“You’re a fuckin’ cheat, Ryder.” Logan scoffed, cigar in his lips. He had a number of playing cards fanned out in front of him. The square table he sat at, in a back corner of Mulligan’s, was specifically made for games of Spades. Logan sat across from a friend of his, with two opponents on either side of him. They all had drinks, next to books won in the card game stacked up. This was a traditional Saturday evening for the Bootknife.

  Ryder, the opponent to his left, held up his hand. “You always say that when you get undercut on a Nil bid, Logan! When am I not cheating, huh?”

  “You already played the three of hearts, you rat bastard. I been counting em up.”

  “Why don’t we go lookin’ through the books then? What you gonna do when there’s no three of hearts, Logan?” Ryder pointed at the books near Logan’s glass of whiskey.

  “Nah, now I think ole Bootknife’s actually right here.” Logan’s partner Page raised an eyebrow, “I thought I saw you throw it down before I tossed out the queen. Who won that book?”

  The door was tossed open, and Logan’s team of students popped in. Buster looked around and pointed at the table. Logan rolled his eyes as the boys shuffled up to him.

  “I think that we took that one, Page.” Logan was still salted over the game.

  John put a hand on his chair. “Hey, uh, Mr. Denton.” He tried to maintain some level of respect for him around his fellows.

  “What do you animals want?” Logan did not repay the courtesy, “And what the Hell happened to you, John?”

  He could see John was a disheveled mess, his face swollen and nose bloody. He was bruised and he still had some vomit on his shirt.

  The witches decided to stay out of Mulligan’s, opting to look around at the more populated section of the Sanctuary which was lit up in the evening.

  “We want to be entered into the Hallows Eve Exam this year.” John spoke firmly, ignoring the second question. His eyes held a cold malice which peaked Logan’s curiosity.

  The other three at the table burst into half-drunken laughter. Logan didn’t make a sound, processing the request.

  “Shut up, you ingrates!” Logan slapped his cards face down on the table, silencing his fellows.

  Calvin found it oddly heartwarming that the Bootknife treated other older Six-Guns the way he treated the three of them.

  “You guys’ birthdays came around too late to participate this year.” Logan told them, “We can train up and I’ll enter you next year, if that’s what you want.”

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  The Hallows Eve Exam, as Calvin had been taught, was the yearly examination event for Six-Guns at the Smokey Mountain Sanctuary. It was an official event taking place on October 31st, when the magical winds were strongest in the Black Valley, within the mountain range. Younger Six-Guns were required to sign up to be given their first assessment of strength as a sorcerer. Until completing the Hallows Eve Exams, Six-Guns of the Smokey Mountain Sanctuary would not be allowed to carry a card above a two of their suit. After taking the exam, there were other opportunities to be re-assessed and given higher card values.

  The Exam was a rigorous and brutal experience which essentially pitted teams of students against one another and all the heinous monsters of the Black Forest, on a day where the currents of magical energy favored darkness. Calvin had hoped to take it next year, but he was ready to back John up this year in the exam if he had to.

  “Teacher, I need to get into the exam to go up against Vincent Willerbee.” John looked down at him.

  Logan grabbed his glass, taking a little sip. He looked at the ice ball, slowly melting into the amber liquid. He now understood what had happened. Many of the rowdy young boys got into fights at that age, they had yet to fully understand the oath they had taken. It was natural. Logan could see that this was a little different. Though not a member of a great family himself, he knew about their grudges. In the Thirties, the Posse was a web of political and personal quarrels between established groups. Grady’s teachings guided them all, except for the traitorous Oathbreakers, but their differences often complicated the Posse’s operations.

  “Vincent Willerbee plans to run me off. But I remember what you told me after the Trial, Denton. You wanted to see if I got what it takes to take my name for myself. Not live just as the youngest of a bunch of Calhouns. This is how I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna run off Willerbee instead.”

  Logan calmly sipped from his glass again. “And you two wanna join him on some family feud you ain’t even involved in?”

  Calvin and Buster both nodded.

  “We’re a team, Teacher.” Calvin grimaced, “We aren’t gonna let John walk into this himself. He deserves to have his team with him. And we aren’t gonna let what they did to him go unanswered. Willerbee has goons with him, and we want to give John a chance at a fair fight.”

  “And the ladies, have you considered them? They would go in with you.”

  John cocked his head, “Elise says she will take him out herself. She’s not happy.”

  “She’s really like that, that little witch who picked John here.” Logan nodded to his fellows at the table. “You believe that?”

  Ryder shrugged, “Hey I think you should let them go at it, Logan. They got spirit, looks like. My guys would never volunteer so early.”

  “Yeah that’s cause they got wet grass for a teacher.”

  Ryder glared at him, “You’re an asshole, Denton!”

  Ryder’s Spades partner, the Six-Gun called Smallmouth, set his cards down with a snicker. “Ain’t that the fucking truth!”

  Logan laughed, “I know! I know! I can’t help it!” He slapped his knee. “Ok, boys. If you’re serious about this then we need to get really active in our training. We got four months to get you three dirtbags into shape.”

  “So, you’ll let us enter the exam?” Calvin started to feel excited.

  “Yeah, I’ll put your names in.” Logan set down his glass, “But in exchange, you three are gonna be my personal whipping boys for the next four months.”

  Ryder, Smallmouth and Page all looked to the young Calhoun with genuine curiosity, wondering at the response a kid like that might give.

  “I’m not scared.” John’s eyes were leveled at him.

  Logan matched his gaze. “Good. When I’m done with you, you’ll be bad enough to send that Willerbee dickhead back to his momma’s tit. I’m fuckin’ stoked.”