Caleb’s bloody signature was still sticky on the parchment as bullets ripped down the corridor. Innocent souls falling in the wake of his father’s raven-black London Fog. His essence, seized within these walls, promised in return.
Stumbling backward, searing white-hot pain radiating outward… Satan had reneged on the deal.
Weeks working long hours in the remote oil sands had taken their toll but today the company-sponsored busses rolled into the Saloon of this makeshift northern town.
The jamboree would run non-stop for the next five days, it was time to cut loose. The booze would flow and the comfort girls, drawn to payday money, would be primed and ready for the carousing to begin.
Billy hated himself watching the stranger, her curves rocking in his lap. Back east, his Annie was waiting for his return.