Elkhart was a sizable settlement. The cemetery was behind the church on the topmost of three tiers. From there, it had only been a short walk to the sheriff's place, also hovering over the whole town like some kind of guardian angel or judge.

Too bad they hadn't had better luck.

Put up a better fight than Lonely Hill had, but these towns are only prepared for outlaws with gunpowder, not Hell magic.

Elkhart had been ravaged by the fight. Ice had melted and mixed with the clay to create a sloshy mess—though most of it seemed dried up by now. The unnatural rime had lasted far longer back in Lonely Hill.

Debris floated on the air instead of flurries. Flecks of wood and hay. Ripped fliers for that Revelation Springs Founder’s Day Fair swirled about, just like the one I’d seen in Lonely Hill. Buildings were shot up and destroyed, locals hauling lumber and supplies to patch things up. The general store was missing windows. Its signage hung sideways. The second-story balcony sagged on one side with a broken column beneath it. That was where I'd been flung by the Yeti.

From up where I was, I could spot the bank and the square before it. There were no bodies littering the streets as expected. This shootout had claimed more lives than the last for sure, but where were they? And though the bank was empty, it was just that… empty. No snowflakes dithering about or lingering darkness caused by devilry. A big empty room with a big empty vault, which I could see through a big-ass hole where the front roof once had been.

Matter of fact, everything inside seemed all cleaned up.

How the hell long was I in that coffin?

It was a question I was hoping the town's lawmen might answer amongst a few others. Problem was, it seemed the whole damn town was outside their station. All that was missing were pitchforks and torches.

"We want retribution!" one man shouted.

"How will you get our money back!" cried a woman, clutching a small child to her hip.

"We trusted you!"

The complaints and shouts carried on and on in this fashion. Everyone was too distracted with their displeasure to even notice me, let alone realize that a man who'd been dead and buried walked amongst them again.

A good thing.

The White Throne never specifically said we needed to hide what we are, though it seemed implied. I'd get done with this place and move on to the next quickly as I could.

I hitched Timp nearby, giving her an extra pat on her neck so she'd know I'd be right back. Got a healthy snort in return.

"Missed you, too," I whispered in her ear. Then I shoved through the crowd, hoping no one thought too hard about my presence. Approaching the sheriff's office, I tried the door, but it wouldn't budge.

"Best back away from that door!" a voice warned from inside. Sounded shaky, nervous.

I knew I might receive a hole in my chest for it, but I kicked in the door anyway, breaking the lock, splintering the frame. I'd had enough messing around for one day. Behind me, the crowd erupted in cheers like I'd just done them a favor. They tried to follow, but I slammed the door right in their faces, then dragged a chair over to bar the knob.

A couple of desks filled the single room, covered in papers, sets of handcuffs, and a ring of keys. A number of bounties were pinned on the wall. All in all, it was the typical setup, complete with a cell with bars made of iron along the back wall, currently empty.

Also in the room stood a lone man. He had his weapon raised, muzzle pointed at me. His finger was ready on the trigger, a sure sign he was planning to fire.

"Who the hell do you think you are!" he shouted. Then his brow knitted. "You?"

It looked like my old friend Dale from Lonely Hill was a deputy once again. Though his badge looked every bit as different as his eyes. Sunken. Dark. Like he hadn't known the graces of a peaceful night's sleep in some time.

I could commiserate. And then I saw what was atop his head, and my eyes narrowed. "That's my damn hat you're wearing!" I growled.

The gawking deputy steadied his weapon, but I could see his hands trembling.

"T-they said you died," he said. "Got buried. The rider in black who done chased off them outlaws. Saw your grave, I did. Y-y-you… was dead."

"I got better."

I stepped forward. The hammer of his gun clicked, but I ignored him. I snatched my hat. He didn't shoot. I knew he wouldn't. Not after all we'd been through.

I dusted off my Stetson and set it atop my head.

"Where's the rest of my stuff, Dale?"

He just stared dumbfounded, so I slammed my fist on his desk.

He winced and shuffled to the back of the room and returned with my duster, belt and other things.

“Think it’s all here… mostly,” Dale said, looking down at it all as he walked. He tripped over a lip in the floor and my belt fell, satchel along with it. As it hit the floor, the Nephilim’s harmonica slid out. Guess whoever buried me didn’t think the thing had any value. Probably true, but I was glad the it remained in my possession. In the wrong hands, something like it could be deadly.

Dale cursed and tried to pick everything up. I beat him to most of it, but his hand reached the harmonica just before mine and he lifted it.

“Odd piece, this,” he said. All at once, it became the singular focus of his attention. His eyes almost crossed. “Where’d you get it?”

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“Hand it over, Dale,” I demanded.

“Is that bone?” He spun it around in his fingertips. “I wonder what it came from. I wonder what died…” He peered up at me. “Who’d want to play a part of the dead.”

I watched as his lips started to droop and his eyes sagged. He didn’t look scared, just, sad. A simple man like him, its dark qualities were probably amplified.

“Dale, c’mon now.” He ignored me. “I said hand it over.” I tore it out of his grasp and stowed it back in the satchel before a dark cloud filled my thoughts as well, being in its presence.

Dale blinked and shook out his head. “You got some strange things, Mr. Crowley.”

I scoured through the rest of my belongings and found both my pistols and my knife.

"My rifle?" I asked.

"This here is all we got of yours, Mr. Crowl—"

Between Shar, him, and everything in between, I was at my wits end. I seized him by the lapels and slammed him against the wall. And there I was, staring straight into the eyes of Ace Ryker. Not the real thing, mind, but an old bounty poster hung up right behind Dale. The paper was so weathered you could barely see the image anymore.

I returned my attention to the sheriff or deputy or whatever the hell he was now. That gave me pause I should've already had.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded.

"Can you put me down first?"

"No." I lifted him another inch for good measure.

Dale stuttered a bit more, then found his words. "Folks in Lonely Hill got rowdy soon after you left. Started saying things about how our beloved Sheriff Daniels died…"

"Like, whose bullet really killed him?"

"Things," Dale replied quickly. He swallowed hard. "So, I came here after you. Thought I could make things right… but…"

"You were too late." I loosened my grip on him. He landed like two noodles with boots attached. "Join the crew."

Straightening his collar, he sidled away from me, but there wasn't far to go. "Well, the sheriff here didn't know any better. Hadn't heard stories. Not yet. Just knew I was wearing a badge. Told me to look after Elkhart so he and the others could go out for revenge for what those freaks did on Saturday."

I paused, letting his words hang on the air a bit.

“Saturday? What's today?" I asked.

"Tuesday."

"Tue—" I plopped down on one of the chairs. I'd missed nearly three days thanks to Shar's games. Three days where those magic-fueled outlaws could be causing a ruckus, hitting whatever town was next or slaughtering anyone who dared come after them.

I eyed the room. Took a deep breath I didn't need.

"Just you here?" I asked.

Dale nodded.

I rose slowly. "Where's my rifle?"

"I could guess?" Dale said. When I didn't respond, he continued. "Pinks were gathering up all they could. Must've grabbed it before leaving town."

Sons of bitches can't leave well enough alone. Robbing the dead. Though dumb as they were, my pistols were worth a lot more than my rifle. The damn fools.

"Where are they all going?" I demanded.

"Like I said, after revenge. Mr. Dufaux put a bounty on them outlaws big enough to buy whoever catches 'em a homestead of their own.”

He gestured to a paper not yet pinned up, featuring a drawing of a burly man with a giant beard, a native woman with the features on her half-painted face drawn so stereotypically I couldn't help but roll my eyes, and a blank head with a question mark.

FROZEN TRIO WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE FOR MULTIPLE ROBBERIES OF DUFAUX BANK AND TRUST.

A reward of $5,000 cash was being offered, and they were said to be somewhere north of Elkhart. About as descriptive as bounties get in these parts. Oh, and that they were considered armed and extremely dangerous… though, nothing about magic.

Dale sat next to me, resting a hand on my shoulder like we were old pals. The glare I shot his way informed him otherwise.

"What am I supposed to do for these people?" he asked, reeling his hand back. "They'll rip me apart. And what if the others don't come back? Crowley, you gotta help me."

The poor guy was panting.

"You're safer here than going after those 'freaks,' as you call them." I put venom on the word, though he couldn't have known it'd been offensive to me too. Plus, he wasn't wrong. They were about the strangest crew of outlaws I'd ever run into. I picked up their bounty to analyze it closer.

"I don't think now's the time to go bounty hunting," Dale said.

As my gaze passed across the unidentified marksman, I remembered something.

Without hesitating, I searched across the desk.

"Hey now!" Dale protested, but I ignored him.

I tore open a drawer and rummaged to find a fountain pen inside. Then, I began drawing on the back of the bounty. Dale leaned right over my shoulder, watching me like I was losing my mind. Maybe I was.

"Was it that strange ice weapon got you?" he asked. "Like anti-dynamite or something it was. My God, did you get buried alive, frozen? How'd you get—"

"You recognize this?" I said, shoving the drawing into his hand to shut him up. Some questions were better off left unanswered.

On the paper was my best rendition of the symbolic bird brand I'd spotted on the back of the marksman. Knowing his abilities and the fact that they were glowing, I knew there was something to the markings. Had to be.

Some shouting started from some of the townsfolk trying to shove their way inside. The chair scraped along wood, and I stepped across the room to jam it back into place.

"Quiet!" I barked.

When I turned around, Dale was studying the drawing. "Where'd you see this?"

"Never mind that," I said. "What is it?"

"Ain't sure exactly."

"But you've seen it." I could tell by the look on his face.

He nodded. "Couple of years back." His face started to glow at the memory. "Got invited to one of Mr. Dufaux's Founder's Day galas up in Revelation Springs years back. Its that time again... I’m sure you’ve seen the signs. Didn't get invited this year. It was like a dream. Sheriff Daniels took me as I was just starting as a reward. Biggest house I'd ever seen, still to this day—"

"Can you get to the damn point?"

Dale cleared his throat. "Mr. Dufaux had this symbol." He stabbed his finger at the paper. "On an Injun statue or a… a what’chu call it—all stacked and such…"

"Totem?" I asked, hoping to hurry him up.

"Yeah, yeah. That. A totem. Pretty thing. Colorful and all carved up."

"Dale. Get on with it." I slapped the desk again.

"Sorry, Mr. Crowley. I'm just nervous. I… Dufaux had it displayed proudly in his courtyard. Right in the middle."

"That a fact?"

"Certain as hell is hot."

I didn't bother correcting him about that. All I could wonder is why Mr. Reginald Dufaux would have the same symbol in his home that was glowing upon the back of one of the men robbing him?

Sounded to me like I had my first real clue about who these folks were.

I knew Yetis could only exist through pure hate and remembered how the Yeti had condemned Dufaux during the robbery. Spat his name with disgust.

This was personal. A feud, perhaps? Something stolen or pride wounded. Could even be something to do with the statue.

I was done trying to follow the money, bank to bank. The robbers were too far ahead of me now. It was time I headed right to the source in Revelation Springs. This Mr. Dufaux. If he knew something more, I could get a leg up. If Dufaux knew nothing, I had a feeling the Frozen Trio would be coming for Revelation soon anyway. Him living there meant it’d be the biggest, richest branch of his banking institution.

"Thanks," I said to Dale, snatching the drawing out of his hands and stuffing it into my pocket.

"Wait, what?" He moved to block me from the door and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "You can't leave me here alone with them. We gotta talk about what you saw. May-maybe we can find 'em. Together. gGet the bounty for ourselves—"

"I work alone," I said, brushing by him. I kicked the chair aside and the door flung open, letting all the Elkhart rabble inside.

"Now, now, one a time," I said. Then I looked back at Dale. "Good luck."

He smiled a nervous smile and got to it. "Hi. Can I help you? What's your name, miss? Excuse you!"

I slipped out unnoticed and loaded onto Timperina.

Keeping me buried in a box… Shar's message got across. It was time to slow down, focus, and bring holy justice to those who called upon the aide of demons.

And yet, it was Shar I was more concerned with at the moment. Her lesson was harsher than usual. But hey, no one ever said angels were all benevolent.