Chapter 6

They got into a tussle with the wrong folks

Charon had seen this happen before in his long life, men with weapons, men with hate in their souls, coming to harm those who meant them no harm. It was as true in the world as the sun rising, and when the sun stopped rolling across the sky, putting an end to the world, then the hate in fools’ souls would stretch on forever into the great beyond. Charon could read their souls, seeing the rage of their lives boiling to the surface as they stood before him.

He rolled his jaw while lifting his ugly head at the men. There were some good men in the group, men who would help a poor soul on the side of the street, but now, the mask of the devil had taken hold of them. There were little demons digging into their souls, causing the goodness of the Good Lord to be pulled out of them.

This was going to end only in one way.

Lucille took a step out of the cabin, standing a little behind him, which was a clear sign that Daisy was rushing out the back door. Luckily for her, none of these fools had surrounded the small cabin to make sure Charon and Lucille didn’t escape out the back.

A big white man who looked as if he could pick up a tree alone stepped forward. He was carrying a large ax, and his bubby, smaller men, were holding their shotguns as they came up behind him.

“Don’ know who y’all strangers are,” the large man said, “but y’all need to hit the road now.”

He pointed right at Charon as smoke blew out of Charon’s mouth as if the cigar was lit, but there was no burning end of it. A few of the men mumbled to themselves while the big man looked back at his bubby, not sure what he was seeing or how the smoke was coming out.

“How about this,” Charon said, trying to be calm, “why don’t you guys run home to your wives, and they won’t have to pick you guys up at the hospital, yea?”

“Two against ten,” someone said while a few laughed.

“One of them is a little girl,” someone else said.

“Go easy on them,” Lucille said, almost in a whisper. “They aren’t themselves.”

“I say we tar and feather the old man,” someone hissed, “and teach that hot thing a lesson she’ll never forget.”

“Never mind,” she huffed, looking for the man who said those words.

It was the last part of the man’s request that made Charon take a step forward, while none of the men moved back from him, even if the smoke was pouring out of his mouth like he was smoking an unlit cigar. He stared right at the big man, knowing the other guys had their shotguns half-heartedly pointed at him.

“How about a magic trick?” Charon said, smiling from ear to ear.

“What?” the big man asked, a bit taken aback at the statement, but Charon was already rolling the bowler hat of his head. The hat rolled down his long arm like a ball, and then stopped as both of his hands grabbed the brim of it.

All three men stared into the pit of blackness in the hat, seeing nothing and unsure what the trick was meant to be, until they heard the low growl of something from the darkness, as if a lion were hidden there. The growl turned into a roar as a dozen green eyes blinked into sight, making the men jump back, but they didn’t move fast enough as giant crawls reached out, grabbing the men with the guns, pulling them into the pitch of the hat.

A few men shouted in fright, but Charon was rolling the hat back onto his head in the blink of an eye and uppercutting the large man. He sent the large fool sailing through the air, shattering his jaw and knocking him out cold before he crashed onto the ground. The large man was out of the fight before anything even got started.

Some of the men were running for their lives, but those with darker souls were moving on Charon. A few of them jerked their guns up, trying to take aim at the man moving like a bat in the night, but they didn’t get any shots off as playing cards stabbed their arms, causing them to drop the weapons.

Lucille was flipped another bladed card in her tiny hands before throwing them with perfect aim at the man in the back. She cut their hands, necks, and foreheads, not causing them any serious damage, but enough to make sure the blood poured and the fear to set in. She could kill them if she wished, but she knew Mr. Saturday's bad voodoo had trapped their minds.

Charon was driving his fist into men like they were sledgehammers, knocking them out with just one hit. No one knew if Charon used magic for the deed or that his time as a boxer in the old world had paid off, but these men didn’t get the chance to think about it as they were dropped to the ground.

Seconds had blinked by, leaving only one man standing, shaking like the last leaf on a tree, and a river of fear running down his legs. He was the old man from the officer, missing an eye from the war, and now he stood there, unsure what to do.

Smoke rolled out of Charon’s mouth as he removed the cigar, strolling up to the old man. He huffed, staring down at him as Lucille came rushing up.

“What are you two?” he asked. “Are you demons?”

“Not the last time, I’ve checked,” Charon said, crossing his arms.

“What happened to the men in your hat?”

“S**t, right,” Charon said, “almost forget.” He lifted his hat off his head, flipping it around as the men with the shotgun shot out of the hat. They landed on the ground before they got to their feet, running for their lives, screaming madness into the night.

“Now,” Charon said, “you were going to tell us where to find the Copper Coins?”