December 31

  “Alright, alright now! Everyone listen up!” Deadeye Rand stood up from his seat, tapping a champagne glass with a fork. “Let’s all take a moment.”

  Warm light bathed the room before him, full of partygoers. New Year’s Eve at the Smoky Mountain Sanctuary was always an event. Six-Guns from all around came to usher in a brand-new year in style. Tables sat covered in glasses, playing cards, stacks of money, and bottles of all kinds. A big band of plaid-shirted musicians played in the corner, the pleasant sounds of swing music amping up the crowd. They fell silent with the call of the Foreman, however.

  “I’d like to thank everyone here for a stupendous year!” Rand’s moustache curled up as he smiled, “And I wish you all another! We’ve all been through so much, some of us more than others, but let’s all take the time to thank ourselves, our friends, and the Lord Almighty for the time we have on this Earth. May we get much more.”

  “I’ll drink to that!” Came a voice from the crowd.

  “Then drink!” Logan Denton barked, “And shut the Hell up!”

  This outburst earned the laughter of the crowd, and a few chuckles from the Foreman.

  “Ok, ok…” Rand shook his head, “Lets ALL drink to that! Enjoy, ladies and gents.”

  The music kicked back up again as the party continued. Outside the party hall, in the cobbled street, Calvin Baird could hear the party revving back up. Team Bootknife huddled up together outside, scheming on how to get into the event.

  “Ok,” Calvin looked between Buster and John, “There’s only one guard, looks like. We oughta be able to distract him and slip in.”

  A single Six-Gun stood outside the venue, arms crossed.

  “We’re gonna get us some champagne...” The Rodeo Clown could hardly contain his excitement, covering his mouth as he snickered, “Have ourselves a little bubbly-boo…”

  “How do you know you’ll even like that stuff?” John did not look impressed.

  Rolling his eyes, Calvin turned to him. “The big Guns all love that stuff. It’s like a tradition. Maybe show a LITTLE spirit, John.”

  “I’m just saying it’s kind of a dumb thing to get in trouble over.”

  “You sound like Elise…” Buster poked him, “Partners taking on each other’s habits I see…”

  The youngest of the Calhouns batted his hand away, face flushed in the light of the streetlamps. “Quit it, Buster!”

  The two witches stood a step away, watching with curiosity.

  “These guys are clueless.” Elise put her hands on her hips, curls bouncing as she tilted her head.

  “I want some champagne too, sounds devious…” Grinned Mavis.

  “Mhm.” Elise pursed her lips, “Fine, why not?”

  “Say we DO get past that guy at the door…” John’s blue eyes flicked between his teammates, “How are we gonna evade the Bootknife? You know if he catches us, he’ll tan our hides.”

  Cal nodded, “We drop our Resolve to zero like old man Crickett taught us, just kinda slip in with the crowd.”

  “Liable to be packed in there.” Buster pointed to his forehead, as if to show he was thinking at a high level.

  John found himself unimpressed, “Whatever, guess he can’t make things worse for us than they have been. Let’s go in.”

  “You know, we don’t have to sneak in.” Elise told the boys, “They let witches in fine; it’s just you losers who have to scheme.”

  “So I’ll catch you in there then.” John cocked an eyebrow, “Enjoy the party.”

  This hit a nerve with the blonde witch, who simply stood in place.

  “That’s what I thought.” He shook his head, “You wanna help us get past this guy?”

  “Fine, watch this.” Grinned the blonde witch.

  Chauncy Higgs stood watch at the door to the party hall, arms crossed in front of him. The Tennessee winter wasn’t quite so cold as it could be, but it was still too nippy to be hanging out all night. The look on his face was one of abject boredom, eyes heavy under his hat brim.

  “Fucking every time…” He grumbled, “I get the shit jobs every. Single. Time.”

  He observed as the group in the street approached. The blondie from the Green Coven floated over to him.

  “Mister…” Elise put on her best lost puppy, batting her eyelashes as she clasped her hands in front of her chest, “I REALLY need some help! I can’t find my way around here, and I lost my big, strong Gun!”

  This was very ineffective. Chauncy gave her the flattest, most unimpressed look imaginable.

  “Kill me.” He muttered.

  “HEY!” Immediately Elise flared in anger, “Won’t you help a pretty witch in distress?”

  Chauncy waved a hand, “Look, if you and your group wanna go in, just go in. I’m not trying to put in the effort to stop you.”

  “Hurry, before they run out of the bubbly!” Cal and Buster rushed in giddily, squeezing against each other as they tried to fit through the door at once.

  Mavis floated after, giggling at her awkward team. Stepping slowly past, John patted Elise on the back in commiseration.

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  “You’re an asshole.” Elise found she was still hurt from her failed persuasion.

  “That’s not gonna work on Hearts like me.” The Gun shook his head, “Go on, I didn’t see you.”

  With that, the witch floated on with wounded pride. She left Chauncy alone in the light of the streetlamp.

  “No end to the shit jobs…”

  ^^^

  The party inside had escalated as the drums began to bang. A few Six-Guns from Texas had made their way to the dance floor. These were Pachucos, Mexican Americans in their baggy Zoot Suits, moving with expertise as they danced. Though there had been Mexicans in the Posse since its inception, they had only recently gained their first Pachuco Guns in El Paso, and these men brought the energy up in the room. One such Gun present was the card-carrying Club in the bright red Zoot Suit called Tio Tejano, a famously warm-hearted Mexican who insisted everyone refer to him as their uncle.

  “That’s right!” Okie Willard, the only non-Pachuco on the floor, danced alongside Tio. The pair of Clubs were happy to get down after they’d had a few drinks. “How bout we make this fun, huh Tio?”

  Swiping from his holsters, Okie started juggling two of his pistols. He spun them on his fingers as he danced, tossing and catching them around his back to the rhythm of the music.

  Tio let out a coyote laugh and drew his own, “You got spirit, Sobrino! I’ll take you up!”

  Guns around them laughed and hooted as the two twirled and tossed their guns.

  Sitting on a plush couch, Lou Cobb draped his arm around his wife. Madeline smiled as she watched the dancing. She looked to her husband.

  “Think you could get a lady a drink?”

  “Done.” He smirked.

  Buster and Calvin crawled along the ground underneath the drink table on all fours, avoiding detection from the keen-eyed Bootknife. They bumped into several guns standing around, who simply went about their business. Buster emerged before a perfectly attractive glass of sparkling champagne, the last of the batch on the table in front of him. His grin wide, he carefully reached for the glass.

  A crow swooped from the ceiling just as his hand touched the glass. The bird sharply scooped the glass, taking care not to spill its contents. The clown blinked, stunned.

  Lou held out his hand as the crow delivered it perfectly. He kept a nonchalant demeanor, earning a playful smack from his wife. She took the glass and sipped.

  “That was weird.” Buster whispered harshly, now under the table with Calvin. “What now?”

  John elected to stand among the other Guns alongside Elise. He figured Logan wouldn’t look his way anyhow.

  “Pretty packed in here.” He remarked, hand on his hip. “They really get down.”

  The blonde witch grinned as she saw all the rowdy guns at work. Some of them had taken to laughing horribly, others sitting and slamming cards down at tables.

  “Can’t believe we rely on you fools to protect people from supernatural threats.” Her eyes scanned the crowd, “Oh look! There’s my sister!”

  She pointed to a large poker table. Tornado Joe sat there, two cards in hand. Winona ran her fingers through his red hair, studying the table.

  “Got nothing, do ya?” Logan sat nearby, puffing on a cigar. A plaid-shirted waiter brought him a fresh glass of champagne, which he ignored in favor of his whiskey.

  “You don’t know that.” Joe glared, “Just trying to strategize.”

  “Trying to bluff.” Sighed Smallmouth, “We know you’re counting on the river.”

  “River rat, totally!” Logan slapped his chest, snorting smoke out.

  “Oh shut up!” Joe swiped out few chips, “I raise five bucks. What you think about that?”

  “Whatever you say, river rat.” Smallmouth burned a card and then placed a card down in the river position.

  “Fuck.” Joe squeaked. The river would not save his bet, apparently.

  “Your teacher never taught you poker, obviously.” Smallmouth shook his head, revealing his winning hand.

  Logan removed the cigar from his mouth, “That’s cause Baird couldn’t play for shit either!”

  This earned laughter from the whole table.

  “No way I’m going over there.” John shook his head, “Bootknife will skin me alive.”

  Elise pushed him with a laugh, “You coward! It’s a holiday. He’ll go easy for sure.”

  “Fine for YOU to say.”

  Elise hadn’t been listening to him, she just noticed somebody else. Jumping back behind John, she shrunk away holding his shoulders.

  “What?” He twisted a bit

  “My mom!” She whispered.

  Shaina Grey had come over to the table to greet her older daughter. She wrapped her arms around Tornado Joe in a motherly gesture.

  “Abort immediately!” Hissed the younger of the Grey daughters.

  “Now who’s the coward?”

  ^^^

  Sitting at the table in the corner of the party room, the Coal Man lounged about. He eyeballed a glass of champagne, holding it up to the light.

  “Kinda yellow, if you look at it in the right light.” He snickered.

  “Mmm.” D, the Prophet of the Yellow King, munched on some crackers and cheese, “Good point, it does look the right color.”

  He swallowed and sat back, wide cloak bunched up behind him, “Wonderful year for us too! You came back, I came back. Hell, we got our princess here.”

  He turned to the beautiful golden-haired young lady in the seat next to him. She looked mousy, a little overwhelmed by the festivities. Edel sipped on orange juice, happy to participate how she could.

  “Next year ought to be your year, though.” D pat her shoulder gently, “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll do amazing things. Just like that Foreman said, we thank our Lord for our time here.”

  “Think he meant somebody different.” The Coal Man snickered.

  “Nah, could he have?” Sarcasm dripped off of the Prophet’s words.

  The two of them laughed menacingly, earning a soft smile from Edel. The sense of camaraderie among her knights had shaken some of her nerves away.

  “Well, I’m excited.” She set her glass down, “Hopefully I’ll get to meet more of our friends.”

  “Oh, I think so.” D nodded, “Got that scarecrow coming down from Montana. Conjured him up a while ago. And then of course, old Dusty here is gonna bring your husband to us.”

  He smacked the Coal Man on his chest, kicking up a puff of black coal.

  “Kicking and screaming, if I got to.” Grinned the Coal Man.

  ^^^

  “We AINT Getting any without getting caught.” Buster crawled further on, Calvin following.

  Mavis scouted for them, floating up to get a better view.

  Suddenly, Calvin found an ally on the ground with them. Crickett sat cross-legged on the floor, blinking back at him.

  “Hey there youngin!” He grinned, “What’cha doing here on the floor? Countdown’s coming soon.”

  “Old man!” Calvin held up a finger, “Keep your voice down! We snuck in, don’t wanna get caught by the Bootknife.”

  “Oh, that’s fun.” He stroked his beard, “Why all the fuss?”

  “Can you get us some champagne?” cried Buster, “Please, old mushroom sage please!”

  “Oh, I aint drinking that bubble water, youngins.” The sage held up a jar of his Elixir moonshine, “Want to celebrate with a sip?”

  “No thanks, I like my insides where they are.” Buster shook his head, “We’ll keep moving.”

  “Suit yourself.” Crickett shrugged and gulped the shine down.

  Both Buster and Calvin had a hard time finding their precious bubbly. With midnight fast approaching, the supply had just about run dry. Finally, he spotted a perfectly pristine glass of champagne. Too many of the Guns stood in the way, so he couldn’t see who it was next to, but he did keep his eyes on it as he moved forward. Bumping past several annoyed Six-Guns, Calvin and Buster reached the treasured glass. The chanting began as Calvin reached up.

  “Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six!”

  Calvin’s hand was caught. Sitting next to the glass of champagne was the Bootknife himself. The glass had gone untouched as he had been sipping from his flask. He stared down at the pair of his trespassing students.

  “FIVE!”

  “Oh I see.” Logan grumbled.

  “FOUR!”

  He pulled Calvin up to his feet as he stood, unphased by the countdown.

  “THREE!”

  Logan swiped the Gellerite knife from his boot, holding the point to Calvin’s chin.

  “TWO!”

  “Thought I told you this ain’t a party for you!”

  “ONE!”

  “Oughta whoop you raw!”

  The door burst open at the end of the countdown. A tall, lean Gun jumped through the threshold with vigor, his blonde hair tossing back alongside the poncho marked with triangles. Stark blue eyes took in the scene.

  “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” shouted Billy Baird, the Sunshine State Southpaw.

  He held up both hands, two bottles of fine champagne from the French countryside in each one.

  Logan dropped Calvin, glaring down at him. “Saved by the bell…”

  Ivan Rand stood up from his spot again. “Let’s drink! Happy New Year everybody!”