1881
Tombstone, Arizona
John Henry Holliday / Michael - Knight of the Veil
He’d been using the Doc for to long, some of the people he rode with mostly the Earps were beginning to suspect something was up. Virgil had mentioned how little he’d changed over the years, and then Wyatt’s woman had mention how he still looked so young. So for the past few months he’d taken to biting his inner lip and ‘coughing up blood’. The mortal’s instantly assumed consumption, which had been his plan.
He’d ‘die’ soon and then crawl from his grave, or maybe ride off into the sunset and then hide from the humans, go back east, or go to the far east and live in Cathay or Nippon for a while. He hadn’t een to either for ccenturies, so anyone he had known then was dead now.
And then Morgan – Sheriff - barged into the saloon and told him Virgil was confronting the ‘Cowboy’s, what a fucking name. Dumb ass gang couldn’t even pronounce the word vaquero properly, but then the humans had warped the word Shire-Reeve to be Sheriff, so it was what it was.
“Why is he dong this, ‘John’ had asked.
“”Virgil’s done with them the folk disreputing the Law. And the Law say, ain’t no guns ‘lowed in town ‘cepting by Lawfolk.”
Fifty years. Just fifty years. That’s all John had figured the humans had before they devolved into grunts and hand gestures. A hundred at the most. “And I am to assume the Clanton and McLaury’s have chosen to ignore this Law, again?”
“Yesser, Doc, They have. ‘N Virgil says Claiborne don rustled some cattle the other day as well.”
Looking at the other men at the table he slid his chips forwards. “Call he said, already knowing who had what, and which one of them was planning on slapping leather.
As cards flipped over he slid hi revolver up to the table edge. “Fair and fun, on one needs to die.” He reminded everyone, staring at the one with a hard look.
After swapping chips back to cash he floded his leather wallet up and returned it to he vest thenn grabbed his jacket and left with Morgan.
He heard the hand hitting leather across the room, spun and fired. After the human hit the floor he looked at the bartender. “Money in his wallet is yours. For the cleanup and the funeral He has enough to cover it and then some. Just go cheap.”
***
Kalan was a bit irritated. These dumb fucks were letting the local sheriff run roughshod over them. Telling them what to do? This was the west. And he had rights to carry his weapon if he wanted. The second amendment said so.
They were a gang of man, a group to do as they willed. And it didn’t take long for him and some whiskey to get the ‘Cowboy’s’ riled up enough to challenge that damned LAWMAN Virgil Earp.
It wasn’t until they were in town did Kalan feel the itch on his neck and the cold line on his spine. Angel Born. FUCK where had he come from?
The cold chill of Celestial presence settled in the base of his neck. To late to back out now, and he was done with these damned Humans and their Laws challenging his right to freedom!
He’d found his current host a decade back playing in a yard. A quick conversation, a deal was struck, and poor billy became a host. That had been damned close, he’d almost lost the conection to earth. Banishment back to hell had been his alternative. Now if he was a Shedim he’s just need to touch one, no deal required.
He’d walked away from the corpse of the old woman laying in the streets with his new body. He’d agreed to the bargian, and kept his word ‘Wanna see a dead body?” Grnted it had been his last host’s body. And she was dead.
She’d grabbed William’ hand and wrapped his fingers around the knife, forcing him to plunge the dagger into her heart. Killing her and giving him William’s corrupt soul. Murder. Such a devious sin.
Stepping around the corner he saw the Angelborn in the alley. FUCK! What the fuck was he… Bullets started firing and Billy/Kalan ran like a bitch. Him! Why was he here? Moving to cover he waited for them to exit the alley before he fired, emptying his weapon in their direction, but his aim was off, the host was fighting him. Hard.
He couldn’t aim, couldn’t run. Billy.. why.. oh fuck the little shit human wanted redemption!?!?!
Running hard and fast Kalaln stole a horse and fled. He’d taken a hit to the leg and stomach, but he’d survive. But the wounds burned unnaturally hot. That bastard had blessed his bullets?!
***
Sitting on the edge of the bed, his chest and stomach wrapped up by the local tooth puller and sawbones, ‘Doc’ sighed and looked at the other men. “Time for me to retire.” He told the men in the room. “I know you need me, but I’d like to not die face downin the dirty street.”
“I’d Rather die in my sleep, in bed. Dreaming of Heaven.” Later that night he’d left, thankfully no one had followed him.