Continuing in Red Ridge Creek, a small town out in the hicks that seems to have a demon invasion incoming, can two hunters prevent the tide of darkness.

Moving off the bed to stand beside the window Beth flicked off her sturdy jacket and flung it down onto the bed as she gazed out onto the dark street of the oh so normal town, the was no clue, no indication that anything out of the ordinary could happen in such a run of the mill place. Hearing Clint rustle through the pages Beth moved back to his side and leant languorously against the sturdy wooden vanity table and watched Clint as he flicked through the book with a thousand horrors and the way to vanquish them. It was her treasure and her burden as it was the life she would always lead and never be away from.

Her bright eyes watched him as he looked through the pages, sometimes pausing for a moment to read but in the whole she could see he was skimming over most of the content. Suppressing the sigh that came to her she leant forward towards him, her tumble of long corn coloured hair falling down to fan across her now bare shoulders as the bones in the russet bodice she wore creaked slightly as she read over his shoulder. Reaching out her left hand Beth began turning the pages in the book to the section she was looking for. Sweeping a section of hair away from her face Beth pointed to certain parts of the book.

“Right these bits are the one you really need to know about demons.” Pointing to each section in turn she offered him a small explanation. “You can recognise a demon has been around as they sometimes leave a trace of sulphur. Demons can’t be killed by any means I know of but that doesn’t mean they don’t have weaknesses, holy water, salt, iron and a devils trap are your best defence.” Beth said pointing briefly over to the door where the unbroken line of salt was spread and the chalk devils trap lay unavoidably underfoot. “And if you’re good enough you can sometimes exercise the demon so that it leaves the host body.” She pointed to a singled out paragraph of text that was much neater that anything on the page. Speaking with a melody almost in her voice Beth recited.

"Exorcziamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica... Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te ... cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare... Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis... Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine... quem inferi tremunt... Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos."
She smiled with a vindictive fire in her eyes and then she remembered herself and turned her attentions back to Clint.

“If you can learn even a little of that it will really help. Just starting the process will begin to weaken a demon and start to force it from the host body, which can give you a moment to run or incapacitate it.” She paused for a moment to lean herself back so she rested the weight on her arms and looked at Clint as he looked back at her. “To what they can do, it really depends on the demon and their power. As a general rule they are stronger and faster than us and filled with hatred, malice and cruelty that no human could posses, no deed is too foul for them to perform. Most seem to be able to move smaller objects with an invisible force and even when they possess a human they are all but invulnerable and if you do manage to hurt the host enough the demon will just move on to another body.”

Looking behind her on the vanity table she began fishing through the small jewellery box, her fingers brushing against the trinkets and talismans she had accumulated over her years of hunting From within the box she pulled out a silver pendant in the form of a demon trap star sealed in a circle of flames and attached onto a rough leather thong. Holding it up to her eye for a moment she then leant forwards again and placed the pendent around Clint’s neck and to his credit he didn’t struggle or protest until she was done.

“And this…” she motioned to the necklace she had just placed on him. “Is to protect you from demon possession. It won’t be very good if you get possessed while we are working.” She said with a small but surprisingly soft smile. “So any questions?”

Her face seemed to fall as he could only skim the book. Her eyes losing a little of their brightness, as he flipped the pages. Seemed she wasn't the most happy with that particular strategy, but there was little else he could do, being presented with so much information at a single time. There would be no way to read the book page for page there with her. That would take an investment of several days. But he was looking for facts relevant to their current task. Things about demons, and how to fight demons. He flipped through pages on a wide variety of other topics, but it seems she'd come to specialize in this, much unlike his own choice of career. He still found it a little surprising that she was a demon hunter. Someone so pretty. So delicate looking. But, looks could be, and in this case, were, deceiving. She probably hunted, on a daily basis, quarry more dangerous than he did, himself.

She reached from behind him, and started flipping past the pages, arriving at one point in particular, and pointing to the parts she considered to contain the most important information. How to identify a person that was being possessed or controlled by a demon. How to recognize whether or not a demon had been present in an area. Signs, and symbols, and omens. And most importantly, how to combat them. Though she'd said there was no way she knew of to actually kill one. That definitely took demon hunting out of his comfort zone. He scowled a little.

"Water, and salt and drawing pictures... stacked against immortality, and absolute power. Yeah, doesn't sound like they have much of a weakness at all to me." He sighed. But she was already talking about her exorcisms. And as she pointed out the words on the page, she read them aloud. Latin, obviously. Most likely that incantation had been around since the days of the first Bible ever written. The Word of God, in a very literal definition. Once she was done, he tried to read aloud from the words, as they were written.

And it was an absolute disaster.

"Exercise. Exercise-imus -spiritus." He coughed. "Uhm-Omni... pot is a satanicas." He just shook his head, and looked up at her. "Yeah... I'm... sorry about that. I'm gonna have to practice that before I've even got half a shot at it. I don't do stuff like this very often, as you can probably tell. Well... ever, really. As it sits, I don't have a chance in Hell, pardon the pun, of getting it right. I don't suppose you'd mind letting me write that down so I can have time to learn it?" He shook his head, and went back to just listening to what she was saying. She was obviously the authority here after all.

"Okay, so if I can start learning that exorcism spell, and also I guess learning how to draw one of those traps, then I'd at least be able to defend myself while we figure out what the whole story is here, and how we can stop that door from opening. Because from what you're saying, I get the feeling that the only way to really thwart this, is to find their endgame, and set it up somehow, so that whatever they want becomes impossible. Unlike my usual jobs, we can't just hunt down whoever's responsible and put a bullet in them." He chuckled. "Well, guess we could, it just wouldn't do any good.

He looked down at the pendant as she looped it around his neck, unsure exactly what she was up to. He didn't know precisely what the jewelry was, but based on its similarity to some of the pictures in that book, he was able to wager a guess.

"You're right about that. Wouldn't want to go getting myself possessed. Though I wouldn't have even considered such a thing in the realm of possibility a few days ago, it's something that won't be leaving the forefront of my mind now, you can rest assured. As for questions, I can't think of any. Except that you let me copy that spell, and the trap circle, out of your book, so that I can learn them for myself?"

Beth smiled warmly at Clint realising that she was being a little harsh towards him and her expectations had been too high. This was a lot for someone to take it, because she lived and breathed this life it was easy to forget just how outside the norm it was. Giving him a small nudge in the side Beth smiled again and walked back over to the bed. Kneeling down she groped around under the bed until her fingers touched on what she was looking for. Coming back up with a smile she opened up the parcel she was holding with a small flourish. In her hands she held a specially modded shotgun, it was shorter than normal and included in the package were several strange looking shells. Offering it to him with a smile Beth spoke, her voice kinder than before.

“Of course you could always try this instead, this might be more your kind of thing. This is a quick fire shotgun complete with rocksalt shells. The best weapon you could hope for in fighting demons, it won’t kill them but it will slow most of them down, even exercise some minor ones.” She placed it in his lap with a grin. “And take the book, it’s easier than writing it all down and then you can read it in your own time.”

Moving away from him to sit on the bed Beth was impressed by how comfortable it was for a saloon room. Bring her knees up so she could rest her head on them Beth allowed her hair to spill over her shoulders and tumble down her back as she watched Clint.

“Well tomorrow we have a lot to do.” She sighed in exasperation and mumbled under her breath “And no idea how to do it.” For a moment she sat there, lip pouting slight, looking much younger and vulnerable in the candle light than she normally appeared.

He had been left scratching his head when it came to the Latin. He was trying to pronounce it, sure, but the words just didn't come as naturally to him, as they did to her. The way everything just rolled off her tongue, without having to even have the book to read from was quite impressive. He was glad when she seemed to mellow out and work with him a little more. When she produced the wrapped up parcel, and presented it with something of a show, he couldn't help but smile.

That smile grew even further when it turned out to be a shotgun, and a collection of unusual shells. Listening to her description, he nodded. She'd mentioned in the book that salt was a barrier, so he supposed it made sense that rock salt coming out of a shotgun...

"I get it. Kind of. If the salt acts as a barrier they can't cross, then blasting it into them would throw them backward at least. Right? Or if it catches hold of them well enough, could maybe even do some real damage. I don't want to take your gun from you, but I will take a couple of these shells. I've got some experience in bullet casting, so I'm certain that if I can come up with the salt, I'd be able to produce at least something crudely similar to them. Though... I wonder at why you'd carry a gun, if your quarry doesn't fear bullets."

He watched her as she spoke. Her posture changed a little as she relaxed. And despite himself it made him smile. A glimpse into that vulnerability, made her seem more human, despite her strange calling. Allowed him to see that even though this was her life, she was still not all to different than any other person, with her own woes and worries. If she could do this, then perhaps he could too...

Beth looked up at Clint through her lashes as he spoke excitedly about the gun and shells; this was much more his thing. After saying that he would makes some of his own shells but leave the gun she smiled and nodded. He asked her why she needed a gun since her quarry wasn’t affected by conventional bullets. She smiled at him, her features almost sympathetic but her voice was warm with a lingering hint of sadness.

“It’s not just demons I hunt. Every creature that stalks the darkness is fair game, anything that is evil and dangerous, I will hunt it. Spirit, monster, demon … Bigfoot,” She smiled at him and continued “And anything in between. So the gun isn’t just for salt shells it can also take normal ones and unhappily I have found humans can be just as dangerous as the things I hunt and less predictable.” Again she looked wistful for a moment as her eyes became shadowed for a moment. “That’s my life … protecting people from the horrors of the darkness.”

Coming out of her own reverie Beth looked at Clint and gave him a smile that banished the lingering shadow from her face.

“So where do you come into this business Clint. I mean I know it isn’t your day job but I know you have seen battle with creatures of the night; it leaves a look in your eyes. Everyone has their first story, how the first discovered what goes bump in the night is real.”

"Any creature that hunts the darkness is fair game..." He repeated her words. Almost with a sadness in his voice. "Spirits, monsters, demons..." But when he looked in her eyes, after having trailed off there, she would see a lot of emotion there.

"I don't know if you were joking or not. But, if not... Please. Don't hunt the bigfoot. They aren't monsters. They just want to be left alone. They're actually very kind, and peaceful creatures. The only time you'll hear of them claiming a human life, is when they're forced to kill in self defense, or driven out of their minds when some asshole with a rifle murdered their family." He sat down across from her then, his voice calming down.

"I'm... sorry for the lecture there. I'm sure you were just joking. It just played into a stereotype I encounter too often. That 'human' inherently means 'good', and 'inhuman' inherently means 'monster'. And while that is a very convenient lie, it still couldn't be further from the truth." He reclined a little bit, and folded his hands together, interlocking his fingers behind his head.

"Some of the most terrible monsters I've ever encountered, were human. And some of the gentlest beings I've ever encountered, were not. Which, I suppose goes to describe where I come in. I'm a bounty hunter by trade, but as a personal obligation, I protect those who need protecting, often in ways that are entirely fatal to those they need protection from. Whether my target is a monster, or a human. Hell, sometimes my client isn't even always human. Not that they can pay me for my work in that case. But, I've come to feel like I owe it to the world to balance the scales. I did a lot of damage when I was less experienced. You want to know when I first got smart to the things that bump in the night?" He sighed. Hard.

"Well... I guess I lived in denial for a while, but really, in the back of my mind, I knew since that night. Even if I pretended I didn't. We were sleeping peaceful one night, my whole family, in our beds. I was sixteen at the time. Heard noises in our barn one night, bud didn't pay it enough mind. Next morning, half our livestock was slain, chewed on... So the next night, my father decided he was gonna sit in the barn with a shotgun. Keep watch, kill what we all thought was coyotes or wolves or something. He never came back in. We found him dead too, the next morning. Along with the rest of our stock. So, my mother and I, after we'd buried him of course... we decided to follow the tracks. Hunt down whatever had killed him. I was always big and dangerous for my age anyway, and she was a ranch woman so she was tough stuff. We followed the tracks back to a cave. Thought it must be wolves in there... But it wasn't. It was a bear. But it was also a man. I've seen werewolves since, and this was similar, but he turned into a massive bear. Never had seen anything like it at the time. I managed to make it out of the cave alive, but my mother... not so lucky. He slaughtered her, and I hid and cried while he ate her. Had to listen to the sounds of it, because if I stood up to run away, he'd have seen me." He stopped talking then. For a long time.

"So, I decided from then forward I was going to kill every single 'monster' I came across. And, that's exactly what I did. Just killed every single thing that wasn't human. Even very many creatures which me, meant no one, any harm... It was years before I learned the difference....." His posture was sad. No longer the cocky, confident bad-ass. Just a man now. And one who seemed to feel much, much smaller than he looked.

Beth smiled with affectionate warmth at Clint as he explained about his history; there was no one in this business that had a happy story of how they entered it and it saddened her that she had heard its duplicate on many occasions before. Her own tale had its own bitter sting but only those in darkness could hunt in it or at least accept that it was there. She had studied his features while he spoke and in the lines of his face she read the pain that still lingered within him, a burden that was never to be relinquished.

“Don’t worry, it was only a joke, I never hunt the innocence.” Her words broke the prolonged silence that had filled the room as Clint’s speech came to a halting conclusion. Beth’s eyes finally caught Clint’s gaze and blue locked with brown, he seemed so human, so vulnerable that Beth was willing to bet that was not something he had ever told another living soul. She saw him as he was, gone was the pretence they had to present to the world and she found that bared as he was he seemed the more for it, without the bravado, just a man, a man who had walked many a painful road. At that time she found that she had no words of comfort to offer, for what could be said without sounding hollow and empty.

Maybe it was the drink, and she would swear it was but she was moved by him and she felt the need to give what she could in comfort. In one fluid motion she got gracefully from the bed, eyes sparkling, and expression soft in the flickering candle light, hair fanning down her bare shoulders. She knew he was the type to startle and the last thing she wanted to do was ruin their newly begun partnership, possibly friendship so she advanced slowly till she stood beside him. Leaning forward with as much movement as her corset would allow Beth placed a small soft kiss on Clint’s cheek. It was the only thing she could offer to someone who looked as sad and lost as he had, the only thing sincere enough to be given.

It was over in a heartbeat as Beth swung herself back to her full height. The kiss itself had been kind, caring and overall chaste although she could not lie about the blush blooming on her own cheeks nor the fact that she wouldn’t have minded something entirely less innocent. However she would not push or even ask, as well as she knew Clint, this was not something to take lightly and she would not treat it as such. If he wished to view that with sisterly affection then so be it.

Without breaking the moment she offered him another dazzling smile, if nothing else she had replaced the sadness on his face with surprise and did she even detect a hint of satisfaction? However she would allow him to speak first, so he could dictate on what terms he wanted to move forward with.

(( Clint is a gentleman, but he's still a little rough around the edges, and in a rather odd spot emotionally after a weird few days and the story he just told. So rather than just writing it straight, I'm going to use this to develop him a little. I've hinted at an attraction to Beth before, so there's a couple of ways for him to have reacted, and I'm going to have him go with more than one of them, because real people tend to be confused a lot.))

It had been an unusual day. Yes, he had been a monster hunter for a long time now, but demons were new to him. Hell, any of his monster work was really just a part time endeavor. Mainly he called himself a bounty hunter. Track down bandits, bring them in alive or dead - but he tended to be better at dead - for their rewards. Or while he was in and around a town, he'd take up a job or two doing dirty work for people who wasn't good at the rough stuff themselves, but still needed something violent or aggressive done. But the majority of those jobs involved human beings. Because people had to eat. And while the monster hunting was something of a calling, it didn't tend to pay the bills.

So then he hadn't really had much left, and telling that story had taken that litttle out of him. As his voice trailed off, he wasn't himself anymore. Or maybe he was his truest self. Either way, that man left sittigng there wasn't the same person who'd gone up the stairs a few moments ago. The bravdo was gone, the tough guy was gone, the giant was gone. All that was left was the person he himself saw in the mirror at night. This wasn't something he liked for others to see of himself. He wasn't invincible, unshakeable, after all. And he really liked to keep that a secret.

And then she kissed him. It wasn't anything romantic, simply a kiss on the cheek. Quick, chaste, and affectionate but not romantic. She followed that with a kind smile. A very genuine gesture. It had caught him off guard. An unexpected gesture, but not an unwelcome one. A blush tinted his cheeks as his other thoughts came to a halt abruptly. He was surprised, but pleasantly so, as was evident from the slight smile on his face. His emotions changed direction as he stood up quickly, standing over her as she also stood from where she had stooped to his seated height. Without really thinking about what he was doing, he put a hand under her chin, tilting her head back a little bit to look at him, as he bent down and kissed her. Not on the cheek. A real kiss. It was brief, but there was a certain urgency to it. For just a moment, and then he pulled himself away, taking a step backward.

"No. Uh... I'm sorry. I.... have to go. Dammit... Sorry..... I...." He backed out the door, conflict obvious on his face, as he left with such haste that he forgot to take any of the things she had written down for him, or the rock-salt shells he was going to inspect. He shut the door behind himself, and through the wood she would be able to hear him swear at himself. Spinning, he punched at the wall opposite her room.

The next morning, if she was observant, there would be a hand sized hole, about chest height, through the thin boards.

Beth found herself almost swept off her feet by Clint, he held her in a way that was exhilarating and urgent, their bodies pressed together. Then his lips were on hers, a rough hand had entangled in the blonde locks at the base of her neck, the small amount of pain lost in the flood of sweetness from his kiss and the burning pull of her own desire. To her surprise she found she was kissing him back, both with the same urgent intensity.

It was over in a matter of moments and as he pulled away Beth found that she was reaching out for him unconsciously but she did not try and pursue him. He stammered out an apology although she was not sure why and he scampered out the room, closing the door behind him. She was left standing there, lips still throbbing as she listened to the sound of wood smashing and footsteps stomping away from her. Holding slightly trembling fingers to her still tingling lips she could not help but smile, perhaps there was still some solace to be found in the world. Turning away from the door she tipped herself into the bed in a tumble. Lowering the lamps light so the room was plunged into a soft twilight and she stripped herself down to her underwear and looking over the room she checked that her security against the supernatural was still in place.

Laying down in the darkness Beth thought about the day and how it had moments of purest terror and surprising joy. She knew that she should be planning their next stage of attack, how to conquer the threat of a demon invasion but her mind kept slipping back t being in Clint’s company and that kiss. With these sweet thought in her mind she quickly fell asleep with a smile and for the first time in an age she slept through the night without a single disturbing dream.

When she awoke in the morning and dressed in her normal attire she did notice the large dent in the wall opposite her room, with a smile she made her way down for breakfast thinking she would have to apologise to the owner on Clint’s behalf when she saw him.

His mind was racing for most of the trip back to the ranch house where he was staying. He'd been overcome with emotion, and let himself behave out of character. It wasn't so much that he viewed himself as such a saint, no, he wasn't under any illusions there. He was a killer, and there were no two ways about that. The 'gentleman' may have just even been a character he played, though he didn't like to believe that was the case, but he couldn't honestly tell anymore, whether the casual smile, or the intense stare, was his true face. But the one thing he could be certain of was that this wasn't how he behaved. And not only was it his conduct he was specifically unhappy with. Sure it was ungentlemanly of him, and very out of character. But more than that, it was dangerous. He was only still alive because he didn't connect to people like that. He operated independently, lived his own life, as his own man. His violent life did not damage anyone else that way, so he didn't have to carry the weight of anyone else's life on his shoulders. He carried enough burden, with the dark truth he concealed from so many, and the potential futures of the lives he'd ended. But with no attatchments, there wasn't the constant risk that overexposure could pose him. A safety he maintained by keeping a healthy space from other people.... But just then... with Beth...

He couldn't sleep for thinking back to that moment. He shouldn't have done that. Any of it. From telling her his story, showing his weakness... especially the kiss. No, he shouldn't have done any of that. But he didn't regret any of it either. It was odd, but he couldn't bring himself to regret that moment of connection. He wasn't proud of it, but perhaps it had been the only course of action at the moment. Maybe he had needed that. But now... how was he going to face what the morning brought. What was he going to do about Beth? Would she hold it against him? Or... Finally, his exhaustion overcame him and he slept.

But the morning came all too soon, and he rousted himself. It would still be an hour before he could make his way back to the tavern.

His mind was racing for most of the trip back to the ranch house where he was staying. He'd been overcome with emotion, and let himself behave out of character. It wasn't so much that he viewed himself as such a saint, no, he wasn't under any illusions there. He was a killer, and there were no two ways about that. The 'gentleman' may have just even been a character he played, though he didn't like to believe that was the case, but he couldn't honestly tell anymore, whether the casual smile, or the intense stare, was his true face. But the one thing he could be certain of was that this wasn't how he behaved. And not only was it his conduct he was specifically unhappy with. Sure it was ungentlemanly of him, and very out of character. But more than that, it was dangerous. He was only still alive because he didn't connect to people like that. He operated independently, lived his own life, as his own man. His violent life did not damage anyone else that way, so he didn't have to carry the weight of anyone else's life on his shoulders. He carried enough burden, with the dark truth he concealed from so many, and the potential futures of the lives he'd ended. But with no attatchments, there wasn't the constant risk that overexposure could pose him. A safety he maintained by keeping a healthy space from other people.... But just then... with Beth...

He couldn't sleep for thinking back to that moment. He shouldn't have done that. Any of it. From telling her his story, showing his weakness... especially the kiss. No, he shouldn't have done any of that. But he didn't regret any of it either. It was odd, but he couldn't bring himself to regret that moment of connection. He wasn't proud of it, but perhaps it had been the only course of action at the moment. Maybe he had needed that. But now... how was he going to face what the morning brought. What was he going to do about Beth? Would she hold it against him? Or... Finally, his exhaustion overcame him and he slept.

But the morning came all too soon, and he rousted himself. It would still be an hour before he could make his way back to the tavern.

His mind was racing for most of the trip back to the ranch house where he was staying. He'd been overcome with emotion, and let himself behave out of character. It wasn't so much that he viewed himself as such a saint, no, he wasn't under any illusions there. He was a killer, and there were no two ways about that. The 'gentleman' may have just even been a character he played, though he didn't like to believe that was the case, but he couldn't honestly tell anymore, whether the casual smile, or the intense stare, was his true face. But the one thing he could be certain of was that this wasn't how he behaved. And not only was it his conduct he was specifically unhappy with. Sure it was ungentlemanly of him, and very out of character. But more than that, it was dangerous. He was only still alive because he didn't connect to people like that. He operated independently, lived his own life, as his own man. His violent life did not damage anyone else that way, so he didn't have to carry the weight of anyone else's life on his shoulders. He carried enough burden, with the dark truth he concealed from so many, and the potential futures of the lives he'd ended. But with no attatchments, there wasn't the constant risk that overexposure could pose him. A safety he maintained by keeping a healthy space from other people.... But just then... with Beth...

He couldn't sleep for thinking back to that moment. He shouldn't have done that. Any of it. From telling her his story, showing his weakness... especially the kiss. No, he shouldn't have done any of that. But he didn't regret any of it either. It was odd, but he couldn't bring himself to regret that moment of connection. He wasn't proud of it, but perhaps it had been the only course of action at the moment. Maybe he had needed that. But now... how was he going to face what the morning brought. What was he going to do about Beth? Would she hold it against him? Or... Finally, his exhaustion overcame him and he slept.

But the morning came all too soon, and he rousted himself. It would still be an hour before he could make his way back to the tavern.

Beth carefully sat in the bar after she had finished the unhealthy excuse for breakfast, which she lived on almost exclusively, hunters weren’t know for having the best diet, why bother when she could be dead tomorrow. Her eyes darted around the room in an unobtrusive way as she watched the only other two patrons in the bar. Quickly and efficiently Beth braided up her golden hair, this time into a single braid the tip of which fell down to the small of her back. It was still early and the heat of the day had not yet taken its full effect. Scraping her chair back from the table with a noisy squeal Beth sprang gracefully to her feet, throwing some money down on the table for the meal and sauntering outside she tipped her old brown hat onto her head.

She needed to do a perimeter check, look for signs around the town and this sort of work was best done while the heat did not burn like hell fire. Walking out from the bar Beth glanced left and right looking around for some sign of Sable but with a knowing smile she couldn’t suppress she already knew she would find no trace of him. When he wanted to Sable could move without leaving hoof prints, a skill she found amazingly useful and one he had learned on his own. Beth wasn’t worried, giving a small but shrill whistle Beth began walking right towards the edge of the town. She had only gone a couple of meters away when she felt the familiar warm gusty breath on the back of her neck, bringing with it the sweet scent of hay and dusty hide. Reaching out a hand backwards Beth felt his soft velvet nose and smiled. In a fluid motion she paused as Sable continued to walk passed and she swung herself up into the saddle. Reunited once again Beth rubbed her hand against his warm neck and smiled down at him.

“How comes you always managed to get filthy when you go off on your own.” Beth teased looking at her hand which was coated in russet dust. He whickered back at her and flicked her ankles with his tail, Beth laughed as together they trotted out of the town. Over the next half an hour the two of them circled around the town a couple of miles out and out of sight of the town itself. Beth didn’t see anything out of the ordinary and Sable picked up on nothing disturbing, animal senses were relatively superior at picking up the supernatural than humans were.

Together they eventually wound up atop on the large red outcrops of rock that surrounded the area; from here Beth could see for miles on end. Overhead, even higher than them, an eagle screamed its cry as it rode the thermal winds, hovering like they were, surveying the world. Looking out into the distance Beth noticed the ominous purple blooming like a bruise on the horizon and slowly, tortuously they rolled towards the unsuspecting town. Beth felt the shudder go through her; this was an omen, a bad one. How were they supposed to face this oncoming storm? It was then that she caught the scent and her head whipped round to stare over her shoulder. She would know these scents anywhere, blood and sulphur. Below her Sable stiffened as he too picked up the smell, for a moment all was silent and still, Beth’s eyes raked the surrounding area trying to find the source, the only thing that moved were the small tendrils of golden hair caught in the wind.

When Clint finally did make his way back to the bar, he was unsurprised to see hat Beth wasn't there. Either she had already left to be about the business of the day, or she just didn't really want to see him right then. He wouldn't have blamed her for ether. In the first place, he was somewhat later than he'd planned to be. And in the second, well his conduct the previous evening hadn't exactly been gentlemanly. Not that he was always a gentleman, no. He couldn't claim to be so perfect. But while being a man of his stature did have its advantages, especially in his line of work, it also carried with it something of a burden. Clint was a large man. If he wasn't conservative enough with his actions, people got hurt. He had to be careful to keep himself in check. And he'd failed to do that.

Still, there was work to be done, until someone called him off the job. Yesterday had been something of a daunting experience, what with the hell gate and all. He shook his head, and ordered a glass of whiskey while he collected his thoughts. The breakfast of champions. The soft amber burned pleasantly as he put together an agenda. One thing they'd needed to do, they both agreed, was speak to the parish preacher here in town. The man would have dealt with the local people's suprstitions, which in this case would mean, signs and omens, or spiritual, or haunting experiences. Once again, he cursed this business of dealing with something you couldn't just kill. Finishing his 'breakfast', he set the glass down on the table, along side a few crumpled bills, and walked back out into the already warming morning light. The church was further on up the main street, next to the town hall. Only a few minutes of walking.

He surveyed the building as he approached. It was old. Somewhat rundown looking. Like it was underused. But what of it was there, did seem well cared for. Maintained with love by whoever ran it. He had no doubt the Preacher did most of the work himself. Out of respect, he contemplated leaving the guns outside, but thought the better of it. No telling who might come round and decide to profit off of his kind ness if he did that. So he swung the door open, and took his hat off as he stepped inside.

"Hello? Preacher?" Near the front of the building, a smaller framed Hispanic man, dressed all in black, with a white ring collar adorning his shirt, was stooped over a desk, writing something. Perhaps a letter. Huh. A real catholic priest. Not just a country preacher. Clint wasn't really surprised though, as the west really did get all kinds. He corrected himself, never the less.

"I mean, Father..." And then again, noting the man's nationality. "uh- Padre." The man smiled, somewhat amusedly at Clint's stumbling, and stood, stretching his back and arms.

"What can I do for you, my son?" He spoke in clear English, but with a heavy accent. He was quick to survey Clint, but if he was intimidated, or revolted by the large, rough looking man carrying an arsenal worth of weapons, he didn't show it. "Come. Come and sit." He motioned to a pew near the table he was working at, and Clint shrugged, and made his way over.

"Padre... I have to ask you a few questions. As a man of faith. And... uh... They might seem like strange questions." He didn't know how to go about this line of questioning, but the Padre just smiled knowingly.

"My child. We live in strange times. In a strange place. It is only natural for people to question."

((So I've basically left Clint unawares as to what's happening to Beth. Without playing him unrealistically, he'd have no way to track or follow her to be able to back her up. So if something's going to happen, it'll have to be just for her, or be big enough for him to notice it. In the mean time, I have him carrying on with the plan as they made it the day before.))

Beth smiled a cold, humourless smile, the glint of vindictive pleasure shining brightly in her blue eyes as she gazed down upon the creature hiding in human flesh. The creature snarled up at her from where it sat in a heap on the ground, bound in rope drenched in salt. It had been a brief battle, the demon had not been the smartest of its kind but each had taken a fair beating from the other but in the end Beth not only had the better fighting skills and weapons but with near half a ton of angry horse by her side the demon was quickly subdued. With hoof marks all over his face and body, the marks sizzled as Sables horse shoes were made of special iron engraved with holy marking. Snorting down with defiance at the creature Sable shook his mane out, this was not his first battle nor would it be his last, he was a fighter it was in his blood.

Beth withdrew the hip flask from her belt and taking a large swig from it she gazed down at the demon before spitting the holy water straight into its face, blood from her cut lip mixing in. The creature howled in pain as this toxic substance burnt its skin. Cracking her knuckles Beth began her interrogation of the creature and she used every ounce of her formidable knowledge on inflicting pain and the rage and furry that burnt inside of her at the sight of the demon.

Fifteen minutes later found Beth sitting jauntily in Sables saddle while she gently massaged her chin, stretched out her arm and winced as she felt the deep cut that ran from her shoulder across her collar bone. Pouting slightly Beth poked the cut gingerly and smiled ruefully at the familiar sharp sting, she hadn’t even noticed it in the heat of things. It had not been the most fruitful of interrogations but she had learnt some interesting titbits, things that had slipped out in the creature’s moments of moments of agony. There was nothing she could do about her cut as she had nothing with her at the moment; even Sable’s saddle bags were empty which was odd, so she ignored the pain, pulled on her jacket which covered most of the cut and they headed back to town.

There was more work that needed to be done today, she need to speak to Clint about what the demon had told her and they had agreed to speak to the preacher today as their second source of information. Sitting up properly in the saddle Beth encouraged Sable into a quick canter and directed him towards the church which was near the town hall. Stopping him in the shade of the church Beth slid out the saddle and flicked her single braid over her shoulder Beth looked up at the careworn building. For some reason it was a comforting sight, despite the fact it looked like it could crumble at any minute it had clearly been maintained for a long time and it was nice to see something that had survived the test of time. At the front door she noticed a rough symbol carved into the wooden frame, it was a symbol she had seen many times before and one which brought a smile to her lips. Opening the door Beth quickly remembered there was some sort of etiquette that required her to remove her hat in a church which she did.

Beth looked around the dim room which took a moment of adjustment from the bright sunlight outside, moving inside the building proper Beth was not surprised to Clint sitting at the other end of the room with the preacher both were deep in conversation. Smiling Beth made her way over to the pair and leaned over the back of the pew Clint was sat at.

“Morning ya’ll, sorry to interrupt.”

"Good morning to you too." The Padre smiled softly. "No bother. I suspect you've only saved me some level of repeating myself at any rate." The older man smiled, and interlaced his fingers. Please, dear lady. Sit. Sit."

"Mornin'." Clint's own greeting was brief. And she might take notice that he didn't look up at her. The Padre leaned back against his own seat, and sighed a little sigh.

"So, I believe the two of you are working together. On what, I don't know. And to be honest, I don't think I want you to tell me. Anything that needs people to carry around that many guns, it isn't my business. Never the less, your friend has peaked my interest with his questioning. Clearly, neither of you is really from around here. So, for him to have noticed the subtleties of our little town so easily, I found odd. But he isn't wrong. There's something ominous here. Church attendance has dropped. Almost none of the town's wealthy ever came to a service, except to put on a show of their wealth with some flashy donation." He sighed. "Maybe that's how it is everywhere. The wealthy don't need my God. They have their own God. He's green, and square, and very small..." The sadness in his voice lingered only a moment before he looked back up into Beth's eyes. "But God has always been for the working man. The migrant workers and farm hands. Those who come upward from Mexico, and from across the seas too. But lately even they... I don't know. It isn't a lack of faith. People still seem to believe, when I speak to them. And when I ask them why they don't come to service, they all say they just don't know. That they don't feel like it, but don't know why. I've tried to bless the building. I've had travelling priests bless the building. But still no one comes. And it seems no matter how I clean, how I care for the building... this poor church gets dirty faster, the walls rot and wear away faster, disrepair comes faster on this poor sanctuary, than to anywhere else in town. I don't know what is happening here." He reached into his lap, and held up a notebook. Waved it about a couple of times, and then held it out toward Beth.

"Parishoner's log book. Despite how often people come and go from this town, I seem to be performing more funeral rites than anything. And I know, this is a rough place to live. People pass. It is sad. But not like this. It wasn't like this down in Mexico. Except during the war. For every baptism, for every wedding, for every christening, in this town, three funerals. And the people that attend them... Yes the family, sure. But there is a group of people at every funeral. They never seem to mourn. To care. I wonder if they even knew the deceased, or if they're just here for theater of it. For something to do. Never people I've seen around town. Not anywhere else. Though, I suppose they could be at the saloon a lot. I don't go in there. Or at the whore house. But never just around town. They're only ever at the funerals. And they always leave before I have a chance to talk to them. And when I ask anyone else in attendance if they know them, no one else ever seems to have noticed that they were even here." The old man sighed. "There was a story told, back in Mexico, by the old orthodox priests. From the very old days. About a man who rode into a town one day and stopped it in its tracks. No babies were born, no one came, no one went, no crops grew, even the sun refused to rise, until he rode on. No one will come out and say they believe that man was..." Even the Padre wouldn't say it - Devil. "Not that I believe that man is here. No. But there does seem to be a certain sense... Like life, which normally goes on about its way, is grinding to a stop here. In this small place."