Page 7 of Game on Askole

The Battle Commander’s big hand suddenly wrapped around my throat. “You make any attempt to escape, and I will break both your legs.” He gave me a shake. “Understood?”

Holy freaking shit! He was dead serious. I nodded. “Running bad.”

“I have always wanted to visit a replica of the Old West,” the Battle Commander announced out of the blue.

My jaw dropped. He wanted to make like a tourist? “You rooting for the cowboys or the Apaches?”

“Apaches.” Voss clamped me to his chest, and an inky black void surrounded us.

Chapter Two

Presto! Voss and I teleported to the parking lot of Old Tucson theme park.

A stagecoach came barreling down the dirt road with a bunch of Apache warriors on horseback chasing it. Gotta say their cotton leggings, leather breechcloths, and war cries were realistic. “Welcome to the Wild, Wild West.”

Voss queried, “What is smeared on their faces?”

“It’s called war paint.”

The stagecoach driver cracked a whip over the horses’ heads while the guard fired an old Winchester rifle at the Apaches.Boom. Boom. Boom.

An Apache warrior tumbled off his horse and played dead.

A bugle sounded as the cavalry charged to the rescue, pursuing the Apaches down Main Street and out into the desert. The thrilled spectators cheered loudly.

Voss watched in fascination. “This is an accurate depiction of your history?”

“Yup. Pretty much.” And I had a bridge I could sell him too.

“Interesting.” With a death grip on my arm, Voss ushered me down the wooden walkway toward the stables. Through the saloon’s bat-wing doors, I caught a brief glimpse of two women performing the cancan on a stage. The men seemed to be enjoying the show. A lot. Or maybe it was the cold beer. I could sure use one about now.

Voss came to an abrupt stop, and I could sense him using his awesome mental abilities to scan the area for Sam.

Good thing he didn’t know Sam could camouflage her aura. To most Coletti hunters, she appeared to be a normal human. Then it hit me. Shit! The Overlord had mentally linked with her too. I knew he was incredibly powerful, but wow. He could track her from the other side of the galaxy?

One of the gunslingers shouted, “The undertaker will be puttin’ you in a pine box, Sheriff.”Bang. Bang. Bang.The actors shot it out.Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

The tourists’ attention was so focused on the reenactment of the shootout at the O.K. Corral, they didn’t pay any attention to us. C’mon, how could anyone fail to notice an armed-to-the-teeth, six-foot-eight Coletti warlord who reeked of skunk and vomit?

An elderly woman standing next to a badly sunburned geriatric male in a loud Hawaiian print shirt finally looked around and wrinkled her nose. “Do you smell that, Herbert?”

Herbert’s gaze froze on Voss. He frowned, took off his thick glasses, and vigorously cleaned them.

“Smells like a skunk upchucked. Did you hear me, Herbert?”

“Yes, dear.” Herbert put his glasses back on and gaped. “Coletti.”

“No. Skunk.”

The shootout stopped abruptly. The last villain clutched his chest and crumpled to the ground. The audience clapped enthusiastically.

“Coletti!” Herbert shouted, pointing at Voss.

Everyone turned to stare at the Battle Commander. I guess they had never seen a Coletti up close and personal. No one screamed or ran for their lives. Nope, the dimwits just stood there gawking.

One awestruck teenage girl asked, “Can I take a selfie with you?”

“No.” Voss bared his fangs menacingly. “Leave. Now.”

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