“They’s sure a rowdy bunch,” Mary observed dryly.

“C’mon girl,” Ed chastised, “You know you’re gonna make a killing tonight.”

The manner in which he spoke to his whores like horses was only made worse by Ed’s fake Bostonian accent. Everyone knew he was Irish, because when he got too drunk his thick brogue returned. But he was smart, and he paid his girls what was considered a more than fair share of the money. As long he did that, they were willing to put up with his airs. There were, after all, far less savory saloon operators in the world than Edward Cull.

“I’m wondering where they all came from,” Nancy mused from behind the bar.

“You just keep wondering how thirsty they are.”

“Ain’t you a right ray of sunshine today,” Nancy observed.

Ed kept his eyes on his the trio of happy customers who occupied a table at the far side of the saloon. Outside in the dusty street were at least twenty more men.

“I don’t know these men,” he told the two girls quietly. “But I’m guessin’ they ain’t entirely honest, looking at that pile of money they’re breaking up.”

“Can we get some more whiskey?” one of them called out.

“Sure thing, Mister,” Nancy replied, turning to grab a brown bottle off the shelf. She handed the bottle to Mary, who took it and crossed the floor to the dirty, yet well attired gentlemen.

“My, you know I do like women with red hair,” one of them observed, his voice gravely from beneath his thick black beard.

“Can you keep it in your pants?” the man who had asked for the drink ordered, his tone revealing which of the three was in charge. “Those boys out there are just as keen for a poke as you are, Cletus, and they need their money.”

“You know,” Mary told the leader, filling his glass first before the others, “My boss sells tokens. You could save yourselves a little money …”

“You’d sell me tokens, for my boys, at a discount?”

“That’s right,” Mary replied, placing the bottle on the table in a way that let the man have a good look at her cleavage.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“We ain’t the only whores in town, Mister. But there’s seven girls here, and I only see ‘bout twenty men out there.”

“Twenty-three. You girls reckon you’d handle four pokes a piece?”

“We are professional women,” Mary retorted, as though offended.

“Why not?” black-beard asked. “What saving you propose?”

“That’d be up to Ed.”

“Then send Ed over.”

 

Her first customer was black-beard, who turned out to be a bounty hunter she’d heard talked about in the saloon for years. Mary had expected the lecherous man to finish up quickly, as in her experience such men had little self control. He surprised her, and revealed some experience in making a poke last. Still, Mary maintained her reputation and he was done long before she grew tired.

“You are a good poke,” he told her, rolling off to splay out on the large bed.

“Why thank-you Mister McKinley.” It had been as close to a compliment as Cletus McKinley had come in a long time, and somehow Mary was certain of that.

“If all you girls have half you’re talents, my lads are gonna be easier company on the ride back.”

“What you boy’s doing?”

“We’re going home. It’s been a few months since I even said the word.”

“Where you been all that time?”

“Treasure huntin’. My employer, who as I’m sure you noticed don’t talk much, hired us to go beating around Mexico for some ancient Indian treasure he heard tell about. We did find somethun’.” He chuckled, “You believe in curses?”

“In what now, honey?”

“Curses. You know … black magic and the like.”

“Do I look like a heathen to you?”

He laughed. “No sweetheart. You look like the most damnest god-fear’n woman of em all.”

She slapped his chest

“I’m sorry! Don’t hit me, damn it!”

“You best get on your way.”

Cletus was on his feet, chuckling once more as he climbed into his pants. Securing his suspenders, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few dollars.

“Here … don’t tell Ed I gave you this.”

Mary took the coins gratefully. She hadn’t expected them.

“That crazy witch in the mountains said the next time we poked a woman would be the last. Well, if that was my last poke it was good one. Thank you.”

 

As Mary continued to work into the night she learned more about the strange posse that had ridden into town. Each of them spoke of the curse, giving her more information until, by the time her fourth customer left, she had learned the grizzly truth.

There was no search for treasure. These men had been in Mexico raiding villages. They were nothing more than well-dressed bandits, and had spent months raping and pillaging their way across Mexico. In one village, they had encountered a very strange story about some sort of mystical cult in the mountains. When they checked out the rumours, they had found a group of native women worshipping some unknown goddess of destruction. As in the villages, what followed was a lot of rape, murder, and thievery. The difference was, this time they had killed everyone.

The last woman to die had been the one to deliver the curse. She had told them the goddess would avenge their brutal deaths, and that the next time the bandits took pleasure from a woman they would sow the seeds of their own doom.

Her share of the nights work secured in the secret place behind her dresser, Mary laid her head down to sleep. Normally, she would lay there thinking about her dreams of breaking free from Ed and the life of a whore. Sometimes she dreamed with open eyes for hours about how her life would change once she’d saved enough money. This night, despite having more to think about than usual, she fell into a deep sleep almost the instant she pulled up the covers.

Throughout the night Mary’s dreams were a rollercoaster of nightmares and euphoric imagery. Flashes of a burning village, screams of desperation and fear were mixed with strangely familiar, yet impossibly beautiful faces decorated one moment with warm smiles and evil gloating sneers the next. A voice spoke to her, sometimes narrating the vision, other times spewing hate-filled rants. The voice spoke in a language Mary found entirely alien, and yet she clearly understood every word. And when Mary woke her head was full of knowledge she had not possessed the day before.

She had never been an early riser, but her room was still dark. Outside the sky was showing the first hints of daybreak at the horizon. Normally, after a busy night she woke feeling a little sore, and not just from a hangover. It was in the morning that Mary regretted her profession most of all. But as she sat and swung her legs out from under her quilt, she felt better than she had in her entire life.

Mary had never believed in black magic. She put no stock in tales of haunted Apache burial grounds or the power of shamans. Charlatans came through this small border town every day claiming to have magical abilities and invariably selling some sort of mystical tonic made from dark arts. When someone spoke of the supernatural Mary tended to be one of the more vocal skeptics. Never again. Now she knew there were powers at work in the world … forces far more powerful than she had ever dreamed. Because now she was one of them.

The voice in her dream had told her many things. It promised Mary the power to free herself from men forever. It promised her the entire world on a plate. But it also made demands. Strong demands. And when Mary understood the reasons behind the demands, she gladly accepted the offer.

Removing her nightgown, Mary took a dress that was slung over her full-length mirror and tossed it on the bed. Regarding herself in the mirror she saw that she looked even better than she felt, just as the voice had promised. So beautiful had she become, so physically perfect, that Mary stood there hypnotized by her casually erotic reflection until a massive crash rocked the building and broke the spell.

“What!? How did you do that to Joey!?”

Mary smiled. It had already begun. The question had come from downstairs, the voice belonging to a man she had never seen before, but a man whose face had been burned into her mind along with twenty six other faces last night. Her smile vanished as a rage filled her. It was not her own anger, but the images of crying terrified women that flashed through her mind allowed her to embrace it. Taking a petticoat and at least partially dressing herself, Mary grasped the doorhandle and got a hint at how extremely strong she had become. The metal let out a tortured cry and the handle broke free even as it deformed in her fingers. She lifted the brass handle and examined it closely as her fingers squished into it as though it were unset taffy.

She dropped the handle and gave the door a shove that tore it from its hinges, shattering the hardwood to splinters. She had never thought being strong would make her feel so good. Looking at her petite hand, a smile returned to her features for a brief moment before she made her way downstairs.

Five of the bandits had fallen asleep drunk on the floor of the saloon. As usual, Elizabeth had come downstairs to get drunk after she’d finished for the night and had passed out on the bar. She now stood with four dazed men trapped between her and the door. A fifth was crumpled on the floor at the foot of a support post. Mary knew instantly that he was dead.

“Stay back! I mean it!”

“Damn straight! I ain’t never shot no woman, but if you take one more step!”

“Never shot a woman?” Mary asked, stepping off the stairs and walking over to the confused Elizabeth. “Liar.”

“Mary … is that you?” Elizabeth was even more confused now. “I … I killed that man.”

“I know.”

“I wanted to do it. I wanted to just throw him so hard …”

“I know, Lizzy.”

“But … how can I be so … so strong?”

All the men had their guns out now, cocked and aimed at Elizabeth.

“You keep that witch away! And step aside so we can leave.”

“Leave?” Mary asked, her tone sultry yet full of menace. “Why would I want to let you leave? You boys ain’t going nowhere.”

“I’ll shoot ya, goddamit!”

Mary smiled at him coldly. “You shouldn’t have killed those women. Now you boys are gonna pay.”

As Mary took a step a shot rang out. A ragged hole was torn in her petticoat, but Mary kept her eyes fixed on the shooter. When she didn’t go down, the man shot again.

“Why ain’t she bleedin’?”

“Do you believe in curses, little fella?” Mary asked him.

A look of terror flashed across all four faces and all four men emptied their pistols in panic. Elizabeth gasped as several bullets hit her, but Mary just stood there calmly accepting the fact that her petticoat was done for.

One of them made a dash to get to the door, but Elizabeth became a blur that solidified in his path. He collided with her and fell to floor. Her expression became stern as a cold desire to end his life overcame her. She reached down and hoisted him easily into the air, and he was suddenly sailing across the bar and into the shelves behind it. Sixteen bottles of cheap whiskey shattered, doing far more harm to the doomed gunslinger than planks of the shelves did. He ended up on the floor behind the bar, drenched in alcohol and oozing blood from countless deep cuts. His cry of pain announced his unexpected survival.

“Mary … what’s happening to us?”

“Go upstairs and get the others. I don’t want to go over it more times than I have to.”

Having always been the unofficial Madam at Ed’s saloon, Mary’s instruction was followed without complaint. She turned to the three men.

“Which one of you wants to die next?”

With no bullets left, the biggest men yanked a long cruel knife from his boot and leapt at her. She stood there and let him drive the blade into her stomach. Holding her shoulder as she put her hands on her hips, the bandit repeatedly plunged the knife into her gut until he quickly grew fatigued and stepped back panting.

“What was that all about?” Mary asked, her head tilting curiously.

The mans eyes went wild he repeated the process. As he did, one of the others tried to get to the door. Moving so fast she surprised herself, Mary took the knife from her assailant and threw it so that the hilt hit the runner and knocked him over, the force carrying him across a table. Mary carefully backhanded the man she’d taken the knife from, but didn’t hold back enough. She heard his jaw fracture, along with several vertebrae in his neck, and he span away to crash into floor.

The last man standing made to leap at a window, but Mary put a stop to that. Instinctively, she pursed her lips and blew him a kiss. The puff of air, perfectly judged even though this was her first attempt at such a feat, lifted him up and slammed him into the wall beside the window.

“How did you … do … that?” the dazed man she’d hit with knife demanded from the floor. He had dragged himself closer to the wall, and eyed Mary with open terror.

“Mary …”

The girls were all standing on the stairs now, all six of them staring at Mary trying to understand what she had just done. Mary smiled at them warmly. As promised, her army of destroyers was magnificent to behold. Each more beautiful and alluring than the next.

“What’s going on Mary? Why do I feel so...good?”

“We’ve been … I don’t know how to explain it right, but I guess we’ve been blessed.”

“Hey in there!” A loud, very familiar voice demanded attention on the street. Virgil Patterson had been sheriff of this town near twenty years before Mary had even been born. “Is you alright Ed? What’s all that shootin’?”

“Wait a minute,” Mary told the six women. “Let me just get rid of him.”

The increasing pre-dawn light was still so soft that Mary’s face was obscured as she stepped out of the saloon. Virgil was gobsmacked by her state of undress, his gun shaking as he fumbled to return it to its holster.

“Miss Mary? Dat you? Damn girl, don’t you look a …”

His voice trailed off as she came off the porch and approached near enough for the old man to make out her features. He shook off his sudden urges and concentrated on being sheriff.

“What’s all the shooting? And why ain’t you got no clothes on you …” he paused a moment as his eyes wandered the dangerous curves of her body. “I oughta cite you for public indecency.”

“And just what do you see that’s indecent about me, Sheriff Patterson?”

There was silence as he struggled to answer.

“There ain’t nothing to concern you with those guns going off. Ain’t nobody hurt … them boys just playin’ is all.”

“Alright … but I best come in and see.”

“Why don’t we go back to your place, and I’ll give you a freebie?”

Virgil was stunned into silence by the blatant sensuality in her voice. All thoughts of investigation were shunned to the back of his brain as he struggled to resist her charms. Somehow, as he closed his eyes and made a silent prayer, he found the strength to stay true to his wife.

“It’s too early for an old coot like me to be rolling in the hay.”

“How ‘bout just a kiss then?”

Before he could protest, Mary gently embraced the older man and locked lips. Her tongue entered his mouth and Virgil let himself become lost in the experience. He had never tasted a woman so sweet, and despite his long standing monogamy Virgil found himself yearning for more as she pulled away.

“Now … if you don’t mind I think I’ll go get myself ‘decent’ for the world. Good morning to you, Sheriff.”

He watched Mary return to the saloon, before quickly rushing back home. He had an intense need for the company of his wife just now, and Mary knew she wouldn’t have to worry about being disturbed by Virgil again … at least for a few hours.

The girls were sitting now, waiting patiently. They were too uncertain of events to even offer speculation amongst themselves.

“Are you gonna tell us what the fuck is going on?” Nancy demanded.

“The stories these men told us last night are true. The curse they were all so frightened of … it’s real …”

As Mary paused a moment, wishing that the voice had spoken to all seven of them through the night, and not just to her, there was the click of a gun being cocked from behind the bar.

Rolling her eyes, Mary walked up to the bar and leaned over it to regard the broken and bleeding man with a chilling sneer.

“Didn’t you shoot me enough already?” She asked as he dug deep for the strength to raise his back-up pistol. She leaned closer to put her face in front of the wobbling barrel. “Go on then, if you must.”

With a grunt he pulled the trigger. The lead slammed into her face, flattened, and flew off to lodge itself in the floor. Much more spectacular, however, was the way the alcohol ignited in the air all around the bar with a thumping whoosh. Suddenly, the bar and the wall behind were ablaze, while the man at the heart of the fire screamed with the horrible realization that yes, it WAS possible for him to feel more pain.

Mary smiled at him, allowing him to live out his last moments as the flames danced harmlessly over her upper body and face, her petticoat turning to ash against her unblemished skin.

“Time for explanations later, ladies,” Mary said, turning to the girls who were all on their feet and backing away from the fire. “Get any of those bastards who are still upstairs and anything you want to save from the fire. Quickly now! I’ll get Ed!”

 

Cletus jerked awake to the smell of smoke.

“Fire!”

Having slept the night in the best room Ed could offer, Cletus had not been expecting such a rude awaking. He yelled out a warning once more as he slung his clothes and guns over his shoulder, grabbed his small bag, and used it to break the window. He could have unlatched and lifted it with less effort, but he wasn’t thinking. Once on the roof of the porch he dropped down to the road and stepped away from the saloon. Smoke was now billowing from the main door.

He was about to call out a warning when two men came hurtling out of the saloon door as though shot from a cannon. There quickly followed another. Then three more. And then two of the whores he had seen last night … one of them was that girl Elizabeth who had impressed him with her ability to down whiskey just a few hours ago … cleared the smoke. But now she was making a whole new impression. In one hand she held a large cabinet, in the other a small chest of drawers. Over her shoulder was William Hadfield, not the biggest dude, but a lot bigger than petite Lizzy. The brunette behind her wasn’t carrying any men, but she was holding a rather large wardrobe with unnatural ease.

“Do you think we’ve been blessed by God?”

“No,” Elizabeth told her alluring companion. “I don’t think God wouldn’t want us to kill these bandits so badly.”

“I do have a hankering for tearing limbs of those men … and I think I couldn’t have too much trouble doing it now, neither.” Rather than put the wardrobe down, she stood holding it as though its weight was meaningless to her.

Cletus felt a chill. They hadn’t seen him, and he was damn sure he didn’t want them to. Part of him wanted to run over and fuck the brains out of the two impossibly attractive women, and if the poke he’d had last night hadn’t left him so drained he probably would have succumbed to that urge. If they weren’t carrying heavy furniture like it was papier-mâché, that is. Instead, employing his rarely used skills of stealth, he shrank into the shadows and made his way to the stables and his waiting horse. He had his pay, his boys had theirs. After seeing those women … the image straight from a nightmare … he decided it was time to move on. And move on fast …

 

Ed just sat on set of drawers watching the fire. He was so absorbed with watching the dancing flames rob him of his livelihood that it was sonly hours later he started to question how the girls had managed to get all that heavy furniture out of the saloon.

“Is that all of them?” Mary asked.

“I think so,” Nancy told her. “We didn’t leave anyone behind.”

“Mary … you didn’t get nothing out …”

“I got all I need,” Mary replied, tugging on the one dress she had salvaged.

“But Mary … your money …”

“Where’s McKinley?” one of the dazed bandits demanded. Like most of the other bandits who had been rudely rescued by the girls, he was confused at how they had carried everyone out so easily … but had no idea of the mortal danger he was in.

Mary looked about.

“Did he stay here or in the bunkhouse with the others?”

“He took the presidential suite,” Ed informed her, his eyes not leaving the blaze.

Looking up at the second floor, Mary was not as shocked as perhaps she should have been when the timbers seemed to vanish as her gaze penetrated walls and floors to reveal the flame-engulfed room.

“He ain’t there,” she observed.

“Then where’d he go?”

As soon as Nancy asked the question, an image of Cletus McKinley driving his horse at a gallop, the low sun on his right, flashed through Mary’s mind with such intensity she could smell his horses sweat.

“He’s riding north. He’s already passed Proctor’s Creek.”

“How do you know that? Hey … how do I know that?”

Mary smiled, and this time deliberately conjured the image of the escaping rider. “I can see him.”

“I can too.”

“And me.”

“I think we all can.”

Mary turned to the girls and smiled warmly. “I don’t think Cletus is going to go anywhere we won’t find him.”

“Good,” Nancy responded fiercely. “I don’t know why, but the idea of him getting away really pisses me off.”

“What we gonna do now?”

“I want you girls to take these men to the bunkhouse and keep them there with the others. We shouldn’t rush this … I think we owe those who blessed us to do this right. But I don’t mind if you gotta break a few to keep ‘em in the corral. That in mind, me and Ed are gonna do some speculating, ain’t that right Ed?”

“Foin lotta good dat’ll do …”