Blood Games

    ‘But you can do it?’ Abilene asked.

    ‘Done it plenty. Y’ friend got herself killed, did she?’

    ‘She was murdered with a knife,’ Cora said.

    ‘Figgers.’

    ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Finley asked.

    ‘Y’ don’t dally ’round the ghost lodge ’less y’aim to get y’guts spilled out.’ Batty pulled the big knife from its scabbard, stepped between Cora and Vivian, and swept the blade down, ramming its point deep into the center of the table. ‘Gotta fetch some items.’

    ‘So you’ll do it?’ Abilene asked.

    ‘Gimme what I want, I’ll call her up.’

    ‘What do you want?’

    ‘Jest a finger.’

    ‘A fingerT Abilene gasped.

    ‘Jest a one. Don’t matter which, ’r who gives. Want her whole, though, right off at the first joint. TTiere’s the knife right there.’ With that, Batty hobbled out of the room.

    Finley met Abilene’s eyes. ‘Play it by ear, huh?’

    The back door clapped shut.

    ‘I didn’t expect anything like this,’ Abilene muttered.

    ‘Wants to put it in a jar, no doubt’

    A grim smile formed on Cora’s face. ‘So. Anyone want to donate?’

    ‘Here’s your big chance, Hickok. This was your idea.’

    ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Vivian told her.

    Reaching out, Abilene clutched the knife handle. She tugged at it, working the blade back and forth until its tip jumped from the wood.

    ‘Hey!’ Finley gasped. ‘You’re not…’

    ‘Now we’ve both got knives,’ Abilene said.

    Finley looked relieved.

    ‘I may be gullible, but I’m not crazy.’

    Cora shoved back her chair, rushed across the floor, and grabbed the shotgun. As she whirled around, die others sprang from their seats.

    ‘Let’s get!’ Finley blurted.

    Cora shook her head. ‘We’ve got some business to finish.’ She shouldered the weapon and aimed its long barrels toward the kitchen entryway. With a glance down at the breech, she muttered, ‘Wonder if it’s loaded.’

    ‘I’m sure it is,’ Vivian said.

    ‘We oughta get more shells before we…’

    A screen door bammed shut. After a few unsteady shuffling sounds, Batty stepped into the living room and halted. Cupped in her hands - or his - was a human skull. A skull with bulging eyes. Abilene wondered if they’d come from the jar Cora had dropped in the shed. She imagined Batty scurrying around, crouching and picking up a couple and stuffing them into the sockets.

    ‘Come in here and sit down,’ Cora said. She nodded toward the table.

    ‘What’s this foolishness?’

    ‘Doit!’

    Batty carried the bug-eyed skull to the table, set it down, then sank onto one of the chairs.

    ‘For starters, take off the shoes.’

    ‘No,’ Vivian said. ‘They were fair payment. We don’t take them.’

    ‘Suit yourself.’ Squinting down the sight ramp at Batty, Cora asked, ‘Where do you keep your extra ammunition?’

    ‘Yonder.’ A nod at the shelves.

    ‘I’ll get the ax,’ Vivian said. As she bolted from the room, Abilene and Finley scanned the shelves.

    ‘I see ’em.’ Finley rushed across the floor, reached up, and plucked a small red box from between a black candle and a bowl. It was the same bowl, Abilene realized, that they’d used for the bleeding ritual.

    ‘Y’gonna rue the day y’tampered with old Batty.’

    ‘Screw you,’ Finley said. She flipped open the flimsy lid and dug into the box. Her hand came out full of shotgun shells. She dumped them into a pocket of her shorts, then tossed the empty box aside.

    ‘That’s all?’ Cora asked.

    ‘Y’take my over ’n under, I’m gonna call down a curse on all y’heads. It’ll be my killin’ curse.’

    ‘Curse away, bat brain,’ Finley said.

    ‘We’re only going to borrow it,’ Abilene said. ‘This, too,’ she added, raising Batty’s knife. ‘We need to have some weapons. But we’ll bring everything back to you. I promise.’

    The way Batty looked at her, she wished she’d kept her mouth shut. ‘Doubt it. But I’ll get’m back. I’ll pick ’em up my own self outa y’dead hands.’

    ‘Not if you’re dead first, gonzo,’ Finley said. ‘Hey, Cora, go ahead and blow his fucking head off. Or hers. Or whatever. We don’t want that curse on us, do we?’

    Abilene couldn’t tell whether or not she was serious.

    Cora kept the shotgun trained on Batty’s face, but didn’t pull the trigger.

    Vivian hurried back into the room. An ax rested over one shoulder. ‘We ready to go?’

    ‘Find something we can use to tie Batty up,’ Cora said.

    ‘Right here,’ Finley said. She stepped up close to the side of the chair. ‘Get your arms up. Good. Keep them that way. Touch me and you’ll be sorry.’ Crouching, Finley unbuckled Batty’s belt and pulled it from the few remaining loops of die faded, cutoff jeans. The knife scabbard dropped to the floor. She tossed it to Abilene.

    Abilene sheathed the knife and slid it under the waistband of her skirt. It went under the side of her panties, too, but she decided that was all right. The leather case felt smooth and soft like doe skin.

    Finley was standing upright now, frowning at Batty, the belt in her hands.

    ‘What’s the problem?’ Cora asked.

    ‘Just trying to figure out the best way to…’

    Abilene glimpsed a flying streak of white. Amos. ‘Look out!’

    Cora yelped, staggered forward under the impact and twisted around. The cat had hit her just above the waist. It clawed its way up her back, ripping cloth and skin.