Chapter 9

“No good deed goes unpunished.” ― Oscar Wilde

“Sir,” Abel said, stepping into the house, taking off his hat, and towering over the old man. The little man had a bum leg, which had been replaced with a metal one. The leg, mostly the limp, told Abel the old man was once in the Army and from his age a long time ago. He must have been a sharpshooter due to the long rifle sitting against the wall leading into the kitchen, but Abel didn’t care about the rifle or massive pistol in the man's shaking hands.

                Abel towered over the man like Goliath standing before David, but Abel wasn’t here to bring this man death. He wasn’t going to tear down this house. He was only here to help and get Evangeline to the skyport before all Hell knocked at this man’s house.

                And Hell was coming this way. Abel had removed a few demons before they got here, but more was coming. He had seen more cars rushing down the mountain with the candle burning in the window, a calling sign to all those demons running between the trees tonight.

                Abel understood why the candle was burning. The old man was a kind soul trying to help those lost in the woods, and with the pistol in hand, he knew sin could also come to his door.

                A man almost like Abel, and in a different lifetime, Abel would have been that evil man, but tonight, as he looked past the old man, he saw Evangeline sitting at the table. She locked eyes with Abel, and he was trying his best to hide his disapproval of her running off.

                “I need to take her,” Abel said, looking back down at the old man, “get her to Charleston, sir.”

                Evangeline jumped up with the chair crashing behind her, and the man looked back at her momentarily. She was shaking again as the cold wind came giggling into the house, but the shake wasn’t from the chill; she was scared, and the old man turned back to Abel.

                “I don’ think so, sir,” John said, sticking his pistol up and pulling back the hammer. Abel sighed and dropped his head while keeping his massive hands on the brim of his hat. “She doesn’ want to go with you, and I think it’s best you keep movin’ along before thinks get ugly.”

                Abel rolled his jaw, lifting his eyes to Evangeline and shaking his head.

                “Your father’s men are right behind me,” he said. “I told you not to run because now, you brought Hell to this man.”

                “I can handle Hell, sir,” John said, lifting the pistol closer to Abel. “I can bring it just as good as I get it.”

                Abel dropped his eyes to him and slowly put his hat back on.

                Abel grunted.

                “I mean it,” John said, nodding at the door, “get goin’, move it, go.”

                “You were in the Army, sir?” Abel asked.

                “Yup,” John said, “and a damn good shot too, but this close, I don’ need to aim.”

                “No, you don’t,” Abel said, narrowing his eyes. “I, too, was in the Army and went overseas in the Big War.”

                “Good for ya.”

                “I’ve killed my fair share of men,” Abel said, “some deserved it, some didn’t, but I don’t mind doing it.”

                “Neither do I.”

                “Please, sir, don’t pull that trigger,” Abel said as softly as he could, “I don’t want to kill a good man like you.”

                “Please, don’t,” Evangeline said with a shaking tone. “John was just being nice.”

                Abel lifted his head a little, staring down at John. He didn’t want to kill this old man. He was sure he couldn’t kill him even if he wanted too. He was no longer that man who cut anyone down in his way like he was in the war. He killed countless people, but this man was standing in front of him, trying to keep a young woman he didn’t know safe. Abel didn’t want to hurt him, but he didn’t care to get shot either.

                John’s eyes told him he didn’t mind putting Abel on the ground. He would blow him away with ease if it came down to it. John had killed as well; Abel could see in his eyes and the way he held the gun, but he killed those men who were trying to kill him. John was protecting his life, his country, and, right now, Evangeline.

                It was something Abel liked about the man.

                So, when the gunshot echoed in the house, and Evangeline screamed for a moment, Abel felt bad for almost breaking John’s hand, but the gun was smoking as it was sticking up to the ceiling. Abel jerked the gun upwards, and John fired it.

                He was taken back at Abel’s speed; most people where due to his size, and John was punching Abel right in the chest. It wasn’t doing anything, with Abel ripping the pistol from John’s hand and tossing it across the room.

                “Run,” John shouted, “run, Evangeline.”

                Evangeline stood staring at Abel as he pushed John back into a chair. The old man grunted from the light touch throwing him back. Abel shook his head, walking into the kitchen, but stopped as John tried to get up, still wanting to fight.

                “Sir,” Abel said, staring at him hard, “don’t.”

                “John, don’t,” Evangeline said, making both men look at Abel. “I’ll go with him.”

                “Ma’am,” John said, falling back in the chair, almost starting to weep. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

                “Nothing to be sorry about,” Abel said, turning back to Evangeline. “Trust me, sir, I’m not the devil here.”

                Evangeline dropped her head, starting towards Abel, when they heard a few cars pulling up to the house. The door was open, the wind was rushing in, and they all looked at the blinding lights. Abel dashed to the door, shutting it closed, and rushing for the pistol and rifle. He gave them both to John, who was already back on his feet.

                “Keep her safe,” Abel ordered.