This story overlaps with the second half of Kateesha's and takes place in 1868.
***
Jorick pulled his horse to a stop and surveyed the small farm house. Though he wasn't a tracker, he'd hunted enough of his fellow vampires to parody the skill, especially where Kateesha was concerned. How many years had he known her? He didn't want to figure it up, but instinctively knew it was more than two hundred. In that time, he'd grown to understand how she worked, even if, for some inexplicable reason, he couldn't read her mind.
Nor Malick's. Not that I'd want to.
He swung to the ground and paused to straighten his coat, his shirt, the silver medallion that hung around his neck. The mark of the Executioner, this would be the last time he had to wear it, the last time he had to follow Malick's orders. His master had sworn on his own blood that if this task was completed, just as he was ordered, then Jorick could finally be free.
Free.