Page 58 of The Hellbeast's Betrayal

“Alright, we will open up!” they shouted back, and soon enough the gates opened.

We rode our horses through into the medieval looking town with its crude buildings of mortar stone, mined from the quarry nearby. It was a red rock that would bleed when wet, the minerals weeping from inside, giving it the nickname red tear stone. Even the cobbled road had been made with the off chippings of the bricks made. Bricks that had been used to construct most of the buildings in these parts.

The town appeared ominous with the street lanterns reflecting off the walls, making it appear as if the town had a constant red hue. The sinister glow led us forward, where the guards tried their luck by ordering,

“All weapons stay here.”

To which my brother outright laughed, and Marcus scoffed.

“Not bloody likely mate.”

“What he said,” Tyr added.

And this wasn’t surprising, seeing as the guy always travelled with an arsenal of weaponry on him. But the guards weren’t all fired up to try and arrest us, so we continued on down the narrow street without them harassing us.

Our horses traveled in single file until the road started to widen near to where the inn was. Of course, the second I saw the black demonic looking horse, I knew we had found him.

“You two stay with the horses, my brother and I will go inside,” I told Tyr and Marcus, who agreed with a nod. As for my brother, I swear he nearly jumped from the horse, muttering,

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

We both walked inside the Devil’s Hoof and I spotted him instantly but then again…he wasn’t hard to miss.And of course, he was gambling. As clearly even after being shot in the head holding adead man’s handwasn’t enough to put him off the game. Which was why I waited for him to gather his winnings after beating some newcomers to this town, as all the locals knew better than to play against him.

“I smell trouble brewing,” my brother commented.

We continued to watch from a few tables behind, as I was curious to see if he still had it in him. And just when the outraged big bastard of a demon pulled a dagger from the sheath strapped to his thigh, the gambler whipped his gun from his holster and pointed it at the demon’s head in the blink of an eye. The whole room froze, as if they knew what the foolish demon had just got himself into.

“Now, way I be lookin’ at this, is you can be a dumber dang boot-licker and try your hand at throwing that knife before one of these here plums hits you between the eyes, or you can walk from this table with your life and spare me the coin it will cost me to clean up all your blood… now what’s it to be, Corncracker?”

The demon snarled and left the table, putting his weapon away and thinking better of it.

“Damn but I forgot how cryptic this son of a bitch was,”my brother commented under his breath.

“Now are you boys gonna stare at the back of my hat all night or sit your saddle warmers down?”

I smirked, knowing that without even letting on, he had spotted us. But that was my friend, sharp as the shooter he was.

“Wild Bill,” I said, sitting opposite him and taking the place of the sore loser who was now nursing his losses at the bar with a tankard of ale.

“Big Bug.”

I gritted my teeth as he knew I couldn’t stand that shit, even if it did mean he was calling me boss man. But then, that was Bill, he may have gotten with the modern mortal times by exchanging horses for bikes, but as for the lingo, he had never let the 1800’s go.

“Now what brings you boys to my local waterhole, I wonder?” he asked, straightening his brown top hat by running his fingers along the rim. His long dark, curly hair hung over both shoulders, his trademark brown cowboy jacket, folded over the spare chair.

“You mean this shit hole? Ah we just love it here,” Orth said, making Bill give him a pointed look before reminding him,

“Why do I have to remind you boys about cursin’?”

Oh, and that was another thing about Bill, you never heard him swearing. But then, half the shit he said, I didn’t fucking understand so it didn’t much matter.

“Well, you’ve been gone a while, Bill, so a lot has happened,” I told him. His metal heeled cowboy boots tapped on the wooden floorboards.

“Yeah, so I hear… don’t look so surprised, son, we get plenty of folks that could spin yarns for hours down here as well as up top.”

My brother nudged me and said,

“Spin a what now?”

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