07/25/2020 Snippet, TIPPED ON A STIFF.

Things were humming along!

…what he did call up looked like it was all spite and meanness, with needles for teeth and eyes all over its head. The stink was even worse, all rotting breath and alchemical stink. I’d never seen anything like it before; and I was guessing it was supposed to be hot stuff, seeing as how proud the hechicero looked about bringing it to my attention.

Fine. To quote the Lore: shit just got real. I pulled out my gun.

My buddy finally proved that he was wasn’t from around here, because he laughed at the sight of me pulling a gun. His spirit didn’t bother; instead, it leaped at me — and bounced. It was now blackened everywhere its skin touched my body; if I thought I’d get all of my fingers back I’d have grabbed it with my other hand and held on until the vicious thing burst into flames. But at least it was more thoughtful, now. And in a lot of pain.

“Didn’t you see the hat, tarado?” I snarled at the two of them. My gun was pointed right at the hechicero, because I figured I could risk a bluff. “The hat means you picked the wrong fight in the wrong town with the wrong Shamus. Get on the damn ground with your hands on your head.”