Elise’s mind cleared the memory away. Sitting at the table in Kitty’s Saloon, the young witch watched the two boys in silence. After her initial volley of questions, she felt she understood all there was to know about John Calhoun. He was a wealthy young man from a powerful family of Six-Guns in Texas. He obviously had his own daddy issues, brother issues, some kind of family trouble that made him come all the way out here by himself. He was studious, read a lot of books. Elise knew he was a smart one. It was evident in how he carried himself. He watched and listened to things before speaking.

  It was Calvin she didn’t understand. Like John, the guy had daddy issues. The son of a particularly infamous sorcerer who never acknowledged him at all. Elise found Calvin’s affliction repulsive, almost intolerable. She would see why the Coven turned him away. Elise wondered if this really hurt him. It looked like it had. To her, he didn’t appear to be particularly intelligent or ambitious, but there was a lot about him he kept locked down. Calvin wasn’t as open with his thoughts as John or Buster. This kept Elise guessing at his true nature.

  She didn’t think much about Buster, though she had to admit his jokes always pulled a chuckle out of her. Buster had a pact with Mavis, and it was clear to Elise that Mavis was a little more than just professionally attached to him. For this reason, Elise kept Buster off of her mind. He was another witch’s territory, like the handsome and sunny Lou Cobb.

  Her attention snapped again to her own potential territory as he got up from his seat.

  “I need a little air. I’ll be right back you guys.” John stretched out a bit.

  Buster snickered, “Might need more than a little.”

  “Don’t quit your day job.” John walked away from them.

  He went through the batwing doors into the sanctuary back street. The sun had gown down and the lights were on. John breathed in the summer night. Things were dying down and there were a lot less Plaidshirts bustling about. Minus the ambient music from within the saloon, it was somewhat quiet. Perfect for a little night walk. He tap-tested his boot on the cobblestone and started off.

  John did not get very far before being yanked by multiple hands. He was jerked into the alley between the Saloon and the adjacent barbershop. It was very dark, he blinked to let his eyes adjust.

  “What the fuck!” He hardly stammered out before a closed fist socked him across his jaw. The impact was sudden and unexpected, it sent white bolts through his vision.

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  A few younger members of the Posse were holding him by his arms. They were strong, unnaturally so, he couldn’t shake out of their grip. John entered a Resolute State, where he could see the Resolve of four Guns in the alley. The two holding him down appeared to have loaded Resolute energy into their hands, it seemed to sure up their grip. John hadn’t seen Resolve used this way before, but he was still extremely inexperienced. Directly in front of him was the boy with the W hat buckle, Vincent Willerbee. His Resolve was heavy with malice.

  “You really think you can just walk into the Smokies like it’s nothing, make yourself at home?” Vince kept his voice low, “Naw, that ain’t how this works. You and me are gonna have to come to little understanding.”

  “Fuck you, Willerbee.” John kept his cool, but his heart was racing.

  Vince shook his head, “See that’s what’s wrong with you Calhouns. You think this whole country belongs to you, fuck what anyone has to say. I’m gonna teach you otherwise.”

  John tried to emulate what he was seeing with the other Guns and shift Resolve from his core to his arms. It was futile, he didn’t understand how they were doing it. Vincent stepped up to him and threw a punishing punch into his gut. With Resolve loaded into his fist, the blow was amplified. John immediately threw up his fish dinner, along with a little blood. Dread was starting to creep in as he realized he was completely helpless.

  “Ugh! It’s on my boots!” Vincent cringed, “You can’t even take a hit like a man. You get a little more for that!”

  John endured more beating in the alley. The punches to his face and gut were hard and unforgiving. Each time it felt like a sharp knife was driven into his soul. Vincent’s Resolve assaulted his own, it was a terrible pain he had never before understood. John did his best to remain conscious through the punishment.

  There was something else which was injured. John could feel that Calhoun pride, buried under the misgivings he had created around his family situation, deeply wounded by this. That feeling crept through the innermost region of his mind as Vincent had his way. This would not go unanswered.

  Finally, they let him go. Vincent backed up as John dropped to the floor. He fell into his own vomit, coughing and sputtering. The boys cackled and hooted as they walked out to the street, leaving John crumpled on the ground.

  The pain and shame brought John back to the Calhoun House, its vast grounds and winding walking paths. It felt just like now, when he would test himself against his older brothers and they wouldn’t hold back. John was left in the walking trails with his bruises and cuts. His mother sweetly cooed to him as she cleaned him up. He was her baby, her beloved son. He would hear her chastising her older sons for hurting her little Johnny. Even angry, her voice was like a sweet song. There were no songs in the alleyway that night.

  “Think about this while you pack up to leave.” Vincent waved his hand, not looking back, “Next time I’ll leave some permanent marks.”

  “Willerbee….”

  Vincent stopped in place. He turned back, hands in his pockets. John had picked himself up. He couldn’t see the look on John’s battered face, but he could see the brilliant flaring of the Calhoun’s Resolve starkly against the gentle magical currents of the summer night.

  “Hallows Eve.”