reins.
“What’ll we do?” D asked Krutz as the lawman watched the departing wagon. “The other roads are probably just like this, in which case all we can do is head back.” Without another word, D wheeled his mount around, and then suddenly behind him he heard the metallic click of handcuffs, so well known that even the smallest child on the Frontier would recognize the sound.
“I’m sorry, but we’re gonna have to detain you until we can get this situation sorted out,” Sheriff Krutz told him. “No matter how you look at it, you seem to be the cause of all this. If I don’t do something, there’s no telling what could go wrong next.”
“And if I’m locked in your jail, nothing else will happen?”
“Not really. But as the law here, I can’t very well leave you free, either.” In the lawman’s rough hand was a weapon that was exceedingly hard to come by, graceful and fierce and glittering in the sunlight—a sol gun. Amplifying the power of natural light, the gun could channel it into a fifty-million-degree beam that could go through three feet of titanium in a thousandth of a second. Unlike laser blasters or photon cannons, which were rendered useless if their ultra-compact nuclear power sources were destroyed, the sol gun only needed a piece of resilient photosensitive film to keep it running indefinitely. Thirty minutes of exposure on a sunny day or six hours on a rainy one was enough to keep the beam charged for over two hundred hours. Even D wouldn’t fare very well if shot through the heart with that, never mind what would happen if it was fired at his head . . .
The sheriff quickly put some distance between D and himself. “See, I’ve heard that the Vampire Hunter D has a sword that’s quicker than a laser beam,” he explained. “Move along, now.”
D showed no signs of resisting, and the two of them started back up the road that’d brought them there. Neither of them spoke at all. Soon, they could see the hospital once again.
“Aren’t you going to swing by?” D asked out of the blue.
“What are you talking about?”
“I recognize the new equipment the doctors had. Are you sure you shouldn’t be there?”
“I’m busy being the sheriff—or are you gonna give me your word that you won’t take off?”
“If I did, would you believe me?” D asked.
“Nope.”
The white building came up on their left, and fell behind them in no time.
“I suppose they just may wake her up after all . . .” the sheriff said, as if rationalizing. For words born of his iron confidence, they sounded strangely frail.
“So, if you plan on locking me up to prevent any trouble, I doubt that’s going to do much good.”
“Don’t give me any more of your speculation. This happens to be part of my job. I’m not letting my personal life get mixed up with business here.”
After remaining silent for a short while, D said, “You should let her keep on dreaming. No matter what those dreams may be.” And then he quickly added, “Or is it too late?”
Realizing there was something more to the Hunter’s words, Sheriff Krutz moved his horse to one side and turned his eyes to a little path that D’s body previously blocked. It was as if the very balance between heaven and earth had been upset. “Sybille . . .” he said, calling out the name of the beautiful girl on the path in a voice that was thirty years older, but carried three decades of emotion. The golden hair that fluttered in the breeze was like a blessing from the goddess of fall. Clad in a white blouse and a blue skirt with stripes, she was an icon of youthfulness that had utterly absorbed the four seasons. “Sybille . . .” he called out once more, as if trying to gently cup his hands around some treasured possession.
.
How’s that?” the old man in white asked, the silver needle he held still stuck deep into a blonde’s head. A colored cord ran from the end of the needle, connecting it to a monitor on a nearby cart.
The
“What’ll we do?” D asked Krutz as the lawman watched the departing wagon. “The other roads are probably just like this, in which case all we can do is head back.” Without another word, D wheeled his mount around, and then suddenly behind him he heard the metallic click of handcuffs, so well known that even the smallest child on the Frontier would recognize the sound.
“I’m sorry, but we’re gonna have to detain you until we can get this situation sorted out,” Sheriff Krutz told him. “No matter how you look at it, you seem to be the cause of all this. If I don’t do something, there’s no telling what could go wrong next.”
“And if I’m locked in your jail, nothing else will happen?”
“Not really. But as the law here, I can’t very well leave you free, either.” In the lawman’s rough hand was a weapon that was exceedingly hard to come by, graceful and fierce and glittering in the sunlight—a sol gun. Amplifying the power of natural light, the gun could channel it into a fifty-million-degree beam that could go through three feet of titanium in a thousandth of a second. Unlike laser blasters or photon cannons, which were rendered useless if their ultra-compact nuclear power sources were destroyed, the sol gun only needed a piece of resilient photosensitive film to keep it running indefinitely. Thirty minutes of exposure on a sunny day or six hours on a rainy one was enough to keep the beam charged for over two hundred hours. Even D wouldn’t fare very well if shot through the heart with that, never mind what would happen if it was fired at his head . . .
The sheriff quickly put some distance between D and himself. “See, I’ve heard that the Vampire Hunter D has a sword that’s quicker than a laser beam,” he explained. “Move along, now.”
D showed no signs of resisting, and the two of them started back up the road that’d brought them there. Neither of them spoke at all. Soon, they could see the hospital once again.
“Aren’t you going to swing by?” D asked out of the blue.
“What are you talking about?”
“I recognize the new equipment the doctors had. Are you sure you shouldn’t be there?”
“I’m busy being the sheriff—or are you gonna give me your word that you won’t take off?”
“If I did, would you believe me?” D asked.
“Nope.”
The white building came up on their left, and fell behind them in no time.
“I suppose they just may wake her up after all . . .” the sheriff said, as if rationalizing. For words born of his iron confidence, they sounded strangely frail.
“So, if you plan on locking me up to prevent any trouble, I doubt that’s going to do much good.”
“Don’t give me any more of your speculation. This happens to be part of my job. I’m not letting my personal life get mixed up with business here.”
After remaining silent for a short while, D said, “You should let her keep on dreaming. No matter what those dreams may be.” And then he quickly added, “Or is it too late?”
Realizing there was something more to the Hunter’s words, Sheriff Krutz moved his horse to one side and turned his eyes to a little path that D’s body previously blocked. It was as if the very balance between heaven and earth had been upset. “Sybille . . .” he said, calling out the name of the beautiful girl on the path in a voice that was thirty years older, but carried three decades of emotion. The golden hair that fluttered in the breeze was like a blessing from the goddess of fall. Clad in a white blouse and a blue skirt with stripes, she was an icon of youthfulness that had utterly absorbed the four seasons. “Sybille . . .” he called out once more, as if trying to gently cup his hands around some treasured possession.
.
How’s that?” the old man in white asked, the silver needle he held still stuck deep into a blonde’s head. A colored cord ran from the end of the needle, connecting it to a monitor on a nearby cart.
The
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