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Chapter Text

Striker’s story began long before he was ever called by that name. His story started as Cassidy Bohannon, born to the poor town of Rattlebone to parents Felina and William Bohannon.

    The Bohannon’s lived in a little one-story farmhouse with an attic that had been claimed by their young son. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple little wooden house, once painted white now had peeled back to its brownish grey color. The front porch being much wider for company, and the back porch just being big enough to house the door and sit under one of the two side windows. The grass around the house was a short almost tan color, having been cut recently. Through the front of the property winded a dusty dirt road with fencing on either side that had wide gaps. The areas on either side of the road had at one point been used for planting, but the soil had become so poor the town moved their crops elsewhere.

    It was just after dawn, a little past seven at this time of year for sunrise. Cassidy bounded out of the house onto the back porch into the morning air, wearing a shirt two sizes too big tucked into overalls with patches in the knees. His boots well worn, giving away they were also hand-me-downs. Eyes big and wide, not yet fully aware of what this world was capable of. His goal that morning was to sneak off and go play before the heat of the day.  Eight years old, and always ready to get into trouble, he knew his mother was around the back of the house. It was the day she washed linens, and the large sheets provided ample cover to hide behind as he snuck off. If he timed it where his mother was busy at the wash basin, he could slip by while her back was turned.

    Behind the house was two sets of lines for laundry, stretched between two posts each. A little way from them was a little red booth where his father would check the town telegraph for emergencies. It had a series of tall poles with wires that ran around the front of the house back toward town… and the fastest way to get to his friend’s house was down the path towards the farm that cut through the field on the other side. He peered around the old back porch to look at his mother. She was set hard at work on one of the bedsheets, he was sure he could make it if he was quick and quiet.

    He crept through the thin brown grass, trying his best to not make a sound. His ears and senses all alert; Any time it seemed like his mother moved to much, he froze to hold his breath. He’d crept along the last sheet on the far side of the line, ready to take off when…

    “Cassidy.” She didn’t have to yell or shout at him; she said it in her firm normal voice. He froze, hoping she’d think she was mistaken in him being there… “You know I can smell you still, even with the soap.”

    “Ma’am?” He’d been caught.

    “And where are you runnin’ off to so early?” He could hear that she was amused rather than angry much to his relief. He turned around, coming around the sheet to her as she feeding a thin blanket through the homemade cloth wringer; improvised by his father, but arguably worked better than anything bought. His nose wrinkled as he smelled the tallow soap scented with herbs as she turned the crank, the excess water dripping back into the basin. He came to stand in front of her, with his hands stuffed in his oversized pockets.

    His mother was a rattlesnake demon, only one of two in town the other being his great uncle. She was tall and lean, with a long slender neck. Her skin a dusty brown that glittered with the morning light. Daimond shapes in a deeper brown running down the back of her neck, making a reappearance on her tail that trailed all the way down to the rattle at the very end.  Over her head she wore a hat to keep the sun off her face, with her slender but short horns coming through the holes at the sides. Her eyes a lighter yellow with the distinctive reptile rings around them like bullseyes. They were soft now, but Cassidy had seen them when she was angry. She was dressed in a white button up for work, the stomach slightly wet from the basin and an old split riding skirt, her old work boots poking out from the bottoms of the large legs. She toward over her son, who she insisted still had a few growth spurts in him when he was teased for his height.

    “Claude ‘n I were gonna build a fort today, Uncle Silas said we could use some of the old boxes...” His mother made a noise almost in agreement, humming almost. He had hope for a moment she’d let him go.

    “So… you’ve done your chores already?” She focuses back on her task, pulling the damp blanket up to throw over the line. He walked around the side to watch her, crinkling his nose in thought. Looking for an excuse, if his great uncle wasn’t busy with financing the saloon, he knew that he’d gladly cover for him, but no luck.

   Cassidy let out a sigh, “No ma’am.”

   “You know you need to do your chores before you can play. Do you want anythin’ stealin’ those eggs again?” The reminder of last week when a coyote got into the new chicken coop and scarfed the eggs down makes his cheeks turn red. He’d been only an hour late getting them, and he was lucky it was just the eggs the coyote had taken when his father had chased it from the coop.

   “No ma’am.” He looks down, a little ashamed. It was worth a try, but probably for the best. If he hadn’t been caught here, he probably would have been in bigger trouble for running off. “I’ll get ‘em done, ma’am.”

   He starts off towards the hen house, then he hears his mother sigh with the sloshing from the basin.

   “If you get the eggs and help your pa mend that hole in the fence up at the farm, I’ll consider lettin’ you do some of your other chores later. Go get those done first though,” Cassidy immediately perked up, his face lighting up. He took off towards the hen house, passing by the little telegraph booth; As he ran past, he heard frantic beeping inside. He carefully opened to the door expecting to see his father perched on the stool translating, but he was nowhere to be found. The message was lengthy and must have been important; Cassidy turned on his heals back to his mother. He ran back towards her so she could hear him.

   “Ma!”

   “Hm?”

    “It’s the telegraph! Pa ain’t in the booth! It’s really long!”

    “That man… He must be messin’ with that fool tractor again. Let me see if I can at least take the message.” Felina dropped the sheet into the basin, he could tell she was annoyed she had to stop her work. She walked to the little shack with him on his heels, having to duck down through the doorway being it was sized for imps.

    “Satan James, slow down…” She half muttered to herself as she held the headset where she could listen. She grabbed the little pencil and pad to take down the message. Cassidy had never met James but had heard his name thrown around a lot by his parents. He knew a little morse, but it was moving so fast he could only catch a few words ‘two… riding… line…’ the rest was just beeping to him.

    “I can’t catch all of it… I’ll have to go get Will, sounds important from what I can catch…” She was still speaking to herself as she put the pad down, quickly tapping a response back. “Will is away Stop Get him for the message now Stop” the line was quiet for a moment before a set of taps came back Cassidy could also understand ‘Holding Stop Thank you Felina Stop”. Cassidy stepped back from the doorway as his mother emerged.

    “I gotta go get your Pa, you better go fetch them eggs now!”

    “Yes ma’am!” The two headed in opposite directions, Cassidy towards the chicken coop and Felina towards the path Cassidy had been sneaking off to.

    The farm didn’t have many chickens, the town had pooled their resources to be able to afford four hens and a rooster. This was the first year, with plans for the flock to hopefully grow when Spring came back around but for now the focus was keeping them safe. A nicer coop was being built at the community farm, but for now they sat comfortably in the temporary coop at the Bohannon’s. Cassidy grabbed the basket as he came in through the door, he was slow and careful around them as to not startle them. He could see his father had already put out some meat scraps for them this morning. The rooster had met him at the door and chose to stay outside, he seemed alert and uninterested in Cassidy. He was relieved to not have the bird pecking at his legs the whole time. So, he set to work gently trying to move the chickens so he could take the eggs.

    Suddenly there was an awful shriek from outside, the rooster hurrying in with his feathers on end. All the chickens huddled as far away from the door as they could. Cassidy knew better than to go touching them like this. Unlike their earth counterparts, they weren’t skittish. In fact, they’d rather fight you than run away. Cassidy’s attention was fully drawn to outside, curious as to what could have startled them so badly. He went to the door, looking outside expecting to see his great uncle Silas’s old truck pulling up the driveway. Instead, he saw a very different sight.

    Cassidy first saw the hell-horse, its blue stark flames mesmerizing against the dusty oranges of the ring. It was enormous, Cassidy knew some types of hell-horse could get that big but had only seen them in pictures. It was clearly a horse built for hard work in the fields, loaded down with saddlebags and equipment. Cassidy watched from the doorway, cautious and unsure; nobody from out of town ever visited the Bohannon’s.

    Then he saw the rider; Cassidy had seen pictures of his great uncle Silas in his prime and of real cowboys; and this man was a real cowboy. The man was huge. Taller than his mother; something the eight-year-old thought impossible. His eyes being the most striking thing about him; even from this distance Cassidy could see they were a piercing icy blue. At this distance, Cassidy assumed he was a snake or some sort of lizard demon. The demon tied his horse to the fence post, tilting his head upward. Most likely he was smelling the air; afterwards he reached into his jacket and produced a thin cigar; though at his size, it looked closer to a cigarette. He struck a match on the fence, carefully lit up, then came stalking up the dirt path towards the house. He looked around slow, his posture alert. 

    His curiosity getting the better of him, Cassidy slipped out of the hen house. His plan was to just watch and stay back, his mother having thoroughly warned him about strangers. As he approached, the man suddenly stopped, his head snapping around and spotting Cassidy almost immediately. The initial angry and annoyed expression that was across the man’s snout changed to one almost as curious as Cassidy’s. He came over to the fence that separated them and leaned against it. Cassidy stood back, not daring to take another step forward. Now seeing the man up close, Cassidy was confused about what exactly the man was. Rather than smooth or scaly skin, the man had feathers. He had shorter lighter beige feathers on most of his body while on his head, the sides of his arms and at the end of his chin he sported deep brown feathers. His angular face sporting red on the end of his snout and around his eyes. The man took the cigar from his mouth and smiled, a gesture that should have been warm if not for the row of razor-sharp teeth. Even if most demons had them, the way this man flashed them made Cassidy’s stomach fill with fear.

    “Well. You must be Felina’s boy.” He said, his voice was low with a thick drawl. It sounded funny to Cassidy, like it wasn’t from this region of Wrath; his eyes narrowed. “What’s a’ matter? Somethin’ made off with your tongue?”

    Cassidy realized how intensely he was staring as he sheepishly stuck his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his old boots.

    “…Ma said I ain’t supposed to talk to strangers, she’s ‘round back the house…” He said, part of him wanting to scurry away on the spot… however his curiosity was getting the better of him. He was intrigued. Cassidy’s curious and too trusting nature made him push down the fear creeping in the back of his mind.

    “I ain’t no stranger!” He laughed, an almost animal like sound. “I’m friends with your Ma! We talk when I’m in town, I came lookin’ for her to deliver some news.” 

    “Then how come Ma’s never introduced us?” the man took a long draw on his cigar, exhaling out of his nose. An annoyed look starting to cross his face before he caught himself and it went back to a smile. He was still suspicious, but if the man knew his mother, then he must not be bad.

    “Your Ma’s a busy lady! I am too! Usually we meet in town; this is the first time I’ve come up to her place… Cassidy.” The way he said his name was as if the man was trying to prove his point. He took another draw, the smoke making him look almost like a dragon. Cassidy wondered briefly if it was true Satan blew smoke like that and the man wasn’t all he let on. He stared up at him almost in awe, he had a million questions he wanted to ask him. He knew his mother and did know his name, maybe he was just a friend of hers stopping by for a visit. He’d met a few of his mother’s friends from back home, maybe that’s what he was.

    “Why don’t'cha come here so I can have a look at you? Hm?” Cassidy closed the gap between them and slipped through the wide middle gaps of the fence to stand a few feet away from the man; mainly so he could better look at the man himself. Tilting his head as he saw him up close.

    He was dressed well, far better than anyone in Rattlebone. No patches in his britches or visible mends in his shirt. A silver chain hung from his vest pocket, and his hat had a matching buckle. He wore leather chaps over his jeans, but they weren’t dirty or scuffed from work. He was dressed nice for a cowboy. Cassidy then saw his feet. He expected him to be wearing sharp cowboy boots with shiny spurs… instead he was barefoot, not an odd sight in Wrath with so many hooved residents. But the man didn’t have hooves. They looked almost like birds feet, but most notable were the large, hooked claws. They had to be at least nine inches, and they shone black in the sun. That little prickle of fear started again; he tried pushing it down. He’d seen demons with big teeth and horns, that didn’t mean they were bad. So, what if he had big talons? But the man was confusing, he had feathers but had a snout… it was strange to an eight-year-old who’d only ever been around imps, a few snakes and the occasional reptile drifter passing through his great uncles saloon. He’d heard the blue bloods had beaks and talons…

    “What’s ‘matter?”

    “I… Um… I thought you were a reptile… Are you a hybrid too?” for a second, the man made a face between offense and disgust. He suddenly laughed, startling Cassidy.

    “I’m a raptor!” He chuckled, “A Utahraptor, more specifically.”

    He seemed proud of that last statement, sticking his snout in the air. Cassidy had no idea what that meant, but supposed it was a good thing. The slight disgust he saw on the mans face made him pause. Cassidy tried to change the subject, asking something he’d wanted to since he came through the fence.

    “Can I…”

    “Hmm?”

    “… Try your hat on?”

    “Haw! That’s what I like about kids, right to the point.” He grabbed the crown of the hat, revealing that his feathers only ran down the back of his head. The sides had been shaved into a surprisingly clean yet flat Mohawk. He plopped the hat onto Cassidy’s head, it sat awkwardly on top of his small horns.

    “Your parent’s’ll have to get’cha a good hat when your horns come all the way in.”

    “Uncle Silas keeps teasing me that they won’t come in, that that’s all they’ll grow to…”

    “Nah, snake horns don’t really start comin’ in till ‘bout your teens, bein’ half imp you got a head start really. You’ve got plenty of time. ‘s not a race anyway.” The man put his foot up on the lowest fence rail as he put his weight back on the fence. He was oddly encouraging, the way he nonchalantly leaned back into the fence while taking another drag of his cigar made Cassidy relax too. Cassidy pulled himself up on the fence, the hat pulled down to his brow. being he was so much smaller he went up to the second set of rails, holding the topmost so he could slightly hang off of them.

    “Did you break your horns?” He continued to quiz the man, He could see the top of his head better now. He knew some demons didn’t have them, but it was always strange to him.

    “Naw, never had any. Utahraptor’s don’t have ‘em. We got these instead.” He tapped his sickle claw against the wood of the fence. Cassidy supposed that’s why the cowboy was so calm. You had no need for your gun when you were born with knives at the ends of your feet. “Much better than horns, in my humble opinion…”

    Cassidy turned himself so he could stare out at the field he’d trekked through. None of the chickens had emerged yet, not even the rooster. He thought for a moment, before speaking again.

    “Nobody ‘round here has any cattle, so what’s a cowboy like you doing here? Are you lookin’ for a heard taken by rustlers?”

    “Cowboy?” He chuckled taking another draw on his cigar, he didn’t have much left now. “Naw boy, I ain’t a cowpuncher anymore. Haven’t been for a long while. I occasionally do some work like I used to, but it ain’t all I do now a days.”

    “Oh… then what'cha doin’ here, Mister-”

    “You can just call me Slit, boy.”

    “Mister… Slit?” Cassidy had never heard such a strange name; he’d heard a few imps having strange names like after food or objects. Slit was the funniest he’d ever heard though; he’d never heard of someone being named after an action. He did sound like he was from a different part of Wrath after all.

    “Told you. I came to talk to your Ma. We got business, she’s a busy lady, huh?” This confused Cassidy. He’d come all this way to talk to his mother, and he wasn’t a cowboy… he felt a little more fear coming up in him. He tried to push past it, he didn’t need to be scared, he knew his mother. That meant he had to be a good guy. Maybe he was just a drifter now, like in those cowboy stories he’d heard.

    “Yeah, she takes care of everybody. Whole town, it’s not much though. Since Ma took over after the mayor died, she’s been real busy…”

    “Honestly, she’d be better off just mindin’ her business, you ask me…” he said this half to himself as he took the cigar out of his mouth, standing up to crush it beneath his foot. Cassidy was impressed Slit wasn’t in any pain from doing so. He leaned back and pulled his jacket back over his hip, reaching into the pocket of his vest and producing an expensive looking pocket watch. He flicked it open, then hummed looking at the time. As the raptor held his jacket back, the first thing Cassidy noticed was the now exposed holster on his hip; and the big gun peeking out over the leather.  Then Cassidy noticed the badge pinned to his vest, glinting gold in the sunlight with graceful curves. It looked like a cross between a flower and a crown, Cassidy felt it was vaguely familiar. His pocket watch had a strange symbol on the back of it. He could make out the letters “D A N T A L I O N” in the outer ring around it. Before Cassidy could ask about it, he heard a loud angry rattle.

    “CASSIDY. JAKE. BOHANNON. YOU GET AWAY FROM HIM RIGHT NOW!” Cassidy jumped off the fence like it had burned him, meanwhile Slit closed the watch with a loud click, unbothered. Slit then pushed slow off the fence as he returned the watch into his vest, planting his hands on his hips as the young hybrid stood scared of his mother. He pulled Slit’s hat off his head, looking ashamed though he wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong. Felina stormed over, her tail thrashing back and forth with a glare pointed straight at Slit. Slung over her back was a long Blunderbuss, normally used for scaring off would be robbers from the farm. Cassidy could see his father by the porch, most likely having followed her. Him staying back made Cassidy even more worried, normally his father was always right with her. If he was standing back it was because she said so… and now Cassidy had his back turned to this stranger.

    “Mrs. Bohannon, we were just havin’ a conversation-” He started, but she was quick to cut him off.

    “GET AWAY FROM HIM.” Felina drew her blunderbuss from her back, one shot would blow a hole straight through his chest.  If looks could kill, Slit would be dead on the spot. Cassidy had never seen his mother look so angry; fear clutched his stomach. He’d never been on this end of a gun before and had seen what this one could do. Yet the raptor held his hands up in a mocking manner with a smirk across his face. Her tail buzzed again, the fear in him causing him to drop Slit’s hat into the dust.

    “Cassidy. Get in the house.” Her voice tone was ridged as she repeated herself. After a moment of gathering the courage to move, Cassidy took off past the two as fast as his legs could carry him to the porch. He slipped into the house, his father following him in as the screen door shut behind them. His father grabbed the shotgun that sat beside the door, standing in front of the screen ready to come to his wife’s aid. Will’s white hair was a mess, oil and grease patching his shirt, arms and face. His angular horns just like Cassidy’s, though small and no doubt that his son would outgrow him, the imp stood at the screen door. His body on edge as he stared hard at the man and his wife.  Cassidy, still curious, went to the window. He slid it open just enough for him to see and hear through.  

    “Pa, who is he?” His voice low, as if worried Slit would hear them.

    “The kind of demon humans tell stories about, that’s who Cass.” His fathers gaze doesn’t break from his wife and the stranger. “That’s a ranger. The new leader of ‘em… word is he’s worse than Carver… Ma’s delt with him mostly… never met him myself, but he’s dangerous…”

    The last comments sound like they’re more to himself than to Cassidy. The young boy strains to listen to the conversation between the two, curious about the ranger and the message he’s brought to his mother.

    “Don’t you talk to my son EVER again, are we clear, Mr. Moab? Don’t go near him; don’t even look at him unless I’m with him. You have NO business with him.” She hissed, punctuating it with another long rattle. She held her Blunderbuss low towards the ground now, but her body was completely on edge and ready to strike the raptor. Despite this, he stooped down as she spoke to pick up his hat. He brushed the dust off, still unfazed by her threats. He looked up at her with that grin still spread across his face.

    “Mrs. Bohannon, he was just curious. You know how kids are. They just wanna know about anything that peaks their interests…” he chuckled, his voice low and deliberate as he placed his hat back on his head. He then adjusted his jacket to show her the gun on his hip.

    “I don’t care, Mr. Moab, last thing I need is you snatchin’ my baby when I’m not lookin’...” Suddenly, she had Slit’s attention. The comment caused him to make a low hiss, the feathers on his head and arms raising slightly. The comment clearly struck a nerve. Despite this, he continued to smile at her. He leaned toward her, neither breaking eye contact.

    “Utahraptors don’t snatch eggs and hatchin’s Mrs. Bohannon… we can bring down big prey by ourselves, just fine…” His voice remained low, he made a low rumble as he spoke. “’Sides… doubt the boy would be of any use bein’ so scrawny...”

    “What do you want. I know this ain’t a leisure visit; Rattlebone’s way past nowhere. So. Spit it out.” Felina lowers her blunderbuss; she breathes it as if trying to calm herself. Slit seems satisfied with the rise out of her as his posture relaxes as well.

    “I came to talk to you about tribute, Mrs. Bohannon. And what you and your town owes...” He opened the other side of his jacket, producing a neat envelope with a Goetic seal stamped in wax on the front.

    “What about it? You and that blue blood always get it, end of the quarter.” She snatched it out of his hand, stuffing it into her pants pocket.

    “Deadlines changed. The Lady’s moved it up two weeks.”

    “Two weeks?! The deadline barely makes time for harvest as it is! Two weeks is to early!”

    “All the same ma’am. The Lady’s getting restless with all them late payments.” He leaned in to sneer at her, his voice low and full of vitriol as he continued.  “And don’t think I don’t know you, that toad of yours and James have been fuckin’ with the numbers. James might have a bleedin’ heart over your situation… but ya’ll earned this in my book. Remember that.” He hissed, pointing at her. She glared back at him, her gun still aimed towards the dirt. It takes every ounce of restraint in her not to blow his head off. “Rage Hollow is NEVER short. But guess whose numbers were down last quarter and Rattlebone suddenly just makes it? Ya’ll are gettin’ sloppy. And honestly, it’s an insult to my fuckin’ intelligence. You think I’m some dumb brute who ain’t capable of seein’ your little schemes?”

    “Gold’s bound to go through dry spouts… maybe if you brought your little book out here and put a boon on the land like ya’ll have been sayin’ at those meetin’s since before my boy was born-”

    “I DECIDE,” Slit yells, cutting her off, his temper flaring as he lunges towards her. Felina raises her blunderbuss in response, clenching her jaw. He calms himself before finishing, clearly frustrated with Felina. “I deicide who deserves a boon and who doesn’t, Mrs. Bohannon. You and this little town have proven to me repeatedly, you ain’t worthy of one. Two. Weeks. Any other questions?”

    “None. I got your damn message, now get the fuck off my property. NEVER deliver a message to my house again.” Felina is still wound tight, keeping her stance between him and the house. “You got concerns, you can take them to me during the week or write them down and leave them at the courthouse. NOT at my house.” Cassidy is in awe of his mother’s bravery, like one of the gunslingers from his great uncle’s stories. He hears the screen door start to creek, catching his attention. His father still has the shotgun clenched tightly in his hands. His jaw clenched and tail thrashing behind him.

   “Well, then I better get back… the boys get restless if I’m away too long…” Slit shrugged, tipping his hat. He turns and begins walking back the way he came to his hellhorse, who’d been standing unaffected by the whole scene. Felina’s posture relaxes as she takes a step back, but her gaze never leaves Slit. William starts out onto the porch, cautiously. Cassidy notices his father looking off into the fields still on edge. Its not over until Slit’s ridden off, the two aren’t letting their guard down just yet.

   “…You know…” Slit said as he stopped mid-step. His sickle claw tapping on the dusty ground. He turns back to look at Felina with a smile. “I’m sure the Lady would cut your debt back to a more… reasonable pay if you let your boy come work at the Lady’s place-”

   BLAM!

    Cassidy jumped as a loud gunshot rang out, the shot having been right past Slit’s head. Slit on the other hand didn’t flinch, instead a wicked satisfied grin spread across his face. William bounded down the steps of the house till his wife held her hand out towards him. Her hand then went to the powder flask on her hip, letting him know she was prepared to reload.

   “Get. The only reason I don’t blow your head off is because I know she’ll be mad if I put down her new favorite dog. NOW GET.”

   “Two weeks Mrs. Bohannon. You and your people can pay in money, crops or blood...”

Chapter Text

Night had fallen at the Bohannons, and now the empty brown fields were full of twinkling little lights that clung to the blades. Two little figures creeped out among the grass, one being Cassidy, the other being his best friend, Claude. Claude was an Imp, like everyone else in Rattlebone. His horns curved straight back with their thick black and white stripes, dressed in old overalls with a black shirt with the sleeves pushed up, and old work boots. His skin was a darker red, and on his legs and arms were faint white scars from rough housing with his brothers, sisters, and the other kids. In his arms he held a big empty jar, the reason the boys were out in the fields this late.

As they walk through the grass the lights stir up and scatter; Hell’s version of fireflies, emberflies; like fireflies they give off natural light, but when startled or threatened they give off a spark. They had their name from looking like floating embers of hellfire, the boys being extra careful as they rose from the grass to get out of their way. They were dangerous in dryer areas, but made for wonderful fire starters; The boys had been tasked with gathering some for that reason. Cassidy had proved himself skilled at the task, being swift and careful enough to grab them without making them spark. The boys carefully crept through the grass, getting farther and farther from the house, filling the jar in silence.

Cassidy’s hands gently clasped around two emberflies, Claude being slightly concerned at how long Cassidy just held them there. He cracked his palms open a bit so he could see the little insects between his hands. The faint green glow is comforting, lighting his face subtly. To him there’s something so captivating about something so small… and simple. Their feet tickled the insides of his palms, he was in a bit of awe for a moment just admiring them before Claude interrupted his train of thought.

“Careful, Cas, don’t wanna burn your hands!” He straightened back up from the hunched over position looking at them, coming closer to Claude. He inches the lid off enough for Cassidy to slip the two inside, clamping the lid back down. The jar’s glow is bright now, illuminating the dark grass as Claude holds it against his chest.

“I ain’t scared of a little scorch from an ember!” Cassidy says, planting his hands firmly on his hips. Proud of what he says next, “I met the ranger chief today and wasn’t scared at all!”

“My pa said your ma told him you didn’t know any better.” Claude flatly said, shooting a sour look at him. It takes the wind out of Cassidy’s sails a bit, but he tries not to show it. “I don’t think it counts if you didn’t know better. Like cuttin’ through a bull’s pen while he’s asleep. Not really somethin’ to brag ‘bout.”

“Well, STILL!” Sticking his snout in the air, he’s not going to let him take it away from him. “You got to brag ‘bout catchin’ that maul deer for weeks and your pa helped you! I wasn’t scared till ma showed up, same thing.”

“’K… only ‘cause it’s your birthday tomorrow though.”

“Good enough!” He was glad it was dark so Claude couldn’t see how red his cheeks were. The two laugh for a moment, before Claude gets quiet. A little bit of concern creeps into his voice when he speaks again.

“Was he scary?”

“Naw. He was big, had feathers. I thought he was like me, but he said he was a raptor, whatever that is.”

“Like you?”

“Oh um…” Cassidy hesitates, “A hybrid….”

“Ooooh…” everyone knew Cassidy was a little insecure. He was the only one, and that need to at least meet someone like him wouldn’t leave him alone. Claude seems a little saddened by it, he brushes it off quickly.

“Saw the old ranger chief once, he was huge, but he was old. Was he huge?”

Cassidy begins to answer the question, but the two are startled by a loud holler from the house.

“Cassidy! Claude!” William’s voice carried from the front porch across the yard and the field. “Have you caught enough yet, or do you need a few more minutes?”

“Comin’ pa!”
“We’re headed back Mr. Will!”

The front porch was covered by an old overhang, a lattice running down one side with brown vines clinging to it in their attempt to cling to life in the heat. A well-worn welcome mat sat in front of the front door, propped open with the screen door shut. Both windows are also wide open, trying to keep air moving through the house. Two old mismatched rocking chairs sat in front of the window closest to the door with a little table between them. Not far past, at the end of the porch was an old porch swing, two oil lamps were on either side. The one by the door was lit, but the one on the far side was being fiddled with by William. The little imp was balanced up on the railing, a bottle of oil in one hand, the other round the base of the lamp for balance, and the lid of the lamp gripped in his tail, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth in focus. Claude’s father, Dallas, stood beside him down on the porch, having boosted him up onto the rail.

“Don’t break your noggin! We need that egg head for fixin’ the generator ‘case it breaks!” Dallas chuckles as he crosses his arms, he was another small imp. His black and white horns curling back like a ram’s, his work clothes still covered in dirt in spots from the long day in the field.

“It always breaks, only matter is when! Now hush ‘for I break my neck and we’re all outta luck!” Will snaps, he slowly starts to pour the oil into the lamp to soak the wick. The screen door opens with a creek, but the men barely pay it any mind as they’re joined on the porch.

“You know back home we had lights with electricity that actually lit everythin’, includin’ the porch!” Silas complains. He was a bit short for a snake demon in his older age, having become a bit stout in his retirement. He had the same browns and blacks as Felina, and lean horns poking out from his hat. Like Felina he also had prominent fangs, long and sharp; one being notably gold, and on his lip he sported a thin moustache. He carried an old acoustic guitar in his hands. He takes a seat in one of the rocking chairs, paying no mind to Will’s struggle.

“You made your decision when you followed me out here Silas, you can’t complain! Besides, I thought you said you missed the more rural beauty of Wrath.” Felina came out of the house behind him. She doesn’t get a chance to add on though.

“WILLIAM.” She scolds as soon as she sees her husband, grabbing the top from his tail and sets it on the swing. Then grabbing him around the middle to support him, lifting him up almost like a cat.

“You want to break your neck? I can fill the lamps fine!”

“Why should I worry ‘bout fallin’ if I got a tall pretty gal watchin’ out for me? Hm?” Will snickers. With his wife’s support he was able to light the lamp finally. After handing him the cover to replace, Felina places his him on the deck. His boots clack as she lets him go, only for him to flop into the swing. Patting the spot beside him with a mischievous smirk, earning a soft laugh from his wife. The boys finally making it back to the house shortly, Claude holding the jar over his head. The porch steps creak under their feet, while their boots clomping loudly on the steps and deck in their excitement.

“We caught a ton!” Cassidy huffs, out of breath, Claude nods.

“Good job boys! This’ll last the farm awhile on fire starters.” Felina took the jar from Claude, taking it inside.

“Nobody got scorched this time, did they?” Dallas says, walking over to hop up into the other rocking chair, “Didn’t hear no cryin’ or whinin’ out there,”

“No sir! Not a one!” Cassidy’s pride is hard to miss, Felina pats his head she comes back out, her boots loudly clacking across the deck, Cassidy half hoping he’d get a sharp new pair of boots himself tomorrow. He knows better. He’s not big enough for a new pair, still has too much growing to do. But he can always hope.

Felina sits next to Will, he puts his arm around her waist even if he can’t quite reach all the way around her. Claude sits down on the porch near his father as Felina beckons Cassidy over, patting the other side of the swing. He’s hesitant, being Claude’s here, but he goes anyway. He sits beside her, and she puts her arm around his shoulder. His feet and his father’s don’t touch the ground, Felina rocks it back and forth a little.

“You still got growin’ to do Cass, maybe in a few harvests you’ll be taller than all of us.” Silas says with a soft laugh as he sits fully back in his rocking chair with the old guitar in his lap, tuning the strings.

“You're nine tomorrow… So I suppose, you get to pick the song tonight…” Cassidy sat up excitedly, Silas smiling at him as he strums a few times.

“So, what’cha want me to play? Tyin’ Knots in the Devil’s Tail? Home on the Range? Red River Valley…?” He had a twinkle in his eye, looking at Felina.

“Not Red River Valley! Do you want me to cry?” Felina sighs, she pulled Cassidy closer. His cheeks felt hot from embarrassment at his ma hugging him in front of Claude. He wiggles a bit, she loosens her hold on him, "You used to love that song...”

Cassidy thinks for a moment, his tail idly rattles in thought. Carefully considering his options before finally picking.

“Old Paint.”

“Old Paint?! Talk about sad, snakelet! You really want that for your last song at eight?”
Cassidy nodded, “You said it was your favorite! And I like it!”

“It’s for your birthday, you could pick anything!” Silas makes one more attempt to change his mind, but Cassidy just stares at him with that excited lopsided grin. The old snake doesn’t even bother making other suggestions.

“He’s just as hardheaded as his pa…” Felina sighs, William takes that more as a compliment, chuckling in response. “But I’d argue it is a little your fault for it bein’ the first song you taught him.”

Silas looked at Cassidy, raising an eyebrow. Before finally letting out a sigh as if he’d been defeated.
“All right, let me see now…” He took a breath, as if thinking for a moment, as if he had to remember the words. He strummed a few cords to test its tune before he finally began to play…

“I ride an Ol’ Paint,
I lead ol’ Dan,
I’mma Goin’ to Ragesburg
For to throw the hoolihan…”

As Silas’s old clear voice sang the words, that many a cowboy had heard for years and years both in hell and on earth, Cassidy looked out towards the empty fields of grass. The lack of the volcanoes flows had engulfed Rattlebone in a warm darkness like a thick blanket. He could see far off in the distance down the dirt path the oil lamps of the shopkeepers from their windows, as everyone prepared for sleep. The fireflies continued to spark and twinkle out in the dark brown grass. He could hear the wildlife around settling in for sleep, the birds beginning to become quiet… the buzz of insects… the day was done. Another year had passed him by. He supposed his mother was right, she had once said time is like a dance ever passing by…

His mind began to wander far away, about the days in the future when he was grown. When he’d have his own horse and the need to make his way in hell, to look for adventure out on the vast plains. Bringing home glory and fame to Rattlebone catching outlaws and striking it big… or perhaps he’d be a humble cowboy like his grandfather and great uncle, wandering into a way to bring his hometown to fame by finding oil or gold… maybe him and Claude could make it out there too. An Imp hybrid and an Imp making a place for their kind in this ring. Maybe… there could be more for them.

Chapter Text

Four harvests have come and gone since those days, and the crops have become leaner and leaner by the year… and things weren’t looking hopeful.

Rattlebone looked like it came straight out if a photograph from the late 1800s. A single strip with wooden store fronts on each side, four openings. A little general store, saloon, butcher, post office that doubled as a gunsmith and carpenter, and the courthouse. There were a few homes in town but not much else. One way was the hostile plains of Wrath, the other was the sparsely treed path up towards the town farm. It wasn’t much, but Rattlebone was home for the imps and two snakes. One of the two was a bundle of nerves currently.

Felina paced back and forth in front of the old two-story courthouse, kicking up dust beneath her dainty little boots. Her tail dragging behind her, threatening to make a rut in the well-worn path. Back and forth as she mumbles to herself about how they could possibly pull enough money together before the harvest.

Inspection day. A lousy day for it to fall on. Right on Cassidy’s thirteenth birthday, some mothers got to worry about their child’s cake or what present to get them. Felina was currently worrying about the future and safety of their home. At any moment a group of riders lead by that bastard would come whooping and hollering over the hills. Making a horrid racket and scaring every last imp back into their homes. Their boss would try to intimidate her; the men would hopefully spend their coin getting drunk in the saloon and the second in command would spend a pretty penny in supplies for their chuck wagon. They’d leave quieter than they came, hopefully fattening a few pockets in a town that needed it. Just like every year.

But that didn’t mean Felina wasn’t nervous in the days leading up and now jittery in the moments before. She knew their type, the violent men of Wrath. Always looking for trouble and often bringing it with them hot on their heels. Her goal was to just get him out of the courthouse as quickly as possible. The saloon could make bank on him with good home cooked food at least, unlike his men the man didn’t drink, and the town didn’t have any other luxuries that caught his eye. Hopefully they’ll be gone by noon, and she could have some peace.

She could give Cassidy the gift of stability for just a little longer.

“Felina!” Out of the old saloon came her uncle Silas. He had a smile on his face as he crossed the street to her. For a moment she felt frustrated that he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation.

“You ain’t worryin’ ‘bout that goose, are you? All he wants is your worry! You’re just givin’ it to him! Don’t you worry snakelet!”

“That goose has the authority to wipe our town off the map, I think I’m allowed to worry a little Silas.” She puts her hands on her hips, sighing. “He’s been wantin to wipe us off since he got the job…” She continues to pace as her uncle watches her, she wishes she was half as calm as he was. Her mind buzzing with worry. “And on top of that William lost the paperwork this mornin... that man is so scatterbrained…”

Silas just opted to listen, letting her air her grievances in hopes it’d calm her down a bit.

“Moab will give me an earful if he gets here, and I don’t have it. Man can’t organize his own paperwork worth a damn, but I misplace mine and I’m the inconvenience…” She stops to smooth out her blouse, before patting her riding pants to try to get the dust off of them.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to TRY to negotiate with him?” He had a twinkle in his eye, meaning he was planning to get up to mischief. As much as Felina would have loved to see her uncle teach Slit a lesson, whether dumping molasses on him from the saloon’s upper floor or scaring his horse off into the distance… it was better he left the man alone. She was sure even a kick me sign would make him fit to be tied.

“Last time you said you’d negotiate with someone you put daddy through the back window of the house back home.” She says, crossing her arms and looking down at him.

“What siblin’s haven’t tossed each other through a window? He saw eye to eye with me eventually!” he was quick to move past it, resulting in a chuckle from Felina. Helping her spirits ever so slightly and bringing some much-needed relief.

“Don’t you have a birthday party to be plannin’ and a saloon to be watchin’? Go on and get, you!” She waves him away smiling.

“Only ‘cause you’re too busy worryin’ about that big uppish turkey! You remember that’s all he is! Just a big turkey gobblin’ n’ squakin’ for attention! You ignore ‘im an’ he’ll shut it eventually!” He went back towards the saloon, after throwing over his shoulder, “Maybe we’ll get lucky next rain ‘n’ he’ll drown when he forgets not to look up”

“GO ON. Last thing I need is for him to get here and him hear you taklin’ behind his back.”

“Ooooh I’m sure his ears are just a burnin’… Maybe I’ll stay ‘n join the welcoming party, make Cas a nice bow with some brown fletch arrows-“

“SILAS.” He chuckles at her reaction, stopping before turning to her. “Oh, ‘n if you see the birthday boy, send him up to the saloon. I got somethin special just for him.”

“Alright, alright, now get on your way!”

Feeling a bit calmer, she walked over to the steps and sat down. She just took time to enjoy the slight breeze and the singing of the far-off birds. It was peaceful for now, she wished it could stay that way.

A bit of time passed before a large wagon, pulled by two hell horses appeared on the horizon. At first, she assumed it was a passerby until she saw the driver. A short stocky styracosaurus demon sat on the driver’s box with the reigns tight in his hands. It was one of Slit’s men, his right-hand man to be exact. The wagon pulled slowly and cautiously into town, up to the general store. Felina got up and went over to greet him. Actually, happy to see this man rather than the raptor.

When he spotted her over his shoulder, he smiled at her warmly as he stood up.

“Well, how do you do Mrs. Bohannon!” he said, climbing down from the wagon. She smiles back; he was a much more pleasant experience than his boss. Always warm and polite towards her; and he had a heavy coin purse just for the town.

“Mornin’ Mr. Marsh,”

“Aww, I keep tellin’ you, you can just call me Dell, Ma'am, ain’t no need for it!” Dell, or Ripper as Slit referred to him as, was a good sight at least. He oversaw supply and restocking for the rangers. He’d spend a good amount of money while in town, something the general store needed, being its biggest money maker was people passing through.

“Well. It’s much b etter than Ripper, I’ll say that at least. Or any of those other nicknames.” Felina watches as he goes to the back of the wagon and produces a clip board with notes.

“I’m not much of a fan either but it’s Ranger tradition.” Before he goes into the store, he walks back to her to finish their conversation.

“You stoppin’ in for supplies while you’re here?”

“Yes ma’am!” He holds up the board, showing a lengthy list of items. A good pay day. “How’s your boy doin’?”

“Good, he’s 13 today.”

“Not a boy anymore then, huh, if I see him, I’ll wish him well then!” He smiles, “Don’t tell the boss but I’ll see if I can slip him a coin for the day.”

“That is mighty sweet of you Dell… Is… Mr. Moab not doin’ the inspection this quarter?” She was slightly hopeful; he had occasionally conducted the meetings when Slit was unable to… and usually they came together.

“No ma’am, he sent me ahead… Him and some of the boys will be along soon. also a few of the boys wanted to visit the saloon… now if they cause any trouble don’t tell the boss; I’ll pay for it myself. He always gets cross when it comes to damages…” She sighs, crossing her arms. The worry comes back to her face.

“Cross is a word for it…” She shakes her head, worrying more than she had before.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bohannon… I know he can be difficult… but...,” Dell stops, before shaking his head, “I’m sorry for him and the boys. I’ll be out of your way ma’am…”
He tips his hat, and she waves him a short goodbye as he disappears into the general store. Felina ambles back towards the courthouse. Worry beginning to bubble back up in her stomach.

“MA!” Felina jumps at the sudden shout, turning to look for the source. Cassidy came running up the path into town, carrying a big leather case in his arms. He was taller now, still dressed in hand-me-downs. The pants were too big for his slightly thin frame, so he wore suspenders to keep them up. The pants were also too short thus coming up above his ankles over his old boots. His white hair a ragged mess from whatever chase he went on for that case. “I found it!”

“CASSIDY JAKE BOHANNON. You’re supposed to be up at the farm! What are you doin’ here?!”

“Pa and the others gave me the rest of the day off after this mornin’, so I went home, and I found it!” He holds the case up triumphantly. “Tracked it down with just my nose and a lead from Pa. Stinks like cigar smoke, can’t miss it.”

She takes the case from him quickly before grabbing him by the suspender strap and turning him around back towards the farm. She gives him a little push in the direction.

“Baby, thank you so much but you need to go home. Ok? I don’t want you here while the rangers are in town-“ she starts as she tucks the case under her arm.
She was cut off by the sound of yelling off in the distance. Of course, they’d show up now while Cassidy was here. Of course. She cursed to herself.

“You’d have to pass them home,” She mutters more to herself, shaking her head. “Change of plan. You’re goin’ to march into that saloon,”

“But-“

“No buts!” Another loud shout and more hollering snapped her head off into the direction they were riding in from.

The good thing about them is that you always KNEW when they were coming. The ranges came over the horizon hooting, hollering and whooping. Making a ruckus to alert the town to their approach. Everyone began to hide. Ducking into their homes or the nearest shops, slamming shutters and doors.

Felina grabbed Cassidy and kissed the top of his head. She held him tight for a moment, a tightness that told him this was serious.

“You run along now, go help your uncle Silas. I’ve got business to attend to. And I don’t want to hear no word ‘bout you gettin’ in trouble with any of them. Alright? I want you to sir and respect them even if they don’t deserve it.”

“Ma-“

“ALRIGHT?

“… Yes ma’am…” she kissed him again before smoothing his hair and sending him on his way. Cassidy hurried off, the sound of the approaching horses putting speed in each step. He disappeared through the doors of the saloon. She watched to make sure he wasn’t peeking through the bat wing doors.

As soon as she was sure he was gone, her gaze turned to the approaching men.

At the front of the pack rode Slit, leaned down on his horse and riding like a lava slick was barreling at his horses heels down the mountain. He led them quiet despite the yelling and hollering of his men. His expression intense, his long snout screwed into a wicked scowl. Those blue eyes peering from under the brim of his hat. He and the horse beneath him were in perfect sync, he didn’t spur her on with his claws once. Against her black body spewed vibrant blue flames from her mane and tail, as well as the feathering around each of her hooves. Though she was big and built for hard work in the fields, the girl was giving it her all. Each if her eyes focused forward as intense as her master, puffs of steam occasionally bellowing out of her nostrils.

Notably when one of Slits men rode up to close behind him, a coral snake demon on a red hell horse, both rider and horse snapped him back into submission. Slit making a show of taking a swipe at him and his horse snapped her jaws at the riders horse. Backing the subordinate off quickly with little fuss.

Felina’s hands clasped tightly in front of her face, almost as if praying. But she didn’t ask anybody for anything; knew nobody would answer. She stopped asking long ago and never uttered to any Sin. They never helped before, why would they start now? Her only hope at the moment Cassidy stayed safe with Silas.

Part of her fear was Slit trying to get Cassidy to join his team, to spew poison and sweet lies to get a naïve boy to leave home. She’d heard plenty from some of the other towns about good young men and women joining up with the rangers because of Slit’s apparent silver tongue. Often found dead in shallow unmarked graves months later because they just wanted to protect their families. The only thing saving her boy was the apparent disgust the man had for hybrids. She was thankful in some bizarre way that every time Slit looked at the boy his nose wrinkled in disgust, that the boy to him smelled wrong. Passing him up in his apparent search for more hands.

Finally Slit, and his four riders behind him, ride through the little strip of town. Kicking up dust. All around Felina the town was quiet as the last few imps took cover where they could still hear and see. She crossed her arms as Slit walked his horse in front of her. His form towering above her, she shows no fear in his presence.

“Well, howdy, Ma’am!” he said, tipping his hat to Felina. She eyes him, suppressing the urge to rattle her tail.

“Mr. Moab.” She sighs as he dismounts his hell-horse, his large sickle claws gleaming in the sunlight.

“Please, Mrs. Bohannon I havn't been 'Mr. Moab' for a long time; I much prefer Slit.” She crosses her arms as he comes over to her, his eyes peering from under the shadow of his hat. She holds his gaze with the same intensity. It seemed both of them wished the other would drop dead that instant. But with neither successful, Felina breaks the short silence.

“… Mr. Moab; we both know why you’re here. So, let’s stop pretending to like each other.” She heard him make a slight hiss, clearly offended by her tone. She has to actively keep herself from smiling at the little victory.

“Fine, fine. Lead the way Ma’am.” She motions towards the saloon with its horse post and water trough, the other men dismounting and following their leader to tie their horses up. Slit pats his horses side, tending to his horse more attentively than the others. Giving it a large scrap of meat from his saddle bag, before going back to Felina.

“Alright boys, go have your fun. Blow off some steam. I’ll be back after our meetin’s over.” He says casually, a smirk on his face. Fun. His word for trouble. She felt anxiety grip her as the men, a coral snake, a lemon shark, a gator and an incubus, make their way into the Saloon. Disappearing through the bat wing doors no doubt to cause trouble.

She made motions for him to follow her into the courthouse so the torture could be done with.

The building is small, downstairs having a small podium and rows of pews set up along them. Used for services, town meetings and the rare court case. Three windows on either side wall and one on the back stood open to let in light and fresh air from the heat. It seemed everything in here was turning a shade of grey due to its age. It was almost as if the building itself knew of the dire conversation that was about to be had and showed dower colors out of pity. On the side along the back was an old staircase leading to the second floor. Aside from the saloon, this was the only two-story building in town. It had been a statement when it was built according to the older imps, but now as the two larger demons walked up the stairs that creaked underfoot, it showed its age.

The second floor had a similar window layout, with a peaked ceiling. In the middle sat a large wooden table with chairs around it. Used for discussions by the town council and occasionally for the school children for class. She motions for Slit to sit at the table, as part of a routine the two go through every year for this meeting.

Felina looks out the window for a moment, she can see a few fellow townsfolk peering up at the windows, straining their ears to listen in. Will they pass this year? Will Felina get the same treatment as the last town head? She can hear a commotion in the bar already; she blows out a breath. Walking to the other end of the table, setting down the leather case.

“Well. Mr. Moab, shall we get started? I know it’s a long ride for you, and as always, we’re very thankful for you and the duchess being so patient with us…” She pulls the papers out of it as she talks. Trying to stay professional with him.

Meanwhile, Slit lights a cigar as she talks. He knows well she doesn’t like them smoking in here, but there’s not much she can do to stop him. He produces a large book from his bag, setting it on the table with a notable thud and flipping it open to a marked page; it contains all of Rattlebone’s documented tributes. Many of them have numbers in red, others have “late” or “insufficient” stamped over them. He shrugs lazily out of his jacket, tossing it on the table. His badge gleams in the sunlight, as if to drive home his authority. He pushes up his sleeves before taking a drag on his cigar. He goes slowly, taking his sweet time much to Felina’s frustration.

“Mrs. Bohannon, I’m afraid I don’t come baring any good news…” He says this, feigning disappointment.

“You never do…” she sighs. She rubs her arm as there’s that sting in her stomach of pure dread. Slit begins to speak with such care, it’s almost as if he's practiced the speech several times before and is happy to finally be delivering it. He takes a big draw of his cigar before talking again, letting out smoke through his nostrils.

“Rattlebone’s never been a good earner… seems. My boss way back when, told me as much ‘for handin’ over the reins. Said this one would be trouble… I had my hopes up I could fix it for you…” He’s theatrical in his fake disapproval, but there’s no missing the slight curl to his lips. The fact he’s so smug and happy about their apparent failure angers her. And Felina was never one to mind her tongue when it came down to it.

“With all due respect, Mr. Moab, you haven’t really been.” She snaps, her tail rattling instinctively. Her tone follows the defensive gesture as she starts to push back against the raptor. “All you’ve been doin’ is cuttin’ back time and pushin’ us harder. If you really wanted to help, you would have given us a boon years ago. No royal’s even cursed our crops like they were supposed to round harvest time. We don’t even throw festivals for it anymore.”

“Like I told you; I CHOOSE,” Clearly offended by her, he makes a low growl. Suddenly slamming a fist down on the table with a thunderous bang, scattering reports and charts in the process. A deep low hiss comes from him as his voice goes down to a low growl. His cigar clamped tightly between his jaws. “You know how drainin’ that kind of magic is? ‘specially for somebody who ain’t of noble blood like me? I feel like shit days afterwards; it puts my men and all the other towns at risk. You really want me to gamble that much on a town that can barely make quota?”

“We wouldn’t be havin’ to have all these meetin’s and trouble if you did!” She bites back; she’s waited a long time to give him a tongue lashing at the least. She doesn’t back down, his glare at her even more intense as she opens her maw again. “It would have already paid off by now! We were talkin’ with some of the other town leaders, and the idea came up that maybe the orignial hex on the land wasn’t properly removed an-“

Slit suddenly stood, slamming both hands down to push away from the table, his tail sending the chair clattering over. He doesn’t raise his voice when he speaks again though, despite the clear anger bubbling in him.

“You think Me AND the man who taught me were both dumb enough to not notice a seal wasn’t broken?” He hisses; he stalks around the table towards her. She quickly backs away from him for both of their sakes. He takes one last long draw on the cigar before taking it from his mouth. He nlows a thick cloud of smoke before tossing it onto the floorboards and crushing it with his foot. Making a show of the knives at the end of his feet and the lack of pain from the still red end. She does her best not to let any fear in her show.

“Not that it wasn’t broken, just that it wasn’t fully removed, you see-“ she tries to clarify, she knows she can’t calm him down, but she needs to do something to avoid a gun fight in this office. He won’t put her through that window like the last idiot in charge. At least not without a fight. Her hand goes to the strap of her blunderbuss as he stalks closer towards her in a silent rage. She steps back with each of his, but with the length of the room, it’s not long before thrashing tail bumps the wall; telling her she can’t back anymore. Felina stands firm, puffing up her chest and narrowing her eyes. Her tail rattles again as her head slinks back, half of her wants to strike him in the neck here and now. To sink her teeth into that vile man’s throat and pump him full of venom.

But she knows better. She knows something worse would happen if she took the opportunity. The only venom she can give is in her glare. It’s her yellows against his blues. All they hold is burning hatred for one another.

“Mrs. Bohannon I’m not here for excuses; I’m here for results.” He puts his hand on the wall just over her head, leaning in close and lowering his voice, as if the room was full and he had some secret to give her. She hates him standing this close, reeking of smoke, blood and sweat. The stench of his cigar still hanging fresh on his breath. That snout of his twists into a wicked grin. “I’ve been patient enough with ya’ll… and its startin’ to look like reclamation is the only way to at least salvage some of this…”

“Do you know how many families live here?” She starts, her voice strong, but his quiet tone somehow cuts her off.

“And not a one has ever volunteered to come work for the Lady. You know that would help cut your debt back.”

“And you fully know well that often ends in them either gettin’ hurt bad or killed. You really want someone to risk their life servin’ royals with basically no pay.” She’s firm and stands her ground. “Nobody’s going. I suggest you get your coat ‘n’ you leave, Mr. Moab. Make your report and go.”

And with that firmness, he blows an annoyed huff out his nostrils and leaves her. He stalks back over to the table, grabbing his papers and books to lower them back into the satchel. She watches him the whole time, not moving a muscle. Every little move is watched with her keen eyes. He makes a few notes on a paper before grabbing his coat and slipping it back on. As he slings the satchel over his shoulder he stops, staring out one of the open windows. She suddenly hears his sickle claw tap against the floor.

Once. Twice. Three times. He’s thinking. And that’s never good with a man like him.

“Maybe I can offer you an out, Mrs. Bohannon.” He says, finally breaking the tense silence.

She cringes, wondering what his sick heads come up with. But she’s desperate, she’ll hear him. He doesn’t wait for her to confirm though.

“You give the Lady your son, ‘n’ I’ll not only give you another whole year, I’ll put a boon on this place. Today. No tribute this year, and all the crops n livestock ya’ll could ever want. More than enough for the lady. Seems like a generous trade to me. The runt for your town. What’cha say, ma’am?” he holds out his hand, his claws shining in the sunlight trickling through the window. His snout scrunched as he bares his teeth in a sick grin. “You wanna make a deal?”

She wants to say no. To yell and scream and curse him. But.

“… What would she want with him...?” She hates herself for asking and considering. Working for a Goetia is dangerous, but if you’re lucky and work the right job it could be prosperous. Cassidy could get proper schooling; he could get good meals and never go hungry during harsh lean seasons. The chance is slim; and she knows Slit would never let her have a chance at it. She might as well be gambling with dice loaded against her.

She holds her hand in front of her chest, thinking about taking his hand. He could be taken care of, a little voice says, they wouldn’t make a child do anything dangerous. But another pipes up, the Lady’s a blue blood. They don’t care. He’s almost a man.

She thinks. She hates that she thinks.

“That’d be up to her. None of your business. He can write home whenever he wants, it ain’t prison. He’ll be fed and clothed. Taken care of…” He says, breaking the short silence. He seems like he’s actually trying to persuade her. But that wickedness in him couldn’t even let him fake being sincere. “… and when he finally dies you get his ashes n bones back in a little box. Promise!” He laughs loud and deep at her. Eyeing her, he continues his pitch, trying to get that foot hold back.

“Come on now; I’ll teach him all I know, make him strong for the Lady. ‘N’ ya’ll will get to live all cozy like. Get to be like one of them good towns where you ain’t scramblin’ ecery check in. What’cha say Mrs. Bohannon? The boy for the town?”

"I’d never give my son the chance to grow into something as vile as you. We’ll make do together! We always do!” She scowls at him, hissing with another punctuating rattle behind her. She slings her arm down in a fist, “You have to have the blackest most vile heart in all of Wrath, Mr. Moab. What kind of offer is that to a mother?”

“I would indeed, If I still had one.” He chuckles, taking the short walk to the staircase. He hums before speaking as he rests his hand on the old banister. “But… let me ask… what kind of mother even considers it? Even briefly? Trust me. I know that look you had in your eye. Deny it all you want. But you thought about it. ‘n that’s almost as bad as shakin’ my hand and sayin’ take the little mistake far away from here.”

There’s a long thick silence between the two. Felina’s gut fills with shame as she stands by the open window. She can hear the birds in the distance and the wind through the street. Part of her listens for her little boy, part of her thinks she might die from shame if she heard him. Slit blows a deep breath out of his nose, breaking her thoughts.

“This check in didn’t go well. I assure you, the Lady will have a full report. If you’re lucky you’ll get to plead your case to her in person… maybe, she’ll be more generous than me.” He tips his hat to her and begins down.

“I’m sure even a blue blood is more generous than you.” She spits. He laughs low again, stopping halfway. The fact he sounds far away already brings more anxiety and dread.

“You'll see ma’am. You’ll see.”

Chapter Text

Silas stood behind the bar, counting what few dollars he had behind the counter. Another lean month, in another lean year. This town was his money pit. He shook his head as he closed the top of the lock box. He looked back over his shoulder at the pictures hung behind the bar. A few were old booze signs and some pictures given by different patrons. But the one that caught his eye was him and his brother with their hellhorses. Tall, lean, and stoic. They were real cowboys, gunslingers at one time. Proof was just below that photograph; two old revolvers sat on the bar shelf between the bottles. Now they sat, ready to be used for robbers or a rowdy passerby. In his prime, he was sure they could run the rangers out of town.

But those days were behind him. Long gone. Yes, he was still quick with his pistols, but only in the sake of some youngin’ looking to steal from him bar. Not a whole ranger company on his back. His thoughts were interrupted by the saloon door creaking open. Cassidy stared at the pictures behind him, clearly in thought himself. He stood there for a moment, staring up behind the bar at that same dusty old photo.

“You done day dreamin’ snakelet?” Silas’ drawl snapped him out of his thoughts. Little Cassidy quickly darted around the bar, hoping up on the old stool behind him. He handed the boy a cloth and set him to work on making sure the glass was good and dry.

“I was just thinkin’… when were you goin’ to get a new mirror for the back of the bar?” Silas blew air out at Cassidy’s question as he shot a look up at the back wall. The bar used to have a fine mirror, one any good saloon would be proud of. A night of poker between a roaming gambler and a ranger ended in a gunfight… and left two lamps chipped, holes in his floor and a fine broken mirror. If it weren’t for Felina grabbing Cassidy from behind the bar the boy would’ve been cut to ribbons. Only casualties were the ranger, and the new long scar Silas sported on his forearm. He supposed he caused more trouble in saloons in his youth, so he couldn’t complain or fuss. Could have been much worse.

“Same time I’m’a put that neon sign back up. Pourin’ money down the drain long as those hooligans are here,” Silas’ eyes went back on outside the of the bar through the windows. As long as he could see his niece he’d watch; for all his bluster and joking he knew dangerous men all his days. He’d seen the aftermath of that turkey’s wrath on the last mayor. A shot right in the breast, the strength of his gun blew the imp back through the open window and down to the street below. You could tell by the hole Slit pulled that gun on him right on his chest.

A timely answer. Four of them pushed through the bat wing doors out of the Wrathian heat.

“Why don’t’cha go down to the cellar, fetch some more whiskey. Not the good stuff from Gluttony, got it? You should know which by now.” He said to Cassidy, he began to object, the boy as firry as him. He knew that look in Cassidy’s eyes. Mischief. Trouble. As much as Silas encouraged it, he couldn’t go picking on these men. Not with the town on as thin of ice as it is. He wanted to keep them as far from each other as possible.

“Yes sir,”

“Good boy, go on now.” His little nephew leapt down and disappeared into the kitchen. Oh, to be that fast, he envied him as the men approached the bar. The coral snake leaned against the counter, flicking up the brim of his hat to look at Silas. Dressed smart and flashy like his boss, sported an all-black ensemble with a bright splash of red in the scarf tied round his waist. As he leaned against the bar and sifted in his boots, Silas could hear the fancy spurs he had adorned them with.

“You still kickin’, cowpoke?” Writhe. Silas knew him as the brownnoser third wheel the ranger's command. He tried to cozy up to Slit every chance he got and plenty jealous of anybody he deemed closer to Slit than him. Silas recognized a few of the others as well. The big lemon shark was Ruckus; jollier rather than a menace. His accent gave him away as being from Greed originally. More like a man in the mob than someone from Wrath. He supposed it was why he was so jolly. The other two were new faces; not uncommon with Goetian rangers. If they were lucky they’d get themselves killed before long.

“Yes sir-y. ‘fraid Satan’s the only one callin’ this old man back to the land. Hope he makes a volcano outta me. Or maybe a mean long horn.” Silas chuckled. “So. Watch’a boys want to wet your whistle? Got a nice table set aside for ya by the windows. Prime sittin’, bein’ everyone else is workin’ their tails off right about now.”

“Imps, doin’ their job yeah? -S all they’re good for.” Writhe snickered, Silas tried not to give him satisfaction of an irked response. He told himself he had to be the bigger man here. No ifs, ands, or buts. No matter how much he wanted to throw the man out on his tail.

“I won’t hear any of that, if you know whats good for you. Go on ‘n sit. We’ll fetch you somethin’ to drink.”

“No menu?”

“Naw, ya’ll are early. Dinner won’t be for a few hours...”

~*~

And for a few hours, they were lucky. Slit’s men were quiet for the day, even more so than usual. The men ordered their drinks, took their seats and were whispering amongst themselves... making Silas extremely suspicious of the men’s discussion. He eyed them and his guns throughout the day. So much he completely forgot Cassidy’s present, only remembering when Felina finally pushed in through the doors. By that time, the doors had been fully closed to keep out bugs, so one couldn’t see out easily anymore. Many of their neighbors and friends had come to the saloon over the hours. Almost everyone had made appearances to wish Cassidy a happy birthday. Silas and Cassidy were so focused on Felina, that they didn’t notice Writhe stand to close the curtains. He motioned to the others, and they slipped through the doors into the night. Perhaps they were free from the oppressive presence of the rangers for a while.

Cassidy met his mother on her way to the bar, “So what’d he say? Are we good till next quarter ma?”

He noticed her freeze for a moment, her hesitation to answer him made him even more worried. She simply patted his head, smoothing down his wild hair. His stubborn curls popping back up as she took her hand away.

“We’re finished for the day, snakelet.” She stooped down and kissed Cassidy on the forehead. He turned red in embarrassment. “You don’t need to worry ‘bout that.”

“Ma…” She took him into a hug, something that should be comforting suddenly felt so ominous. He felt fear rise up in the pit of his stomach as she held him in her arms.

“Hush, you’ll always be my little snakelet. No matter how big you get.” She pinched his cheek, choosing to focus on something else rather than Cassidy’s worry. “Even if now you’re a man. Thirteen. Can’t believe it’s been that long.”

“Ah can!” Silas quipped from behind the bar, cleaning the countertop. “Next he’ll be drinkin’ and playin’ cards with the rest of us!”

“He’s not THAT old.” Felina said firmly. She held him close, smoothing down his hair. His stubborn cowlick refusing to be flattened back. Much to his mother’s frustration.

“What’d the Ranger want, ma?” He continued to pry as she licked her thumb in an attempt to smooth the stubborn curl down.

“Nothin’ baby, nothin’ for you to worry about…” She let him go, nudging him towards her uncle. “I need to go check in with everybody, hopefully your daddy shows up soon.”

“Ok…” Cassidy hopped up one of the barstools, putting his elbows up on the counter to support his chin. “How am I supposed to almost be a man if they won’t tell me ‘bout the town? I’m just worried ‘bout ma.”

“Somethings are better left unknown at this age Cas.” Silas sighed, putting up some of the dry glasses with the rag he’d been using thrown over his shoulder. “You’re on your way, soon you’ll be pinning for these times. Don’t wish to be so old so fast boy. Trust me.”

Cassidy held back the urge to blow out air at the comment. He just wanted to know why his mother was so troubled, was that so wrong?”

William pushed through the doors not long after, coming up to the bar. He didn’t even acknowledge his son, he was partially out of breath. Sweat glistening on his brow in the low light.

“Where’s Felina?” Silas pointed to the other side of the room, slightly perplexed. Cassidy shared this silent confusion; he should have seen his mother right when he came in...

“What’s the matter William? You blow out a fuse out on main street again-”

He suddenly lowered his voice; Cassidy hadn’t seen his father this serious since that day on the farm... “Silas. I saw collection wagons.”

“You didn’t, you gotta be mistaken boy.” Silas hissed, his eyes flickering to Cassidy to get William to stop.

“They had that bitches sigil on it, they are movin’ in on us, we need to get out of here now.”

“William you’re just jumpy, that's all. Ain’t no way they sent that feather duster in to do a meeting just to collect. They’d have given us notice anyway! Them royals are always about rules and regulation.”

Suddenly Felina was by her husband’s side, having to lean slightly to put her hands on his shoulders.

“What's wrong sweetheart, I can tell you’re shook up, what is it?” She had determination in her voice, not ready for her husband’s report. He started to speak when suddenly,

CLACK!

Everyone was startled by the doors being thrown open with suck force, in the double doorway stood none other than Slit; A smile on his wide jaws. The brim of his hat casting an eerie shadow across his face, those glowing eyes peering out from the darkness. Felina and William walked back towards the entrance together to meet him. Most likely to shoo the man out before he started a panic, fight or worse.

“WELL. Nobody told me ya’ll were holdin’ a party for the boy. Guess I lost my invitation.” Slit rumbled, still smiling that wicked grin. Cassidy jumped down from the barstool to catch up with his parents, he stood behind his mother to peek around her.

“You weren’t wanted.” Felina nudged her husband for the comment, but the little imp stood with his arms crossed staring at the Utahraptor over three times his size. His tail buzzed silently, unable to hide his distaste for the intruder.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Mr. Bohannon! And even after I went through the trouble of bringin’ your hatchlin’ a present!” Slit said, suddenly spying Cassidy behind his mother. He almost jumped out of his skin when the raptor’s gaze caught his.

“Well, he doesn’t want anythin’ from you. Take it and leave!” Bill’s temper was getting the better of him. Felina, not wanting a fight to break out, took her husband by the overall strap and gently tugged him towards the bar.

“Honey, maybe you should go help Silas out at the bar.”

“But-“

“William.” She said firmly. Bill relented, retreating to the bar with a glare pointed at Slit. Cassidy felt sheepish and embarrassed standing behind his mother as his father walked past him. Almost as if he were a coward for not getting closer.

“Come ‘er boy, I don’t bite… ‘less you give me a reason.” Slit chuckled as he motioned for him to come closer with a claw. Felina took Cassidy by the shoulders and gently placed him in front of her. She held his shoulders the whole time for support; just as scared as he was.

“So. You’re thirteen. Well on your way to becomin’ a man. I felt it fittin’ that I should give you somethin’ practical,” Slit opened his coat, the ranger badge now visible on his chest. Unlike when he was eight, Cassidy knew well what that symbol meant. Authority. Fear. The Goetia.

Slit reached into the inner coat pocket, slowly he produced a knife. It was a handsome blade, a deep crimson with black patterns running down it. He held the hilt first before he gave the knife a small toss, catching it by the blade. Cassidy slightly amazed by the raptor not cutting himself. He held it out to the boy with a smile, leaning down to match Cassidy’s height. Cassidy glanced at his mother, concern still on her face but she nodded for him to take it. He gripped the hilt offered to him, expecting him to release the blade. Suddenly, Slit yanked the blade towards himself, dragging Cassidy towards him out of his mother’s grip. He was standing snout to snout with an enormous predator. Plenty of teeth and claws to devour the boy on the spot. Cassidy sucked in a deep breath; he could smell the tabaco and dirt on him. He held it in his chest for a moment.

The boy told himself not to be scared of him, his yellow eyes holding those icy blues. Slit let out a long low chuckle at him.

“Braver than you look, hm?”

“Than.. thank you, Mr. Moab…” Cassidy finally said firmly, not looking away from him.

Slit nodded at him with that long grin of his, "Hope it serves you well boy.” He finally released it, retreating backwards to rise to his full height. Then Cassidy reached into his pants pocket, while he didn’t make much on tips, he was able to produce what he was looking for; a penny. Slit looked confused as the boy held the coin out to him.

“It’s a gift, there’s no reason for you to be payin’ me for it.” He sounded more annoyed than anything, frustrated the boy was continuing to interact with him.

“It’s for luck.” Cassidy said, slightly worried he’d misremembered the superstition. “So, the knife don’t cut you out.”

“An imp superstition.” He wrinkled his nose, Cassidy waited for another comment to follow pointed towards his imp half. He struggled to keep his tail spade from thumping on the floor.

“A WRATH superstition.” Silas yelled from the bar, giving Cassidy a little of his confidence back. Slit made a noise between annoyance and agreement. Finally taking the coin from the boy, he opened his coat and put it in his inner breast pocket. Closing his jacket, he patted his chest to show it was safe.

“Cut me outta what exactly, boy?”

“My life, seein’ as you’re important to rattlebone, ain’t’cha.” Cassidy’s response received a long loud laugh as everyone else looked on in fear. “It’d be bad for... you to get cut out.”

“Good to know at least you got a full sense of humor boy.” He cleared his throat, receiving several pointed glares for the comment. Slit took his time finding a spot at the bar alone; simply observing the group, his presence hanging over them like an oppressive cloud.

“I suppose if we’re giving gifts, I should get yours. Being someone didn’t give it to you earlier.” Felina cleared her throat, attempting to clear the air. She shot a look at Silas who sheepishly smiled at her. She walked behind the bar William chasing after her.

“Felina, we need to talk-”

“In a minute William, let me get Cassidy’s present.” Her dismissal clearly making William angry, but he held his tongue. Glaring at Slit, he impatient waited for his wife to return. Slit just grinned back at him, as if he knew why William was so jumpy.

Finally, Felina reappeared from the back of the bar, and Cassidy’s attention was turned onto what she was carrying. It was a hatbox. And not like the old dusty boxes that sat on top of his parent's old hand-me-down wardrobe that contained odds and ends; it was a glossy black new hat box.

“Now we all pitched in for this, and your uncle Silas called in a favor-“

“Hurumph, less of a favor, that old hog-nose’s owed me more for years-“

“Hush,” Felina took a moment before starting again. “This is yours.”

She motioned for him to come back to the bar, Cassidy excitedly leaping up onto the bar stool to see exactly what they had gotten him. She set the box in front of him, his eyes wide. He reached out, hesitant and unsure. Just the box itself was a bit daunting.

“Come on boy, open it! We’ve been waitin’ months for you to see it!” Bill said, trying to sound happy but a bit of frustration still creeped into his voice. Carefully, Cassidy slipped the lid off the box, gently setting it to the side. Beneath it was a layer of white tissue paper. Another moment of hesitation before he slid back the layers to reveal a brand new dark grey felted cowboy hat. His eyes wide in awe, he reached for it but hesitated.

“Go on snakelet, its ok,” Felina said, patting him on the back. Gently he took it in his hands by the brim. It felt expensive, even his untrained hands could tell the fur used was high quality. He placed it on his head over his horns. The brim was a bit large for him but otherwise fit like a glove.

“Look at ya! Like a proper cowboy!” Silas chuckled.

“Brims a bit big… unfortunately they don’t make sizes between snake and imp so we went big just in case. You still got some growin’ to do!” Everyone was so focused on complimenting Cassidy and his hat, nobody noticed Slit rise from his seat and stalk towards the doors. Producing a matchbox and cigar out of his jacket; he didn’t light up however as he approached the doors.

“Well hope ya’ll had fun here tonight; cause it’s our turn to be celebratin’,” Slit’s voice was loud and clear, getting everyone's attention, his hands on the doors behind him. Throwing them open behind him to reveal his men from earlier; The coral snake handed him an oil lamp, snickering and laughing with the other men, Cassidy could see the green glow of hellfire behind them.

“On behalf of her grace, Duchess Dantalion,” Slit threw the lamp to the floor, kerosene covering the floorboards; He strikes a match, lighting his cigar before tossing it onto the puddle. A green flame erupting in front of the door. All Cassidy could hear was his wicked laughter, the frightened rise of his family and the roar of the spreading green fire. “Consider this an eviction notice!”

The fire grew and seemed to consume everything as Slit and his men disappeared cackling behind the smoke. This was only the beginning.