Hawthorne: Tales of a Weirder West by Heath Lowrance Read Free Book Online

covered in blood. He dove for it just as the big man came at him again, this time brandishing the stiletto.
    On the floor, Hawthorne grabbed the gun, rolled over with it pointing at the monster just as the stiletto was coming down at him. He fired.
    The hammer clicked. Misfire. The cylinder was choked with blood from the floor.
    The big man roared and Hawthorne started to roll away but the blade came down in his left shoulder.
    The force of it felt like being pinned to the floor. Hawthorne gritted his teeth, fought off the wave of black that threatened to wash over him. He punched and kicked, almost blind with pain, and smashed his knuckles into the big man's nose.
    The big man made a choking noise deep in his throat. He pulled the blade out of Hawthorne's shoulder, started to come down with it again. Hawthorne grabbed the man's wrist, gripping it hard. The monster pushed down and Hawthorne held the wrist with every ounce of strength he had. The man outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds, and was clearly stronger, yet Hawthorne's will was iron.
    But the blade, very slowly, began to lower, closer and closer to Hawthorne's face. With his other fist, he punched the big man in the nose, over and over, still the blade inched its way down.
    Hawthorne jabbed his fingers into the man's eyes.
    The behemoth bellowed in pain, hands going to his face, and fell back. Hawthorne kicked his way out from under him, dragged himself a few feet away. Again, he got to his feet, felt a shimmer of dizziness blanket his head. He ignored it, took two steps toward his enemy and planted a boot in the man's throat.
    The monster's cries choked away. On hands and knees, he swiped out with the stiletto, slicing across Hawthorne's thigh.
    Hawthorne grimaced in pain, blood gushing down his leg. He stepped back, into a bench. The corpse of a man with no legs and only one arm slumped into him, moaning miserably in his ear. Hawthorne shoved the thing away, struggled to get back up.
    The big man had crawled to the other side of the car. He stood up, weaving on his feet. His eyes red and bleeding from Hawthorne's fingers.
    They faced each other across the length of the train car.
    The big man said, "You ... you aren't Jesus."
    "No kidding."
    "But that cross on your head. Is it meant to mock? Are you the Devil?"
    "No," Hawthorne said. "But the Devil is a friend of mine. Says he misses you. Wants me to send you along, pronto."
    The big man breathed hard, shook his head. A sly smile spread across his face. He said, "You're no friend of my master. You have no friends. I can tell."
    "Your master?"
    He nodded. "Everything I do, I do for him. He's given me this power, this power to alter and create. It's all to glorify his name. Do you understand? I have the dark touch of imagination. I can make new, twisted things out of the rubbish of the old."
    "New, twisted things," Hawthorne said. "I reckon you're twisted enough already."
    "Of course I am! Do you think the master would assign work this important, this ... sacred ... to someone who didn't understand the twisted path? And I know I'm bound for Hell and torment when I'm done. I know that. But it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. Why doesn't anyone understand sacrifice? So selfish. Everyone is so selfish."
    "The Devil tells you to do this," Hawthorne said.
    "Yes! You do understand! He talks to me. He whispers in my ear. Can you see him? Please, tell me you can see him. Here, perched on my shoulder."
    The big man looked lovingly at his left shoulder, as if there was something there, something that meant the world to him.
    Blood was pouring from Hawthorne's leg and forearm and shoulder, and it was getting harder to stand. For a moment, he could almost see it on the man's shoulder, almost. A chittering, ugly rodent with matted fur and red eyes. But it faded away.
    He said, "There's nothing on your shoulder. You're a delusional maniac. And you need to die."
    "There's nothing delusional about the things you've seen this