Chapter 21: Hol Horse Gets Stood Up
Jonas brushed off the greedy shopkeeper and continued his search for J. Geil. Before long, he found himself on a street corner, staring at a familiar sight.
Another tavern. Good grief, he thought. Is it my destiny to be drawn to these places?
He'd been walking for hours, and in any case, he was parched. He pushed open the heavy wooden doors and his eyes immediately locked onto an all-too-familiar figure.
There, sitting alone and looking miserably bored, was Hol Horse. A glass of whiskey sat untouched on the table in front of him.
After receiving his second mission from Enya the Hag, Hol Horse had been determined to avoid another "friendly fire" incident. He had specifically arranged a rendezvous at this very tavern with his new partner. But he'd been waiting for two solid hours, and there was still no sign of the man. He was beginning to suspect he'd be here all night.
Enya's stern warning was the only thing keeping him glued to the chair. To make matters worse, there wasn't a single "beautiful mademoiselle" in the entire establishment to help him pass the time.
He propped his arm on the table, idly fiddling with his watch. A moment later, he took a deep breath, puffing his cheeks out, and stared at the second hand, trying to see how long he could hold his breath.
Just as his face was turning a deep shade of crimson, a heavy hand clamped down on his left shoulder.
Simultaneously, he felt a new weight on his right shoulder—something small, like a rat.
Hol Horse jumped, all the air exploding from his lungs in a startled gasp. He whipped his head to the left and found himself staring into the cold, shadowed eyes of Jonas Jourdan.
His blood ran cold. He didn't even need to look. He knew exactly what was now perched on his other shoulder. He'd heard Enya's report: Jonas's Stand wasn't instantly lethal, but what it did to you was pure, unending torture. And Hol Horse really did not want to be bitten.
A cold sweat broke out across his entire back.
WHAT DO I DO?! WHAT DO I DO?! WHAT DO I DO?!!
Hol Horse's mind was racing, desperately trying to find a way out of this impossible situation. Jonas, however, was perfectly calm. The moment he'd spotted the cowboy, he felt as if fate had just handed him a winning lottery ticket.
This man is one of Enya's assassins. He must have information. And he's already here, waiting... he must have been waiting for me.
Jonas had decided on a pre-emptive strike. He'd checkmated the man before he even knew they were playing.
As Hol Horse was frozen in a state of pure panic, Jonas slipped a hand into his coat pocket and pressed something hard against the cowboy's back.
Hol Horse's mind screamed. A GUN!
It's over! I'm dead! He couldn't summon his Stand. The moment he did, he'd be shot. He could already see his own epitaph... his life was flashing before his eyes...
"Tell me why you're here," Jonas's voice rumbled, low and cold. "And tell me everything you know about Enya the Hag."
...Huh?
The fog of despair in Hol Horse's mind suddenly cleared, replaced by a tiny spark of hope.
He... he just wants information?! That's it?! Why didn't you just say so! You nearly gave me a heart attack!
The immediate threat of death having subsided, Hol Horse's cunning, cowardly mind immediately reactivated. As a slick opportunist who always played both sides, he instantly saw his opening.
"If I tell you what you want," he said, his voice a little shaky, "you'll let me go, right?" He had to choose the path of survival. Living was all that mattered.
"You are in no position to make demands," Jonas said. The hard object in his pocket pressed deeper into Hol Horse's spine.
Hol Horse flinched, but a crafty look entered his eyes. "And how do you know," he countered, "that I won't just feed you a load of bull?"
Jonas's brow furrowed. The cowboy had a point. He had no way to verify the information.
Then, a cold, humorless smile spread across Jonas's face.
"What kind of man would never dare to lie?" Jonas asked, his voice a menacing purr. "A man who cannot bear the consequences. If the price of a lie... is death... would you still dare to lie to me?"
Hol Horse swallowed. "So you'll kill me if I lie? That's your threat?"
"No," Jonas said, his smile widening. "Even a man threatened with death might lie. The real key... is to make the liar understand that death could come at any time, from anywhere, for any reason. It is fear, Monsieur Cowboy, that guarantees the truth."
Hol Horse felt a chill, but his bravado wasn't completely gone. If he didn't have a gun to my back, he thought, I'd...
"So," Hol Horse asked, "what's your plan?"
He felt the gun barrel leave his back. A moment later, a heavy revolver was slammed onto the table in front of him.
At the same instant, one of the few remaining drunks in the bar saw the weapon. His eyes went wide, and he instantly sobered up. "GUN!" he screamed, bolting for the door. The cry set off a chain reaction, and in seconds, the entire tavern was empty, leaving only Jonas and Hol Horse in the sudden, heavy silence.
Their eyes were locked.
At the same time, Jonas plucked [Invisible Black Monster: Maw] from Hol Horse's shoulder. But instead of dismissing it, he placed the tiny, shadowy creature directly on the floor... right on top of Hol Horse's shadow, precisely where his heart would be. Maw crouched, its massive, fanged mouth open and drooling, its tongue flicking out, tasting the shadow.
"Don't think you can run just because the gun isn't on you," Jonas said. "My Stand is waiting. You move an inch, you summon your own power... and it will tear a hole straight through your heart. I'm sure you can imagine the... sensation."
Hol Horse nodded, a fresh bead of sweat rolling down his face. "I understand. I won't risk it."
"Do you know how to play Russian Roulette?"
Jonas picked up the revolver, opened the cylinder, and tipped it. Five bullets clattered onto the table. He left one remaining. With a flick of his wrist, he spun the cylinder.
CLICK.
He snapped it shut and slid the gun back across the table.
"Your turn, Monsieur Cowboy."
Hol Horse's back was completely soaked in sweat. He might dress the part, but he was no life-risking cowboy. He hated games of chance, especially ones with a one-in-six chance of blowing his brains out. If they played this game, one of them was going to die.
This guy is a complete lunatic! Hol Horse screamed internally. You just want information! Why are you staking your life on it?!
He wanted to refuse. But his eyes darted down to the shadow on the floor. Maw was practically vibrating with hunger, its fangs aimed at his shadow-heart. If he tried to run, he was dead.
He was completely and utterly trapped.