Blood and Salvation by Michael Delaney

*FULL DISCLOSURE*
The cover was made using Pixelcut, with a free wallpaper background and a few free downloadable png images. No AI generator was used.

After watching The Magnificent Seven, I took my original unedited story, The Gunslinger, and made a few changes to it. Once I made those changes, the story kept evolving to a point that it was no longer The Gunslinger. Very few elements remain from that original story, though Blood and Salvation still holds its apocryphal weird western roots, just on a grander scale. Enjoy!

2,171 words (or about a 20 minute read.)

It was July of 1893, but this wasn’t like any other day here in Paris, Texas. Seven riders tore into town like a plague of locusts under a moonless sky, slaughtering anyone who dared to step outside. I watched one rip a man’s head clean off, his body flopping like a rag doll. The rider turned toward me, his eyes glowing red, like fire burned through his soul. These weren’t ordinary men, but something straight from a nightmare.

I peeked from behind my window, staying hidden as they gutted the sheriff and tore the deputy’s arms off. Blood sprayed everywhere. The leader, bigger than the rest, a hulking shadow, flashed an unsettling smile that chilled me to the bone. The streets ran red that night, and none of it was theirs. I couldn’t watch the slaughter anymore. I lowered my head, asked the Lord to forgive my sins, and waited for them to kill me next.

I woke at dawn, shocked to be alive. A man with golden locks stood over me, his black hat tilted so I couldn’t see his eyes. His clothes were spotless, boots shined like he’d just dressed, a soft aura around him as a cross sigil on his vest glowed faintly. “You’re alive, Billy James,” he said, voice low and steady, as if he’d known me forever. I looked over my body, touching my chest, half-expecting a wound, and scrambled to my feet. A smirk crossed his face as I kept checking for injuries. “The name’s Michael” he said, his Colt somehow catching the light, nearly blinding me. “I’m here to investigate the carnage that befell this city last night. Can you tell me what you remember?”

I found it strange that he already knew about last night, but I told him everything, the devastation, the red eyes, all of it. We walked out together, stepping into a massacre. Rust-colored dust danced in the wind trying to bury the blood. Bodies littered the ground, more death than I had reckoned. At the church, the preacher hung nailed to an upside-down cross, his body a mangled ruin. Everyone else was dead. I needed to leave, but where? That question hit me like a stray bullet. This place was all I knew.

As I saddled my horse, Michael watching silently, I spotted more figures approaching, tying their pure white horses to a nearby post, all save one, a painted steed with splotches of earth and sky. A large man with a burly beard hefting a massive warhammer, Raguel, Michael said. A woman, who he said was Uriel, shouldered a rifle as beautiful as Michael’s pistol, walking beside a man draped in daggers named Barachiel. Two more further behind looked to be arguing resting their hands on their revolvers, “that’s Gabriel and Raphael,” he said. A shadow jumped from roof to roof, I glanced up, but nobody could be seen. Michael leaned in and whispered, “that’s Sariel”—the painted horse must be his.

I swallowed hard as the weight of Michael’s words sank in, his voice trying to calm my nerves. “Those riders you saw last night, they’re no men. They are the Seven Hounds of Hell: Lucifer, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Belial, Astaroth & Mammon led by the big bastard himself, Satan. They’ve been tearing through towns like this, leaving nothing but carnage in their wake. Paris ain’t the first, and unless we stop them, it won’t be the last.”

Raguel stepped forward, his massive war-hammer resting on his shoulder as if it weighed nothing. His voice was softer than his scruffy beard and bulk suggested, but his eyes blazed. “They’ll pay,” he grumbled. “Belial will feel my gavel of justice once again.” Michael gripped his shoulder, a silent gesture of thanks.

Uriel, the woman with the long rifle was incredibly beautiful but said nothing when she turned to look at me. She scanned the horizon, her rifle glowing with a divine light. Michael leaned in, arm around me. “Most dangerous woman you’ll meet, can hit a coin five miles off.” She finally turned and winked. I noticed a hardness to her, like this isn’t the first time she’s had to deal with the likes of these devils.

Barachiel, “the blade”, smirked, flipping a dagger, catching it without looking before throwing it into a tiny pole. “Mammon is mine. His greed ends at the end of my blades,” he said with a voice smooth as whiskey. I couldn’t help but stare at his two larger daggers that had a faint glow to them, they had runes etched into the side. He picked one up and let it dance between his fingers, as he grabbed the hilt the blade started to spin. That’s gonna hurt, I thought.

Gabriel and Raphael were still at it, bickering like two rattlesnakes in a sack. “You couldn’t hit Beelzebub if he was standin’ still,” Gabriel snapped, twirling his rune-etched pistols. Raphael grinned, leveling his own guns right back. “Least I don’t miss and blame the wind, you loudmouthed fool.” I figured they’d shoot each other before the devils got a chance. Both turned to look at me when they noticed I was staring at them, “I’m your huckleberry” Gabriel quipped, winking playfully.

As Michael and I talked, I noticed Sariel stayed on the rooftops to keep a lookout. I caught his bow’s glint “it was crafted from a fallen star and his arrows tipped with celestial flame”, Michael said. “He also carries a tomahawk etched with runes, same as us.” I imagine he’s just as deadly with both of them.

The shock on my face was palpable, this was not some random investigator and his crew were not just some posse he rounded up. This was the Archangel Michael, the Commander of God’s army, and he stood before me, his fellow angels spread out behind him. Each bore the same cross as Michael, a force of nature in their own right, and I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d stumbled into a war older than the plains themselves.

I looked to Michael, why am I still alive when everyone else is dead? He turned, his hat still shading those eyes I couldn’t quite meet. He stared me up and down, wanting to say something, then spoke softly. “The Lord’s hand is on you, Billy, I can feel it.” His words sent a shiver down my spine, what did he mean he could feel the Lord’s hand on me?

I’m no fighter, but I’d join y’all and get revenge! Raphael overheard, cutting in, “this ain’t about revenge son, it’s a reckoning.”“There’s something about you and we just might need that” Gabriel said sneering with a wink at Raphael. “You’ve seen ’em, you know what they can do. You’re in,” Michael added.

Sariel let out a sharp, owl-like cry from the roofs. Uriel turned towards Michael, racking her rifle with a click. They’re back and they’ve brought an army.” A howl rolled in from the plains, low and gut-twisting. Dust kicked up, and red eyes gleamed through the haze as Satan rode at the front, a mob of riders behind him, charging back to Paris.

Michael spoke, voice steady, “he must’ve sensed us, it’s the only reason he’d come back.” There was only seven of ‘em last night, who’re all those others? I asked. “The devils are the seven deadly sins Billy, hate, pride, greed, lust, gluttony, worthlessness and vanity. They’ve recruited the weak of mind to join them, damned souls twisted by their own vices.”

I scrambled onto my horse, heart hammering. The angels spread out, weapons aglow, and those riders charged, a storm of fire and death. Paris wasn’t where it all started, but it would end here. Michael raised his revolver, Perdition, he called it, its shine still as blinding as the sun. “LET’S RIDE!” he bellowed, and ride we did. Straight towards the Hounds of Hell and their damned souls.

Gabriel, God’s messenger, spoke, his voice booming for miles: “The Lord hath judged you all and sent the righteous to rid you from this world! BEND THE KNEE OR PERISH!”

The Hounds answered with roars of defiance as they tore toward us, a storm of fire and death. Satan, hate incarnate, and his army of the damned screamed with rage, their eyes as red as his. He yelled a single word, “DIE,” the rest of his devils spread out among the horde seeding their lies into each poor soul, all pawns, sucked into this divine war of angels and devils.

I gripped my reins, heart pounding like a drum, as I charged into the fray with the five angels at my side. Uriel and Sariel hanging back to pick off the army as it charged into town. A warmth spread through my chest, my hands tingling with a faint glow. Their weapons flared beside me, and I knew, this was my reckoning, and God’s too.

The Hounds and their army hit the town like a flood, a storm of fire and death crashing over Paris. Satan’s smile gleamed as he drew a black-iron pistol, firing a shot that burned the air, aimed straight at Michael. Perdition roared in response, holy fire clashing with hellish smoke, each shot a thunderclap of justice against hate.

The damned swarmed the streets, their screams a cacophony of rage, recruited by the devils for their sinful hearts. I gripped my reins, heart pounding like a drum, as I rode through the chaos, the warmth in my chest growing, my hands tingling with a faint glow.

A damned soul lunged at me, but l dodged, my horse rearing as I struggled to stay in the fight. Nearby, Gabriel and Raphael fought side by side, their bickering replaced by a fierce rhythm. Gabriel laughed wildly, his rune-etched pistols blazing as Beelzebub’s fly-swarm buzzed with insatiable hunger, the gluttonous devil gorging on the fallen, his bloated form quivering with excess.

“Hit something, why don’t you?” Raphael teased, his chains lashing out to snare Asmodeus mid-charge, the lustful devil’s hypnotic voice weaving a spell of desire over the battlefield. I rode through the chaos, my hands glowing brighter now, and raised my palm in panic as another damned soul charged; a burst of light shot out, banishing it to ash.

I stared, dumbstruck, at the glow, the Lord’s power coursing through me. Gabriel and Raphael spun mid-fight, their eyes wide with shock. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Gabriel said, grinning ear to ear as he touched his glowing cross. “Damned, huh?” Raphael quipped, a grin breaking through his surprise as he fired another shot at Beelzebub’s swarm. Across the battlefield, Michael and Satan’s battle raged on, Satan’s hellfire shots searing the air as Michael dodged, his Colt blazing with holy light.

Gabriel’s bullets burned with divine truth, scattering Beelzebub’s flies, forcing the devil to choke on his own gluttony. “You gonna do something or just stand there and bleed?” he taunted, a final shot to the chest making Beelzebub howl before he slumped over, dissolving into ash.

“Least I don’t need chains to hit my mark,” Gabriel shot back with a grin, as Raphael’s pistols fired prayers of restraint, breaking Asmodeus’s spell over the damned. “Hey Gabe, look what I got,” Raphael yelled out. “Just finish him off already, would you,” said Gabriel, rolling his eyes. Raphael winked at Asmodeus, “No one’s falling for you now, Asmodeus,” yanking the chains to pull Asmodeus to his knees, a shot searing the devil’s chest as his screams echoed, his body crumbling to dust.

Raguel and Sariel worked in tandem, a relentless force of judgment from ground and sky. Raguel roared on the ground, his gavel smashing Belial’s horse to splinters, the devil’s nihilistic voice sowing despair across the battlefield. From the rooftops above, Sariel’s arrows rained down, each a starburst, pinning Astaroth to a saloon wall, her mirror-like shield reflecting her own image as her vain laughter echoed over the chaos. Raguel’s hammer struck with divine purpose, shattering Belial’s lies, each swing a judgment that silenced the devil’s despair.

Belial lunged at Raguel, but the angel caught him mid-air, slamming him into the ground with a thunderous blow, his hammer glowing as he finished the devil, whose despairing whispers faded into silence as his form turned to ash. At the same moment, Sariel leaped down, his tomahawk spinning, catching an arrow mid-air and firing it through Astaroth’s shield, the starburst exploding in her face as her beauty shattered, her form scattering into embers.

Michael and Satan’s battle intensified, Satan’s aura of hate radiating a suffocating malice, his massive frame lunging at Michael, only for Michael to sidestep, firing a round that grazed the devil’s cheek, holy light searing his flesh. “Your hate ends here, Satan,” Michael growled, his voice a calm storm. I darted through the battlefield, the warmth in my chest surging, my hands now blazing with light as I banished more damned souls, their screams cut short by the Lord’s power flowing through me.

Uriel and Barachiel formed a seamless partnership, their light and blessings cutting through the darkness. From the rooftops, Uriel’s rifle cracked, a beam of light piercing Lucifer’s shoulder, the prideful devil sneering with an aura of arrogance that filled the air. On the ground below, Barachiel danced through the mob, a whirlwind of spinning daggers, carving a path to Mammon as the greedy devil’s eyes gleamed with avarice, summoning a wave of gold coins that burned with the corruption of wealth. Lucifer charged the rooftop with a shimmering sword, its edge radiating hubris, but Uriel leaped down, her rifle morphing into a glowing spear.

“You brought this upon yourself, Morning Star,” Uriel said, her voice steady, parrying his strike with blinding light and driving the spear into his chest, his form fading into embers as he fell face-first into the blood-soaked gravel. Barachiel dodged Mammon’s hellfire coins, his blades flashing with humility, driving one into the devil’s chest as the runes glowed, the gold around him turning to ash.

“Looks like your luck’s run dry, Mammon,” Barachiel said, twisting the blade as Mammon’s back burst open, his body dissolving into a pile of cursed gold dust. Satan broke from Michael, his massive frame charging toward me, the ground quaking with each step, his black-iron pistol aimed at me. “YOU!” Satan bellowed, his voice a thunderclap of hate. “I’ll tear the Lord’s light from your soul!”

A shot fired, the bullet a streak of hellfire, but Michael appeared in a flash, his Colt blazing-Perdition’s holy fire met the hellfire mid-air, the two forces exploding in a burst of light and shadow that knocked me off my horse. I hit the ground hard, my glow flaring brighter, the warmth in my chest now a fire, as Michael stood between me and Satan, his golden locks whipping in the wind, his cross sigil a beacon. “Your fight’s with me,” he said, voice steady as stone.

Satan roared, his pistol firing a barrage of hellfire shots, each one dripping with malice, while the damned surged forward, their hands grasping at Michael, driven by his hateful aura. But Michael moved like a storm, his Colt a blur-each shot burned through the souls, their screams fading into silence as holy light consumed them.

He advanced on Satan, dodging a furious swing of the devil’s arm, and fired a round into Satan’s shoulder, the holy fire searing deep. Satan howled, his hate fueling a wave of shadow that erupted from his body, the darkness swallowing the street, the remaining damned shrieking as their rage amplified.

Michael’s sigil flared brighter, cutting through the shadow like a sunrise. “For the Lord’s judgment,” he whispered, and charged. I scrambled to my feet, my hands now blazing with light, the warmth in my chest a roaring flame. A damned lunged at me, but my touch turned it to ash, its scream cut short.

Satan roared, his hate flaring one last time, a wave of darkness knocking Michael back. But Michael stood firm, Perdition flaring with holy light, and with a final shot, he pierced Satan’s heart, the holy fire weakening the devil. I raised my glowing hands, the Lord’s power surging through me, and unleashed a burst of light that struck Satan alongside Michael’s shot, the combined force consuming him. in a blaze of divine fire. “You have been weighed and measured, found wanting” Michael said, his voice a decree, as Satan’s scream echoed, his form crumbling to ash, his army collapsing into dust with him.

The battlefield fell silent, the other Hounds banished by the angels’ might. Michael turned to me, his golden locks stained with soot, his eyes finally meeting mine-steady, unyielding, and full of knowing. “You’re the Lord’s chosen, Billy,” he said.

The other angels gathered around, their weapons still glowing faintly, their faces etched with the weight of the fight. Gabriel holstered his pistols, a grin on his face despite the blood on his cheek. Raphael coiled his chains, nodding to me with a quiet respect. Uriel shouldered her rifle, her gaze sharp but warm. Raguel leaned on his gavel, his bulk a steady presence, while Barachiel wiped his daggers clean, his smirk softer now. Sariel dropped from the rooftops, silent as ever, his bow at his side.

Michael stepped closer, his hand on my shoulder. “The Hounds are gone for now, but their taint lingers in this world. You’ve been marked by the Lord, Billy, His proxy in this fight. There’s more to come.” Uriel chimed in, her tone tinged with awe, “I’ve never seen a mortal wield the Lord’s power like that.” “You’re something else, that’s for sure, kid,” Gabriel quipped. I looked at my glowing hands, the warmth in my chest now a steady pulse. I looked at Gabriel and said, “I’m your huckleberry,” with a wink. Raphael punched Gabriel and laughed. Paris was a graveyard now, but I wasn’t alone anymore. I had a purpose, and a posse.

I glanced at the horizon as the sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson. We mounted our horses, the seven angels and I, our shadows stretching long across the blood-soaked earth. Michael tipped his hat to me, a faint smile on his lips, and led the way. Gabriel gave a booming “YEEHAW!” spurring his horse as we rode west, toward the sunset, the light glinting off our weapons, a band of divine warriors bound by a holy mission. The road ahead was uncertain, but with the Lord’s light in my hands and the angels at my side, I was ready for whatever darkness awaited.

THE END… for now

I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read my short story. I believe there’s a story in each of us, begging to get out. Through reading books of all my favorite authors, writing reviews of their work, and through film, I found my story and felt compelled to share it. This is just the beginning, and I hope to write and self-publish a new story of my own one day.