July 14, 1920

I spent the majority of the day with Dan Graves, a man I had seen born shortly before the beginning of the War of the Rebellion. Dan was, without doubt, the finest carpenter in Cross, and it was he who supplied me with the stakes I needed for the assault on Mr. Tregaskis’ undead guards.

Ash is a difficult wood to work with, and it is the only sure method of pinning a vampire down. Some of the old ways work, such as ash and a mouth stuffed full of garlic, but holy water and the trappings of faith are useless if the person attempting to employ them lacks faith, to begin with.

I have never feigned to profess belief in anything, so I did not arm myself with any sort of religious items. Instead, I loaded my Colts, dug out a significant amount of garlic from my stores, and went and paid Dan a visit.

I explained what I needed, and how many of the stakes as well, and Dan crafted them for me. Unlike myself, Dan is a God-fearing man, and he poured all his faith and devotion into the creation of the weapons. His extra efforts would, I hoped, prove useful. I wouldn’t know until I attempted to stop one of the undead and seek to question them.

I am armed, and I have left this journal on my desk. It is not unrealistic to know that I might die.

I hope I do not, but, as they say, look not to hope.

I’ll trust in my Colts and the ash stakes Graves has crafted.

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