Silence fell over the gunslingers like a blanket. All the sounds of the bayou had vanished, leaving them in unsettling quiet. Joe had that feeling hit his gut again, the same one he always got when in the presence of an intelligent supernatural entity. The ones with true intelligence knew a threat among mortal men, they could feel him as he felt them. He was being appraised, like an apple at the market stall. The Banshee, unseen, turned him over in her hands, searching for the bruises on his apple skin.

  He maintained his stall but dropped his intentions, letting the philosophy of inaction dictate his reaction. He wouldn’t get all jumpy like he did back in Oklahoma.

  The moonlight cut the fog, bringing Persephone into view. The sight of her shook Chauncy Higgs at his very foundation. At first, he had mistaken her for a tree. She was tall, lanky, arms out like branches. Great talons, each one a dreadful scythe, fanned out in the light of the moon like a sickening sculpture. Her hair floated as if it was underwater, tendrils tossing about, billowing with her tattered dress. What drove icy spikes into Chauncy’s back was her mouth, stretched open as wide as a tuba horn, black as coal. Chauncy was far too frozen in fear to properly interpret the Critical Moment, and he fell victim to the first of her wails.

  The Banshee’s mournful, wrathful cry tore through the night. It smacked into the Six-Guns with a concussive wave. Mickey and the Diamonds were ready for it, but Chauncy was caught by the incapacitating shriek.

  “Boom-Boom!” came the muffled voice, he assumed it was Joe’s.

  Chauncy felt his gut wrench as he fell to all fours. He heaved and threw up his fried chicken lunch into the swamp water beneath him. He couldn’t hear his own breathing, his ears were ringing. The only thing he could hear was the faint cracks of pistols; nearby or far away, he couldn’t tell. Chauncy felt meaty hands grip his shoulder. His father pulled him up.

  “You ok, Chaunce?” Mickey’s voice was muffled at first. Chauncy’s hearing slowly returned, giving clarity to the words. “You’re bleeding, boy! Tell me you’re ok!”

  “I’m… I’m good, dad…” Chauncy breathed hard.

  “LEFT!” Joe shouted, “She’s left, Boom!” Joe let off a few shots to his left.

  The fog appeared to whirl and rush in different directions as the Banshee moved at almost imperceptible speeds. Tornado Joe kept his focus, his Resolve letting him track the spirit. He knew if he let his guard down for even a second he would be reduced to ribbons.

  A massive claw stretched out from the fog to swipe at Joe. He loaded Resolve into his legs and forced himself back with a Quick Step. Such a technique, known to Diamonds who had studied Resolve for years, burned through a Gun’s reserves too quickly to be sustainable. Joe knew he couldn’t keep it up like this. He needed only buy time for the witches.

  With the lightning speed of the Viper School he ejected all six spent casings from his pistol. He had six more slotted in before the old ones had hit the murky water below. Inlaid onto each of the casings was a Cross Pate, a symbol which marked these rounds as expensive Ghast round. Such a bullet was designed by the more educated of the Plaidshirt gun scholars of the Posse. It utilized sanctified silver, each round blessed by a Cardinal in America. These rounds were extremely hard to come by, and relied on White magic, which had varying affects with the different kinds of Six-Guns in the Posse. Guns with Diamonds-type Resolve raised up in the South, like Tornado Joe and Elroy Timmons, tended to have favorable results with Ghast rounds.

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  As the spirit swiped at Joe again, its form became material to hit him. This opened it up for damage, a fact which was not lost on Elroy. He tried to fire as it went for Joe. Hitting his mark, he split the spirit’s massive claw in half with the Ghast round. The Banshee reeled back to let out another screech.

  “Boom-Boom! Now!” called Joe, his eyes glued to the outline of the Banshee in the fog.

  Elroy made a hand sign with three fingers, his pointer curled inwards and thumb out. This was a Rite associated with his special technique, locking in the spell he was about to perform. He raised his pistol to the sky and let out a shot. His eyes flashed as his Resolve technique, Sonic Transmutation, altered the properties of the gunshot’s soundwaves. Those soundwaves took on a flatter shape, safer to the human ear, and increased in frequency. The two in tandem both covered the ears of the Six-Guns around while clashing with the waves emitted by the Banshee’s supernatural scream. Elroy was the perfect counter to the Banshee, a testament to Tornado Joe’s careful planning of the hunt.

  With her scream defeated again, Persephone dove into the bog water. Joe breathed out, glowing blue eyes searching for the logical next move for the ghost. His mind brought him to Chauncy, the weakest of the bunch.

  “Mickey! She’ll probably go for the easy kill!” He shouted, hoping the elder Higgs ears had been preserved.

  Joe’s intuition was incorrect, Persephone emerged right through Elroy, scything upward. The water erupted with her attack. At that angle, Elroy wouldn’t be able to easily dip away, even if he had read the Critical Moment in time. Joe made the Rite of Release, increasing the delta in kinetic energy between Elroy and the tree next to him. The black Six-Gun, now granted greater speed, hurled himself away. He was unable to judge how strong his dive would be and went head under into the bayou.

  Persephone had baited the use of Joe’s Kinetic Relativism, and now had a read on how it worked. Huge gusts of fog rushed at Joe as she taunted him. Mickey popped a few shots his way, trying to pull her off of him, but the banshee was now entirely focused on Tornado Joe.

  Fog set upon him again like a sheet. He couldn’t see, he had to remain Resolute or he was dead. His heart pumped as a taloned hand gripped his boot and flung him away. He read the direction of the Critical Moment too late, she was under the water again. His back hit a bayou tree trunk hard, he could hear a crunch. Joe’s focus was shaken for a moment as he bit his tongue.

  Multiple Critical Moments panged through his mind as Persephone came at him. She didn’t want him to have time to perform his spell. He tucked and rolled to his left, dodging a swipe from her talons which brought down the tree entirely. Joe burned another Quick Step to avoid another slash seconds after the first. The water shot up in the wake of his slide backwards. He dipped away from a further attack, firing off a round futilely as she swooped through him. He was grazed just below the shoulder, tearing part of his Poncho shorter and throwing blood into the bog.

  Chauncy could only hear the sounds of slashing and pistol fire through the fog. He saw sparks come off the Banshees talons as they grinded against each other, and muzzle flashes from Elroy and his father. He stood there trying to recuperate from the initial shriek, feeling utterly useless. He knew he was out of his depth, he only hoped the Diamond Faces could hold it together.

  Joe’s focus had returned, blood trickling down his chin and his left arm. He regained himself as the Banshee reeled back for another howl. Her shriek was met with waves from Elroy’s gunshot, canceling their piercing affect just in time. Both Diamonds were back in the fight. Joe Quick-Stepped into a slide towards the ghost, avoiding a defensive swipe of the talons. He drew his pistol underneath her and fanned the hammer. Three shots rang out in a single second, and three Ghast Rounds tore through the Banshee.

  Persephone disintegrated with the impact of the spirit-punching bullets. Her agonizing cry was met with another of Elroy’s gunshot soundwaves and crushed.

  “I can press you too, you bitch…” Joe panted, “Boom-Boom! You good?”

  “Fine, you?” Called a voice in the fog.

  Joe picked himself up, shaking his sleeve of the sticky mud. “Fucking peachy!”

  He slapped more rounds into the cylinder and readied himself for the next attack. His mood had been soiled with his clothes. His Quick-Stepping had burned through much of his Resolve, he knew he was on a timer. He pulled out an alchemical cigarillo and scratched a match to life on his hat.

  Drawing in the smoke, he felt his Resolve bolstering, “That’s not it. She’ll be back. Keep your heads on!”