The woman whirled, savage grin feral. Lily had been next to the Chaney's women's table, and caught the talk of the Van Lear family. She opened her mouth, but saw the teenage girl, her hair. Red hair like a river of blood rolled down upon a leather jacket. Strands ran through Leah's, but mostly it was dark. Lily looked to the man with black locks. "You could be," she breathed, and touched her lower belly.

"Like a ripe strawberry," Harry bellowed, and reached for Lily's chest.

"Creep," Leah tried to stop him, but he knocked her away. I hate being so weak, she thought with a curse.

Lily smiled, and for a moment, Leah swore hellish flame swirled in her eyes. A small hand slapped him away. "Oh, that was very gentleman like," she grinned. "Did you mistake me for your sister…or perhaps, your mother?"

Harry blinked, hand stung, and he rubbed it. "Don't act like you don't like it!" he reached for her again.

Again, she swatted away his hand. The broad smile wolfish; Leah swore the woman had a wicked set of incisors. "Like a big stupid dog," Lily marveled, a dark delight danced through her.

"What happening, Red?" he laughed, though dark eyes flickered.

"Nothing, Hemi," she put an arm around Leah, "just a little boy, who is tired of chasing sheep around a barn yard."

"Well," he laughed, and put a companionable arm around Harry. Hemi dug fingers into the man's shoulder with a gleeful laugh. "I knew he was a romancer of farmyard animals," he grinned, but squeezed until a groan seeped out of Harry.

"Hemi, Red," a man said in an even tone from a table. Built like the man in the leather jacket, he was older and weathered. He studied the bar with mild interest.

"Coming Clay," he said, and let go of Harry. He patted him on the back with a chummy laugh.

"Come with us, Sweetie," Red pulled her away from Harry, who gasped and rubbed where Hemi had squeezed him.

"I need to go back to my mom," Leah said, but blushed when they looked at her.

"We'll sit with you," Red smiled at Hemi, who shrugged.

Clay watched, but came over after they waved him over. He looked at them, eyebrows raised, until he saw Leah. "Everything fine," he saw Harry speaking to other men. Always trouble, they're like flames constantly causing fires, he mused.

"Who are these people?" Tracy's asked, and her lip curled.

"I'm Clay," the older man smiled, wildness held in check by steel resolve. "This is my son Hemish and Red, Lily, his wife."

"We don't need any company, thank you," she sneered.

He looked at Hemi and Red. "We're here, in town, on business," Clay smiled. "We're here to see an old friend."

Hemi laughed, "It has been a while."

"He was always high spirited," Red added, and her husband threw his head back.

"Who may that be?" Leah asked. Maybe, it is Iggy. They look like they're from a rock band.

"A rather grave fellow," Clay smiled, but Hemi and Red broke into gales of laughter. "He is a Van Lear," he looked at the plaque over the bartender, which displayed the establishment's name in Old English script. He finished a beer, while the other two emptied bottles of whiskey.

"I'm doing work for them now," Tracy said with a smile, satisfied.

"Is that so," he looked at the others. "We've done work for them too, once upon a time."

"I'm sure you have," she smiled, though eyes flattened.

"Mom," Leah pleaded. "They helped me. That man grabbed my bottom!"

"Oh," Tracy rolled her eyes. "Why did you expect, dressed like that?"

He frowned. Hemi's brow drew down, but Red's eyes darkened, as if a thunderstorm grew inside. "Blood is Blood," Clay ordered more whiskeys, but held a hand up to the others. "What are your names?"

"I'm Leah and this is Tracy," she smiled. The wild eyed woman was her height, she saw. "You could be my sister," she looked at Red.

"You could be my daughter," Lily marveled, eyes distant for a moment. Old horrors lingered in lovely eyes, which still stung from old pain.

"Well, she isn't" Tracy jeered, and Red turned a feral smile on her.

Clay studied Red, though looked back at Leah. "You look like quite the Rebel," he smiled. "We know a lot about rebellion." Hemi and Red laughed.

"Yeah," she beamed, "I'm not into the typical, boring stuff."

"I believe your shirt references the Blood Countess," Clay pointed.

"Oh, I made this," Leah pulled it, so they could see its design better. "It is my favorite band, but I like the Guitarist, who was here earlier."

"We heard of him," Clay looked to the others, who smiled back. "I was told he may have sold his soul to the Devil…or Abaddon."

"Oh, I heard that too," she laughed, but recalled Iggy's skill. "The Van Lear family has been asking about it."

He nodded, "You know the General feared Abaddon would take him."

"You mean Lance Van Lear, the Confederate General?" she frowned.

"Yes," he nodded, "the very one." Clay drank some whiskey. "I heard that place is haunted," he held the bottle to his lips, "the plantation atop Lear Mountain."

"Everyone has heard those stories," she shrugged. Why an outsider would be interested in local ghost stories, she wondered.

"We're leaving," Tracy stood, fished the money for the meal out of her purse, and slammed it onto the table. She grabbed Leah, "Stop taking to those degenerates!"

"Clay," Red looked at her father-in-law, and her eyes went to the girl.

"Mom," Leah tried to pull free.

"This is him," Harry growled. He pointed at Hemi, who laughed and waved in good cheer. Four men flanked him, all just as drunk. "We're going outside," he jabbed Hemi's chest, who laughed.

"Hey friend," he grinned, and looked at Red, "I see you learn the hard way. I love to teach it!" He broke into a fresh burst of hilarity.