J Morris - Beautiful Revenge

War stepped forward. His voice had kept the same bone-shaking tenor as in his true form.

‘We should visit an alehouse while our brother solves this problem.’

‘No we shouldn’t,’ replied Lucifer’s daughter. ‘This is not a holiday. You will do the job my father paid you to do.’

War marched over and stood in front of Persephone. She stared back undaunted, even though the Horseman towered above her.

‘We will do the job because we have promised as much, girl. You will not, however, tell us how to approach every minute detail. We know what you want and how you want to achieve it. This we shall deliver. We will not stand in the middle of a field waiting though when the thing you want can be accomplished somewhere with ale.’

Persephone held her ground and kept her eyes locked with War’s. After a few minutes it was obvious the Horseman would not relent. The only way forward seemed to be compromise. Persephone hated that word with a passion.

‘Fine,’ she replied, her voice dripping with contempt. ‘I don’t even know where the nearest bar is so we are in for a hunt and probably a long walk. If that’s what you want then so be it.’

‘It will not be a problem,’ replied War.

He nodded to his brothers and the Horsemen crowded around Death, Pestilence still clutching the maize. Persephone followed suit and smoke-like tendrils began to seep from Death as a shroud enveloped the group. Everything outside of it took on a greyish hue.

With nothing more than a quick lurch in Persephone’s stomach the scenery changed. The fields had been replaced with a parking lot and a wooden building with neon signage stood in front of the group. Death waited until a patron had staggered into the bar before dropping the shroud.

‘Where is this?’ asked Persephone.

‘An alehouse on the outskirts of the town,’ replied War.

‘They are called “bars” or “clubs”. This is the former. And don’t ask for ale in there, you’ll look like an idiot. It’s beer.’ Persephone looked back at Death. ‘How did he do that?’

‘Death finds everyone sooner or later,’ replied Famine. His voice was a sickly as his physique. ‘Hence Death knows all places.’

She studied the Horseman with a new appreciation for his powers.

‘That little trick will come in handy.’

Death tapped War on the shoulder. He made a quick series of hand gestures when he had his brother’s attention.

‘He said he feels “less”.’ said War in translation. ‘We are not supposed to be in this realm at this time. Our power comes from the souls your father sacrificed and it seems using them has a price.’

‘Great,’ replied Persephone. ‘Now you guys have a battery life as well.’

She wrote off War’s look of puzzlement with a wave.

‘Never mind, let’s just get this over with.’

Every eye in the bar was immediately drawn to the Horsemen as they entered. Not only were Persephone and Pestilence the most attractive women in the place but they were accompanied by a ridiculously mismatched trio of men. Though not exactly busy the bar was doing a brisk trade. Being closer to the farming community than the town, it had a distinctly rustic feel. Lucifer’s daughter took a seat at the bar with Pestilence as War waited to be served. While the Horseman was busy examining the plant, one of the locals sidled up beside the “women”. In his best chequered shirt and least greasy John Deere cap, Clint McGregor was on the hunt for love.

‘Is that your boyfriend?’ he said, grinning and nodding down at the maize. ‘Name’s Clint by the way. Can I get you ladies a drink?’

Persephone ignored the man while Pestilence looked up and studied Clint with an air of indifference.

‘Go away,’ he said, before turning his attention back to the maize.

Clint suppressed a gag.

‘Damn, you could kill a bull with that breath. Ah well, can’t have it all I guess. Looking as pretty as that you can probably get away with not brushing your teeth. It’s just one drink, miss, no harm.’

Persephone snapped her finger’s to get Death’s attention. She pointed at him, then at Clint. War would have been the better choice to shoo away the Mortal but he was waiting for the drinks to be poured. Persephone hoped an angry glare from the mute would suffice; Pestilence had work to do.

Clint looked up as Death approached.

‘Go away, Denzel.’ he said ‘Unless she’s your wife this doesn’t concern you, pretty boy.’

At almost the same time a commotion erupted further down the bar. The barmaid was screaming at War about paying for the beers.

Damn, I forgot about that , thought Persephone. Mortals use money.

While War was drinking his beer and ignoring the torrent of abuse, Death walked up to Clint. The Mortal stood his ground and smiled at him, drawing his thumb across his throat. When Death returned the gesture Clint’s lifeless body crashed to the floor. A few people who had been watching the exchange gasped while Persephone shook her head and sighed.

‘That does it.’ she said to the Horsemen, slapping a hand down on the counter. She made a broad, sweeping gesture with the other. ‘You might as well just kill them all now they’ve seen that.’

While Pestilence studied the problem at hand his brothers began ripping into the patrons and staff. War started with the barmaid. Using his fist like a hammer, all complaints about non-payment for drinks were brought to a fast and fatal conclusion. He turned his attention to the surrounding Mortals, bludgeoning anyone unlucky enough to be within range. With Death, a mere nod in the direction of his intended target was enough to get the job done. After the first few he got bored, opting instead to kill them by pointing in time to the music. Famine was stick-thin but still capable of hitting with tremendous force. Persephone was pleasantly surprised at how quickly the scrappy little Horseman could turn a human head into a messy unrecognisable pulp.

Even through the terrified screams of Mortals in their final moments the jukebox was still audible. Although she had never heard the song before, the irony of watching Famine rip into a man’s ribcage during the chorus of “Achy Breaky Heart” was not lost on Persephone. She smiled and tapped her foot in time to the song as the Horsemen finished their work.

In less than two minutes the half-full bar had been turned into a slaughterhouse. Death’s victims were easy enough to recognise amidst the carnage; they were the intact ones whose faces didn’t resemble a thick, flesh-coloured paste.

‘Empty their pockets,’ said Persephone. She walked to the nearest corpse, pulled out its wallet and held up a twenty dollar bill. ‘We want these pieces of paper.’

She ordered War to wait outside and watch for other Mortals while the remaining Horsemen collected up the spoils of victory. Once Death had relieved all the bodies in his area of their valuables he made his way to the cash registers behind the bar. His resourcefulness and foresight had begun to impress Persephone, which was not an easy thing to do. The fact that he was also incredibly easy on the eyes and a mute almost made him the perfect man.

‘Is this what that tavern wench was screaming about?’ asked Famine as he handed over his takings. ‘Bet she feels silly now.’

‘Yes,’ said Persephone. ‘It is quite stupid but this realm runs on these scraps of paper.’

Pestilence was about to join the conversation when Persephone held up her hand.

‘Cover your mouth before you speak.’

‘I was going to say I have figured it out; the maize problem.’

The hand made little difference. His foul breath escaped out from either side of it and headed straight for Persephone’s nostrils.