Free Demon Hunt by A. W. Hart Page B

waitress for another round, Rhi warily examined the other patrons lining the graffiti covered pine walls of the bar. Nobody seemed threatening. The crowd was, for the most part, inebriated. And a bit smelly. There were no period costumes, something she was profoundly grateful for at the moment. She figured she might have to approach each costumed figure in town and poke them with a stick to see if they were real if things kept up at the rate they were going.
    “ Gremlins,” she muttered into her drink. Then Rhi remembered the loud knocks beneath her truck on the drive home the night before. Should she have gotten out and checked to see what made the noise? For a moment she envisioned something green and covered with scales hanging off of the undercarriage of her SUV. A chill ran down her back.
    She placed her hand on her neck where her shirt hid bruises from the attack at the casino and then glanced down at the dirt on her jeans from being dragged out of the street by - Blackthorne? What kind of name was Blackthorne? It did ring a bell, however. The rich yuppie living in the place called the Castle everyone gossiped about was named Black.
    “ Rhi! Quit checking out the guys and talk to us!” Pam’s voice invaded her thoughts with its usual potency, resembling a railroad spike being driven into her temple.
    Houston didn’t seem surprised at all by the tale Pam had related. And Rhi wasn’t sure if his reaction was a good or bad thing.
    She’d met Houston twice and had the impression the man functioned as the unofficial guru of Cripple Creek. Retired from the Air Force, he puttered around his cabin outside of town, reading and writing an occasional article for the Cripple Creek Crusher. He knew everybody and saw everything. There was very little he didn’t know about the town’s history.
    “ I’m sorry I didn’t answer, Pam, but I was asking for more booze and checking out the room for assassins … or anyone who’s having a good chuckle. Do I just have bad luck? And if this is bad mojo, how come some guy I’ve never met before has shown up to rescue me twice? And how about those ghosts in the street? Do they rock or what?” Rhi’s voice shook as she spoke, teetering on the verge of hysteria.
    The older man spoke up and the crow’s feet surrounding his eyes deepened. “In this part of the Rockies don’t let anything surprise you, young lady. The Indians held this land as holy - they don’t see any place as special unless the town is special. And Manitou Springs, just down Ute Pass, has been considered a special place since recorded memory. Cripple Creek, sitting smack in the middle of an extinct volcano, was something else entirely. The gates of Hell are supposed to be here somewhere. The unexplained in Teller County isn’t an occasional visitor. It’s a local drunk who won’t leave. We’ve gotten a little jaded about this kind of thing. But since whatever is floating around town this time is trying to hurt someone, it might need looking into. Along with a few other things I’m checking on.”
    “ Like what?” Pam inquired matter-of-factly as she peeled at the label of her beer bottle with a polish chipped nail.
    At the same moment Rhi demanded, “This time ? What do you mean this time?”
    “ If I were a Jedi Knight, I would say there has been a disturbance in the Force. But since we are small town schmucks …” Houston broke off to examine the crowd gathered along the walls around the pool tables of the Dancing Elk. “… we’ll just say that something stinks.”
    Rhi turned to Houston. “ What stinks?”
    He studied his beer. “The rash of rabid animals attacking and people possessed by invisible, choking hands is a repeat of something that’s happened in this town before. Let’s be honest. Animals don’t become rabid in zero degree weather. And the possession?”
    Rhi felt a chill in her spine. “Happened in this town before? When?”
    “ A hundred plus years ago,” he replied. “By