The witches went about their preparations, circling the perimeter of the Hooverville to place barrier runes. Winona showed Ivy how she liked to place them, setting her hand on the ground and speaking words of power.

  “Water, water, cruel but fair. Rinse in light, unbind and pare.” Her incantation held power, the poem charged with magical energy. Ivy watched the shimmering purple magical energy release from her hand. The sidewalk below was scorched with the magic, leaving behind a symbol in Tisch. This was a barrier rune, intended to act as a pylon for other barrier runes to connect to in a line and form a barrier. The particular barrier they were forming was referred to as a Blue barrier, one intended to dismantle the magical structure of objects passing through it. Items with limited or incredibly simple magical flow, like natural objects or normal human beings, could pass through virtually unharmed. The Blue barrier would at most make a particularly sensitive human feel dizzy or nauseated. However, for most supernatural entities the Blue barrier was deadly. Witches like Winona and Ivy had ways of simplifying their magical flow on the fly to remain unaffected by Blue barriers, but the Six-Gun sitting in the Hooverville could not. He would be killed if he passed through. Winona hated to put these barriers up, knowing they put Joe in danger. She did understand the need for it, though, so she worked without protest.

  “So, we string them together in a big circle, then the barrier will connect and it will box in the Skinwalker.” Winona told her. “Simple enough?”

  “Can we help him once the barrier goes up?” Ivy asked, placing her own rune down a ways away from the one she saw Winona put down.

  “We will stay out of his way, but we will be there to bind any wounds on the people caught inside.”

  “Is it common for people to get caught in the hunt?”

  Winona shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “No, definitely not. But with Skinwalkers, we have no choice. They often hide among the people. That’s what makes these jobs so difficult.”

  The witches placed their runes down, one after the other, until they met once again on the other side of the Hooverville. This had taken them hours to do, and they seemed quite strange to the people loitering in the streets. Their work now complete, Winona charged more magical energy into the rune in front of her and watched as the barrier rose. It was virtually invisible, like glass slightly tinted. She stuck her finger through it, shifting the magical properties of her hand to avoid damage.

  “This works. He will know that it’s up.” She nodded. “Good job Ivy.”

  Ivy gleamed with pride, happy to see she had helped. Her look then shifted back to concern as she faced the Hooverville fence. “Are you sure he’s gonna be ok, sister?”

  Winona nodded, “He’s fine. Joe is one of the more skilled Six-Guns you’ll find running around. He’s a King of Diamonds. They don’t hand that rank to just anyone. Now come on and let’s pass through. We can take a high spot on the palace and just observe for anyone who needs help.”

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  They drifted up to the top of Somner’s office and perched there like black birds, observing the shantytown below. Ivy pointed out Tornado Joe, who was sitting cross-legged in the center of the Hooverville, his head bowed.

  People stood and stared at Joe, who sat there breathing in and out deeply. In front of him lay twelve large pistol cartridges. The bullets pressed atop them shone in the setting sunlight. One of the guards, himself an Army veteran, looked to the cartridges with interest.

  “Those don’t look like any pistol rounds I ever seen.”

  “That’s because they ain’t like any pistol rounds you seen.” Joe answered, eyes still closed. “Those are Six-Gun rounds. They’re .458 Comet rounds, we made ‘em special. It’s like a .45 Colt, but we suped it up for our uses.”

  The veteran could see now that it definitely did look like .45 Colt, but dramatically lengthened and reinforced. “You take down ghoulies with those?”

  “Among other things, yes.”

  After another moment of meditation, Joe opened his eyes and pulled a large knife from a sheath on his belt. The knife gleamed with the same material that comprised his pistol frame, an odd-looking alloy, to the uninitiated. Joe took the rounds in his hands and one by one carved an X into the bullets with his knife. He took his time with each one, making deep channels in the bullets without damaging the casings. Then, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a small bottle of purple fluid. The townsfolk watched with interest as he poured the liquid into the channels, using the knife’s edge to guide it. He caked on the sediment from the bottle, ensuring plenty of material would dry onto the rounds. When he was done, he laid the rounds back in front of him.

  “Its wolfsbane” He spoke after a moment, noticing that a nearby woman was very interested in the mixture. "Wolfsbane interrupts magical pathways in the body. It will damage the Skinwalker’s ability to shift.”

  Joe knew full well any one of these people watching him could be the Skinwalker. He was ready for anything, having prepared earlier in the day with his cigarillos. His instincts told him the Skinwalker would try to remain inconspicuous, most likely it didn’t even know he was there in Somner’s Palace yet. He breathed in and entered a Resolute state. Noticing immediately that the barrier had gone up, he knew it was time to search.

  In his focus he could sense the life energy of all the people around him. The veterans felt strong and firm, and the townsfolk all seemed on edge. The air was charged with the latent energy of the coming fight, he could feel it. He felt the stark magical energy of the two witches sitting atop a tall building nearby. It was like the lamp of a lighthouse, a beacon amongst the other energies intermingled on the ground. As the light started to drain from the November evening, he homed in on a distinctly different energy.

  The Skinwalker could shift its physical form, but not the magical signature of its energy. It was clear to the Six-Gun, with a little serious searching, that the Skinwalker resided in one of the ramshackle huts on the South side of the Hooverville, alone.

  While he sat there for so long, the people had cleared out. It was time for the denizens of the Hooverville to turn in for the night. He opened his eyes, gathered his cartridges, and drew his pistol. The large handgun, ornately decorated engravings depicting thorny wreaths, glimmered in the low electric lights which had come on as the sun set. He flicked open the cylinder and six empty chambers greeted him, awaiting their rounds. With the fluidity and precision of a carefully practiced Gun, Tornado Joe loaded all six rounds into their chambers in one swipe. This was a part of the gunslinging martial art the Six-Guns learned, the Viper school of Gunmanship, passed down by Gunslinger Grady himself. The Viper school emphasized the natural fluidity in motion and the quick striking capability of a snake. Every Six-Gun was taught how to work his revolver pistol in the Viper school, Joe was no different. He stood up, ready to get to work.