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Chapter 5

  Look, I didn't want to drag Agatha all the way to her ranch. Could barely get a word out of her after everything that went down. Monsters, mind control, and first loves lost—she was distraught. But from what she said, it was basically on the way to Elkhart.

  Last time she'd ever go off in the wilderness.

  She'd learned a valuable lesson. Least, she'd better have.

  Normal folk should stick to trails and roads. Worst thing is you run into a couple of bandits looking for a score. Mortal trials. Most times, your pride ends up more bruised than your physical body. And on the rare occasion, when you don't just pony up and pay the piper, you may get shot and die.

  Judging by the look in poor Agatha's eyes, that would’ve been better than what that goat beast did to her and young Lyle, whose body, bloated and missing parts, was now somewhere down the Pope River. Can't help but feel bad for whatever sod might find him if the wolves don't devour him fully first.

  Point is, stick to the damn trails. There are plenty of things as bad—and worse—than that beast lurking.

  The West is wild for many reasons beyond the lack of law reaching out here. Humanity. We gather in our towns and cities, and that tends to drive off things preferring to not be surrounded. Drive them to places like this.

  The sun was on the rise, painting an expanse of otherwise swarthy vegetation in a deep crimson. Life was becoming even more scarce out here. Soon, it'd only be hard dirt with tawny bushes and cacti poking up.

  Just as Agatha had described in what few words she could manage, a small ranch sat in a clearing to our left.

  Shar's frustration rose through me like the tide as I brought Timperina close and her words echoed in my mind while my badge itched unremittingly on my chest.

  She could wait. Far as I can tell, she's got an eternity.

  "Time to wake up," I said, then heaved my shoulder where Agatha had been sleeping. She shuddered awake, both arms squeezing tight around my chest. "This your place?"

  She muttered what sounded like an affirmation to me.

  "Good." I stopped Timp by a fence penning some cattle. Then, I hopped down and extended a hand up to her.

  Agatha flinched out of reflex. It'd be a long time before that natural response would leave her.

  "Well, you can't sit up there forever," I said. "Timp's old legs'll get too tired to handle two of us."

  Timperina snorted and stomped a back hoof at the mention of her name.

  That sound also made Agatha recoil. She'd heard enough cloven horrors to last a lifetime and more. I waited patiently until she blinked against the blooming sunlight and seemed to actually register that she was home. There didn't seem to be much joy, though. Considering she'd left with a lover and returned alone, I understood.

  I further extended my hand, and this time, she took it. Helping her down, I held on until her wobbly legs found strength enough to allow her to stand on her own.

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  "Now, remember, if anyone asks what happened to Lyle, blame the wolves," I said.

  "He doesn't deserve—"

  I placed a finger over her lips. Shook my head. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared up at me. They were pretty eyes, despite the sorrow marking them. A light gray flecked with something like lilacs. She'd make a fine wife to someone someday—just not Lyle.

  "You say what you really saw, you'll be fit for a straitjacket in no time," I said. "That boy wouldn't want that for you. He'd want you to move on. To live."

  Those words chewed at me as I spoke them, but I meant them all the same. Agatha still had everything in front of her. More than I had.

  "Now, go on." I gave her a gentle nudge down the trail. Anyone inside the ranch would be able to see her from there. She'd be safe, even without me accompanying her the remainder of the distance.

  Staggering a few steps, she turned back. "Who are you?"

  "Just a passerby." I tipped the brim of my Stetson, and just as I grabbed a clump of Timp's mane to pull myself up, the door of the ranch flew open. An older man ran out wielding a rifle.

  "Dammit, Agatha. Did you go runnin' off with that boy again!" Judging by his tone, I could only guess he was the disapproving father. Always was one. And then came ma, chasing after him, shouting for him to calm down.

  Timperina bolted before I was all the way saddled, and we sped off in the opposite direction, screams echoing at my back. I guess there was one person who'd be pleased with who the goat beast had claimed as a victim.

  Oh, well. Least he cares enough to care. My dear old pa? Most he usually had to say involved the back of his hand across my cheek. May he rest far from peace.

  * * *

  I don't know why I find myself drawn to helping folks like Agatha. Was I lying to myself, thinking it was about atoning for the many sins of my former life? Maybe I just want to feel something, anything, besides the constant numbness I’ve felt for so long. Maybe its rebellion. Probably a bit of both, truth be told.

  I didn’t make it far from the ranch before the need to answer Shar could no longer be ignored. I clutched at the marks on my chest, desperate to relieve the infernal itch.

  But I pushed a few miles farther on to road to Elkhart anyway, just to spite her. Until the urge to rip my own head off became too much.

  "Shar, my dear," I said as I flicked open the mirror. Her faceless entity swirled to life, and all the grand vista of reddish cliffs around me seemed to grow strangely dim in light of her.

  "Did you get it out of your system, Crowley?"

  "That's a mighty odd way to say, 'Thank you.'"

  "Thank you? Thank you?!" A crack snaked down the center of the glass.

  "You and I both know that abomination had no place in this realm," I said. "I got rid of it. Ain't that why I'm here—why our beloved benefactor saw the need to spring me to life after death?"

  "You are here to do as commanded! Unless Hell would be preferential to you."

  "Always threatening with that. Might be time for some new material, old girl. Getting stale."

  "It is no threat," she said, her voice level and, well, threatening.

  She sure knew how to tug on my leash when I pulled too hard. Was it so simple? One word and I'd go plummeting through the dirt and the rock down into the icy depths? As if angels and demons could make arrangements so easily. Could they? And if they communicated openly, why all the damn games I get caught up in?

  "What's done is done," I said. "A Nephilim is banished, A girl's life is saved, and a boy's soul is left over for Heaven. Plus, I'll sleep easier."

  "And that is what is most important to you, is it not? All the Children, thinking only of themselves."

  "Sounds a bit like jealousy," I said. "I think that's one of your sins, ain’t it?"

  "Always so brash. So eager to play hero.”

  “I ain’t playing games,” I said. "Those kids needed help and I don't know why they're somehow less important to the White Throne than some string of robberies.”

  “The ruminations of Heaven are far above those of men.”

  "I don't know what that's supposed to mean, but I did what I did and that girl’s alive for it.”

  “Life is not all about this plane, Crowley. When will you learn?" Shar cackled, and her form began to swirl away.

  "Learn what?" I said to fading mist.

  Her essence mended the crack in the glass before she was gone, leaving me staring at my own ugly mug. I was covered in blood. Guess that's what happens when you decapitate a monster.

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  https://www.audible.com/pd/Cold-as-Hell-Audiobook/B099P3XZWF

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