Elroy ducked under the Banshee as she swung through moonlit night in low arcs, her voice a foul cackle. He was now focused on two spirits, not one. The Ganconer raced along the water underneath Persephone, compelled by his nature to take on the strongest feminine energy in the area. It was not often that Six-Guns witnessed such a spectacle. Elroy found himself at a loss for words.

  Their two companions trudged on over, reuniting the hunting party. Elroy looked back to Joe, eyes bugging. The shrieks and cries of both spirits tore open the night with fury and terror, all reflected on the face of the Louisiana Six-Gun.

  “Thought you were a goner!” Elroy gasped, “What happened?”

  Joe panted as he caught up to him, eyes alight with his Resolve. “We will talk about it later. What the fuck is going on right now?”

  “I have no clue. I’m just trying to hold onto my life.”

  The two older witches floated over, Mickey helping Elizabeth along.

  “We have summoned a Ganconer to seduce the Banshee.” Halle spoke in a hushed tone, “They are fighting. We did not expect this result.”

  “You summoned a Ganconer?” Joe's eyes flicked to Winona fearfully, “You ladies ok?”

  His partner witch flicked his shoulder playfully, "You worry about yourself. I'm a big girl."

  “We are fine." added Halle, "But the tactic isn’t working as intended.”

  Joe nodded, “Persephone was a victim, she was assaulted by her hired help. That’s how she died. I don’t think she’s falling for any kind of seduction.”

  The Zola witch stared into his Resolve, searching his eyes with hers. She found the truth in his words, painted across his magic. Her demeanor went grim. “This is the reason for her aggression.”

  “That’s my guess.” Joe looked around, “We can’t stop them now, I don’t think. We all used up too much energy. We need to stick together and let them kill one another, then we commune with Winkle. Remember, that’s the goal here. Stay close to the mound and be ready for anything.”

  Winona found herself smiling at her Gun’s confident tone. He had clearly been through Hell already; but he looked like a warrior, ready to protect his team and accomplish his goal. Though he lacked the rugged swarthiness of the copy the Ganconer had made, he was very attractive on his own to the silver-haired Green Coven witch.

  The Ganconer and the Banshee had engaged in a duel among powerful spirits, darting and racing through the bayou with incredible force. The fog ripped open with their movements. The claws of the Banshee clashed against the hardened skin of the Ganconer in an impressive display of rainbow-colored sparks. Aside from their clashes and the impacts they had on the bog water underfoot, there wasn’t much to see with the naked eye.

  In a Resolute State, it was much different. Their intense energy streaked through the currents of magic like powerful fish through the ocean. They left impressive patterns of reds and blacks through the magic of the bayou. Their clashes exploded like fireworks in the night sky. The Six-Guns, their witches beside them, kept their composure as they tried to stay out of the way. Dipping under swings not meant for them, firing off Ghast Rounds into the spirits to break the stalemate, they did whatever they could.

  Elizabeth looked to Chauncy, whom she assumed must be scared out of his mind. This was far above his level. She watched in amazement as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his father, pistol raised, Resolve firm. Chauncy was very afraid indeed, but he was focused on staying alive and finishing the hunt. Mickey didn’t have to work half as hard with his Suggestion on Chauncy as he had at the start of the confrontation. The sight of him facing this situation gave her more confidence in their pact.

  The Banshee, already struck with multiple Ghast Rounds, eventually succumbed to the Ganconer. Her death throes sent ripples through the entire swamp. Joe Quick-Stepped out towards the pair of spirits. At the same time Elroy stepped up and fired two rounds towards the spirits, eyes glowing as he manipulated the soundwaves enough to shield the group from the shriek. He hadn’t run out of Resolve, saving enough for this moment. The death of the Banshee meant a Ganconer was now freely upon them, which Joe could not allow. As the Ganconer recoiled from the screams of the Banshee, Tornado Joe slid through the water under her, his right eye taking the shape of the delta again.

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  Mickey watched in awe as the Diamonds worked. The pair hadn’t missed a beat. This whole time they weren’t just trying to hold on, they were biding their time for the opportune moment to strike. It was amazing to see.

  The Ganconer found itself struck by Elroy’s concussive soundwaves as bullets ripped past it. Without the time to react, the Ganconer was hit by Tornado Joe’s Kinetic Relativism. It was delta-locked into place. The pink eye on its forehead bugged and pulsed in terror as Joe leveled the muzzle of his gun to the Ganconer’s head. His thumb pulled back the hammer, the cylinder clicking into place. The horrid spirit hissed with terror and hatred.

  “What’s the matter?” Joe never missed the chance to fire off a quick line, “I’m not your type?”

  The trigger was pulled, the Ghast Round ripping through that pink eye with incredible force. With its head completely blown apart the Ganconer tumbled down into the bog water. It had barely overcome the Banshee and was already weakened. The Ghast Round sealed the deal; the Ganconer’s corpse dissolved into the water as it left the mortal plane.

  With the death of the Banshee the souls of her victims were free. Bright lights reflected across the water as the fog dissipated. Countless souls floated up from the water, traveling onward as they moved on from this realm. The Guns watched them, heads held upward. They were like paper lanterns floating across the shining moon. Only now could they truly see how many lives Persephone’s vengeance had taken.

  Mickey looked over to his son, studying the boy for a long moment. His pistol was drawn, his face focused, even after the threat was gone. A wave of pride hit him harder than he would have thought. His boy had not only pulled through but displayed bravery and levelheadedness in the face of two terrible entities.

  The elder Higgs pat his son hard on the shoulder, shaking him from his focus.

  “You know something, Chaunce? You really impressed me.”

  “Wha? Me?” Chauncy looked baffled. He watched as Tornado Joe sprang back up, those repeating deltas waving as he flicked his poncho back. His hand remained instinctively ready near his hip, elbow bent slightly. The eyes of the Diamond were sharp, still searching for threats. This kind of gunfighter was what made Grady's Posse so lethal. The difference between Diamonds and Hearts could not be clearer to Chauncy than it was at this moment. He felt inadequate.

  “I didn’t kill either one of those things.”

  “I’ll tell you something, boy.” A wide smile grew across Mickey’s face, “Being a Six-Gun ain’t about killing. Never was. It’s about protecting people. It’s about facing down the horrors of the world, taking all the abuse, and saying upright on your own two feet.”

  Chauncy stood quietly processing his father’s words, the warm logic of the Hearts suit. The sounds of the Bayou had returned with the death of the Banshee. The bugs. The frogs, the birds all played their parts in the orchestral theme of the swamp.

  “It’s about putting a stop to the violence, not advancing it farther.” Mickey squeezed his shoulder, “You did good tonight, son. I mean it.”

  The younger Higgs wiped at watery eyes. Both men were Hearts, they knew these words came from Mickey’s core. A father had just handed the weight of his duty to his son.

  The witches had focused on their task. Only one of those souls was the target, the soul of the Six-Gun Arthur Winkle. They had found him before Tornado Joe made his way back to the mound.

  “It is now we commune with you, Arthur Bradley Winkle.” Halle spoke firmly, “We have freed you from Persephone’s wrath. Now, we seek your knowledge from this side of the grave.”

  Arthur, who appeared to them as a drowned, bloated corpse, looked onwards with sluggish eyes. His skin was blued and cut open, the blood thick. Even in this state, he was clearly a Six-Gun. He died with his boots on, pistol in his hand. Mickey removed his hat out of respect, the rest of the Guns following suit.

  “My… b-brothers…” Arthur struggled to speak. “I walked the Trail…”

  Mickey nodded, “I know, brother. I know. We need to know about the Yellow Cult, their Bastion. You know where it is. You were going to deliver the information.”

  “Y-yes… they have children… there…”

  “We need to know where.” Joe stepped forward. “Tell us where it is, brother Arthur.”

  “Barnhart!” Arthur sputtered, “It’s in the hills outside Barnhart, in Texas. They… have it hidden there…”

  Joe and Mickey exchanged a nod. That was the piece of information they had fought so hard for.

  Arthur stirred a bit, forcing Halle to up her magical output to keep his soul in place. “Please! S-save the children!”

  Joe found himself overcome with an unexpected wave of emotion. A tear streaked into his bloody lip. Arthur had died a few years back. It was hard to watch the spirit of this Gun plead for the lives of children who may already be dead or worse. This only reaffirmed his mission.

  “We’ll save them, Arthur.” Mickey patted the holster slung across his waist, “Rest now. You deserve it.”

  Halle released the soul of their fallen comrade, watching him disappear into the cloud of floating lights. Joe looked down as something tapped his boot. Fear overcame him for a moment as his mind went to the many hands which had dragged him under before. He reached down and felt around, looking for what had disturbed him.

  His brother Guns and the witches all watched as he pulled up a Six-Gun’s pistol from the bog, an MD Mark 5 model revolver. Its pine handle had long warped with the filthy water. The Gellerite was covered in a patina of rust. Parts of it still gleamed in the night, reflecting the light of Arthur Winkle’s soul as it floated up above them to the Great Beyond.

  This was the only light left in the bayou, aside from the Moon. The dancing glow of the Feu Follet had gone.