Besieged: Stories from the Iron Druid Chronicles(43)

“I never said I was going to stab you with it,” I told him. “It’s doing what it needs to do, which is keep you in place while I get hold of something or someone that can harm you. You’ve heard of Brighid, First among the Fae, who can cast Cold Fire?”

The confidence and condescension melted away. “Yes.”

“She’s a friend. So it’s your call: Go back to hell of your own free will, where you will remain powerful and wind up paying no price for this little spree of yours, or stick around and be torn apart on this plane. You’ll be scattered and weak for centuries, and your influence will wane—and actually, now that I think about it, that might be best for everyone but you. I probably shouldn’t give you a choice, but I did say it would be your call.”

Looking back on that now, I think that might have been one of my greatest cock-ups. What would this country—and, by extension, the whole world—look like now if greed had taken a backseat to other vices in 1850? So many implications I should have thought through. But I wasn’t prioritizing the long term right then. I just wanted Mammon out of there and the short-term threat to the earth neutralized so that I could get back to hiding in Argentina.

“What’s it going to be, Mammon? Go back whole, or get blown to pieces?”

He trembled and shook again and the red rage eyes returned, but he had to make a decision and answer. “I’ll go back.”

I awarded him a smile. “Thank you. Very cooperative. But I have to press you on the matter of when, because this isn’t my first negotiation with folks who like to hide behind nonspecifics. So, will you go back to hell when I open a portal to the plane?”

“Yes,” he said through a clenched jaw. “But I swear I will—”

“Shut up now,” I said, and Fragarach cut him off.

Sheriff Jack Hays strode through the saloon doors and I hailed him. He looked less than pleased to see me.

“Where the hell you been, Percy?” he said, and that reminded me to switch accents. “We’ve had men dropping dead every night for—Jesus Christ.” He stopped once he took in the shaking form of Stephen Blackmoore. “Is this him?”

“That’s him, Sheriff,” I said. “And he’s agreed to return to hell.”

“Well, let’s get him out of here, then.”

“It would be better, I think, to get everyone out of here. Which is why I needed you. If we take him outside, there are too many things that can go wrong. We could be interrupted by most anyone—or witnessed by most anyone. We don’t want that.”

“Huh.” Hays glanced around at the busy gambling hall. “It’s gonna be a job to get them out of here when they’re havin’ such a high time.”

I began pulling chips and coins and cash out of my pockets and put them on the table. “Pay them all off. The proprietor too. Greed is a powerful motivator.” I smirked at Mammon as I said this, and he seethed.

“Jesus,” Hays said again, and Blackmoore’s body twitched as the sheriff began to gather up the money. He wisely began by visiting Perkins at the bar, then he told the piano player to leave off. He hollered until he could be heard, and once he had everyone’s attention, he told them to finish their current round or hand in their games and then move along, the U.S. Exchange was closing for the night. The loudest grumbling came from the poker players who were currently down in their personal counts. The sheriff went over to them and quietly used my money to take the sting out of it.

Once everyone was out but Blackmoore, Perkins, the sheriff, and me, the lawman shrugged his shoulders at me. “Now what?”

“Now I need two things,” I said. “I need a container or two of salt from the kitchen, Perkins. And, Sheriff, I hate to ask, but there’s no helping it because I have to keep this sword holding the demon still. I need you to take off my boots.”

Sheriff Hays’s lip curled, and he looked like he’d rather dine on hog slop. “Why do you need that?”

“I need a solid connection to the earth. Again, I apologize. Please keep whatever money you have left as payment.”

“Think I will,” he said, shoving it into his coat pockets as he stomped over. “Don’t tell nobody I did this.”

Perkins disappeared into the kitchen while the sheriff pulled my boots off. “Ain’t no earth in here, in case you didn’t notice,” he said.

“There will be.” I addressed the demon. “All right, Mammon, get up. Walk straight backward until I tell you to stop.” I wanted to do this away from the door in case someone came in, but to prevent that I asked the sheriff to stand guard and keep everyone out.

When Perkins returned from the kitchen, I used my left hand to sprinkle a generous line of salt underneath my sword hand, extending to either side, then gave the container back to Perkins. “I need you to continue to make a circle around this man, but stay out of arm’s reach the whole way around him, okay?”

Perkins developed a crease between his eyes. “You been drinkin’ my piano player’s laudanum?” he said.

“No, I’d never do that. Laudanum’s a hell of a drug.”

“What’s really going on here? Y’all told me this was a wanted man. Why don’t the sheriff just take him away?”

“Because, Perkins, there’s a demon inside this man, and we need to get him out.”