Cameron Haley - Mob rules

I looked at him and then at Vampirella. I shrugged. Fred already knew I'd be coming for him. Even if word got out, that would cost me less than going up against him with a gun that couldn't do the job.

"There's a vampire I need to shoot," I said. I smiled at Vampirella and winked. She still didn't seem to mind.

"I see. Well, vampires don't have a lot going for them-no offense intended, Sophia, my dear-but they are remarkably difficult to kill in the Between." He considered, curling the fingers of his right hand and pressing his thumb to his lips. He started to burn again. He turned back to the cage and lifted a rectangular box of dark wood from a crate. He brought it out of the cage and placed it on the desk, smoothing it with his burning hands.

"I have a weapon, Miss Riley-well, an artifact, really-that would be ideal for your purposes." He turned the box around and opened it. "It's known as the Dead Man's Gun."

It was a Colt Peacemaker. I'd seen enough Westerns to recognize the type. It had a polished walnut grip and the black steel barrel was half again as long as Honey.

"This gat's probably a hundred and thirty years old. And it's a six-shooter. It looks nice enough, but I had more modern technology in mind."

"It belonged to Wyatt Earp, Miss Riley. Its power lies not only in the number of men it killed, but also in the legend that is woven into it. As I said, the Dead Man's Gun is an artifact."

"Well, it's an artifact that holds six rounds and will probably choke on half of them."

"Again, Miss Riley, physical characteristics are irrelevant here. You will never have to worry about the Dead Man's Gun running out of ammunition. You will never have to worry about jams or misfires, I assure you."

I reached for the Peacemaker and then looked at the Burning Man for permission. He nodded and kept burning. I lifted the gun out of the case.

In the ordinary world, a gun is just a gun. The only thrill you get out of fondling one is a little boy's power fantasy. This wasn't the ordinary world. The Dead Man's Gun had juice. It tingled along my hand and up my arm, spreading out through my body. It whispered to me with the calm, comforting voice of a killer.

The Peacemaker was a rocket launcher in a compact five-pound package. Well, it wasn't that compact. It was about eighteen inches long from the tip of the barrel to the back of the grip. Not exactly built for a woman, but it felt comfortable in my hand.

"Says here its name is Ned," I said, studying the gun. The name was engraved in the walnut grip.

"Ned Buntline," said the Burning Man. He was nodding and smiling with the enthusiasm of a boy talking baseball cards. "He commissioned these long-barreled Colts and presented them to several peace officers in Dodge City in 1876. It was Earp's favorite firearm."

"Single action?" I asked. I released the cylinder and looked. It was loaded with five cartridges, the hammer resting on an empty chamber.

"Yes, the action is the only element of the firing mechanism that is functional in this place. I think it is part of its personality."

"So I have to cock it before it will fire."

The Burning Man nodded. "You can also thumb-fire and fan the weapon, if speed is more important to you than accuracy. You'll find that the action is very smooth and the gun enjoys such treatment."

"But it doesn't need reloading?"

"That is correct, Miss Riley."

"How much?"

The Burning Man spread his burning hands and sighed. "As I said, the Dead Man's Gun is a unique and valuable artifact. It is very difficult to put a price on it."

"But you're going to, just the same."

"Indeed, Miss Riley. My price is an exclusive arrangement with your outfit. If, in the future, your people need weapons in the Between, you will do business with me. Do you have the authority to make such an arrangement?"

I nodded. "Assuming my boss doesn't have an existing agreement with a supplier, sure."

"He does not. It is my business to know these things, you understand. Very well, Miss Riley, do we have a deal?"

"Yeah, we have a deal. I'll need some kind of rig for this thing." The Burning Man nodded and went back into the cage, returning with a black leather gunbelt. He handed it to me and I took it. The initials WBSE were tooled into the leather in silver.

"I must place one condition on this sale, Miss Riley. You understand that different rules must, of necessity, apply to property in the Between. On the event of your death, ownership of the Dead Man's Gun reverts to me, so that I might pass it on to another worthy warrior. This is its nature."

Well, what's one more spirit that wants me dead? I was assembling quite a collection. "Not on the event of my death," I said. "On the event of my passing into the Beyond, permanently, the gun goes back to you. It's mine as long as I have business in the Between."

The Burning Man stared at me. His skull burned and an eye popped. I didn't blink. Finally he nodded and smiled. "You are a shrewd negotiator, Miss Riley. I believe that weapon will make you a formidable opponent indeed. Very well, then, we have reached an agreement." He extended a blackened claw to me and I shook it. The bone was cold and charred.

I stood up and buckled the gunbelt around my waist. I thought it would be way too big for me, but the last hole on the belt was a perfect fit. I slid the Peacemaker into the holster, then nodded at the Burning Man, winked at Vampirella and left.

Honey was waiting for me when I got back to the condo. She looked at the Peacemaker swinging on my hip, back at me and then back at the pistol.

"I didn't know you were going to buy a cannon," she said.

"Wyatt Earp's gun."

"The cowboy in the movies?"

"He was a lawman, not a cowboy. In the movies, at least."

"Well, did you know his gun was cursed?" Honey was staring at the Peacemaker, frowning.

"They call it the Dead Man's Gun. I guessed it probably was. Anyway, I call it Ned." I turned sideways and showed her the engraving on the grip.

"It doesn't bother you that it's cursed." Honey was staring at me in disbelief.

"Well, it beats toting a gun some psychotic teenager used in a school shooting. Anyway, I think it likes me."

"It likes you."

"Yeah," I said, patting the Colt. "I guess it'll put a big enough hole in Fred."

"Well, it looks a little ridiculous."

I looked down at the holstered gun. It reached most of the way to my knee. "It doesn't really go with running shorts," I allowed. "I'll have to change into something more somber next time."

"It's a little…oversized, don't you think?"

"No," I said, "watch this." My right arm blurred and the Peacemaker came out of the holster like it didn't even notice it was there.

"It's very impressive, but that's not what I meant. Don't you think the length is a little pretentious?"

"I didn't put a foot-long barrel on it," I grumbled.

"Freud would have loved you, Domino. Are we going after the vampire now, or do you need some time to practice with that thing?"

"I'm ready. I did some target shooting on the way back here."

"What did you shoot?"

"Stop sign. There's no traffic here, so you might as well shoot one."

Honey and I traveled south and the mist delivered us to Watts. It was a short walk to the salvage yard. The loitering ghosts were no more hostile than the living in the juiced-up ghetto.

We advanced through the yard. It was quiet. It was still a junkyard, but it was easier to look at it in the Between. The faded colors and vague light softened it and smoothed it out. It was almost peaceful, like an old cemetery.

I was sure Terrence had cleared the debris and dug out his gangbangers in my world, but the work hadn't gotten done in this one. The path I'd created with the repulsion spell was still there, and we followed it into the open lot. The Vampire Fred was polite enough to come out and meet us before we made it to the building.