u/Glum-Ad7524

A broken mirror sat hanging from the far wall reflecting and refracting the glum lighting of the church. A man sat in the pews with his hat sitting on his face and his mouth hanging agape, saying,
“Sister, I’m telling you, there’s nothing out there.”
The nun stepped toward him, turning away from the window, curtains falling back into place, the dust on the window shelf following her hands. She wasn't the type to lie, being a woman of the cloth, but ever since she was a little girl she had the tendency to overexaggerate. Her young features illuminated by the dim light from the lantern hanging from that old forgotten lectern, which hadn't been preached at since the pastor died from a strange sickness after visting that spire which lay a short mile from the church itself. No one really remembers why he went, only that when he came back, he died. That left little Miss Calvera all alone to tend to the church, little Miss Upright Calvera who had to chase off dusty men who asked her to wed them all for her fair skin and fairer face. Those men would not be the ones she'd break her promise to the Pastor to keep unwed till she found another to run the church - some old bit of tradition or so, no one really understood, but a vow she had no problem taking - little Miss Upright and Pious Calvera, who's lips now swore up and down that,
“You don’t understand what I saw, Merrows. It was like the Devil himself, out on that horse, tall as a steeple, and the beast he rode twice the size of any I’ve seen.”
Removing his hat and leaning forward, settling on his feet, Merrows looked up and met Miss Calvera's eyes and said, without the least bit of exaggeration,
“You see that Devil near as often as you see God.”
“How dare you!” Calvera shrieked, whacking him with her broom.
“Don’t the Bible say something about not hitting your neighbor?” Merrows called his hands raising up, batting away her swipes.
“You wouldn’t know. You haven’t read your Gospels in years.” Calvera said, leaning on her right side, arms crossed, lips pursed.
“Fine, I’ll go out and see your voodoo demon.” He, sensed the change in the air, and turned for the old church door.
“Always running, Elijah.”
He paused. He looked back over his shoulder. His eyes were cold.
“You ever coming back to church?” Her voice was beginning to shake. She stepped forward, reaching to put her hand on his shoulder. “We miss you.”
He stepped forward, Calvera's hand fell to her side gingerly her fingertips having gathered the dust off his coat
“I’ll come by next week.”
“You said that last week.”
He stepped up to the door out of the church, the crucifix hung and judged him from above, Christ’s weary eyes watching him. Then with a rifle bouncing against his back he opened the door which would one day be decorated with his blood.
“I’ll come back next week.”
The night air was cool, and the light of the moon shone dimly over all God’s creation as Merrows stepped off the Church’s porch. He stepped out into the dusty road, wind coursed through the valley, dust rising into his eyes, the tall patches of grass out in the otherwise empty world bent under its invisible weight. He walked out off the path of which he knew, following where Sister Calvera said she saw the beast. Merrows walked out from the church property and toward Nava Del Diablo, an old stone which broke up from the dry earth in cold defiance of the flat valley surrounding it. The wind whistled around the spire as he walked over the orange and reddish dry clay. All was quiet save for the song of the rock through the field. All was calm. All until a man in a black suit stepped out from the bushes. Tall as the cross he took two lanky steps toward Merrows and leaned down in front of him. He cleared his throat as he reached eye level with the other man, the smell of sulfur followed him.
“G’day Mister Merrows” He grinned an unnaturally wide smile, “I’m Judah Blach, and I was wonderin’ would you like a cigarette?”
Merrows had a silver revolver barrel pointed up against the towering white man’s smiling skull, its golden name inscribed on the barrel, MERCY, his finger on its worn brass trigger, pulled expertly to the breaking point, leaving it unfired and primed.
“You get 3 tries to tell me one good reason not to blow your brains out across this here godforsaken canyon or get back to whatever hell you crawled out of.”
“Now now. Mister Merrows, I’m here to make you a deal, I’m sure I can help you.” His smile is oily and growing wider, the too long limbs reaching towards Merrows, one hand filled with a cigarette the other set to place on Merrows's shoulder.
“One.” Said Merrows, MERCY's iron was primed, hungry for blood, The man who said his name was Blach noticed,
He stretched his lips further, and further, the arms reaching closer, their shadows reaching desperately for Merrows's and started to shift, bubbling like boiling water as if there was something hungry in them, “Don’t you want to keep Calvera safe, Merrows?”
“Two!” Merrows growled, his grip tightening on the handle of his “Mercy” as he ground his teeth together in anger, the shadows almost reached him now, the limbs still streched coming near to their destination.
Blach’s lips split, blood slipping down to his chin, no longer oily the smile was now manic despite the warm tones of his voice and his hands got closer, “If you ever need assistance in that manner, head to the spire, you know the one, I’m sure we can hel—” The man fell to the ground, all control having left his body due to the unfortunate state of his newly eviscerated skull.
“Three.” Snarled Merrows as the echo from the shot reverberated across the canyon.
“Mista Merrows! Mista Merrows! Are you al’ight? I heard a gunshot!” Cried the holy woman as she ran down the steps of the church, dust cascading away from her every step.
“Yes ma’am,” said Merrows looking away from the heaping corpse, its blood seeping into the dirt and mixing into mud, “I found your voodoo man.” 
“Well where is he?”
“What are you talkin ‘bout he’s right there” He turned back to the large corpse, its remainder coating the grass behind it and the bloody mud. But there was nothing there. Not the blood, not the body. Just the grass, the sand, the clay and a single piece of burning paper flying in the wind. Catching it and blowing it out Merrows read it’s inscription
You Know Where To Find Me
The fire restarted and crumpled the paper into dust. The wind caught the letter’s remains and carried them towards Nava Del Diablo, the old spire.
“Well,” Merrows muttered, “Hell.”
—
Dawn broke over the canyon, and the sky streaked into purple and red, the morning dew began to cover the valley. Still the spire stood dry as the bones buried beneath it. Merrows rode unto the path before him, one of dust, rifles, and lead, his eyes blurred into the monotony that comes with work of this manner, of hearing the same cries for mercy over and over again before it’s delivered, of hearing the final breaths of outlaws that had broken so many families apart. Merrows had no concern for the cause he followed anymore though. Just the cash that lined the inside pockets of the men he’d silence.
“St- stop it! I-I don’t want to die! I’m sorry I didn’t mean nuffin by it sir! God please mister, just give me a—”  Merrows’s eyes saw, but didn’t perceive. He looked at the corpse of the man, a bullet through its head, still bleeding, and the body limp on the ground, but he didn’t see anything special about it. He heard the last sigh as consciousness fled, but he didn’t listen to his own telling him to at least try to help. No, all Merrows saw was just another fool who killed for money. Same way Merrow did. Someday, he figured, he’ll end up on the ground, crying for mercy. Not today though, today he was lucky. He took a breath and blinked sweat from his eyes. Sitting down he ran his fingers along the man’s pockets and chaps, until he found a packet under his left leg, cutting open the cloth and reaching inside Merrows grabbed the stack of cash and got back onto his horse, still sputtering from the sudden bang startling it. Stepping through the bloody mud as he’s done a thousand times, Merrows went to calm his steed.
“Shhh, steady now girl, you ought to be used to that by now, you run through it every day.” The newly settled horse eyed him as if insulted by his accusations of cowardice. Chuckling Merrows got back on the horse and rode back into town. He rode till the sun kissed the tip of that blighted and jutting rock, and made it to the outskirts of the town where the general store and the church lie. The town itself was built on a railroad, so each side had vendors of all sorts in makeshift wooden stores, produce and gems alike being sold.
“You’ve gone and done it again ain’t ya Elijah?” Called Sister Calvera, her voice shaking and tears filling her eyes, the first ones falling as she reminded. “You said you’d stop! You promised me! Why can’t you see it’s destroying you?”
“Sister, I know, I know. I’m a bad man though, it's just how I am, you’d waste less time shouting at the wind to change.”
“You aren’t though, Merrows. You’re a good man at heart, I can see it, you’re just stuck and you can’t figure out how to stop even though I’ve been trying to tell ya.” Merrows turned and looked at Calvera, and saw her shaking, miserable form. She looked tired, more so than usual, perhaps still shaken from the strange experience the night before, or perhaps from Merrows’s stubborn resistance to kindness.
“I’m no saint, Calvera, but I’m gonna clear out this town of them devils like me, and I’ll come back.”
“That ain’t your duty though, Merrows, It’s God’s, I know you’re smart ‘nough to figure, that trying to play God is a game for gamblers and fools.”
“Maybe I’m not.” Elijah rode on into town. He bought himself some whiskey. He leaned against the bar. Merrows took a swig of his drink, the alcohol burning on its way down, as he finished his eyes landed upon a poster. “Wanted, Dead, 130$” proclaimed the ink letters. Below was the face of a man Merrows had never seen, just another fool who killed to get more money. Another fool, another fool. “Last Seen Near Nava Del Diablo”. It was a good bit of cash, he ran the risk of meeting that devil again though. His last curses still echoed in Merrow’s thoughts. The drink was weighing too heavy on Elijah. Dead men don’t disappear into the night. It was just a trick of the mind… Setting aside the doubt and obvious logical inconsistencies for a more sober Merrows. He got up. He ripped the paper down and he asked to rent a room. As he did the bartender noticed the paper and said, “That, son, is one evil man, he went crazy, shot the deputy and took two women back up to that Ol’ spire of rock. I say I’ll sleep better with him at six feet under.”  Then Merrows walked away without a word, and tried to sleep the whiskey and memories off. Light spilled into Merrow’s eyes. One blink, then two, and he was awake. A mild sense of disappointment already overtook him as whiskey’s morning gift hit him in the head. Merrows sat up, dust shifting in the light pouring through the window, pulled on his boots and put his hat on he dragged himself to the door and creaked it open. He walked down the stairs and placed a dollar on the bar. Even in the morning the sun was harsh, the sand and clay reflected back a reddish glow into Merrow’s eyes. Unhitching his horse from outside the saloon, Merrows began the ride, the same one to . The stories about that place were always laced with terror and brewed from the depths of men’s fear. Merrows never took too much stock into what was said about it after all most of them were told by the same man he was looking at right now, “Elijah! EliiJah! I re’kon with that look your’e gonn be headin off to that there spire Huh?” Spat the crooked old man, his gold tooth shining in the morning’s light, “And what is that to you, you old Coot?” “What is that tah me?” He said rising and slipping back on to his rear, “I lost may left hand from that there spire. I tell you it jumped up and bit it off!”
 “The spire?”
 “YEAs, that and I saaw a Lion, but the Lion he, uhh, wasn’t ter. Just the bitin’ roks.” the old man said, waving him off and taking a drink at the same time.
 “Old man If you’d ever let go of that whiskey bottle you might be shocked to find your left hand sitting right there.”
 He looked down setting the bottle to the side and looked mystified at the hand, eyes widening as he flexed and turned it around, “It’s back! Elijah Its a merical, have another drink with me!”
 “Nossir, I’ve got work to do.” He said as hr. The Old man’s stories got more elaborate since Elijah was a kid, from seeing odd snakes to white bears on that spire, you’d think the man had seen everything and more on that rock. Merrows used to believe it, but as time went on, as with everything, he let go. He rode on and he stopped caring about it. A shadow loomed into his eyes, the rock’s shape eclipsing the sun, then he heard a voice.
“Slow down there partn’r! What’s the rush?” cried the oily voice of the stranger in a suit, “We’ve got all the time in this life and the next.”
“You.” Snarlered Merrows as he dismounted his horse and whipped around looking for the voice and placing his hand on Mercy in its holster.
“Let’s calm down Mr. Merrows, getting shot is not a very fun process, I’d hate for you to have to experience it too.” Merrow’s hand relaxed a little as he found it, a torso, made from clay and shadow, sprouting from a nearby rock, like a clay parasite. “Better? Good, well now that we’re comfortable, I’ll offer you a deal.”
“Turned out alright for you last time did it?”
“Do not test me Merrows, I will be the last thing you see should you continue.” Hissed the man from beneath his hat, a faint glow emitting from its rim just where his eyes would be. “I’ll not take kindly to another escapade like last time.”
“Fine then, what are you gon’ say?”
“Just this Merrows,  Eternity is a long time, and in this life there are only two sides you can be on. It’s always nice to pick the right one.”
“You’re saying I should be on your… side? Whatever that means.”
“I’m saying Merrows, in the battle for souls, there is a clear winning side, and my boss is quite interested in you.”
“What are yo– Who do you work for.”
“Oh you, know, Elijah. I work for the boogie man in your closet. The monster under the bed. I work for the itch in your blood, and I’m offering you a way to make your vice your power.”
“What in tarnation does that even mean?”
Snapping his fingers a flame popped up between them, he raised his clay hat and revealed his eyes, two holes, straight into the pits, flames spilling out unimpeded . 
“Give it some thought, I’m sure you’ll figure it out” and as suddenly as he appeared he was gone, melding back into the shadows and secrecy.
“Well okay.” Merrows said, looking at the spot where the demon had disappeared to. He walked on. He walked deeper into the spire, finding it best not to forget what he was here for. Each step he took carefully, listening, waiting to hear sounds of life and movement but the words of the deal echoed in his head. What was he being offered? What could it mean? How much would it cost? Then he heard the crying.