Page 168 of Deacon

All water under the bridge, as they say.

My left leg hurts like hell. I think there’s something jammed in it, but I keep walking because my heart feels her distant presence and my feet will get me there eventually. Up ahead, the yard is empty.There are two bodies on the porch. Jensen sits on the steps, elbows on his knees, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Westin’s gone to get Bittern,” he says.

I stop, one foot on the bottom step. “You think we’re getting too old for this shit?”

He sighs, taking in my bloodstained face. “I don’t think Deacon Ryder’s ever too old for this shit. Me? You got me thinking about settling down.”

The yard is silent. He hands me his cigarette, and I take a drag, leaving a bloody stain on the white paper.

“Really?”

He nods. “Yeah…this whole home thing is starting to sound good.”

I pass the cigarette back. “Nobody to keep you warm, huh?”

His eyes rest on the mountains. In the distance, we can see the shape of Westin riding back. He smiles in the dark. The cigarette glows as he inhales.

“Nobody waiting for me at home,” he says.

Westin draws near and Jensen stands. His hand claps my shoulder as he heads toward him. I follow, drawing close enough to see the limp body thrown over the back of Westin’s horse. My stomach drops, and I lift Bittern's head by the hair, pushing my finger beneath his nose to feel his breath.

He’s alive.

“Let’s get him back to Ryder Ranch,” I say. “He needs the hospital.”

“Where we headed?” Jensen asks.

“Sovereign Mountain,” I say.

“You know what they say,” Jensen says, putting on his hat and looking around for Godspeed. “All roads lead to Sovereign Mountain.”

“Speak of the devil,” Jensen says.

Sovereign appears, spurs jingling. He draws up beside us, Shadow’s giant hooves shaking the ground.

“We ready to haul ass out of here?” he asks. “I think we’re done.”

“Yeah, I need to get to Freya,” I say.

“Just…don’t tell our wives about this,” Westin says firmly, glancing around. “They know we’re helping out, but not the particulars. It’s just not necessary that they know.”

“Nobody tell Freya I stuck Aiden to the barn wall,” I say. “Let’s just pour some gas, light a match, and get the fuck out of here.”

Everyone nods in agreement. I go inside and pause just outside the kitchen. Ryland is on his back, the coat rack still lying across his body. I kneel, placing two fingers against his neck. He’s gone—still warm, but without a pulse.

Maybe I killed him when I hit him with the coat rack. Maybe it was a stray bullet.

It doesn’t matter anymore.

The house is ravaged. I walk through it as Jensen pours gas and steps out the back door. Westin is by the barn, standing in the doorway. I limp to him, pausing. At the back hangs Aiden, chest mutilated, head down. Blood drips black on his boots.

“Remind me not to cross you,” he says.

I look away. “Let’s light this motherfucker up. I got somewhere to be tonight.”

We stand on the hill for a moment, watching fire blaze through the windows of the house and eat up the open barn. The ground is too cold and wet for it to travel beyond the buildings. When the police get here tomorrow, there will be nothing left but a shell.

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