As expected, “company” came as the three of them were just finishing a somewhat peculiar breakfast. What made it peculiar was that D only ate half as much as young Dan. The menu consisted of ham and eggs on a colossal scale—mutant-chicken eggs a foot across on an inch-thick slab of light, homemade ham—along with preservative-free black bread hot out of the oven, and juice from massive Gargantua grapes cultivated right on their own farm. Of course, the juice was freshly squeezed and the three large glasses were filled from a single grape. And those were just the main dishes; there was a gigantic bowl of salad and fragrant floral tea, too. Only a farm like the Langs’ could offer a rich menu like this, and the freshness of the ingredients alone should have been enough to make a good-sized man take seconds or thirds on the ham and eggs. The refreshing morning sunlight and giant lavender blossoms that adorned the table were in essence part of a sacred ritual to give all those gathered around it the strength to fight the cruel Frontier for another day.

And yet, D quickly set down his fork and knife and withdrew to the room in the back Doris had just given him.

“That’s weird. I wonder if he ain’t feeling too good?”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s something like that.” Though she pretended nothing was wrong, Doris pictured D back in his room now taking his own kind of breakfast, and started to feel ill.

“Not you too, Sis! What’s the matter? I know you like him and all, but don’t get sick just because he does.”

Doris was about to lay into Dan for his teasing remarks when tension suddenly flooded her face.

Outside, a thunder of hoofbeats drew closer. Lots of hoofbeats.

“Damn it, here they come,” Dan shouted, dashing over to where a laser rifle hung on the wall.

He started to call out for D, but Doris’ quick hand silenced him.

“But why not? It’s gotta be Greco and his thugs,” he said with disgust.

“Let’s see if the two of us can’t handle it first. If that doesn’t work, maybe then...” But she was perfectly aware that no matter what was going to happen to the two of them, D wouldn’t do anything.

Armed with a whip and a rifle, the pair stepped out onto the porch. She let her little eight-year-old brother join her because the law of the Frontier was that if you and your family didn’t defend your own lives and property, no one else would. If you always relied on others, you wouldn’t last long against the fire dragons and golems.

In no time, a dozen men on horseback formed up in front of them.

“Dear me, the cream of local society is out in force. A no-account little farm like this don’t deserve such distinguished guests.” As Doris greeted them in a calm tone, her eyes were cautiously trained on the men in the second and third ranks. In the foremost rank were prominent villagers like Sheriff Luke Dalton, Dr. Sam Ferringo, and Mayor Rohman—this last was Greco’s father, whose face was unusually oily for a man nearing sixty. There was no reason to worry about any of those three suddenly trying anything funny, but behind them was a mob of brutal hooligans just itching to make a statement with the Magnum guns and battered heat-rays they wore on their hips should the opportunity arise. They were all hired hands from Mayor Rohman’s ranch. Doris glared at each of them in turn without a trace of fear until she came across a familiar face at the very tail of the mob, and her gaze became one of pure contempt. When it looked like trouble was brewing, it was just like Greco to shut his big mouth, find the safest possible place, and try to look like he didn’t have the faintest idea what was going on.

“So, what’s your business?”

Apparently by mutual consent, Mayor Rohman spoke first.

“As if you don’t know. We’re out here on account of the marks you’ve got under that scarf. You show them to Doc Ferringo now, and if they’re nothing then fine. But if they’re... well then, unfortunately we’ll have to put you in the asylum.”

Doris snorted in derision. “So you believe the nonsense that damn fool son of yours been talking? He’s been out here five time asking me to marry him and I’ve turned him down every time, so he’s stuck with some pretty damn sour grapes. That’s why he’s spreading these stories when they ain’t true. You keep spouting that filth and you won’t like what happens, mayor or not.”

The bluff rolled from her so fluently the mayor couldn’t get a word in edgewise. His bovine countenance flushed with rage.

“That’s right! My sister ain’t been bit by no vampire! So hit the road, you old pervert,” Dan shouted from his sister’s side, pushing the mayor over the edge.

“What do you mean by calling me an old pervert? Why, you... you little bastard! To say something like that about the mayor even in jest... A pervert of all things! I’ll have you know... ”

The old man had lost all control. He might hold all the real power in town, but he was still just the mayor of one tiny village. Simply touch on one of his sore spots, and his emotional restraints would burst. In that, he wasn’t so different from the thugs behind him.

From the back, Greco bellowed, “They’re making fools of us! C’mon boys, don’t pay them no nevermind. Let’s grab them and burn the damn house down!”

Cries of “Hell yeah!” and “Damn straight!” resounded from the rowdies.

“Hold everything! You pull any of that crap and you’ll answer to me!”

The rebukes flew from Sheriff Dalton. For a moment, Doris’ expression was placid. Though still under thirty, the sincere and capable sheriff was someone she was willing to trust. The hoodlums stopped moving, too.

“Are you with them, Sheriff?” Doris asked in a low voice.

“I need you to understand something, Doris. I’ve got a job to uphold as sheriff in this here village. And checking out your neck is part of it. I don’t want things getting out of hand. If it’s nothing, then one peek will do. Take your scarf off and let Doc have a look.”

“He’s right,” Dr. Ferringo said, rising in his saddle. He was about the same age as the mayor, but thanks to his studies of medicine in the Capital, he had the intelligent look of a distinguished old gentleman. Because Doris and Dan’s father had been a student of his at the education center, this good-natured man worried about their welfare on a daily basis. Before him alone, Doris couldn’t hold her head up. “No matter what the result may be, we won’t do wrong by you. You leave it to me and the sheriff.”

“No way, she goes to the asylum!” Greco’s spiteful words came from the back. “In this village, we got a rule that anyone that gets bit by a Noble goes to the asylum, no matter who they are. And when we can’t get rid of the Noble... heh heh... then we chuck them out as monster bait!”

The sheriff whipped around and roared, “Shut up, you damn fool!”

Greco was shocked into an embarrassed silence, but he drew power from the fact that he was surrounded by his hired hands. “Well, put a badge on you and you get pretty damn tough. Before you give me any more back talk, check out the bitch’s neck. After all, that’s what we’re paying you for, isn’t it?”

“What’d you say, boy?” The sheriff’s eyes had a look that could kill. At that same moment, the hoods were going for their backs and waists with their gunhands. An ugly situation was developing.

“Stop it,” the mayor barked bitterly at the entire company. “What’ll we prove by fighting among ourselves? All we have to do is take a look at the girl’s neck and we’ll be done here.”

The sheriff and the hoods had no choice but to begrudgingly go along with that. “Doris,” the sheriff called out to her in a gruffer tone than before, “you’d best take that scarf off.”

Doris tightened her grip on the whip. “And if I say I don’t wanna?”

The sheriff fell silent.

“Get her!”

With Greco’s cry, the mounted thugs raced right and left. Doris’ whip uncoiled for action.

“Stop!” the sheriff shouted, but it looked like his commands would no longer do the trick, and just when the battle was about to be joined—

The toughs all stopped moving at once. Or to be more accurate, their mounts had jerked to a halt.

“What’s gotten into you? Move it!”

Even a kick from spurred heels couldn’t make the horses budge. If the men could’ve looked into their horses’ eyes, they might have glimpsed a trace of ineffable horror. A trace of overwhelming terror that wouldn’t permit the horses to be coerced any further, or even to flee. And then the eyes of every man focused on the gorgeous youth in black who stood blocking the front door, though no one had any idea when he’d appeared. Even the sunlight seemed to grow sluggish. Suddenly, a gust of wind brushed across the fields and the men turned away, exchanging uneasy looks.