Sam Chisolm was beginning to think this might be a bad idea.
Faraday had come to him ranting about how none of the men in town knew their right from their left, and the ones that did were like to drop dead at the first loud noise. He had very diplomatically not said anything to the Fae regarding the fact that he looked to have been a bit… nibbled on in spots, by something with sharp teeth, only nodded along sympathetically and hoped that this wouldn't become a major issue.
Then came Vasquez, mostly to complain that he was still hungry and that he was going to try helping with rebuilding the church. Apparently, he found hard work relaxing or some such thing. Likely not as relaxing as nibbling on certain Fae, but he said nothing about that, either.
Then came Billy, his secret weapon, to beg a favor that nearly left him scratching his head.
Honestly, Sam was going to re-evaluate his life choices sometime soon.
“You want us to do what?” Faraday asked loudly.
“Make sure Goody doesn’t shoot anyone during rifle training,” Billy repeated.
“I did not sign up for baby demon sitting.”
Sam sighed. “I know demons can be a bit,” he paused, searching for a diplomatic way to phrase the thought, “hot-headed. But I strongly doubt he’d intentionally kill someone if they annoy him.”
Billy heaved a weary sigh; Sam could hear his feathers ruffle even though he didn’t see the wings. “Lucifer put a curse on Goody’s weapons,” he blurted out. “Actually, he put the same curse on both Goody’s and Ezekiel’s guns. Whenever they shoot someone, if it’s a kill shot, the victim goes straight to hell.”
Well… that was a little extreme.
Faraday frowned. “I thought hell was just where demons lived,” he said. “Why would Luke want humans in his house?”
Sam randomly wondered just how many beings Faraday could give a nickname to whether he’d ever met them or not.
“Because his kids are spoiled? I don’t know,” the angel replied with a shrug. “Just… don’t let him kill anyone if at all possible. Please?”
Given that he thought it would be an easy task, Sam agreed; Faraday huffed but ultimately agreed as well.
And then they got to the makeshift range to find their resident, literal hellspawn already in high dudgeon.
“Let’s see if y’all’ve learned anything,” Goody drawled, eyes flashing white. “Fire!”
And… God damn but that was pathetic. Not one shot hit any of the six targets, and one man even fell over from the recoil on his rifle.
Faraday muttered… something in a language that wasn’t the Monster Tongue but also wasn’t in anything approaching English.
“Reload,” Goody ordered. “Y’all are startin’ to piss me off.”
Next to Sam, the Fae leaned over and said, “Statistically speaking, monster hunter, they should have hit something.”
Meanwhile, Goody was still talking to the men on the gun line. “How many times have I gotta tell you to keep that knee up under you? Schoolteacher, take that hat off your head.” He added something in the monster language, which caused Faraday to snort in amusement, and Sam honestly didn’t want to know. “Teddy, I expect better from you, son. The recoil is not to be shunned, it’s to be absorbed.”
“I ain’t shunning a damned thing, sir,” Teddy replied, his tone almost a snap. Faraday stood up a bit straighter, eyes widening and a smile crossing his lips; apparently, he enjoyed how the halfling was back-talking the demon.
Goody, on the other hand, did not look terribly amused. “Are you trying to make me mad?” he asked evenly. “Is that what’s—”
Right about that point, one of the men—Sam thought his name was Phillip or something to that effect—fired off his rifle apparently by accident. If nothing else, it served to distract the Antichrist from biting Teddy’s head off.
“That’s the second time for you,” Goody drawled, and Sam saw him reaching for the revolver on his hip.
“Goodnight,” the Fae nearly snapped. The demon responded to the tone by letting his hand fall away from the weapon automatically, and Sam was grateful to not get a demonstration on how, exactly, those cursed weapons worked.
Instead of shooting, Goody took a step back and said, “Go make me some eggs.”
“Sorry, the damned hammer—” Phillip started to say, only to be interrupted.
“No, I don’t wanna hear it. Have a nice afternoon.” Goody waited for the man to get to his feet, eyes fading to blue again in spite of the fact that the business end of the rifle swung around towards him. “You gonna point that thing at me?”
Phillip didn’t try to argue the point, instead ducking his head and heading back towards the town. Faraday called out for him to leave the rifle, even as his gaze remained locked on the training session.
Goody tried to, once again, impart a little bit of wisdom onto the firing line—telling the men to be gentle with their hands, to let the shot surprise them—before ordering them to fire one more time. Unfortunately, the new advice didn’t do much to help, given that once more not a damned bullet made it into a target.
“I am in awe,” the demon said, eyes shifting back to white again, “that this many men can miss that many targets. Twice. I’m looking at a line of dead men.”
Faraday shook his head. “Seriously, monster hunter, how the hell are we gonna pull this off?”
Goody’s shout actually made both Sam himself and the Fae jump: “You have to hate what you are shooting at! Hate it! Get some gravel in your craw! Come on! God damn sons of bitches!”
“Wow,” Faraday whistled. “He’s definitely pissed if’n he’s calling on Yahweh.” With that, he pushed himself off the fence and called out, “Maybe these men need a demonstration.”
Goody looked over. “Really, Faraday?” he asked. “Don’t you think we need the lead?”
“Come on,” the Fae insisted before turning to the men on the line. “This demon has twenty-three confirmed kills at Antietam. The humans dubbed him the Angel of Death. Do what he does. He’s a legend, for the gods’ sake.” Then Faraday turned to the demon and added something in the monster tongue. Whatever it was, it caused Goody’s lip to curl into a snarl, caused him to snatch the rifle.
The demon then turned towards the targets, aimed with ease, and fired six consecutive shots directly into the neck of one of them. The head fell off with the final shot, and Goody turned around to smirk at Faraday before tossing the rifle at him and stalking back towards town.
Sam found himself grinning a bit; apparently the Fae had just been shot at in effigy, and the demon was enough of a little shit that he knew Faraday knew.
“Told you,” the Fae said at last, directing the words towards the farmers. “Why don’t y’all go home and polish your rifles? Maybe the glint will scare them off. Or draw any Fae in close enough that you can actually manage to shoot ‘em.”
The hunter shook his head, still amused at the antics of both older and younger monster. Hopefully this group would start to mesh sooner rather than later, but for the moment, he could let any antagonism slide.
Besides, he had a plan for something that could turn the tides in their favor. He just had to get the lot of them to agree that liberating the mining camp was in their best interest.