The Crowman by Gareth Clegg

A scream split the night. I bolted upright, grabbed my revolver from the bedside table and stumbled towards the door. I fumbled with the lock till the door clattered open onto the dim hallway running the length of the upper floor. The sound had come from the front of the building, and I made my way between the flickering lamps, casting dancing shadows across the hall.

A gunshot rang out, and a dark feeling grew in the pit of my stomach. Something evil was at work. I pushed on, hurrying over the ageing carpets, the once-vibrant reds now faded to brown, discoloured by all manner of spillages over the years. A few faces appeared at doorways ahead but soon retreated at the sight of some half-naked fool toting a pistol. “Get the hell back inside.”

Another gunshot from the main suite at the front of The Lucky Dollar, and I was at the door. I tried the handle, but it just shook in the frame. A single well-placed kick saw to the lock mechanism, and it swung inwards with a squeal.

Light streamed in through the glass doors to the balcony and silhouetted in the moonlight stood a tall shape. It had been leaving but turned at my entrance, sporting a ragged black coat and a battered top hat with a few rotting feathers stuck in the band. The dark sockets that caught my gaze held no compassion. Those black voids drank the light as they measured me, but I was no stranger to evil, and this stank of rancid meat left way too long in the sun.

“Hold it right there and keep your hands where I can see them.” I must have looked a sight there in nothing but my small-clothes. But hell, when you’re in a rush, you don’t always have time to don your best bib and tucker.

The thing watched, dead eyes following me, as a ghastly rushing of air issued from it, and I realised it was speaking in breathy gasps. “My business here is done. I have no quarrel with you, but do not cross me for I will destroy you if you interfere with my work.”

There were a lot of spirits in this accursed land, some natural like the playful coyote trickster, and then there were others, dark and twisted. I didn’t know precisely what it was, but the shivers running through my spine told me it sure-as-hell wouldn’t tip its hat and leave politely.

“Sorry, can’t let you just move on after what you did here,” I said, glancing at Kirby’s body. A pool of blood soaked the sheets at his waist, and a red stream trickled between his eyes from a single shot in his forehead, dripping onto the ruined bedsheets.

My gaze returned to the thing as it wheezed. It took a moment, but I realised it was trying to laugh. Shit, this was unlike anything I’d come up against before. It turned to face me, draped in shadow from the full moon. “You won’t allow me to leave?” More rasping signalled its amusement, but it was through with my petty threats, turning back towards the balcony. “I have things to do, mortal.”

“Don’t say I didn’t give you fair warning.”

The door burst open behind me, and the creature spun, pistol outstretched, already cocked and ready. Ruby stood there, scarlet dressing gown shifting in the night breeze, the revolver in her left hand barked as she fanned the hammer.

“No,” I tried to shout, but too late. Hell, she was fast. The rounds tore through the creature, glass shattering behind, and it stumbled. Each of the six shots struck in a tight group, pushing wisps of smoke through its chest to hang drifting in the cold night air.

The sound was like an old man coughing out his last, but it was just another wheezing attempt at laughter. Raising its baleful glare to Ruby, red glowed bright in those dark sockets like the rising sun. “You are quick, girl. I’ll give you that, but now it’s my turn.” Its pistol raised, slow and deliberate towards her heart.

A single gunshot exploded, deafening inside the room, but I was used to the sound of my weapon of choice. An unholy scream rent the air as the round struck the creature in the chest. It stumbled back through the remains of the glass doors, falling in a crumpled heap on the balcony.

“What the fuck was that, a cannon?” Ruby had her hands clasped over her ears, her face pained from the unnatural volume.

“Sorry about that, Miss Diamond. I wasn’t expecting company or else I could have warned you.”

I headed over to inspect the remains but stopped. Despite a fist-sized hole punched through its chest, the damned thing was still there. My gut squirmed. The feeling you get after eating rotten food, when you know it’s riding south for the border at a gallop.

I rotated the barrel of the two-shot, locking the second round into place with a click.

The thing laughed at me. “Too late. You’ve shown your hand. Goodbye, Cheveyo.”

As I pulled the trigger, the creature exploded, an inky stream leaping into the air. It swirled then burst into cawing crows, hundreds of them, streaming into the night sky and disappearing, lost in the darkness.

Ruby appeared at my shoulder. “What the hell was that?”

“Trouble,” I said. Its outline lay scorched into the wooden balcony, and the stench of brimstone filled the night air. “A whole heap of trouble.”

***

The Crowman is the first novella in the Dark Fantasy Supernatural Western series Chronicles of the Fallen available on Amazon in both eBook and Paperback.