The bartender looked confused at first, then curious. He glanced at the cowboys around him, shoulders shifting as though he wanted to keep what he was about to say between them—which threw Bonnie off.
"Miss, just what kind of things are you mixed up in?" he said, eyes narrowing.
Bonnie sighed. Judging by the old man's mildly paranoid reaction, this seemed more serious than she'd expected. How could it not be? Supernatural forces were involved. It wouldn't be surprising if strange things started happening from here on out—she was already tied to one of those supernatural things, after all.
So, matching the man's seriousness, Bonnie spoke:
"Something very dark, I think. That's exactly why I'm asking about it. What is this cult? Why are they sacrificing girls? Are the sheriffs across the counties actually investigating this? Because if they are, months have passed according to that guy Clyde and they haven't turned up anything of substance."
Maybe it was the alcohol in her blood, but Bonnie felt more resolved than usual to ask questions and push for answers.
The bartender broke into a cold sweat. He wiped himself down with the towel and cleared his throat.
"I'm not sure, to be honest. I've heard plenty of things from outlaws passing through between counties, but none of it's confirmed—it all comes down to rumors. What I can say with certainty is that this cult is dangerous. Even the sheriff in this county has been struggling to follow the leads."
"You didn't answer my questions. What is this cult? Do you know anything? Even the smallest detail—I need it. I need to know who I'm up against. They kidnapped me too, but I survived, and now I need to know everything."
The bartender raised his eyebrows. The authority in Bonnie's voice was palpable—a few people nearby had started glancing in their direction. But the man sighed, his expression somewhere between reluctant and sorry.
"You survived? Oh no… If that's true, it means there's no going back for you. You've stepped straight into a dangerous spiral."
'Like I didn't already know that… They kidnapped me and tried to sacrifice me! I saw a demon with my own eyes! You're telling me I'm in trouble?! I've been in trouble since the moment I arrived in this world!' Bonnie thought, her fist tightening.
She took a second to collect herself. The flush in her face settled into something harder.
"Whether I'm in danger or not isn't something that should concern you. I paid for information, so information is what you're going to give me."
She didn't want to challenge anyone—but Bonnie felt like she had no other choice.
Tonight had been full of straight roads with no forks, no alternate routes to take. It was as though life itself was boxing her in, forcing her down a single path that led straight into the darkness of the mystery looming over this desert.
Her arrival in this world was wrapped in mystery—just like everything that seemed to be hiding itself from her.
The bartender sighed. This girl was stubborn as an old mule.
"Fine… It's not like things could get much worse for you," he finally said. "The Devil is something everyone here knows, agreed?"
Bonnie nodded. Even before arriving in this world, she had known about "that" Devil through the folklore of many cultures. And now, with this world's own knowledge layered into her, she already had a sense of what the bartender was going to tell her.
"He is the embodiment of evil on earth—the venom that slowly corrupts our world, and the reason the Church came all the way out here from the other side. Now, I've heard a lot of dark things about the Devil's Cult over the past few months, miss. Some outlaws were whispering that those lunatics have been seeking the power the Devil grants in exchange for sacrifices and rituals—but none of that is completely verified, as far as I know."
Staring at the empty glass, Bonnie narrowed her eyes.
'Rituals… Power… That sounds like something I've heard before, but I can't place it for some reason. Could it be connected to what the real Bonnie told me in that dream?'
Everything was still too blurry to see clearly, even with her eyes wide open.
The bartender poured a little more liquor into Bonnie's glass.
"The sheriff has been looking into it too, but with all the trouble Red Johnny's been causing in the surrounding towns, the investigation has been badly slowed down. The Church, though—they've been on it longer than the sheriff. Longer than the first recorded cases of the missing girls' bodies, even. I haven't heard anything solid about the Church yet, but I'm certain they know more about the Devil's Cult than anyone else out here. At the very least, they know how to track them."
Bonnie thought:
'Red Johnny… Famous outlaw known for his mysterious identity—nobody seems to remember his face after seeing him. I caught a few stories about him in my father's newspapers a few years back, something about being bulletproof and disappearing like smoke in the wind—but I was too busy studying to pay much attention. Either way, the press always blows things out of proportion. You can't fully trust what ends up in a newspaper.'
What caught her attention most was the mention of the Church.
'I don't think Red Johnny has anything to do with this—he's probably too busy running from the law across every county he's wanted in. But if anyone can track the Devil's Cult, it's without a doubt the Church.'
"Do you know the Church, miss?"
"I do," Bonnie answered, drinking from her glass. "I used to go with my mother to one of the smaller chapels—but I never went to the Church itself. I only know that they're some kind of organization. There are plenty of stories about famous exorcists from there, aren't there?"
"Exactly. And it's those very exorcists who are likely following the trail of the Devil's Cult right now. Either way, that's not the most important thing here. What matters is the fact that you survived the cult. Even if you don't know much, they'll almost certainly come to finish what they started."
'I expected something like that. If this Cult is just a sect full of lunatics, I can already imagine they're tracing my steps right now. I mean—the cultists who kidnapped me are dead, and I'm still breathing. That has to be bothering them… Though I hope this is just me overthinking it and it doesn't go any further than that…'
And even if it was just speculation, the danger was still very real. Besides, there were even more problems lurking behind the curtain. Bonnie had killed Caleb Graves, after all. That man had money and influence. Something was going to come of that—there was no question about it.
Actions have consequences. Bonnie was already learning that on the fly.
On the other side of the coin, she sighed as she thought about the puzzle slowly taking shape around her. There was far too much to untangle in all of this. It was going to be exhausting.
"The only thing I can recommend is that you never stop moving. That's the first rule of being an outlaw."
"Rules? Outlaws have rules?"
She felt the urge to laugh. That made no sense. Outlaws were criminals—they didn't follow rules. That was the whole point of being an outlaw.
The bartender shook his head.
"One day you'll understand, miss. Freedom has a price, and that price depends entirely on everything you do from here on out. Never stop moving—never stay in the same place too long. Once you understand that, you can say you've started to survive."
The man put real weight behind his words, as though he were trying to carve them deep into Bonnie's memory.
She shifted on the barstool and looked down at the floor. She already had more than enough to think about—this didn't exactly make things easier. Maybe it was just too much information to process at once.
"Alright… I'll keep it in mind."
"That's what I wanted to hear. I hope your next questions aren't like those last ones. I'd rather not feel like I'm prying open a Box of Shadows."
"No. That's all I wanted to know. I want to get out of here, so I need you to tell me how."
With a sigh and a shake of his head, the bartender stepped out from behind the bar. He picked up the bag of carrots and the satchel and threw them over his shoulder.
"You're very impatient, miss. But fine. Come with me."
Bonnie got up from her stool and followed him toward the back of the building. A few men watched her go—but under the bartender's company, none of them made any suspicious moves.
A few seconds later, the bartender pushed open the back door and walked Bonnie out to her horse. They moved through the alley between the two wooden buildings until they reached the front of the saloon.
"I'd recommend heading straight for the chapel. Near there you'll find a house with lights on—three lights, to be exact," the man said. "You can ask for a room to spend the night. It won't be as comfortable as the hotels in Ironwood back in Warlock County, but you'll have your privacy—though it's not cheap. If you say you're coming from Joseph Foster, the owner will give you a discount."
"Good to know. I really need some rest…"
The bartender smiled, calm and unhurried.
"You should leave in the morning, miss. Like I said before—you should never stop moving."
Bonnie stopped dead. That kept nagging at her curiosity.
"Why do you keep saying that? Do you actually know something you're not telling me?"
"Nothing significant, really. But if you're running from the law and the Devil's Cult at the same time, the best thing you can do is not let either of them catch up to you. Besides—outlaws never spend more than one night in the same place."
'Makes sense, I suppose. I was going to keep moving with the investigation anyway. For that, I can't afford to stay anywhere longer than I have to.'
Bonnie walked over to Capella and gave her neck a gentle stroke.
"I'm back, my girl."
Carefully, the bartender secured the bag and the satchel to the sides of the horse. At the same time, Bonnie swung herself up into the saddle with some difficulty.
"That'll be everything, miss. I wish you luck."
"Uh— Thank you…"
She looked toward the horizon between the buildings.
'I'm really going to need it…'
━━━━━✧❃✧━━━━━
Later, through the murky darkness of the night, the hooves of a white horse rang against the dry sand on the outskirts of town. Draped over that tired animal in the saddle was a mysterious figure who seemed to blend into the blackness that swallowed the entire plain.
Her posture was exhausted—almost lifeless—as though her body was barely holding on enough to grip the reins.
Even so, despite looking like she was on the edge of death, she showed no sign of pain. If anything, she was far too calm riding through the desert.
She lifted her gaze, and her eyes caught the faint light with a dim scarlet glow.
Up ahead, the lights of the town she had arrived at revealed her in all her worn-down appearance.
She was a woman with long, unkempt black hair, a few faint freckles beneath her eyes, wearing a wide-brimmed hat with a black feather. She had on a long-sleeved shirt with a corset worn over it that held her torso together—the same shirt stained with blood and punched through with four bullet holes.
The woman climbed off her horse when she reached the town and tied it near the water trough of a house that still had its lights burning past midnight. Then she dragged herself along the walls of the alleyways, searching for somewhere safe.
She stopped near a dusty old inn that Bonnie had just arrived at.
The woman watched the young lady. She took in the blood on that pretty yellow dress and the golden revolver hanging from Bonnie's belt. It caught her attention for just a brief moment—then she slipped back into the shadow of the alleyway and drew a knife.
"No time to waste," she muttered through the pain.
At the inn's entrance, Bonnie tied her horse alongside two others resting there, unstrapped the saddle and all her things from Capella, then made her way to the door hauling everything with great difficulty and knocked timidly.
'Good grief. This weighs a ton. Sorry, Capella. You must have it rough carrying all this every day.'
She caught her breath and looked up.
'Alright… This should be the place.'
Above the door, three oil lamps burned low over the weathered doorframe—exactly as the bartender had said.
The door soon opened to reveal an old woman with the face of someone who had been thoroughly failed by life. Bonnie jumped straight into it.
"Good evening. I'm coming on behalf of Joseph Foster. He told me I could spend the night here."
The old woman looked Bonnie up and down, judging her by her clothes and the blood painting her dress. Then she stepped aside.
"Fifty Marks a night."
Bonnie checked the money in her hand.
'Well… given my current situation, that does feel steep. I could buy fifty newspapers with this… But at least I have enough to get through the night.'
She nodded with a slightly awkward smile.
"I have the money. So then…"
The old woman frowned.
"Are you going to stand there all night or are you coming in?"
"Oh— right, yes. Sorry."
Dragging the saddle along with the saddlebags, the satchel, and the bag of carrots, Bonnie stepped inside and noticed that it looked better on the inside than the outside. A long hallway stretched a few meters ahead with about six doors spaced along either side. Sitting at the entrance was a young boy fast asleep in a chair, arms wrapped around a double-barrel shotgun.
Bonnie blinked.
'That is… thorough security.'
"Third room on the left," said the old woman. "But pay first."
Bonnie dropped three coins into the woman's palm. One was a 50-Mark coin, the other two were 10-Mark coins.
With that settled, Bonnie hauled all her things forward and headed for the room.
The old woman watched her go with a frown, and Bonnie could only smile back at her with quiet discomfort.
She opened the door without much trouble. What waited on the other side was a small room with a single, plain bed, an old wooden desk, a candle with its copper snuffer, and a window with wooden bars.
'Huh… Not that different from the apartment I used to live in back before I came to this world.'
She set the satchel down to one side and sat on the bed. She stared at nothing for a few seconds, then lay back with a long exhale.
'…This silence. How relaxing.'
She closed her eyes—and the moment she did, the blood she had spilled with her own hands came back to her. She sighed, tired.
'I still can't get past it.'
Somewhere between exhaustion and quiet, she eventually gave in and sank into a deep sleep.