calm but edged with steel.

She walked into the boarding house, the cooler air inside a welcome respite from the heat. A stout, white-haired woman looked up from the counter, her blue eyes keen and assessing.

"You'll be wantin' a room?" the woman asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

Pearl nodded. "Just for a few days. My name's Pearl Tompkins. I'm with the Pinkertons."

The innkeeper pursed her lips, lines deepening around her mouth. "Agnes O'Sullivan. You best watch yourself. That badge won't do you no favors with the rough sorts 'round here. Cutthroat gangs rule these parts, law be damned."

Pearl's smile was grim. "So everyone has warned me. I'll take my chances, though. I just need a bed and a lock on the door."

Agnes handed over a key. "I'll send you up a bath and supper."

"Much obliged."

The room was small and sparse but clean. Pearl bolted the door, shrugging off her duster and hanging it on a peg. Exhaustion weighed on her like stones as she unbuckled her gun belt and laid her revolvers within easy reach. She couldn't afford a nap. She might just oversleep. Hopefully the bath and food would keep her going for a few more hours.

Despite her efforts to stay awake, though, she dozed off in the tub. But luckily the maid coming in to refresh the hot water woke her up.

"What time is it?" Pearl asked groggily.

"Just after nine p.m."

"Shit," Pearl said, which caused the girl to gasp. She was in for a bigger shock when Pearl climbed out of the tub and started drying off in front of her.

It was closer to eleven by the time Pearl got back to the saloon. She hoped she hadn't missed Maverick. But she didn't have to wait long. A cool wind on the back of her neck had her whirling to see who was behind her.

It was the vampire himself. Maverick Richman stood before her, his blue eyes glinting in the darkness. He was just as the sketches had depicted him—tall and broad-shouldered with a face that might have been handsome if not for the cruel twist of his mouth.

"They said a woman lawman was looking for me," he drawled, his voice like honey and razorblades. "They didn't say she was beautiful."

Pearl reached around her back to grip the stake that she had strapped to her belt. "Maverick Richman, my name is Pearl Thompkins, and I'm here on behalf of the Pinkerton Detective Agency."

Maverick laughed. "Are you now? And what makes you think I'll come quietly?"

At least he hadn't attacked first. That had to be something. "I have a proposition for you. The Agency is willing to offer you a deal. Disband your gang, come back with me, and work for us. You'll have a chance to atone for your crimes."

Maverick's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. "And why would I do that? I've got a good thing going here."

Pearl sensed it then—a glimmer of something more beneath his rough exterior. A hint of the man he'd once been, before the darkness had claimed him. It was a spark of unlikely connection, a whisper of possibility in the shadows.

She played a hunch. "Because deep down, I think you want to do the right thing. I think there's still a part of you that remembers what it was like to be human."

Maverick stared at her, his jaw clenching. For a moment, Pearl thought she saw a flash of vulnerability in his eyes, a crack in his armor. But then it was gone, replaced by a cold, hard smile. "You don't know anything about me, sweetheart. And you never will."

He lunged at her then, a blur of speed and fury. Pearl reacted on instinct, drawing the stake. She was too slow to bring it to bear on his chest, and he knocked it away. She kicked out at him, but he dodged. Pearl held on to his vest and tried to use her body weight to bring him down. His momentum worked against him, and they crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs, grappling for dominance. Pearl could feel the coiled strength in Maverick's muscles, the raw power that thrummed beneath his skin.

She reached for her other stake, but Maverick was faster. He pinned her wrist to the ground, his face inches from hers.

"Nice try, darlin'." His breath was hot against her skin. "But it'll take more than that to bring me down."

Pearl stared up at him, her heart pounding. She could feel the strength of his body, the weight of him pressing her into the wooden floor of the saloon. But instead of feeling afraid or angry, she was confused by a spike of lust.

Maverick paused too. The curiosity in his eyes had to be the only reason he wasn't chomping on her neck right now. In that moment, suspended between danger and desire, she knew one thing for certain: There was something weird going on between them.

Just then, the saloon doors burst open with a thunderous crash. Pearl's and Maverick's heads snapped toward the commotion, their bodies still locked in a tense embrace.

A group of men stormed in, guns drawn and eyes blazing with malice. "Well, well, well," the leader sneered, his gaze zeroing in on Maverick. "If it ain't the infamous vampire outlaw himself."

Maverick's grip on Pearl loosened as he slowly rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving the intruders. He extended a hand, and Pearl reluctantly took it. He effortlessly pulled her to her feet. "You boys picked the wrong night to come knocking."

The leader spat on the ground. "We ain't here to talk, bloodsucker. We're here to collect the bounty on your head."

Pearl's mind raced as she assessed the situation. They were outnumbered and outgunned, but she'd be damned if she let these thugs take Maverick. This was her job. "Back off. The Pinkertons already have a claim."

Maverick smirked. "Staking a claim on me?"

" Staking being the operative word," she said.

"Fuck the Pinkertons," one of the men said.

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Pearl asked.

"I'll kiss you with it." He leered.

"That won't be tolerated," Maverick said. Moving quickly, he zoomed toward the bounty hunter and backhanded him so hard, he flew back several yards, spitting teeth as he went.

But the bounty hunters weren't having any of that. They opened fire with silver rounds that smelled like they had been soaked in garlic juice. Pearl overturned a table in front of her and scurried behind it. Grabbing her revolvers, she popped up, firing off shots with deadly precision.

Beside her, Maverick moved with inhuman speed, dodging bullets and striking with brutal efficiency. He tore through the bounty hunters like a force of nature, his eyes glowing with a feral intensity.

"Shit." He had been taking it easy on her. Pearl's heart pounded as she watched him, a strange mix of fear and fascination coursing through her veins. She'd never seen anything like him before, a creature of such raw power and savage grace.

Pearl's keen marksmanship and Maverick's supernatural strength turned the tide of the battle, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake.

As the last bounty hunter fell, Pearl lowered her guns, her chest heaving with exertion. She turned to Maverick, a grudging respect in her eyes.

"Not bad for a vampire," she panted, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

Maverick returned her smile, his fangs glinting in the dim light. "Not bad for a Pinkerton."

"So now what?"

Maverick's smile turned predatory. "I'll see you soon."

Pearl blinked, and in that instant, Maverick vanished. The space where he'd stood was empty, as if he'd never been there at all. She spun around, scanning the saloon, but there was no sign of him. Only the scattered bodies of the outlaws and the acrid scent of garlic-infused gunpowder remained.

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips. She kicked at a fallen chair. Was he in the wind?

She made her way to the bar, stepping over the bodies of the fallen. The bartender cowered behind the counter, his eyes wide with fear.

"Where did he go?" Pearl asked, her voice hard.

The bartender shook his head, his hands trembling. "I don't know, I swear."

Pearl slammed her fist on the bar, making the man flinch. "Damn it."

She turned to leave, her coat swirling around her ankles. She had a feeling this was only the beginning of a long and twisted road, one that would lead her straight into the heart of darkness. But as she stepped out into the night, she couldn't shake the feeling that Maverick was out there somewhere, watching her. Waiting for her.

And God help her, but part of her couldn't wait to see him again.