New Title 1 by Eric S Brown

even gunfighters he could handle...but demons from Hell? They really creeped him out and put him on edge. He holstered his gun and went to fetch Nathan.
    He ran into Louis and the man dressed in black at the entrance of the barn. “Found it,” he boasted. “We got ourselves enough dynamite to cause them things a real hurting.”
    He led Nathan to the crate of dynamite and watched as their leader inspected it closely. “This stuff is in pretty good shape. Shouldn’t be too dangerous to carry, but I would recommend not letting it get bumped around too much, just to be safe.”
    “ Great,” Louis muttered. “Who gets to be the one to lug it into town?”
    Nathan and O’Rouke both turned to him as he asked. The look on their faces spoke volumes. “I should have known,” he sighed. He grimaced at the container of explosives.
    “ Sorry, Louis,” Nathan said, putting a hand on the near-sighted editor’s shoulder, “but you are the logical choice. O’Rouke and I are the better shots and we know how to handle ourselves in a fight. If it makes you feel any better about it, we’ll be doing our best to keep those things off of you while you’re tossing the dynamite sticks.”
     
    Twenty-Six
     
    Pastor Gregory had long grown accustomed to the lingering, hungry howls of the demons outside the church. It was funny what a person could adapt to, given enough time. His hope had been that the rising sun would drive them back into the darkness which had given them birth, only the sun never rose. It was as if time itself had stopped in its tracks and the night had become eternal. Still, he was not afraid.
    “ God is good,” he said aloud as he prepared his meager meal of hardtack, stale bread and tepid water. He was grateful for the food on his plate, though he wanted a hot cup of coffee badly. Coffee was his one addiction and he drank too much of it on a daily basis. Being cut off from the caffeinated beverage without warning left him jittery and in a foul mood, despite his best efforts.
    The front door of the church was almost gone. It hung on its hinges, a broken and battered mess of wood and splinters. It was only through the grace of God that somehow it still held the creatures at bay.
    Most of the windows lay in sparkling shards on the floor. The demons outside, though they remained to plague him, had stopped their relentless attack on the building. Pastor Gregory bowed his head to say grace as a commotion began outside. The demon’s howls were joined by a chorus of similar cries that sounded like they were getting closer with each passing second.
    Pastor Gregory set aside his plate of food. With the cross which once hung on the wall of his office in hand, he carefully peeked through the window closest to the main door. There were more than five dozen of the demons approaching from town to join the ones who sat watch over him. In their midst walked an angelic being, garbed in pure white, who glittered underneath the pale light of the stars.
    “ Pastor Wayne Gregory,” the glistening man in white called, “Your faith is about to be rewarded!”
    Retreating deeper into the church’s main aisle, between matching rows of pews, Pastor Gregory prepared for the worst. The front door fell from its hinges as the man in white swaggered inside. As he crossed the threshold and walked toward Pastor Gregory, his illusion of graceful divinity fell apart. His white clothing smoked as patches of it began to smolder and his tanned skin melted away to reveal snake-like skin in place of flesh. The red glow of his eyes illuminated the horror that was his face, and when he smiled again, his teeth were sharp, pointed, jagged things like those of a rabid dog which had gnawed its way free of some mighty chain.
    Pastor Gregory fought down the fear growing within him and stepped forward to meet the demon. He thrust his cross forward. “In the name of the Lord God almighty, I cast you out of this place!” The demon-thing threw its arms over