Welcome to Deepdweller's Gulch!

[Caelyn Darkmoon]

*The sound of clicking knitting needles tapped away in the background as the whistle of a boiling kettle screamed its success. Caeyln looked up from the computer screen, her face aglow with the fluorescent light emitting from it and turned her violet eyes towards the screaming kettle. Instantly, the kettle raised itself off the stove and began to pour boiling water into the large cup where a tea bag sat, waiting for it. At the kiss of the liquid, the tea was released and began to swirl into a heady brew guaranteed to vanquish the head ache that was clinging, rather stubbornly, to her left temple. Glancing over her shoulder to check on the process of the knitting happening behind her, Caelyn slowly stood up from her chair, rubbing her aching neck. A heavy, leather bound book fell off the desk as she moved, dropping on her left foot. Cursing under her breath, Caelyn picked up the first and only edition of ~Egyptian Lore~ and placed it back on top of the pile of books she had been reading. Still thinking about Ebony’s last email, she watched as the enchanted knitting needles cast two more stitches on before moving towards the small kitchen. The kettle was now sitting on the back burner, steam emitting from its spout as Caelyn walked over to the cup. Raising it to her nose, she inhaled deeply before taking a tentative sip. Wincing as she burnt her lip, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply again. Hmmm.. it needed something… Just as she had the thought, several herbs rustled in the apothecary box she kept under the front counter and within moments they were freed of their former wooden prison and diving enthusiastically into the dainty china cup Caelyn now carried back to her computer. The liquid inside swirled and stirred as she sat down and by the time she took another sip, the concoction was just perfect.

Sipping her tea, Caelyn rubbed at her temple absently while scanning the computer screen. She was so engrossed by her latest research into the artefact that she actually jumped when the shop’s bell rang. Although she had heard that little silver bell ring for more years than she cared to remember, something sounded different this time. Arching a slender dark brow in surprise, she stood up, still clutching her tea and moved towards the beaded curtain at the back of her small cottage. Stepping through the curtain with the familiar sound of wooden beads banging together ringing in her ears, Caelyn wondered where the shopfront would appear this time. She had just finished up work in China Town before Ebony had emailed her and had been floating around between space and time until the bell had made that strange sound. Hoping for a beachside town, Caelyn chanted “Sand, surf and fun..” as she emerged from the beaded curtain and stepped across the threshold. Appearing at the back of her shop, she instantly noticed the changes that had taken place since she had last used it.

Although it was essentially a magic shop, “The Witches Cauldron” could change its shop front and purpose to meet the needs of the person who had called it. In China Town, it had been a small, dingy book store selling the odd curious items. Before that, it had been a magic shop in London, a library in Sydney and a pharmacy in Peru. Caelyn always felt a little thrill at the beginning of each new job, enjoying the surprise of finding out what strange item she would be dealing with next. Her violet eyes darkened as she glanced around a room that appeared completely different from any shop she had ever run, though strangely familiar at the same time.

The formerly dark, shadowy corners had been replaced by a clear, open shop front of floor to ceiling windows. Flooded in light, the six shelves lining both walls housed several different items – a horses saddle, an old fashioned tonic bottle, a mining helmet (complete with broken headlamp), lots of ropes and other farming items. She noticed a few antique items, but struggled to see the common theme. None of the items radiated magic for her however and she moved towards the front door, bumping her hip as usual against the counter top. Rubbing at the familiar bruise, she sipped her tea and walked over to the front door. Pulling the door open, she winced as the silver bell seemed to scream in protest. Glaring up at it as she stepped over the threshold, Caelyn whispered ~What’s up with you??~ before pulling the door shut and stepping back to look at it from outside. The usual sign had been replaced with a simple sign that read “GENERAL STORE”. A cold wind blew in from the East, causing a tumbleweed to blow up and brush against her legs. Caeyln pulled her thin black cardigan tighter around her shoulders, squinting against the bright light as she turned and got her first look at the town she had just arrived in.


While the town was surrounded by mountains of dark red rock, the town itself was located in a deep ravine and appeared limited to a main street. Her little shop had squeezed itself in between a blacksmith and a stable. Directly across from her was a large building with a wraparound balcony around both stories. A gaudy sign read “SALOON” and Caelyn was just thinking how much this place reminded her of one of those old western movies when a man appeared on the balcony of the saloon. Dressed in appropriate cowboy attire, he stumbled down the stairs and began to unloop the reigns of his patient horse that stood, tethered to the railing. A lady dressed in old fashioned attire of a tight pink and black corset, pink hooped skirt and black lace gloves skipped out onto the balcony and blew the cowboy a kiss before giggling and disappearing back inside. The cowboy grinned stupidly and then attempted to climb onto his horse while rubbing at his neck. After three attempts, he clawed his way up and was soon sitting on his saddle. Caelyn had just enough time to see the bite marks on his neck before the horse took control of the situation and the two were on their way.

~Vampires?~ Caelyn whispered, just as the sounds of gunshots sounded from the left. Three men were standing down near another rather decrepit old building that, according to the rusty sign swinging from a pole nearby, sold guns and ammunitions. The men were dressed similar to the cowboy she had just seen and as more ladies appeared on the balcony in front of her, Caelyn knew she would have to change if she didn’t want to stand out any more than she already would. The three men started arguing loudly before the shortest of the three shot the tall one in the head. His portly friend then shot the shorter man in the chest, before taking another bullet in the stomach that the short man had just fired. Less than two minutes after the first gunshot, all three men were now laying either dead or dying in the middle of the dirt street. The ladies made tittering noises before disappearing back inside, albeit for one who stayed, her dark eyes locked on Caelyn.

Meeting her gaze, Caelyn felt the icy cold sensation she always did when vampires were present. Despite not having the best of experiences with these vile beasts, Caelyn made sure she stood her ground as the woman ran her dark gaze all over Caelyn, seemingly trying to see her insides. She knew her magic would be emanating off her, and this vampire in particular seemed incredibly strong. Just as she was thinking she couldn’t stare at her any longer without blinking, Caelyn heard a soft voice in her head. The voice was rather eerie and carried with it a slight accent that Caelyn could not quite place.
~You’re not welcome here witch. ~ Caelyn merely smiled and sent back her own message ~And you’re not welcome in my head, so get the fuck out!~

The vampire recoiled slightly, surprise etched upon her otherwise beautiful face. Laughing softly, she drew her dark red shawl around her shoulders and slid back into the saloon. Caelyn shivered as what appeared to be hundreds of shards of ice pricked her skin, torturing her nerve endings. Barely supressing a scream, Caelyn pulled the door of her shop open and hurried back inside. Once inside her shop, the feeling decreased and she was soon feeling more in control. Glancing around the room, she saw some clothes on the top rack, near the back towards the counter. Arching a brow at the soft leather pants and simple, cotton shirt, Caelyn put down her now empty cup of tea and gathered up the garments. Disappearing back through the curtain, Caelyn emerged back in her own room, the old fashioned clothes still in her grasp. Still feeling the effects of the vampire’s hold on her, she decided to have a bath and possibly a nap before dressing in those clothes and heading back out to explore the new town. Caelyn hoped whoever needed her assistance made their presence known sooner, rather than later as a strange feeling told her she needed to get out of this place as soon as she possibly could. Something evil lurked in that old western town – she could feel it. And somehow she knew that vampires were only the tip of the iceberg. *

[Clover Stardust]

Clover was having another one of her notorious dreams. There was no illusion that she was dreaming, She knew specifically it was one of those dreams. The dreams that told her what was coming, or what had come. Her Ma and Pa sent her away before she was old enough to know how to keep her big trap shut, she’d learnt her lesson the hard way. Over the years she’d also learnt how to cultivate the dreamin’ tell when the guards changed over at the bank, the combination to the safe... Robbing banks was fun, but the law didn't take too kindly to that particular occupation. Now here she was hiding away in Deepdwellers Gulch the ass-end of everything, not even on a map, it’s what attracted her to the town in the first place. Little did she know there were stranger things in the world then prophetic dreams.

It was night time in the dream, the stars were shining, no it was daytime now, and night time, the sun was illuminated in the night sky and so was the moon. The sky was ablaze, with colour and falling stars. Clover was still nestled drunkenly on the old stained cot in the prison cell she had spent the last couple of hours, the sheriff would kick her ass out soon. Clover stood up, away from her body. She walked towards the heavy metal prison bars, not concerned by the iron. Her flesh melted between the gaps and somehow ended up whole on the opposite side. She stepped out of of the jail. She took a quick look behind her and saw the Sheriff sleeping in in his chair, his cigar hanging limply from his open mouth. She could see both aspects of him overlaying each other.

Conscious or unconscious, Clover walked through town, heading down the main road, She saw the familiar stores and buildings. Rattlesnakes spat and shook their tails at her, hundreds of them. She wasn’t concerned, carefully stepping between them as the dusty road cracked open around her. 'Old wounds' she did quietly to herself. Eventually she came to the edge of town and looked back towards Deepdwellers. Did she love the place or hate it? She couldn’t tell. She noticed a shop nestled between two buildings. It hadn’t always been there. it was new, but it looked like it belonged. A bright white light pulsated from its innards, the light was blinding, opposite the little shop was another building that didn’t belong, she couldn't understand why she hadn't noticed it earlier. The building was black, a perfect square, a tower that rose into the air ominously, with a dim green light starting to flicker from somewhere atop the tower.

She woke up. Her mouth dry as sandpaper. The doors to cell her swinging open.

‘Thank you kindly, good sir, until next time’.

She said with a wolfish grin to the sheriff wherever he was. Clover stepped out into the hot sun shielding her eyes. It was quite early but the heat was already scorching. She looked down the main strip of buildings that made up the town. Sitting there, nestled where it didn’t belong, but looking very much like it has always been there, was the shop in her dream. Townsfolk walked past it obliviously.

‘Curious’ Clover said as she walked towards the ‘General Store’. Nobody else seemed too alarmed, or not yet anyway, the townsfolk were probably nursing their usual morning hangovers. She could hear a ruckus not too far and she ducked for cover.

‘I aint taking another stray bullet to the leg’ She said to herself, it was a bad habit of spending too much time alone. She didn’t pity the Sherriff who would have to take care of that mess. She waited until it was all over before standing to her full height again. Clover wore a beige singlet, blue jeans and black spurred cowboy boots, she didn’t dress like the rest of the dames in town, and convict blue was her attire of choice. As she got closer to the General Store her hands instinctively moved to hover above the holsters that housed twin charmed revolvers. She pushed the heavy door open and spun around in alarm when the silver bell chimed.
‘Well shoot, I was expectin’ a little more mystery’. She said when she was greeted by an ordinary General Store, more or less…
Her heeled boots clicked against the floor as she browsed. She could hear movement out back, but was distracted by something tall and shrouded by a black silk sheet in a corner of the store. She carefully approached the object for a split second thinking it was a person watching her. For reasons she didn’t quite understand, she removed the sheet and let it fall to the ground. She was greeted by her own reflection.
She smiled at herself, she still had it. Pretty, small and dark they called her in her youth. Her sister was her polar opposite, tall, with blonde hair. Her once alabaster skin was starting to become sun damaged. Her hair hung thick and wild tucked behind her ears, cut short. The mirror was simple, nothing particularly special about it. She turned her head to look at a noise through the beaded curtain that let to what she imagined was a cottage. When she looked back, her reflection held a finger up to her lips, motioning her to be quiet. Two twin white antlers protruded from the flesh and bone on her forehead, curving around her head before splintering off into three individual prongs. She had a faint silver glow to her skin. White tattoos trailed across her skin, moving and shifting.

‘What in tarnation!’ She spat as she took a step back, before she knew what she was doing she pulled her revolver and pulled the trigger, breaking the silence in the General Store. The bullet hit the mirror before reflecting back in another direction entirely, whatever the mirror was made from it wasn’t glass. The mirror cracked but didn’t shatter, Clover peered back at her now normal reflection, fractured, her revolver still smoking in her shaking hand.

[Madame Tamassa]

*Sighing in frustration, Caelyn looked up from the pile of discarded clothes around her as the silver bell tinkled in the distance. ~That was quick…~ she muttered, before standing up and casting a quick glance at her reflection. The pants and shirt she had found before had long ago been rejected as they made her look like she was wearing a potato sack. Caelyn spent long hours at the gym to get the body she had and she was loathe to hide it from the world. Resigned to wear the blue and white checked pinafore over a blue tailored full length skirt and white tailored shirt, Caelyn fixed a matching kerchief over her tumble of dark curls as she made her way towards the beaded curtain. As she approached the familiar doorway she could not help but notice that this part of her home was colder somehow. There was no other window or grate that could have produced the sudden chill that made her bones ache. Dark brow furrowed in concern, Caelyn stepped through the beads, causing them to clang together and announce her arrival in the shop front.

The store looked different from the last time she was here. A new cabinet had appeared alongside a broad bookshelf filled with strange items in jars and boxes marked PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH. A rather beautiful woman with shaggy black hair was standing in front of the Merachi Mirror and Caelyn watched in horror as the woman aimed her revolver and fired at her reflection. The mirror easily deflected the bullet and although the glass didn’t shatter, the woman’s reflection did.

~Uh… excuse me..~ Caelyn called out, careful not to scare the woman as she introduced herself. ~I’m sorry dear, but I really wish you hadn’t done that… that there is no ordinary mirror as you can see. And unfortunately it now has your image. It has transferred to you and therefore is yours and yours alone. I can not sell it to anyone now and we have a strict “you break it, you buy it’ policy here…~ she let her amethyst gaze fall upon the woman who appeared human. There was a strange aura radiating off the woman and her pistols had been charmed long ago, but she posed no threat. She also didn’t appear to be the person who had summoned her here, so Caelyn sauntered over to the counter and walked up to the large, chunky silver cash register. ~That will be a hundred dollars thanks..~ she smiled demurely at the woman.

Outside, across the street a large disturbance was quickly gaining momentum. Cat Wilson was bristling and wringing her hands together so much that they appeared to be a blur as she muttered in French and yelled abuse in English. ~What the hell is it?!~ she yelled at Bob, the local saddler. ~It can’t be a General Store! I run the only General Store in town!!! Have so for years!! This… “shop” can’t just appear overnight and call itself a General Store!! ~ There was a lot of nodding and “aye.. yeah’s” from Bob before Chrissie McCaffety stepped up onto the verandah outside the saloon to join the pair.
~Betty Sue Johnson said it just appeared!~ Chissie fanned herself and Cat suspected it was more from the assignment than the heat. As wife of the reverend, poor Chrissie didn’t see much excitement other than Thursday night Bingo at the church. ~ She saw it! One minute it wasn’t there.. and then it was!~ Cat narrowed her eyes as she studied the shop. After the earthquake two weeks before, things had felt different around town. Now there was a strange shop arriving and trying to take her livelihood away?

Bob nodded and mumbled something about drinking before noon and Chrissie swatted him with her fan. While the two began to argue about Betty Sue’s supposedly secret alcoholism, Cat rolled her eyes and exhaled slowly. ~Well I’m not having it! This town already has a General Store! She locked her eyes on the shop as she marched towards it. ~You can’t be a General Store!~ she yelled at the front door, surprise causing her to halt in her tracks as the sign above the door faded before her eyes. A dark mist appeared to attempt to form various forms of letters and words. She watched in horror as the sign changed rapidly. First it became a library, then a bakery before the sign finally stopped and formed the letters to read CHEMIST.

Inside the shop groaned as shelves rattled and fell off the walls. Caelyn held onto the counter and called out for the dark haired woman to do the same as items fell from the shop and landed on the dusty floor with a loud thud, sending clouds of dust up into the air. Soon the shop was full of a murky, dusty haze that had Caelyn coughing and waving the dust away from her face.
~Sorry!~ she called out. ~It normally doesn’t do this with customers inside!~ she had to yell to be heard over the din and then finally there was silence. When the dust settled, there were aisles of wooden cabinets filled with bottles and boxes. Casting her purple gaze over the latest garb of her shop, Caelyn glanced at the customer. ~I’m guessing it’s a Chemist again… can’t think why it changed. I wonder if we are still in Deepdwellers Gulch?!~ Noticing the mirror had remained, she nodded her dark head towards it. ~You’ll still have to pay for that ya know?~

Ignoring the woman, she marched over to the door and opened it. Stepping outside, she didn’t notice Cat as she stepped back at looked at the sign above the door. ~Yep! A chemist.. okay..~ she nodded to herself and turned around, disappointed to see the saloon was still across the street. So was a rather stunned looking woman and a bunch of other town folk. Caelyn looked at the woman closely and arched a dark brow as the woman’s true nature revealed itself to her. She nodded back over her shoulder towards the changed shop.
~You do this then?~ she called.

Cat merely nodded, opened her mouth and then snapped it shut again. She had no words and nothing she said would make sense of what had just happened. Caelyn realised that everyone had stopped their business and were all standing around, staring at her.

~Afternoon ya’ll~ she drawled, bowing deeply. ~ Caelyn Darkmoon at your service. I specialise in herbs and tonics to cure whatever ails ya. I look forward to meeting you all! Good day!~ beaming widely, she bowed again before turning back to walk inside. Before she closed the door however, an icy cold prick of pain sparked at the tip of her spine. Looking up at the saloon’s second floor, she noted a face at the window. Flicking her fingers in a mock wave, Caelyn disappeared inside, pulling the door shut behind her.

From her view on the second floor, Madame Tamassa saw it all. By the time she had bathed and dressed for the night, Cat Wilson had set up permanent residence at the end of the bar in her saloon. Smiling widely at the woman, Madame Tamassa slid up to her, offering her hand.
~Mon Cherie!~ she purred. ~You grace us with your presence..~

Cat snorted and stood up, albeit shakily. She locked eyes on Freddy Mason behind the bar who was the only human that worked in the saloon. He was also the best bar tender for miles and a very good listener.
~Thanks for the whiskey Freddy.. and the chat. You have always been the best thing about this filthy place.. ~Cat mumbled, slightly slurring her words as she glared at the Madame and detangled herself from the stool before moving towards the door. Ignoring Madame Tamassa completely, Cat walked fairly straight as she crossed the threshold, stumbled down the stairs and made her way slowly home for the night.
Tamassa shot Freddy a look and quipped ~Do I smell?~ as she poured herself a neat bourbon and slammed it down whilst pouring the next. Her dark eyes scanned the crowd at the saloon and she sighed as she saw the numbers were still down. Patti was lounging by the door and Tamassa waved her away as she walked past her. She knew the bitchfest that was to ensue was going to be wordy and long between her and her new found playmate. How the two of them survived was something Tamassa would take to her grave… if she ever had one. But it sure brought the two women closer together. She met Patti’s gaze and nodded to indicate yes, I’ll play later… as she sauntered past three men playing poker and made her way out onto the balcony.

The saloon had only just been rebuilt two days ago after being completely destroyed in the earthquake. She had managed to charm 7 young, strong men to rebuild the saloon, almost as it had been. A few people had died that night, and even more had decided to pack up and move on after their homes or businesses were destroyed. Deepdweller’s was in danger of becoming a ghost town and there was a feeling of doom descending upon the few residents remaining. Now, as the sun began its descent behind the mountains, a cold wind blew through the dirty streets of the town as shadows lay claim to their murky corners once more. Tamassa tightened the dark crimson shawl around her shoulders, grateful she had worn a short sleeved tunic over her hoop skirt instead of her usual corset. As the shadows lengthened, she looked to the left, noticing one shadow in particular. Darkness welcomed her like an old friend as she stepped down off the balcony and walked left.

She smiled as a red glowing circle illuminated the darkness for a moment as a cigar was being smoked. She knew who it was before she even saw him and she could not deny the way that she felt, knowing she was about to see him. Although relatively new, the relationship between them was a special one and Tamassa thought about him differently than her other Johns.
Stepping closer, she wrapped her arms around her lithe frame as she smiled into the shadows.
~Evening Sherrif..~*

[Blood and Roses]

The morning was already growing hot by the time Conrad made his way down the wooden walkway to the jailhouse. The early light gleamed on the badge pinned to the breast of his jet waistcoat and the butt of his sidearms, standing in sharp contrast to the sheriff's black attire. A warm breeze stirred the raven stands of his hair, worn unfashionably long and unbound, as he surveyed the dusty streets of Deepdweller's Gulch.

Townsfolk were moving through the street in their daily routines, calling out to neighbours or greeting each other in passing. The bakers were already hard at work, a column of smoke rising from their chimney. A shopkeeper was sweeping his porch with a quick step, whistling an off-key tune Conrad didn't recognize. The spinster Ms. Geary hurried past with wave, to which the sheriff responded with a nod and a smile.

Stopping beneath a shaded porch awning, the sheriff reached one pale hand into his jacket and pulled fourth a thick cigar. Striking a match against one broad shoulder, he lit it with several small breaths before taking a long puff and inhaling deeply. The herbs he blended with the tobacco gave the smoke a pleasant odor, almost like pipe tobacco, that most people found pleasant enough. Conrad hardly noticed, however, as the herbs took effect.

The sheriff's vision altered, seeing the world in negative colors, before gradually readjusting to the normal color spectrum. When his eyes refocused on the world around him, he surveyed the town once more.

The spirit population of Deepdweller's Gulch was scurrying to ground as the sun rose above the horizon. Most couldn't abide the rays of solar energy, and found havens for themselves in the shadowy corners and dark places around town. Most crowded beneath the buildings or the wood plank walk. Others hid within barrels or overturned troughs and prayed that no townsfolk needed to use them.

Conrad could feel his brothers' specters nearby, his ever-present companions in the spirit realm. They were hardier, more solid than the other spirits that made Deepdweller's Gulch their home, but like the spirits of the deceased townsfolk, they had found dark spaces to occupy. They could withstand the sunlight without harm, but they found it terribly uncomfortable. The six wraiths of Conrad's older siblings didn't often venture into the daytime streets without good cause, though at times their exasperating mischief was all the good cause they needed.

"Look alive, Alister," the rumbling voice of Walter echoed from a yet-shaded doorway, where Conrad could make out the shape of his brother leaning against the door, hat pulled low over his eyes. A spectral hand pointed. "Looks like she's at it again."

A ways up the street, the sheriff could make out the oddly-dressed spirit of Clover Stardust strolling through town. Conrad shook his head with a rye grin. Trouble followed that one like a wolf on a blood trail. She was probably still in the clink, at least physically. He supposed it was time to cut her loose.




Conrad paused at the door to the sheriff's office. The windows had all shattered in the earth shaker some weeks ago, but had been replaced, good as new. Painted on the door glass was a large gold star, with the word "Sheriff's Office" painted above, and "Alister Conrad" beneath. He hadn't wanted his name on the door, but the painter had put it on there anyway. Now it was stuck, until he could take a blade to it.

Deputy Brooks was sawing logs when Sheriff Conrad swung open the door. The portly old fellow was slumped back in an old wooden chair, head leaning awkwardly against the wall. A dead cigar hung beneath his drooping gray moustache,a bottle of bourbon still clutched in his hanging fist. Conrad picked up the keys from their hook on the wall, and strode over to unlock the cell across the room from the sleeping deputy. He swung open the cell door and held it open. "Right, on your way then," he barked gruffly, his expression stern.

"Thank you kindly, good sir, until next time," chimed Clover as she sauntered past and out of the sheriff's office.

"Next time!" grunted Conrad. If you'd keep outta trouble, there wouldn't be a next time." The young woman was already out and gone, heedless of the sheriff's admonishment. The sheriff walked over to where his deputy rested, and briefly considered waking him up to lecture him.

"Leave him be," whispered Steven, peering out from beneath the desk where he sheltered from the sunlight. "Being that old must be hard on a body."

"So is whiskey," remarked Virgil from beside the window. "Send him home."

Conrad turned to address his brothers, when the sound of gunfire down the street made him spin on his heel. "Hellfire," he spat. "Just barely put her out, and already causing a ruckus." He stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him as he set out.

There was a commotion up the way, a small throng of folks gathered outside the saloon. Cat Wilson was wringing her hands and shouting. At the other end of the street, three men lay dead in the dust. Their ghosts stood over their corpses, heatedly arguing about whose fault it was that they were dead.

Conrad turned his head slightly, and said over his shoulder, "James." His voice was different... low as thunder, sharp as a razor. Glowing red eye slits open in the shade of the barber pole nearby.

"Go explain the rules to those new boys over yonder. If they don't like it, send 'em on their way."

"Yep." The eye slits vanish.

Then he turned and strode over to see what the fuss was about.

As the sheriff approached, he opened his mouth to holler at the crowd of people to disperse and quit hassling the whores, but stopped short. There, wedged between the stable and the smithy was a building that had not been there the night before. The sign out front read "CHEMIST" in bold lettering. But strangest of all was that the shop was visible "in both eyes", or in both the physical and spiritual realms. How could that be?

"Virgil," Conrad called, his voice rumbling, "Walter, Silas." Each name summoned another set of eyes, blue in the shade of the balcony, orange beneath a wagon, green in his own shadow. "See what you can see. I have to disperse this crowd, before it becomes a mob. And-- "

Conrad stopped short. "I'll be damned" he spat. There, in the mystery chemist shop, was Clover Stardust.

"And keep an eye on that one."

An icy chill shot through his veins to freeze his muscles solid, and for half a blink, his mind was gone. In that half a blink time ceased to move, but not his vision. A massive presence filled his mind, and his vision, engulfing his senses in cold darkness.

When his eyes opened again, he was outside the Gulch, near a familiar creek bed, marching resolutely back toward town. By the position of the sun in the sky, he could tell it was nearing sundown.

How the Hell did he get here!?

The cold seized him again, from the inside, and he knew that the Binding was beginning to fail. He felt it, the night of the earthquake, as the spell ruptured and the demon rumbled and raged against its captivity within his flesh. It was as though it howled a challenge at the shuddering earth, each shockwave enraging the demon more. It had battered at its cage with such force that it broke something.

He had to renew the binding spell.

The sheriff cast a long shadow as he walked back into town. He couldn't let this happen again, couldn't allow the demon to roam free. He didn't know how long he could resist its forceful presence.

Conrad stood outside the door, and lit a match off one broad shoulder. He held its flame to a thick cigar and inhaled of it deeply. His vision went photo negative, and as it cleared he was greeted by the sight of Madame Tamassa, the lovely proprietor of the Saloon.

"Evening, Sheriff," she greeted him. A rare smile cracked Conrad's face, hidden in the shadowy night.

"Evening, Madame." He tipped an imaginary hat, the real one left forgotten in his office. "I was hoping you could help me with something." His voice was softer, almost apologetic.

[Pattilia Longfellow]

"Sour" is a word that never goes out of fashion, and most certainly still applies to the dark glare cast from the corner of the saloon. Patillia had converted the closest corner by the door of the rebuilt barhall into her own shadowy well of bitterness and loathing. If one were to glance in her direction, it'd be easy to mistakenly see darkness punctuated with empty skulls on her table, black candles, a tall throne of spikes and daggers, and voodoo totems on the walls -- but no, it was simply Patti sitting in the same style of chair as everyone else at the same sort of table as the ones scattered throughout the bar, arms folded and legs crossed, with eyes of heat and hatred. Those searing eyes were set in a starkly pale and narrow face over permanently sneering red lips, framed with brilliant fire-red dreadlocks. Gone was the dirt and dust typically caked on her from hours in the mines, gone were the denim coveralls and men's work boots, replaced instead with hours' worth of scrubbing, washing, scented oils, and a lot of dark leather. Every inch of her had been transformed from the filthy miner's daughter to a regal, but stern beauty. Clad in riding clothes and carrying only a single pistol on her hip with a large bowie knife opposite, she looked as if she were ready to flee the town at any moment, never to cast her eyes upon a cursed mine shaft again.

The rumors were just getting off the ground, but at least everyone in town knew her father died in the earthquake. No one's quite sure where she was at the time, but whispers began that she only found out when she came to the midnight mass two nights later, coated from head to toe with mud and dirt. She couldn't even attend the church ceremony for all those that had passed in the disaster, such was her grief - they say. A day or two later, she sold her father's shaft in the mine - by all accounts hers now after her father's passing - to another prospector for a tidy sum. Even more rumors stirred up when a very large number slipped over a banker's tongue by accident; apparently the base value of all the gold that could be found in a very rich vein Patti herself had struck upon. Nobody could blame her, then, for wanting to cash out her father's dream with the man himself dead and gone and a future still ahead of her. Most assumed she was simply waiting for the paperwork to clear before she would take off to New York City or Los Angeles to spend her fortune and start a family.

And with her looks, Patti might need a fortune to secure a husband. Sour up top, flat as a plank of wood everywhere else, and a man's strength to boot. Any man that dared try to approach her had always been rebuffed, and on more than one occasion lost a tooth for his efforts. It took months after she began working in the mine for the other men to take her seriously, and once she was layered in as much filth as them, she looked no different from any other young man trying to strike his fortune. Now, though, she seemed entirely transformed, bearing an entirely different attitude and presence. She was spending all her time in the saloon, and oddly not drinking like she used to. No one has seen her up during the daylight hours, and her closeness to the madame hadn't gone unnoticed either. It was Patti's hope that nobody suspected the true nature of that relationship.

From her little corner of the saloon, Pattilia kept an eye on everything. Unblinking eyes bore into the backs of everyone's head one by one, watching and listening to the usual bantering and moaning. Even from her distance, it wasn't hard to overhear Cat's complaining about a new and unusual "Chemist" in town, or Freddy's textbook platitudes to keep her drinking. The story of the new chemist herself was interesting enough, especially combined with the bit of news from the whores that she was a witch. Patti didn't know anything about witches, so it was certainly enlightening to hear the bile and venom the whores had for this strange woman.

Burning with questions, she opened her mouth as Tamassa came by, but it only took a gesture from the aloof madame for her jaw to click shut again. A small tremble thrilled through her as her eyes followed the woman out of the saloon, leaving Patti to sit in silence and shadows again. That left her to only stare at the poker game, with nothing else going on in the saloon that was still trying to reestablish itself from the disaster. The odd feeling that had permeated the town of late was starting to affect the game itself, and after a stunning winning hand, an opposing player slammed his fist on the table.

"Cheat!" cried the sallow-faced miner, throwing down his hand to expose a second Ace of Diamonds.

"Liar!" rebuffed the winner, drawing his pistol.

The six-shooter never had a chance, clattering on the floor two tables away. The hand that held it was now twisted behind the broad man's back, with a snarling Patti in his ear. Nobody saw her move, but all eyes had been on the quarrel. It was when she dragged him to the doors by the armlock, though, that more than a few eyebrows shot up, including the gentleman's.

"Out." The man barely registered Patti's command as he sailed into the dusty street, landing on his ear in a heap.

The fiery redhead clapped her gloves together as if to dust them off, and only paused in her turn back to the door to give the madame and sheriff a curt nod. Then back to her corner she went, glaring at the remaining poker players until they slowly sat back down and resumed their game in silence.

[Clover Stardust]

Clover jumped in alarm when a woman’s voice broke the silence. Clovers hearing was terrible, a side-effect of more than few gunfights. Clover surveyed the woman carefully, she was pretty, her age was hard to define. Clover spun her revolver elaborately in her hands before flinging it back into its home on her hip, it almost purred in response. The woman said something about payment, Clovers brows raised in alarm before a grin spread across her face.

‘What’re you spouting about break it buy it mumbo jumbo hocus pocus?’ Clover said bewildered.

‘$100? Your shop up and appeared to the wrong town, if’n you think anyone in the Gulch can affor’ $100! These folk, myself included are as poor as church mice. You know how many banks I’d have to rob to steal that kinda’ money? Keep’ in mind, that is purely an expression, I aint admitting to any wrong doin’ or pilfering’.

It was at that moment that the shop began to change, Clover held on for dear life and tried to cover her ears, Clover tried to pull her revolvers, but the ground was too unsteady

‘Not again, please!’ She cried out, the sound was almost deafening and that was saying something for Clover. As soon as it started it was over. Everything was different, yet the same. It was the shop, not the ground. Clover was shaking when she pulled herself up to her full height, composing herself.

The woman apologised ‘I wonder if we’re still in Deepdwellers Gulch?’ She asked casually.

‘What?’ Clover hissed before running to the front door and pulling the door open. She was greeted with the familiar Whorehouse opposite and the dusty main road. The Sheriff was heading inside. Clover put her hand on her chest and gave a sigh of relief ‘God Dammit, what kinda mad shop are you operating?’ She said before slamming the door shut again. She looked through the shelves trying to be casual.

‘Oh course, that god awful trick mirror is the only thing to survive… I tell you what lady, let’s call it an IOU, otherwise take it up with the Sheriff’ Clover said before marching up to the woman, she spat on her hand and offered it to the woman. ‘Clover Stardust, don’t listen to the rumours’, she smiled cheekily at her new friend. ‘What’re you some kinda witch?’ she said laughing at her own joke. 'How bout we take a tour of the town?'

~ Elsewhere ~

‘Extraordinary’ someone said in a strange voice, like fingers scratching against a chalkboard, high and lofty and utterly unsettling. The sound emanated behind a black mirror, the glass shimmered against a green light that illuminated from high above, lighting up the black circular stone room.

‘Indeed, Four have you ever seen anything like this?’ Another voice said, maybe a woman’s this time, but even more inhuman, from a similar mirror.

‘Yes, back home, but they originate from another realm’. A ‘male’ voice answered, he had a vaguely English accent, but it was a gravelly sound.

Six identical mirrors surrounded a tiny black cage at the centre of the round room. A tiny pale hand was resting on the bars of the cage.

‘Do it again!’ Another voice said gleefully, a child’s voice without any hint of innocence.

A dreadful scream called out in agony and the cage changed shape. A Woman’s scream got progressively deeper until it was the roar of an animal. A huge black bear was now inside the cage that had increased its size to fit the Bear. The Bear began to transform again, it was Fae, naked, her alabaster skin was almost bark-like, she didn’t look like a creature from the Fairytales, she looked like a mix between a human and tree, with once beautiful gossamer wings, that now hung, lame against her body.

‘Please stop’ she pleaded, in an English accent, nought but a whisper.

‘You say she was working as a prostitute in that godforsaken town?’ Another asked in a voice that sounded like a snakes hiss ‘What do they call her?’

‘That town turns the loveliest of creatures into monsters and perverts, her name is Sparrow Leinad. Shall we continue?’

‘Indeed’.

[Madame Tamassa]

*Once begun, the sun’s descent could not be stopped, seemingly picking up speed as it dipped lower behind the tall mountains that surrounded the gulch. As the sun finally relinquished its hold upon the sky, the murky indigo hue that had been clinging to the corners of the late afternoon finally merged into the perfectly inky midnight blue of twilight. A million stars blazed like diamonds across the never-ending expanse above their heads as the Madame stepped into the shadow beside the Sherif.

~You want my help?~ she asked, a slender dark brow arching in surprise. Although she and the Sherif had helped each other out more than she had ever envisioned, considering the short amount of time they had known each other; he rarely asked for help and had in fact often been railroaded into accepting it by a surprisingly insistent Tamassa. As she stepped closer to him, she reached out and trailed her nimble fingers down the breast of his jacket, reaching inside to withdraw a cigar from his inner pocket. The simple gesture would betray their closeness, just by its familiarity alone.

~Are you sure?~ she purred, leaning back against the wall beside him with the cigar dangling from her perfectly painted pout as she waited for a light. ~You know my good deeds don’t go unrewarded.~ she grinned in the darkness at the memory of their last meeting. The taste of his blood was something she had never known before and she was eager to have some more.

~What do you need Sheriff? You know I live to serve…~ glancing over at the Saloon, she sighed in frustration. ~Hell know’s I aint busy… Buisiness is bad… most of my girls bit the dust..literally.. in the quake. I only had three survive, which would be alright if two of them up didn’t up and leave the next night. Absolutely convinced that Hell itself was about to open under Deepdwellers, they were. Apparently so were half of our regular clientele. ~ She trailed off, her attention distracted by a sound to the East.

A patron had clearly done something to piss of the house, as he went flying through the air and landed in a heap on the road in front of the saloon, dust flying up to create a dusty haze. When the dust cleared, Patti could be seen dusting off her hands. Despite being hidden in the shadows, Tamassa met her gaze and nodded with a smile. A lot had happened in the few days since the quake and Tamassa still marvelled at the connection she had found with such an unlikely ally. Dark eyes watched as Patti disappeared back into the Saloon.

A door could be heard opening in the distance as Leila returned back to the shop. Passing under the sign, she shook her head ruefully as she glanced up at the bold word CHEMIST. ~Couldn’t have been something more obvious, could it?!~ she muttered under her breath as she waited for Clover to follow her inside. Closing the door after the dark haired woman, Caelyn shook out her own dark curls as she sashayed back over to the mirror that Clover refused to pay for. Draping herself over the mirror, she tapped the glass softly with one white tip of her French manicure.

~Now there Miss Clover. It has been a lovely afternoon getting to know you and this poor excuse of a town, but we still have this mirror to discuss. You say that you can’t afford to pay. I say that you will pay one way or the other. I do thank you for the tour and the who‘s who in the zoo chat. It will definitely make my business easier. Ohhh.. speaking of…. Please.. take this..~ she bustled over to a tallboy at the back of the shop and selected a small purple bottle off the third shelf. ~Take this with my compliments… it’s a … tonic! It will heal ya of any ailment and just make you feel wonderful in general!~ Caelyn was all business as she handed the woman the bottle before moving back to the mirror. Although Clover was clearly not the person who had summoned her, Caelyn thought she could still give her a little something for her efforts. If Clover chose to take it, the tonic would serve as an elixir that would radiate a protection spell against any encroaching darkness. Caelyn could have sensed the dark energy in Deepdwellers, even without the tour by Clover. She had seen and sensed many things that merely served as portents of the shitstorm that was to ensue. There was something evil… something dark and ancient, just beneath the dusty ground where this small community had chosen to make their home. Caelyn just hoped that her business in Deepdwellers Gulch was well and truly over by the time that whatever dwelled beneath them had destroyed them all.

~From beneath it devours..~ she whispered before shaking off her gloom and rubbing the gooseflesh from her arms. Forcing a bright smile upon her paled lips, she turned her attention back to Clover.
~We can work out the details later, but you WILL pay me for that item. To be fair dear, you can’t shoot a mirror in a shop and not expect to pay something, surely?~ *

[Clover Stardust]

Caelyn was banging on about the Mirror again. Clover sighed, watching the ugly thing carefully, hoping it would disintegrate and solve all her problems. Her reflection still looked fractured where the bullet had landed, no sign of a bullet wound remained though. She leaned closer to her reflection, tucking a stray stand of hair behind her ear.

‘You know, if we’re likely to be best pals you’ve gotta stop spouting your mouth bout money, that particular topic ends friendships’ She said with her trademark grin.

Clover took the tiny bottle Caelyn offered and eyed it suspiciously. It was a beautiful little bottle. She uncorked it unceremoniously and tried to ignore the pink puff of smoke that billowed out of the bottle for a second, forming brilliant and elaborate patterns no smoke should make, it quickly dissipated into the air. She took a careful sniff, it smelled like roses.

‘Ya’ll wouldn’t be trying to poison me, now would you?’ She said with one eye brow raised suspiciously. ‘No time like the present, I ain’t getting any younger, or any safer in this ol’ town’ she said before downing the bottle, it tasted foreign and exotic. She remembered when she first arrived in town there was a travelling salesman wandering through the main strip, an Oriental. She was reminded of his spices and herbs he tried to sell.

‘From beneath it devours’ Caelyn whispered.

‘What did you say?’ Clover demanded, the phrase sent a chill down her spine, it wasn’t the first time she’d head the phrase. She was about to ask again, but her body felt strange, she could feel the liquid travelling down her throat, like a good whisky. She was aware of her body, but could no longer control it. Falling backwards, she crashed into the mirro, her body convulsing painfully. She could feel her head slam against the mirror and then the ground.

Clover left her body, contorted and ugly. She saw her reflection in the shattered mirror again, the white antlers were once again protruding from her forehead. Lifting a hand to feel the strang things, they were soft but solid at the same time, they glowed white. Caelyn was different too. Powerful and beautiful, little more than a shining white light, her violet eyes peered out from the glow. Clover left the shop, walking through the doors, without worrying about opening them. The earth was cracked, snakes and claws reared up from the chasms that were forming. There was a battle taking place in the sky above her, Angels fought Dragons. The Whorehouse was a mess of black inky tendrils and shadows. The Tower was housed next to it. Slowly the building was shifting and growing in size, its black stone walls slowly crushing the saloon. Clover could hear a womans scream from the Tower. The Sheriff and his brothers were still inside, Clover realised panicked. She ran towards the Saloon calling out to the Sheriff leaping over the chasms and she moved, but she could feel her body stir. She was being dragged back to reality.

‘Sheriff, she needs our help! The Tower!’

~

Clover opened her eyes, she was staring up at Caelyn and the ceiling of the chemist, and everything ached.

‘Goddamn it, you done gone and poisoned me!’ She cried, not really believing she’d been poisoned, but felt the need to place blame none-the-less. She still felt strange, her emotions were askew, she wanted to shoot something and eat and drink, and cry and rage. Clover pulled herself up, the dream was fading from her memory, but she could remember the panic and a need to find the Sheriff. She pocketed the bottle.

‘I’m never comin’ back to this shop of snake oils and tonics!’ She yelled.

For a second, she thought the building would resist her leaving, the shop seemed to tug back as she tried to open the door, her revolvers purred and Clover pulled the front door open. The bell rang prettily.

‘Should’ve known you can’t trust a witch’ Clover spat as she marched off. Towards the Saloon, an old drunkard, stumbled into her path, she’d seen him before but couldn’t remember his name.

‘Hey pretty, pretty, pretty’ He said with a toothless grin. A sound came out of Clovers mouth that she’d never heard before, like a big cats snarl. She resisted the urge to shoot him dead, instead kicked him square in the balls, his body lifted off the ground with the force. She held into his collar and through him backwards, almost lifting his whole body over her head. She marched into the Saloon full of emotion, she saw the Sheriff and her heart stopped beating as fast as it had, she relaxed. Some sense came back to her he knew better than to interrupt Tamassa and the Sheriff, so resigned herself to watching instead. She marched towards the only other ‘friendly’ face in the whorehouse and pulled a chair next to Pattillia, folding her arms like a petulant child and sinking into the chair.

‘When are you going to get over this funk? You sure do dress funny these days’, she said before should could help herself words were spilling out of her mouth. Strangely Clover sobbed quietly, and Clover did NOT cry. ‘How well do you trust that woman? Are the rumours true, are you two homo sexuals together or what?’ She said, pointing at Tamassa and the Sheriff, she couldn’t stop the tears, before she knew what she was doing, she put her head on Patti’s shoulder, She didn’t know the woman all that well, were they friends, Clover would say so, but Clover thought everyone was her friend. She was desperate for a connection. ‘You stay away from that Witch y’hear?’.

[Caelyn Darkmoon]

*Caelyn sighed in frustration as Clover stormed out. She knew the girl blamed her for the strange episode that had happened in the shop, but the tonic she had given her would never have caused those symptoms. The passing out, hallucinations and wild ramblings were all Clover as she cursed Caelyn and left. The moment she stepped over the threshold and closed the door shut, the large mirror disappeared from sight along with its owner. Caelyn sighed again and shook her head. Her mind’s eye showed the repulsive filth approach Clover outside. Although he appeared as any other drunkard in Deepdweller’s, Caelyn saw his true form and his evil intentions towards the young lady. Smirking in satisfaction as she watched Caelyn hiss and send the man flying with a clearly supernatural power, the real result of the potion she had consumed.

Caelyn purred ~You’re welcome…~ as she slipped the bolt and locked the front door. Glancing at the little silver bell, she felt its ominous presence, despite its silence.
~Whoever is coming… or whatever… they can wait till tomorrow. I need a bath.~

With that, the witch turned on her heel and after a perfunctory glance around her shop, made her way over to the till. Positioning herself for her daily ritual, she punched in a four digit combination, her fingers flying over the large silver buttons. Ringing the till, she touched the drawer as it sprung open, emitting a sweet, fragrant pink cloud of smoke. Breathing deeply, Caelyn inhaled every last vapour before sliding the draw shut with a satisfied smile.

~Night..~ she called out dreamily, to nobody in particular before turning and disappearing back through the beaded curtain.
Although the mirror had disappeared from the shop, Clover’s fractured reflection followed her wherever she went. Should she happen to notice, she would see fragments of her face in any reflective surface – the water in a puddle as walked down the main street, a million facets of her head and torso reflected in the dirty glass that Freddy slid over to her as she entered the saloon. From now, until the day she repaid her debt, Clover would never see her reflection intact again. She had picked the wrong mirror to shoot and now it was only a matter of time until Clover’s mind and soul began to fragment just like her reflection. The mystery of her newly acquired mirror would only be solved when Caelyn handed her the receipt for the transaction, however and that would only be presented once the account had been paid. *

[Blood and Roses]

"You want my help?" Tamassa teased, leaning in close. Her nimble fingers traced down his chest, lightly teasing the wiry muscle beneath. Conrad's breath caught just a bit.

"Yes, ma'am, I do." The sheriff's eyes locked onto hers, inky pools in the night.

"Watch your iron," rumbled Walter, leaning on a bone-dry rain barrel.

"And your wallet," muttered Virgil, perched atop a broken wagon wheel stuck into the dirt.

The Madame eased a thick cigar from Conrad's jacket pocket. "Are you sure?" she purred, placing the end between blood red lips. "You know my good deeds don't go unrewarded."

"Wonder what else she puts between them lips," cackled James, seated on a rail nearby.

"Like you don't already know," Silas jabbed, elbowing his brother. "You spend enough time in her chamber."

The two specters hooted and jeered, and even the dour Walter smirked and shook his head. Virgil scanned the town, unmoved by their humor.

"What?" asked Steven, puzzled. He looked up at Samuel, his 8-year-old face a study in innocent naivety. "What does the lady put in her mouth?"

"Never you mind them," Samuel scolded, casting a scowl at his chuckling brothers. "Why don't you go check out that new Chemist across the way? Virgil says it's real interesting inside."

James piped up again, "Hey, you got a reward for the lady, don'cha Alister? A real big one!" bringing a fresh wave of laughter from the spectral Conrad brothers.

The sheriff's face flushed, and he was grateful the darkness hid his burning cheeks. He cleared his throat, a warning to his brothers that they should simmer down, but for all the world sounded like a nervous man struggling with his nerves.

"Ma'am," the sheriff said, "I'm absolutely certain. There's not too many people in this town that would keep my trust." He pulled a match from his pocket and struck it against his shoulder. "I can only think of one." The flare of the match illuminated the pale sheriff's face in an orange halo, before he held it to the Madame's cigar.

"Uh, Alister? You sure that's a good idea?" James said nervously, hopping off the rail and casting about for someplace to hide. "Won't she be able to see us?"

"Don't be stupid, Jim," Virgil snorted. "The herbs don't work for vampires. If it ain't in blood, it don't take to 'em."

"Same with booze and opium," Walter remarked. "Why you think they pump their marks full o' whiskey and smoke 'fore they bite 'em? That's how they catch the buzz."

"Huh," James pondered, returning to the rail. "Guess that's a fine reason to run a saloon."

"What do you need Sheriff? You know I live to serve." Madame Tamassa glanced over at the Saloon, with a sigh. "Hell know’s I aint busy… Buisiness is bad. Most of my girls bit the dust --literally -- in the quake." She took a long puff on the cigar and blew out a silvery cloud. "I only had three survive, which would be alright if two of them didn’t up and leave the next night." Tamassa shook her head, tresses swaying. "Absolutely convinced that Hell itself was about to open under Deepdwellers, they were. Apparently so were half of our regular clientele."

Sheriff Conrad mentally kicked himself. Tamassa had enough problems already, and here he wanted to lay more on her. It seemed selfish, and he suddenly had a bitter taste on his tongue.

"I had imagined a decrease in population would effect your business," Conrad said. "Maybe we could post more flyers in the nearest towns, advertise the mine. Maybe scare up some new blood?"

Silas chuckled, and the sheriff kicked himself again. "No pun intended."

"As for what I came for," he started, "well I--"

The Saloon door burst open, and old John Gum came hurtling through the night air to land in a dirty heap on the dusty street, having been unceremoniously ejected from the establishment by the Madame's new enforcer, Patilla. The sour-faced ex-miner (if rumour held true) stood on the porch of the Saloon in riding clothes, with a pistol and a blade that rode her flat hips with an easy familiarity. She looked for all the world like a woman ready to hit the road hard, as she's done with poor old John.

Conrad watched appreciatively as Patilla clapped her hands as though dusting them off, though to the sheriff's eye it looked like a challenge issued to all comers. She turned and cast a nod to himself and the Madame, which they returned in kind, then stalked back inside.

"Your girl's a rough one," he said with a grin. Wonder what Gum did to rile her up?" Conrad dragged his own cigar. "Damn fool probably drew a pistol."

Walter clicked his tongue. "Enough small talk, boy. Get on with it, before you lose her interest."

"No risk of that," droned Virgil, watching John Gum slowly rise out of the dusty and totter down the street, clutching the back of his head.

"How much you think that'n could lift?" James queried, staring after Patilla.

"Much as you could," quipped Silas. "Maybe more."

"Anyhow," Conrad interjected, casting a stern glance at his brothers, "the real reason I'm here. Yeah." He blew out a long breath, and sidled a span closer to Tamassa. "We've talked a bit, aye? Ya know I got some history I don't always talk about."

The Madame eyed him warily, and he felt his cheeks flush again. "I think... I think we should talk a piece." He took her hand in his gently as he moved to stand facing her, gazing into her eyes. "I have a this problem, see..."

"Sheriff!"

The call spun Conrad on his heel. There, bolting toward him from the Chemist shop that had appeared just earlier that day, was the animus form of Clover Stardust.

"Sheriff, she needs our help! The Tower!" Clover strained, as though running against a resisting force, then suddenly snapped backward and away, like a fishing lure suddenly reeled back to its source.

"Hellfire," spat Sherriff Conrad. He cast a quick glance at Virgil, who nodded wordlessly and sped away. Conrad turned back to Tamassa, still holding her hand. "Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am," he said, shame-faced. "But something just came up, that I need to tend." He sounded rueful, and he bowed over the Madame's delicate hand, placing a brief kiss on her knuckles.

"Alister," Virgil reported from over the sheriff's shoulder. "She's at the Chemist. Unharmed, but she seems a mite agitated with the shop owner."

Conrad drew himself up to his full height and smiled for Tamassa. "Perhaps we can have this conversation another time? It's no pressing matter." He ignored Walter's incredulous snort.

Hand in hand, the sheriff escorted Madame Tamassa to the saloon door. "I'll call again tomorrow eve," he promised. "We'll talk then." He smiled once more. "It's been a pleasure."

With that, he turned and strode purposefully away. It was time he had a look at this chemist shop himself, he thought, and have words with Ms. Stardust, too.

Sheriff Conrad peered inside, but saw no sign of Clover.* Setting his jaw and squaring his broad shoulders, he pushed on the shop door, but it was locked. He swore, and shook his head. He rapped politely on the door. "Hello?" he said. "Sheriff calling."



*he completely missed Clover leaving, and entering the Saloon, so entranced was he by the lovely Madame Tamassa

[Madame Tamassa]

The flare of the match illuminated the pale sheriff's face in an orange halo, before he held it to the Madame's cigar. Her lips trembled slightly as he admitted that she was the only one he would come to for such help. She surprised herself by lamenting to him about the decrease in business and nodded as he responded.

"I had imagined a decrease in population would effect your business," Conrad said. "Maybe we could post more flyers in the nearest towns, advertise the mine. Maybe scare up some new blood?"
Tamassa nodded at the suggestion. ~I’ve been advertising.. don’t worry about that. It’s not the job though.. its this place. Can’t you feel it? Something is coming… ~ she paused to inhale as he lit her cigar. ~Something big.. everyone with half a brain is getting the hell out of Dodge. ~ sweet smoke streamed out of her nostrils as she took note of the added extras the sheriff liked to add to his cigars.
He seemed distracted tonight and she sensed that she lost his attention more than once during their short conversation. It took her a second to realise he wasn’t listening to her anymore and she cast a wary glance around her, searching the shadows for the source of Conrad’s distraction.
"Anyhow," Conrad interjected, casting a stern glance at his brothers, "the real reason I'm here. Yeah." He blew out a long breath, and sidled a span closer to Tamassa. "We've talked a bit, aye? Ya know I got some history I don't always talk about."

The Madame smiled in the darkness, taking another drag of the strange cigar as she eyed him warily, and he felt his cheeks flush again. "I think... I think we should talk a piece." He took her hand in his gently as he moved to stand facing her, gazing into her eyes. "I have a this problem, see..."
Trying to ignore the sensation she felt as his hand touched hers, Tamassa tucked a loose dark strand behind her ear with her free hand before taking the cigar from her lips.
~We all have problems Sheriff..~ she purred, looking up in time to see Clover leave the Chemist, taking the time to kick the shit out of some poor guy on her way to the Saloon. She doubted that this was enough to raise the sheriff’s attention, though suddenly his demeanour changed and he began to take his leave.
"Hellfire," spat Sherriff Conrad. He cast a quick glance at Virgil, who nodded wordlessly and sped away. Conrad turned back to Tamassa, still holding her hand. "Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am," he said, shame-faced. "But something just came up, that I need to tend." He sounded rueful, and he bowed over the Madame's delicate hand, placing a brief kiss on her knuckles.

Conrad drew himself up to his full height and smiled for Tamassa. "Perhaps we can have this conversation another time? It's no pressing matter." He ignored Walter's incredulous snort.

Hand in hand, the sheriff escorted Madame Tamassa to the saloon door. "I'll call again tomorrow eve," he promised. "We'll talk then." He smiled once more. "It's been a pleasure."
She merely nodded in response, her words reserved for someone who would stay around long enough to hear them. Watching him leave, she stayed in the shadows the saloon cast against the dusty road for a moment, enjoying her smoke before heading back inside. Noticing the sheriff had walked straight to the new shop, Tamassa tutted and shook her head, the heels of her boots announcing her arrival as she stalked up the stairs. Pushing through the swinging doors, she paused and cast her dark gaze over the few patrons who were scattered around the saloon. A quick glance upstairs showed that the two working girls she had in tonight were busy behind closed doors and she gave Freddy a nod of approval. Glancing over at Patti’s corner, Tamassa had to stifle a laugh as she saw the look on Patti’s face as Clover rested a blubbering head on her shoulder. Slipping behind the bar, Tamassa reached down and selected a bottle of whiskey for herself. Nodding towards Patti and Clover, she tapped Freddy on the shoulder.

~Make sure that bitch is paying for those drinks Freddy. We aint running a fucking charity.~

Plastering a smile on her face, Tamassa drifted over to Patti, her dark eyes meeting Patti’s as a laugh threatened to erupt.
~Evening Patti…~ she drawled. ~ Well, will you look at this..~ she purred, indicating the sobbing Clover with a tilt of her head, ~Never would’ve taken you for the maternal type Pat..~


Outside, the sheriff was peering through the windows of the Chemist, knocking loudly and calling out. The shop itself sat in silence, shadows merging slowly, as its proprietor had disappeared out the back. Steam filled the small bathroom, the scent of gardenias and vanilla filling the tiny space and emanating out into the cottage beyond. Golden bubbles moved slowly over wet skin as Caelyn bathed in a claw footed tub. Humming lightly while she worked, Caelyn rubbed the loofah all over her aching body, trying in vain to wash the smell of Deepdweller’s Gulch off. Laying back, she sighed as she finally allowed herself to relax, the events of the day turning over in her mind as her body faded away in the hot, fragrant water.

In the next room, a loud beep announced that an email had just arrived in her inbox. Another beep seemed to answer the first as the microwave reminded her the popcorn cooked before the bath was now ready to be consumed. Caelyn had planned a night in; a bubble bath followed by a marathon of old western movies. Figuring she should study her new habitat in an attempt to fit in better, Caelyn was looking forward to watching a remake of the Magnificent Seven in bed. As she finished bathing and rose out of the bathwater, she heard a faint noise in the distance. Flicking her hand, the gentle strains of music she had been listening to promptly stopped mid riff. Straining to hear, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself, stepping out of the tub and walking over to where her robe was draped over the basin. She sighed as she heard it again – a knocking, followed by the sound of a man calling her. A man who identified himself as the sheriff. It took a second to process the sound was coming from the shop and she cursed under her breath as she dropped the towel and wrapped the black satin robe around herself. Tying the sash at the waist, she rolled her eyes and grumbled at the ceiling.
\
~Really?! I can’t rest for a fucking minute?!~ Glancing at her warped reflection in the steamed glass of her mirror, she grimaced as she wiped the glass clean and saw her dripping hair and wet face. Sighing again, she shrugged and grabbed her towel. ~He can wait..!~ she growled as she set about drying her hair.

Further down Main Street, Cat Wilson lay in a crumpled heap of skirts ten feet from the front door of the General Store. Slowly coming to, she groaned and tried to force her eyes open as she started to move. Propped up against a horse trough, Cat reached up and rubbed her temple, groaning in protest at the sound the sheriff was making, knocking on the door and calling out. Pushing her blonde hair out of her face, she struggled to sit up as she looked down the street. The moon was just beginning its reign for the evening, the silver glow providing enough light to see the sheriff was standing in front of that freaky new shop.

~Stay away from there Sherif!~ she called out in a drunken slur. ~That… she… it just appeared!~ she was yelling now, pushing herself on the trough so that she was now standing. Well.. more like wobbling.
She continued yelling at the Sherif as she turned and tried to make out where she was. She remembered leaving the Saloon but then she had got dizzy and had decided to lay down for a minute on the nice cool dirt. Her usual pristine skirt and blouse were stained a dark red from the red dust that clung to the streets of Deepdweller’s Gulch. In the dim, silvery light, the stain looked like she was covered in blood. A sudden onset of gooseflesh broke out, causing Cat to shudder as she was overcome with the sudden realisation that the illusion of her laying there, covered in blood was in fact a vision of things to come. Convinced she had just witnessed her own demise, she took a deep breath and struggled to stay on her feet. The Sherif was still knocking on the door, causing Cat to scream his way as hot tears blurred her vision.

~STAY THE FUCK AWAY!!~ she screamed, blinking as she noticed other people were now starting to look out their windows or come to their front doors. ~She’s evil!!! It’s magic!! Pure magic!!~
Stumbling in the general direction of her store, Cat tried to compose herself as she felt the eyes of her neighbours fall upon her. Although she was in clear need of assistance, nobody came to her aid and she fell over several more times before making her way up onto the front porch of the General Store.

Her small cottage was built onto the back, and only accessible through the shop. The shop could only be opened by the lock on the front door and that lock could only be opened by the key that was suddenly proving to be very allusive as Cat patted her pockets a total of ten times before pounding her fists against the door in frustration. She dug both hands into both pockets of her pinafore, her search proving fruitless once more before she turned around and leant back against the cool, glass door. Squinting, she peered down the dark street, waving away anybody that still looked her way as she tried to see the sheriff.

~EVIL!~ she screamed again, making the sign of the cross against her chest as she slid down to form a heap on the floor. Her legs splayed in awkward directions as she sat there, propped up against the door. *

[Blood and Roses]

Conrad raised his hand to knock a third time, when an unintelligible hollering came at him from the direction of the General Store.

"What the blue Hell...?" He did a double take-- there was Cat Wilson, struggling to stay upright. And was she covered in blood!? Conrad rushed down the step, the Chemist, and Clover Stardust, temporarily forgotten.

"Easy, there, Lancelot," droned Virgil, casually floating along beside him backward. "That's dirt, not blood. She's just in her cups."

As they neared, Conrad could see his spectral brother was correct. The poor woman was blackout drunk, and struggling to keep her feet. She managed a few more tottering steps toward her shop before collapsing once more.

From the shadowy alley beside the General Store, two tall black shadows detached themselves from the darkness and began slinking after Cat with predatory purpose. Conrad knew their type -- wolves that prey on the weak, likely a couple of down and out miners with more balls than brains.

Still shrouded in the night, the sheriff loomed behind the two, unnoticed. One chuckled as he drew a blade from his belt, the other had begun stroking his crotch over his trousers. Conrad sneered in disgust.

A quick clout with the butt of his heavy revolver put the knife man to sleep on his feet. The stroker he gathered up by the neck and unceremoniously dunked his head in the horse trough. The man struggled, bubbling screams protesting, but Conrad held his head in the trough as he watched Cat tottered up the stairs, fumbling for her key. He allowed the would-be attacker a breath of air, gasping and sputtering, before returning his vile head to the water.

"Uh, Alister?" Silas turned a circle. "You plan to drown that man?"

"You're drawing an audience," added Virgil.

Conrad glanced about, and could see people peering through windows and cracked open doors at the commotion. It wouldn't do to have the whole town watch him kill this idiot. With one final shove, he heaved the fellow out of the water and dumped the idiot onto the knife man, who was just coming to.

"Listen, fellas," Conrad growled, his voice ringing with power, "if I see either of you near Cat Wilson or the General Store ever again, you'll wish to God I'd killed you here and now." Each word pulsed in the air, striking the two like hammer blows. The power of his Voice summoned a pair of glowing eyes with each word, until all six of his brothers were revealed, arrayed behind him like a ghostly gang. "Don't let the sun set on your hides in the Gulch." This last command almost sizzled as it left his mouth.

The two would be attackers stumbled and skidded to their feet, running fast as their feet would carry them, back down the alley and, undoubtedly, out of Deepdweller's Gulch.

Cat was slumped against the door to her store, still fruitlessly searching her pockets. Conrad stood before her, reaching out a comforting hand to the distraught woman. "EVIL!" she screamed, blasting the sheriff with her potent alcohol-laden breath, as she sank to the porch, making the Sign of the Cross.

"Ms. Wilson," the sheriff spoke gently, his voice soft but firm. "Hey now." He took her hand. "Simmer down, sweet lady. What's all this, now?" He patted her hand. "Please, let me give you a hand. Let's get you inside. Where do you keep your key?"

[Pattilia Longfellow]

Patti's eyes drifted away from the now-mild poker game, and slid across the sullen miners spotted around the room by themselves, drinking their whiskey or eating their meager meals. The Saloon wasn't much for food, but it made do for the hungrier folk. Service was especially slow with only one person on hand to dish out the soup that had been simmering all day in the back. Just the thought of food made her stomach turn, and only sharpened her unnatural hunger.

As she concentrated, Patti could hear every breath in the building and barely catch the puffs of cigars outside. Closing her eyes and leaning her head just a little, she could really focus, and almost feel the steady drumbeat of the mens' hearts. She could pinpoint Paul Thompson's, racing harder than anyone else's, so she turned her eyes back to the game to see if that meant he was bluffing, or had a really good hand. Before she could find out, though, Clover happened.

Clover wasn't just anyone, she was a whirlwind. Pattilia was used to the other women being buzzing beehives of laughter and excitement when the saloon was really kicking, especially young Sparrow, but Clover... she was a whole different breed of energy Patti had never been able to pin down. The brief thought of poor Sparrow, though, lost to the earthquake, hardened her visage for just a moment. Clover had broken Patti's concentration, reminded her of a dear friend, and damn near had every man's ear in the saloon with two salacious words. Every muscle in her body tensed up like piano wire, and her arm raised to knock the daft woman across the room with one powerful strike before she spotted the tears. Even with Patti's jaw clenched and her whole body rigid, Clover seemed to take that as an invitation to cry on her shoulder.

Patti's voice was like golden molasses, thick and rich with just a touch of warmth, "Shh, shhhh, cher... You run yo' mouth too much." It was all she had to say to the sobbing mess that had wrecked her evening plans of glaring stubbornly at the world. The raised arm came down and circled the smaller woman's back gently, a gloved hand resting against her ribs. Her other hand came up and stroked Clover's hair over her ear. Even with all the dark leather, Pattilia's body was cold to the touch.

Rumors had already begun about the witch at the chemist shop, and none of them friendly. She hadn't been certain, either, that people were whispering about her and the madame until Clover came out and said it, and finally, she wasn't sure if Clover meant the chemist or Tamassa when she warned her about staying away from 'that Witch.' Patti was ready to take offense, but she knew rumors were really all the townsfolk had to keep themselves entertained, and most of them, while perhaps starting with a grain of truth, were usually overblown to levels of ridiculousness on par with the outlandish tales of the Orient. She was just ready to say as much before she realized the madame was approaching, and a sort of helpless, hangdog expression crossed her face.

• ~Evening Patti…~ Tamassa drawled. ~ Well, will you look at this..~ she purred, indicating the sobbing Clover with a tilt of her head, ~Never would’ve taken you for the maternal type Pat..~

Dark red lips pulled down into a frown at the madam's words, and she leaned her head away from Clover's as if in disgust. Still, she wasn't shoving the woman to the floor, so that was something. "You know I ain' a model o'motherly sain'hood, Madame, but I can' righ'ly adandon a frien' in tears'ah, now can I?" The Bayou in her accent was starting to slip away owing to all her time spent in the Gulch, but she still spoke in a slow drawl, every word creeping along, making it all the more sluggish when she did decide to get loquacious.

Besides, something intoxicating was pulsing through Clover's veins, and Patti was starting to sense it. She held Clover close, almost affectionately, just to get a gentle whiff. It smelled floral, powerful, and above all, entirely new to Patti. For a brief moment, only to Tamassa's eyes, her face took a nearly ravenous countenance, before she snapped herself out of it with a pained grunt, brow twisting and eyes squeezing shut at the effort. There was no way she was going to open her mouth and bare her teeth now, even if she could hide her true nature with a simple glamor of perfect pearly whites. Tamassa was teaching her well, but there was still too much for Patti to absorb so quickly, and control was something she always needed help with. One look to the madame, and it was clear she needed assistance.

[Clover Stardust]

Clover straighten up, realising what a mess she was. She shook her head, in an effort to clear the surge of emotions she felt. She’d never had a waking dream before, she could feel the strange energy leave her system slowly. She knew deep down Caelyn wasn’t to blame, but it was easier that way. As the Sheriff took his leave, she watched his brothers follow after him. They’d missed each other in the furore, it was going to be one of those nights, she could tell.

‘Virgil!’ Clover called out, but he was already fading from view, as her perception returned to normal. Clover had never had a waking dream before, it unsettled her, the memory of the ground breaking apart again, and that ominous tower creating a shadow across the whole Gulch.

Clover snapped out of it and quickly.

‘Boy Howdy! Am I ever so sorry Patti, look at me? Cryin’ like a girl! Bless your heart for not throwing me out on my ass, where I belong’.

The last thing she saw before ‘the sight’ finally left her completely was Pattillia’s fangs, hidden in her skull a predators heart lay cold and dead in her chest. Everything suddenly made sense, Clover’s head snapped towards the Madame. They’d never really been the best of friends, or enemies. They’d shared an experience together during the quake, but that was about the start and end of their relationship.

‘Was it consensual?’ Clover asked, her jaw set hard and defiant. She could hear her revolvers purr again, it was mechanical sound that bought Clover comfort. ‘Y’all were friends before, did she save you or curse you?’ Clover asked Patti composing herself, she pulled herself up in her chair and moved a respectable distance from her friend. She felt like a fool for not recognising the signs earlier, what good were prophetic dreams anyway if they didn’t help your friends?

[Madame Tamassa]

Cat was slumped against the door to her store, still fruitlessly searching her pockets. Conrad stood before her, reaching out a comforting hand to the distraught woman. "EVIL!" she screamed, blasting the sheriff with her potent alcohol-laden breath, as she sank to the porch, making the Sign of the Cross.

"Ms. Wilson," the sheriff spoke gently, his voice soft but firm. "Hey now." He took her hand. "Simmer down, sweet lady. What's all this, now?" He patted her hand. "Please, let me give you a hand. Let's get you inside. Where do you keep your key?"

She glanced up at him, emerald eyes still keen and sharp despite the alcoholic haze she looked through. ~Sheriff ..~ she muttered, almost to herself as if she was trying to make sense of what she saw. ~Sheriff! ~she said, louder and with much more conviction as she struggled to her feet as he took her hand. Struggling to regain her composure, she squinted up at him. ~Evening.. mr.. Sheriff man…sir.. I’m sorry..~ She ran a trembling hand through her caramel coloured hair. ~I’m not normally in this state Sheriff, as I am sure you are aware…~ She began patting her pinafore again as she started the “find the key” dance all over again. ~But that…. Woman! That…. Shop! It just APPEARED! And then… it said it was a General Store!!! I know it did!! I saw it! I saw the sign!! I got so upset.. I mean..~ she continued patting each pocket, her frustration beginning to show on her already flushed face. ~ .. its my business.. my livelihood.. with everyone up and leaving the Gulch, business is already slowing down. In a week or two I won’t be making a red cent!~

Finally the key appeared to materialise from nowhere as she drew it out of her left pocket and handed it to the Sheriff. ~Here ya are.. found it!~ she grinned in triumph before another wave of dizziness washed over her. ~Oohhh nooo… I need to lay down..~ she mumbled, taking the key back from him and slipping it into the lock. It took a few minutes of mumbling and fumbling, but finally the door was open and she was disappearing inside. Remembering her manners, she turned on her heel, the sudden movement only disorientating her more as she slurred ~Thank you for seeing me home kind sir… I do apologise for my…~ she trailed off as she peered at the door, trying to make out the form of who she was talking to but all she saw were shadows… and spots.. big black spots that were getting bigger.. and bigger .. until all she saw was darkness. With a small gasp that seemed almost one of satisfaction, Cat closed her eyes briefly as she tried not to pass out. Tottering through the store, she bypassed the counter with an expert midstep shuffle despite her condition and stumbled down the three stairs to the door that led to her house. Grateful she had left it unlocked, she laughed as she called back over her shoulder

~I’m fine now… this is my door…just..~ she frowned as the doorknob refused to turn in her trembling hand. ~ .. it doesn’t want to open..~ Another wave of dizziness washed over her again and she half fell, half stumbled downward, opening the door at the same time so that she crashed through, fell over the threshold and promptly passed out.

Now that the door was open, Conrad would see a rare glimpse into the private life of Cat Wilson. She was a shy woman, often keeping to herself on the rare occasions she ventured through town. The fairly frequent interactions she had with the townsfolk who came to her store proved to be all the socialising she needed and although she was always friendly and helpful, nobody in the Gulch knew much about the mysterious woman who had arrived five years before. Some of the few remaining old timers remembered her parents and one even remembered meeting Cat at the young age of five before she had been sent off to a private school. The old boys still grumbled about how old man Wilson had suddenly struck it rich one day and was suddenly dripping in wealth. Although she never received a kind word or warm hug from the people who gave her life, Cat Wilson never wanted for anything that money could buy. The Wilson farmhouse still stood, tall and proud in the middle of 200 lush acres an hour’s ride from the Gulch. Although it needed the repairs worthy of a house of its age and grandeur, Cat knew that she would eventually retire there, but for now the house stood empty, its windows boarded up as she rented the land out to a local farmer. The weekly income supplemented the dismal amount of money she made running the only General Store for miles and Cat’s small house was comfortably furnished.

If Conrad chose to look around he would see the door opened into a small foyer. A portrait of a man and a woman standing side by side was displayed proudly on a small table in the corner. The photograph was one of the first of its kind and was faded yellow, its edges curling and tinged with brown behind the glass of its frame. The glass itself had a long crack through it and although Cat had paid several times to have the portrait of her family reframed, that same crack always shot through the glass, regardless of the glass used. Cat looked up from her position on the floor and grinned at Conrad through a mess of auburn waves. ~hello… you’re still here..~ she grabbed hold of the edge of his pants as she dragged herself up by clinging to first his leg, then his torso. Smiling at him, she let go to prove that she could stand up on her own. ~Ta da!~ she declared, before tottering off through the archway into her main living area.

Conrad would see a small living area, two comfortable looking leather chairs framing a fairly elaborate coffee table, a heirloom from her grandmother. A tiny table set for one was tucked away in a corner next to a small kitchen, full of the bare essentials – sink and burner. A pot belly stove sat in the corner and a bench was set up with various wooden boxes stacked atop it. Next to the bench stood an artist’s easel, a palette resting on the stool beside it. Although the furniture was sparse, every wall was covered with either paintings or drawings.

Cat had studied art in Paris. It was where she had met Tomas. Those two years had been the happiest time of Cat’s miserable life and she had spent many hours trying to recapture those memories with canvases full of Parisian landscapes, vivid colours and bold brushstrokes . Her drawings were more like sketches and always featured the same handsome man, his cheekbones and piercing eyes always exaggerated.
~Would you like tea?~ Cat called out from the kitchen where was drawing a glass of water from the faucet. Gulping down the precious liquid, Cat grinned as the notion of plumbing and running water was all too new to her. ~Wonder what they will think of next…~ she looked up, her eyes drifting as they always did to one of the many faces peering out at her from the wall. Instantly her demeanour changed, her shoulders slumping before as her eyes pricked with hot tears. Placing the glass on the table, her gaze softened as she blinked back hot, angry tears. ~Bastard…~ she muttered, before starting to mumble to herself in French as she leant back against the wall. Dizziness combined with her tears soon rendered her blind, and she whacked her thigh against the table while stumbling forward. Crying louder now, she tried to make her way towards her bedroom door, tripping over nothing and falling to the floor. Curling up in the foetal position, she blinked rapidly, trying to make the misery disappear.

~He left me..~ she sobbed. Realising that Conrad was still in the room, she looked up at him – the anguish etched upon every inch of her face. ~I lost my baby… then he left me… ~ Rolled up in a ball, she rocked back and forward, crying so hard that her tears and wracking sobs were silent. The pain within was so unbearable she would have gladly ended her life then and there to stop feeling so bad. ~I gave him everything…he promised me the world… ~ she choked back a sob, coughing as she moaned. ~All I wanted was my baby..~ she hugged herself tighter, her arms squeezing her knees further into her abdomen.
*~*~*~*

In the saloon, Madame Tamassa arched a slender dark brow in surprise as she realised that Patti and the messy Clover were in the middle of a deep and somewhat meaningful conversation. Noting that Patti was silently begging her to come to her assistance, Tamassa smirked and shook her head. ~Now now…~ she hissed, only heard in Patti’s head. ~you don’t need my help darling.. what would be the fun in that?~ Just to spice things up, Tamassa leant over and kissed Patti on the lips. That’ll give em something to talk about… she thought. Stepping back, she patted Patti on the shoulder and smiled demurely at Clover. ~Please… don’t allow me to interrupt..~

Normally one to eavesdrop shamelessly, Tamassa merely yawned as she quickly grew bored, uncorking her bottle and taking a swig. Grimacing slightly as the warm liquid slid down her throat, Tamassa looked around the room for a source of another warm liquid she craved more than anything. Almost as if he sensed it, a young farmhand looked up from his poker game and locked eyes with her, the moment her gaze fell upon him. He had fed her many times before, though of course the poor boy had no memory of it. Fixing her familiar smile upon her dark lips, Tamassa leaned over and whispered ~I’ll leave you to it..~ to Patti before nodding at the farmhand and tilting her head up towards the stairs. The man beamed, unable to believe his luck as he followed Tamassa up to the main working room. Lysette had just finished with her John and was leading the dazed and confused man back down the stairs. As they passed each other, she slipped Tamassa a wad of notes which the Madame promptly hid in her cleavage and responded in turn by handing Lysette the bottle. Reaching the top of the stairs, her attention was drawn to the floor to ceiling window she had had installed during the rebuild of the saloon and she waved the boy ahead to wait for her in their room. The window provided her with a bird’s eye view of the town and therefore gave her the perfect position to watch the sheriff walk from the new witches shop over to the actual General Store. Cat Wilson was in an uncharacteristic mess on the porch and Tamassa watched in silence as Cat opened the door and disappeared inside with the Sherif right behind her. A deep growl revibrated from the back of her throat as she clicked her jaw and straightened her back. Entering the main working suite, she glared at the poor kid who was already out of his clothes and was laid out on the bed. With her rage beginning to build and the bloodlust settling upon her, she was tempted to just rip his jugular out and drink until her thirst was sated. But a deal was a deal.. and as pissed as she was with the Sheriff right now, she knew it was best to follow the rules. Crossing the room, she started to prepare the boy’s special drink for him, her thoughts turning to the Sheriff and what he could be doing in that stupid spinster’s house. *