Excerpt: The Endless Fen

“I don’t have time for this bullshit,” I said, drawing fast and firing from the hip. And I am fast, you know. Not the fastest ever, by any means, but fast enough. I practice a lot and I have good reflexes. The Reverend’s boys barely had time to flinch. The one on the right lost the top of his head and toppled over. The one on the left had a rose suddenly bloom in the center of his chest. He looked down at it, uncomprehending at first. Then he looked up at me, confused. He turned to the Reverend and opened his mouth to speak. Blood bubbled out and he too fell over, landing square on top of the Reverend.

I took advantage of that to run over and grab Captain Chaos’ reins, but the horse wouldn’t budge, “Come on you stupid horse!”

The reverend, swearing under his breath, was rapidly extricating himself from the larger man. His clothes were dirty, wrinkled. His hat knocked off to reveal the fine platinum blonde hair. I could see the tattoo clearly. The eye that had so obviously been a tattoo when I had talked to him in the restaurant swiveled up to stare at me. It was so full of rage and murder it actually made me physically ill. If I had thought about it then, I’d have just put a bullet directly into that eye and hoped for the best, but at the time, I was too shaken. I’d faced down werewolves, an unnameable horror named Crenshaw (who actually isn’t that bad a guy), a vampire or two and even once a dragon named Santiago (though in that case it was just over a poker game and it was resolved pretty quickly without violence) but nothing had shaken me like that eye did. I had been trying to get out of town because I was vastly outnumbered and had little hope of defending myself. Now, I just wanted out so I could get away from this lunatic.

On the ground in front of me, the Reverend had gained a sitting position. His head snapped to stare at me with all three eyes. The tattoo eye swiveled up slightly and I knew it was looking at Captain Chaos. A fact confirmed by the horse’s sudden movement behind me. The horse began to make a noise similar to the one the little girl had made. So quickly I had no time to react, the sound spiraled up and just as I was clapping my hands over my ears, I heard a sound that doesn’t have an onomatopoeia. It can simply be described only by what it is. A horse exploding.

I was pushed down to my knees by the force of it. Horse matter spattered my back, a terrible warmth engulfing me. The splashing and splattering of blood, bone, and meat lasted only a second or two. I was somewhat prepared this time so I only screamed a little. Mostly I was just glad that he didn’t seem able to use whatever insane power this was on me directly. Admittedly the only evidence I had that he couldn’t was that he hadn’t, but as angry as he was it seems like he would have by now.

“FUCK!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

“Animals are easier,” the Reverend said, laughing that mad little twelve year old boy laugh. It was disconcerting.

He was still on the ground, miraculously not covered in horse gore, “I liked that horse, you little shit. He was my friend. He was my house and he was my friend!”

“And now, Mr. Crouch, You are homeless and friendless.”

"Not exactly," said a voice in my head. It was a friendly baritone.

The Reverend’s eyes grew narrow. All three of them, “No. You can’t come in here. This town is mine. Your power ends at the line.”

"Curiously enough," the friendly voice said, "So does yours. And what do you know, he’s about ten yards from it. Hey, Crouch, how fast can you run the 30?"

“Pretty goddamn fast,” I said, bolting from my position on the ground like someone had just fired a starter pistol. To his credit, the Reverend didn’t scream or throw a fit or let out a cartoonish “Nooooooo!” He simply stood, brushed himself off and watched as I passed the sign marking the town line. I stopped and turned to face him, standing as close to the imaginary line as I possibly could, taunting him, covered in horse gore and little girl brains and mud and I must have looked like hell, but I felt a bit triumphant.

The Reverend strolled up to the line, red silk suit still glimmering, and smiled at me. We were no more than a foot apart with just that line keeping him from me.

“Can’t touch me, kid. Old man. Whatever. I’m out of your jurisdiction now, right? You murdered a little girl and you killed my horse, but you didn’t get me.”

"Hey, Crouch, I dunno if you want to-" the friendly voice began to say, right as the kid’s foot connected with my groin. I fell back hard, clutching my bruised and rapidly swelling scrotum, that sick nausea rising up from the ground floor of my guts. The Reverend just glared down at me with his three eyes and turned and walked back into town.

“Someday,” he said.

"Next time taunt the villain from a little further away, Kid. Just saying," the voice said, laughing.

“Go… to… hell…” I managed to wheeze out. I had killed five men, my nuts hurt, my horse was dead, a small elderly tweenager with people exploding powers wanted me dead, and I had lost everything I owned, save for my guns and a few dollars I had in my pockets, in an explosion of horseflesh and terror. I was grateful to the voice, but I wasn’t in the mood for being harassed.