Cobweb bouquets lined the banisters. The orange rug underfoot smelled of spilled liquor. A musty sweetness to the forgotten house. Like old gingerbread homes or lost bags of Halloween candy.

A current of sound tore through the sky as jagged lines of light rappelled from the heavens. A whip crack to the soul, Ernest thought. Weather like this wasn’t to be taken likely. Even for the Lords of the End.

It wasn’t the first time wrapping up a job had left Ernest and his boys hiding out in squalor while the law pursued them. They always broke clean by the end. But in between the late night breaths of the rotten timbers in the house, Ernest wondered if he’d pushed one too many invitations towards Lady Luck.

“For the last time, Victor, I did not throw a bomb,” a dark haired man in a double vest said. A giant Viking of a man stared back in annoyance

“You threw something. The sheriff heard it. He came over and then I had to kill him.”

“You didn’t have to kill him. We could have told him a street kid did it.”

“It’s a town of thirty people, Shiloh. I had to kill him, but his blood is on your hands.”

“Pfff” Shiloh waved Victor off and walked to the front window. The floor gave an uneasy creak. “Shouldn’t have come here in the first place. Can’t even find a trace of Azim. How do you lose a guy like Azim? Ridiculous.”

“I’ll ask him how he lost you two when we find him,” Ernest said with a hard stare. “Been trying to do that myself for seventy years.”

Victor looked over from the kitchen table, “What was that?” Ernest pulled out his sword and set to polish it. They’d have to be ready once they found Azim. Whoever kept him from returning couldn’t be underestimated.

Ernest felt the warmth of the bone pommel in his palm. It had been ages since he earned the blade as a boy. His lips moved in a silent whisper. The heat drained from the pommel and Shiloh whipped around from the window.

“You can’t.”

“Already did. She’s heard my promise. We leave tonight.” Victor grunted and stood up. A bear waking from hibernation as menace began to ooze from him. He bent down to grab a wicked looking axe. Shiloh shook his head.

“You can’t promise that. We don’t know where he is.”

“Victor will call upon the wind. We’ll leave our brother to it no longer.“ Ernest sheathed his sword and grabbed a ready bag. “We leave by sunset.”

***