Pumpkin Spice, стр. 30
“Well, you got a name?” He did have a name, but he hadn’t used it for quite some time. He shook his head. “I got money. Could use your help.” This peaked the cowboy’s interest. “My cousin’s come into some witches. My name’s Barry.” The man reached across to shake the cowboy’s hand; he did not reciprocate. “What’s the pay?” the cowboy went straight to business, “One-Thousand if you kill her. Two if you bring me her head.” The cowboy chugged his beer and shook his head. “Can’t do that. When you kill a witch their body…pff… dissolve into nothing. No head, no body. Just peace on this god-forsaken earth.” He picked the beer up and took another sip. “Fine,” the man conceded, “Make it fifteen-hundred.” The man stared down the cowboy. It was evident he wouldn’t be leaving without the cowboy’s agreement. “What’s it to you?” The cowboy didn’t trust the man, “I fucking hate them witches, cowboy! They torture my cousin, she ain’t done nothing wrong!” The cowboy waved the waitress over. “Yeah?” Her breath hadn’t gotten any better, “Two beers.” The cowboy looked at Barry, “You want anything… Barry?”
“I’ll have a whiskey straight up.” The cowboy sat upright in his chair. “I can’t help you.” The waitress set the drinks down on the table, Barry looked up to her “Put these on my tab, Isabelle.”
“Look, I hunt witches and I want them all dead. But I ain’t no gun for hire. Can’t help ya, sorry.” He wasn’t sorry. He chugged his beer, then moved on to the second one before chugging it. He got up from the table, thanked Barry for his beers and went on his way.
It was almost midnight when the cowboy turned his lights off in his motel room. The bed was the most comfortable one he had been on in a very long time. It was too bad he wouldn’t get any sleep in it. He could hear the witches screaming and chanting outside. He thought he was far enough away from the woods to get a good night’s sleep. He wondered; what sleep was anymore, anyway?
The cowboy rolled over in his bed and grabbed a small handgun. He considered it his lucky charm. It was always on his person, never in sight. He placed it under his pillow, keeping his hand on it. He rolled to his other side, there beside him the face of a witch. Before the witch could grab him, he rolled off the bed. “What is this? The most famous cowboy? Have you come to hunt me dear cowboy?” The witch’s voice was annoyingly high pitched. The cowboy fired his lucky gun at her. She slid out of the way and waved her finger at him. The cowboy grabbed hold of his shotgun, aimed it at her fired. She stopped the bullet in midair with a spell. The witch then began rolling her hands around each other, her eyeballs rolling back in her head. As she spoke her cursed spell out loud the lights in the motel flickered. The cowboy could feel the ground beneath him shaking. He held onto the dresser to maintain his balance. The witch’s eyes rolled around and around in their sockets. Her hair began to rise up high above her head. As her spell was coming to an end her eyes stopped rolling and looked directly at the cowboy. Blood ran from the witch’s nose, her pointy finger tips were now directed at the cowboy. Before he could do anything about it, before he had a chance, the front door burst open. There was Barry dressed in his plaid shirt and blue jeans! He raised his arms at the witch and shouted “Ballasterous!” A pulsating white light flashed from his palms pulverizing the witch. Barry dropped to the ground. The cowboy raced towards him. Barry was breathing heavily. “Please…” the old man said, grasping for air, “help my cousin.” The cowboy nodded, “Who are you?” The cowboy asked, “I told you. I’m Barry.”
“But who are you?” the cowboy wanted to know how this old man knew a spell as powerful as that. “I was born on the hills of Nepal. To no woman, and no man you would ever know.” Barry was running short on breath, “I am a sorcerer of the Nokatu. I have lived many moons protecting the men and women of this world from witches. I am too old and frail, I cannot help anyone anymore, not even my cousin. That burden is yours now, dear cowboy.” The cowboy was up for the challenge. With his last breath of air Barry looked into the cowboy’s eyes and spoke, “Protect my cousin, find the infans, bring peace, end the curse.” Barry closed his eyes. The cowboy had questions, but none of them could be answered. Barry’s body vanished into thin air.
The cowboy walked all night to the residence of Barry’s cousin. He was never given a name, or description of who the old man’s cousin was, but he was smart and knew he’d figure it out. The directions brought him to an old warn out farm house, it was located just north of the woods. Very close to the woods, it was no wonder witches were causing so many problems, the farm house was essentially on their turf.
He walked to the front door as the sun began to rise, and knocked.