Team Bootknife had decided on having dinner in one of the Saloons on the Sanctuary grounds. Kitty’s Saloon, an old wooden structure set along the Northern wall of the compound, had been a staple for young Guns for decades. The original owner was a Plaidshirt named Kitty Hawthorne, a woman known for her remarkable cooking with even the plainest ingredients. Kitty was now an elderly woman, and her Saloon was run by her son and his seven children. One of those seven children, a young man in his early twenties, stood on a ladder touching up the bright pink paint on the face of the building as Team Bootknife passed by. A crow sat on one of the lower rungs of the ladder, watching the boys closely. Elise noted the magical signature of a Familiar in the bird.

  Calvin studied the lettering which was being cleaned up by the Plaidshirt. “Kitty’s Saloon and Eatery. Keep your feet off the tables.”

  Buster had to laugh, “I guess they have that problem a lot.”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.” The man on the ladder shook his head, “When my Grammy ran this place, she would smack the Guns who kicked their boots up with a broom stick. Nobody messed with Grammy.”

  “That’s a lady!” Elise grinned, floating along behind John, “Lets go in, I’m starving.”

  John walked through the batwing doors and studied the scene in front of him. The tables were warmly lit and inviting, and he could see dozens of bottles on shelves behind the bar. Many of the new Guns around their age were hanging around, eating and laughing or playing cards. A few older members of the Posse sat at the bar having a drink. A pretty girl in Plaid sat at the piano, hands dancing along the keys. John smiled to himself.

  The five of them made their way to a free section of a long table and sat down. John looked to Buster, “Man, it’s pretty nice in here.”

  Buster nodded, “The old codger is missing out. He should’ve come with.”

  They had all came up with the idea of visiting Kitty’s Saloon, asking Logan if he wanted to come with. The Bootknife explained to them, sparing no details, how little he wanted to hang out with the five of them after a whole day of training.

  “I think it’s better this way.” John said flatly, “We need a break from him too.”

  Mavis bounced a bit in her seat, taking in the atmosphere of the Saloon. Two of the Guns were arm wrestling next to them, the others hollering behind. This was what she had wanted to experience, the roughness and camaraderie of the Posse. She was bumped by one of the other boys when the girl on the Piano started playing “Sing, Sing, Sing” in a quick and vibrant style. Members of another team were on the floor moving their feet and grinning.

  A waiter, one of Kitty’s grandsons, came over. “Dinner special to ya right?”

  “What’s the special?” Calvin asked, his spirits lifted by the life of the saloon.

  “We got fish, brought in today from the coast. We’re frying it up, it’s good. Got potatoes too.”

  “I’ll have it for sure!” Buster grinned.

  Elise waved a hand, “I think we will all take it. And some pop too if you got it.”

  The waiter nodded, “Got it. Y’all sit tight.”

  “Who made you the big hoss of the team?” John glowered at the witch.

  She shrugged, “Am I wrong? Calvin, you want the fish?”

  “Yeah, you read my mind.” He chuckled.

  “See, nobody made me big hoss,” She tossed her blonde hair, “It just comes naturally.”

  John found he couldn’t resist a little laugh. He shook his head and removed his hat. Running a hand through his own straw-blonde hair, he looked to Calvin. Their little competition had basically ended in a draw. He found he couldn’t pull his Shooting Lane in tighter, the two Lanes were about the same size. John couldn’t help but think about it on their way over. Him and Calvin could not be more different. He had spent his childhood in a big house in Texas, full of accomplished Six-Guns, with his older brothers all walking long paths with Gellerite on their hips. From the beginning John had been told he was bound to be one of the greats, with Resolve inherited from four generations of gunslingers.

  Yet here was this boy who had lived his life in some hut in the Florida brush, now right alongside him. Calvin was the product of Plaids, at the end of the day, by any other circumstance he would be nothing more than a woodcutter or fisherman. There was that shadow over him, however, looming large. William Mason Baird, the legendary Lord of the Clubs, the Dragon of the Sunshine State. This was a man who had put the entire Calhoun name to shame, he was better than all of John’s brothers combined. He could beat John’s own father in a fight for sure. There were many insanely powerful sorcerer-gunslingers in these times, but few came to mind who were more renowned than Billy Baird. The shadow of this man’s legacy left Calvin in the grim darkness. John knew how it felt to walk in the shadow of giants. As different as the two of them truly were, this was something fundamental that they shared. He wondered if Calvin felt this way too.

  “Alright, time to spill it.” Elise leaned on the table, facing Cal. “What’s the deal?”

  “Specifically?” Calvin cocked his head, a little intimidated by the witch.

  She shook her head, “Don’t play dumb, your magic. You have something weird and vile going on. What is it?”

  The crow outside cawed, a sound drowned out by “Sing, Sing, Sing”

  “Hey!” Buster glared, “Be nice to my boy Calvino. He’s awesome!”

  “The girlies all said no.” Elise ignored him, “That’s a surprise. But when I helped you out today I felt why. You are lugging around some seriously dark magic. It nearly made me jump, and I was expecting it.”

  John placed the hat back on his head. “To be honest, I was wondering the same thing. The Coven lady said something about you being marked. I just didn’t wanna pry.”

  Cal pursed his lips. He figured this conversation would have to happen.

  “Ok, I’ll tell you guys.”

  Mavis leaned in, curiosity peaked.

  “Four years ago, I was living with my mom back in Florida. Some guys came from a cult. They…. killed my mom, sacrificed her to their god, or something.” Calvin paused a second. The heaviness of his green eyes struck Elise. “Then they pulled me out of the house and they burned a mark on me. They put this magic in my body.”

  “That is some seriously messed up stuff…” Buster frowned, his features exaggerated by his makeup.

  John remained silent. He had surmised something was up with Calvin, that there was more than meets the eye. The boy had always struck him as unconfident, uneasy, underneath his sunny demeanor. He never guessed at this; it was messed up on many levels. John believed his own childhood had been rough, he hadn’t predicted this from Calvin.

  Cal continued, “I don’t know what they were gonna do next, but Lou Cobb showed up and shot them. Louey brought me here, and now here I am. Louey told me to just keep it to myself, and he would find a way to get rid of it.”

  “What kind of cult was it?” Mavis asked, after a long moment of silence.

  As if summoned by name, a tall older Gun came and sat next to Calvin. He draped an arm around the younger Gun. “Well now, I heard y’all talking about me. Nothing bad I hope.”

  Calvin looked over in shock, eyes wide. He hadn’t seen Lou since undergoing the Trial. The girls both examined the energy of this handsome older Six-Gun. He carried a genuinely warming Resolve, muted on purpose, with gentle hues of red and purple. Residuals of one of their kind. Here was a dapper, gently strong Six-Gun who was obviously very close to a witch of their coven. Elise could hardly hide the flush of her cheeks.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Louey!” Calvin hugged him, “Where have you been?”

  “Oh, around.” Lou smiled and patted his back, “I see you have a whole crew here.”

  Calvin let off of him, nodding. “That’s John, Elise, and there’s Buster and Mavis. We’re called Team Bootknife. Guys, this is Lou Cobb, I was just telling you he’s the one who brought me here.”

  From the shadow of his hat brim, John studied Louey closely. The Cobbs were another of the great families in Grady’s Posse.

  “Team Bootknife?” Louey chuckled, “How you boys and girls taking to that prickly pear, hmm?” He looked to them.

  “He’s an ass, being frank.” John leaned back, “But I gotta admit he’s teaching us a ton of stuff.”

  Buster crossed his arms, “This guy never turns in paperwork on time. And he beats us! I mean, in training he does.”

  “That’s Logan for you.” Louey laughed jovially. Elise liked his smile. She could see why one of her elders kept him for herself.

  “We were talking about the magic on Calvin.” John waved a hand, “The witches don’t like him.”

  Mavis piped in, “We like him! Honest! Just, er, not for a Pact. Sorry, Calvin…”

  “That’s a bummer.” Louey looked to Cal, “We really like the witches. I will take you to the Rock Coven over in Arkansas and see what they think. They’re a little unorthodox, you ask me.”

  Elise knew full well not a one of the girlies of the Rock Coven would make a pact with him either. “It’s that magic. Can you tell us about it, Mr. Cobb?” She knew to be respectful to a sister witch’s man.

  Louey smirked at her, finding her change of tone comical. The ladies of the coven always treated him with healthy respect because of the superior witch who had laid claim to him decades ago, he knew this very well.

  In their younger days, he and Baird found themselves on Coven grounds at times. The way they were treated was night and day. Having made no pact, Billy would be met with distrust and coldness. Lou, himself the same stature as his friend, would be given smiles and respectful nods. The pact with Madeline made all the difference. Her magical energy carried a lot of weight to them, which he in turn carried with him.

  He leaned in, beckoning the others closer, “Calvin has been marked by the Cult of the Yellow King. Over the years, I and others with me have learned a lot about their practice and their God. The Yellow King is a dark entity, a Great Old One, they call him. He and others like him have dominion over this land. Calvin was meant to be a vessel for an aspect of this entity. They were going to take him back to their monastery and prepare him to become this vessel so the Yellow King can have agency in the world.”

  “Did you find out how to lift this mark?” Cal asked.

  “If I did, do you think I’d let you run around with it on?” He laughed.

  Cal shook his head. “Well, it is a little frustrating. What if I need to have a witch around. Just today I accidentally overdid it and Elise helped me out.”

  “Listen, I’ll get you. Don’t worry about it.” Elise waved her hand flippantly. “So long as you two remember who’s the boss, I will help you and John out on your hunts. Not a pact, but I’ll fix whatever you break.”

  “Well there ya go!” Louey held up his hands. “You got a good team.”

  Cal looked to her, he found he couldn’t stifle a smile.

  “When’s that fish coming?” Buster asked Mavis quietly, who just shrugged at him.

  Louey continued, “Now Cal don’t get all down about not having a partner witch. Plenty of Guns don’t make pacts for one reason or another. Your daddy never made one either.”

  “He didn’t?” Cal raised an eyebrow.

  John found himself curious as well, “Why not?”

  “Well, I went to the Green Coven when we were your age, just like you. Your dad did too, obviously. We weren’t team mates at the time. My wife Madeline chose me. I still think she made a bad pick, but she will tell you otherwise. That is, until I forget to bring back some candy when she asks for it.”

  This earned a giggle from both witches.

  He continued, “I wasn’t there, but I heard the girls were intimidated by Billy’s Resolve. You see, Cal’s daddy didn’t have it so easy either. Some stuff had happened which colored his Resolve a certain way. They could feel it, they thought things could turn out bleak. So they refused. So you see, Cal, you and him are a lot alike.”

  Louey flicked Calvin’s hat brim. “I don’t know how it happened, but your dad must’ve gone off with some lady because here you are! And she was a good one, obviously, because you’re so great!”

  Cal wore a soft smile. He was always comfortable around Louey. “Do you know anything about my mom?”

  “Nope.” Louey shrugged, “Your dad’s a fighter, not a lover. Never spoke about any woman to me. She must’ve been very special to him.”

  The thought brought back a dull melancholy to Calvin’s face. He missed his Momma less and less with every passing year. He could hardly remember her face. He remembered her last words to him, ‘I love you so much.’ He would never forget them. He knew he would have to find his father and ask him about her.

  Elise found the boy more curious by the day. She did find his Resolve impressive, even with the dark influence of the Yellow King. She watched him pull his hat up, huffing. He was cute, she had to admit. A brave young guy in the shadow of the Southpaw. An orphan, abandoned, making his way through a dangerous world. It was compelling and bittersweet. The way he looked at her when she healed him had struck her a bit. Admiration on his eyes, something she felt she didn’t get back home.

  Eyes flicking to John, she wondered if he might show her some of that too. There was a lot to him that he didn’t care to show her, she could tell. She could feel he had a strong spirit, and she had already seen he was very smart. She liked playing with him. That attitude of his felt like the shell of some interesting egg she wanted to crack.

  The waiter came with their food and some root beer, brewed in the Sanctuary and made with cane sugar from Louisiana. Elise looked to her plate in glee, the crispy filet looked delicious.

  “Well, I’ll leave you guys to your dinner.” Louey stood up, “I wanted to see the team, and I’m glad I got to clear things up about your mark, Cal.”

  Louey leaned down, looking between the Guns and their witches, “But let’s keep the Dark Magic talk to private places next time. There’s people here who don’t need to know about all that just yet.” He hit them with a playful wink before stepping away.

  “Maybe we were a little loud.” Cal rubbed his neck.

  John shrugged, “It’s interesting stuff. Does it ever hurt or something?”

  “No” Calvin shook his head, “I can’t even feel it.”

  “Mr. Cobb said that’s enough.” Elise spoke between bites of fish.

  The boys fell quiet at her commanding tone. The team ate their dinner in relative silence, taking in the music and festivities of Kitty’s Saloon. It wasn’t long before another young Gun sat down next to John. The boy had on a long khaki duster, a red bandana hung around his neck. He wore a black hat with an ornamental buckle around it, displaying a golden W letter. He jeered at John.

  “I thought I noticed a Calhoun.” He started without introduction. “Didn’t think I’d see your kind around here.”

  Elise was immediately interested, still chewing her food. John kept a cool look on his face, turning to the newcomer.

  “John Calhoun, what’s it to you?”

  “Now see that’s that attitude I don’t like. We are gonna have to fix that one right up.” The boy grinned. “You’re talking to Vince Willerbee, you better act like it.”

  “Willerbee?” Calvin raised an eyebrow.

  “Another one of the big families.” John answered. “They live out this way, in Tennessee.”

  “Does that kid not know, John Calhoun?” Vince smirked, “He live under a rock?”

  John wasn’t having any of that, “Why don’t you shut up? He’s not involved in any family nonsense like us.”

  “Family nonsense! That’s rich! You’re already on thin ice, being a Calhoun out here in Tennessee. Oughta take your ass back to Texas.”

  “What’s your problem, buddy?” Elise glared, “You are talking to my Six-Gun. I’d appreciate it if you watched the shit talk!”

  Mavis gasped at Elise’s language.

  Vincent smiled, “I’m sorry, miss. But his family and mine have bad blood you see? This is bigger than me and him. You don’t have to be involved.”

  John placed a hand on Elise’s shoulder, which surprised her. He rarely touched her. His grip was firm.

  “Elise, please.”

  John’s tone was as stern as it was heavy. She felt it deep, electing not to press. This did not involve her, she understood this with just those two words. They had a different effect on Calvin, however. He suddenly felt extremely hostile. He and John did not get along, he would say he didn’t even like John. But they were a team, Calvin found he was ready to handle business alongside him. Calvin shot John a glance which he caught briefly. They did not need words to communicate, John felt oddly in step with Calvin.

  “So what do want to say then?” John asked Vince. “I’m obviously not leaving, so just talk your shit and get on with it.”

  “Oh I know you think you’re here to stay.” Vince chuckled. “But I think you’ll feel different when I’m done. I just want to put you on notice.”

  “That so?” John lifted his head to meet his gaze. Elise could see a sharp look in his blue eyes. It was exciting to her in a new way. Calm and cautious violence in his eyes, John was actually kind of scary.

  Vince was not scared, “Oh, that’s how it is, yes. How about you and I figure this out in the Black Valley, on Hallows Eve. Nip this in the bud.”

  John looked him in the eye for a long moment. “No dice, this is my first year with a pistol. Besides, we’re all in the Posse. Let’s just get along.”

  “Get along, ain’t that cute?” Vince laughed, smacking John on the back. “So much for the Calhoun spirit. You’re gonna see things my way sooner or later, John.”

  John remained silent as he got up and walked away, letting the music take over again. He looked between his teammates.

  “How bout we just get on with dinner, guys?”

  “Sure thing pal.” Buster pointed his fork, “But I want you to know I’d stab him for you a couple times.” The clown made jabbing motions.

  “It’s good.”

  Cal said nothing. He had a dark expression on his face. John glanced at him, the two sharing a silent moment of understanding. Calvin knew that this was not the end of that problem. He knew what it was like to have his family relations dictate how people think about him. John and Calvin both carried around their father’s burdens. No matter who they became, their names would always leave the first impression.

  John felt a creeping malice in Cal’s stare, not directed towards him. The orphan boy had continued to puzzle him. Calvin had a mean streak which was starting to rear its head.

  “What you got to say?” John looked to him fully.

  Calvin went back to his food, “Nothing.”

  The unspoken words lay heavy on the table.

  Elise blinked, watching the two boys. She caught herself hanging on their every word. Never did she consider herself a wide-eyed girlie, awestruck at the magic men, but here she started to feel a little different. She began to understand what her mother had told her.