Phenomenal One Chapter 11

Warning: Violence, swearing, disturbing images. And Miz and Maryse.

As always, a huge thank you to beta-reader extraordinaire Kiss316.

The jail reeked.

Since the violent criminals were usually dealt with immediately, the jail was mostly used to let rowdy drunks sleep it off. And it was obvious by the smell that Mizanin didn't have any enthusiasm for cleaning up after inebriated inmates puked their guts out.

Instinctively reluctant to go into the cell, AJ paused at the door. With a hand between AJ's shoulder blades, Mizanin shoved him forcefully into the jail cell and shut the door behind him, locking the padlock into place with smug finality. "Don't think you'll be out of here any time soon," the sheriff sneered through the iron bars and went back to his office in the front of the building. His wife was standing in the doorway and smirked at AJ over her husband's shoulder. It might have been his imagination but AJ thought he saw her eyes briefly gleam. Then the sheriff shut the door, blocking out all the light except for a slender beam under the door. Alone in the dark, AJ could hear him kiss his wife, both of them giggling.

Grinding his teeth, AJ glared at the door. His arm throbbed hotly as he pushed his hair out of his face. He wanted to vomit, and not just because of the smell. Here was the famous AJ Styles, former ace of the most notorious gang in the Rocky Mountains, designer and executor of the most infamous bank heists in the history of both Idaho and Montana territories, brought low by a sorry excuse for a sheriff and his wife who didn't even realize just who it was they had arrested. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him. He just hoped that Bullet Club didn't find out about this. They'd die laughing.

In the office, Mizanin and his wife were still going at it. Apparently, her name was Maryse, according to the moaning Mizanin. The solid wooden door between the office and the jail did nothing to mute the sounds.

"Got a plan on how you're getting out of here?" The Saint was amused at AJ's predicament and didn't bother to hide his smirk.

AJ turned his glare on the Spirit of Death. 'Don't you have anyone else to bother?' He wondered if the Saint was going to tell Randy about it. God, this was embarrassing.

The Saint gave him a very unimpressed look. "No."

Nearby, AJ could hear the woman starting to moan. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he shouted at the closed door. The couple didn't seem to care that AJ could hear them as it became obvious they were engaging in full-on sex. Right against the wooden door between the jail and the office, from the way the door was rattling on its hinges.

"For fuck sake," AJ grumbled. He sat on the edge of the cot and resolutely tried to ignore what he was hearing. Thinking about how her eyes flashed when she looked at him he asked, "Is she a demon?"

"No," the Saint replied, with a tilt of his head. "Why?"

"I thought I saw something," AJ shrugged. "Must have been my imagination."

"Not necessarily. Demons are easy to spot because they are not from this world. But there are beings of power native to this world too." The Saint looked over at the rattling door. "She might be a dabbler or something more powerful. You won't be able to tell until she reveals herself."

Finally, the couple came to a noisy conclusion and AJ breathed a sigh of relief as the woman's caterwauling died away. There was some rustling of clothing. The light was extinguished and AJ could hear the front door opening and shutting.

"They're gone," the Saint reported.

"About time." AJ waited a little while for his eyes to adjust to the dark then went over to the door and examined the lock in the meager moon light. It was just a standard padlock, the size of AJ's hand. His lip curled in derision. Even the Young Bucks could have picked it. As it was, AJ slid a thin piece of metal he habitually carried on the inside of his left boot and set about to open the padlock. It took him about three minutes.

"Not bad," the Saint observed.

AJ just smirked. Years of being an outlaw and hanging around with Bullet Club had taught him many things. He closed the cell door behind him and locked the padlock again. He listened for a minute to be sure no one was close by. Only the steady song of crickets and the waters of Grasshopper Creek nearby could be heard. AJ went to the office door, grunting with pain when he moved his right arm on instinct. He placed his left hand on the door and tested it. It was locked too but that only slowed him down a few minutes. When he entered the sheriff's office in the front of the building, he saw his rifle and ammunition just lying on the desk (Mizanin either hadn't bothered to lock them up or forgot to) and grabbed them. Then he left the building, again, locking the door behind him and stalked back through the dark street in a huff. As he breathed the clean air, he thought fuck this town. As soon as he was done with this Skinwalker business, he was leaving this shithole. And if by some small chance Mizanin had the stones to pursue him? Well, AJ could easily deal with him. They wouldn't even find the body.

After collecting his gear from his hotel room, he talked to the night clerk about getting a new room, under a different name with a discreet gold piece with instructions if anyone came looking for him. The clerk, whose eyes were bugging out at the gold, fervently promised that no one would disturb AJ. Satisfied, AJ found his new room which was almost identical to the old one, locked the door, hid his gold again and flopped on the mattress. He was asleep in a matter of minutes.

When he woke up, it was early morning. His room was warm, but a slight breeze moved the air to keep it from stifling. He roused himself, changed the bandage on his arm, which was still swollen and hot, and took a few minutes to clean the blood off his new shirt. He stitched up the sleeve where Jack had cut it and called it good. After a quick bite to eat from the kitchen, he wandered over to the Mayor's office, inside the courthouse. Daniel was sitting at his desk and looked up when AJ entered. He smiled at gestured for AJ to join him. "How's the arm?" he asked.

"It's fine," AJ said as he eased himself into a chair, slouching in unconscious arrogance.

"That was some good shooting last night," Daniel said. "You're probably the best I've seen around here."

AJ shrugged. He knew he was an excellent shot and didn't need Daniel Bryan to tell him.

"Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"My daddy taught me," AJ said neutrally. It was a safe enough answer.

"I'm glad he did," Daniel nodded and then got down to business. "I found out who the last person buried in the cemetery was. A young woman named Rebecca Lynch, recently emigrated from Ireland. She died over a month ago."

"How?" AJ asked. The inside of the courthouse was quiet. Through the open windows he could hear the sounds of people outside going about their daily business.

Daniel shook his head. "Not sure. She was found dead in her room at the boarding house. There wasn't a mark on her."

"That doesn't mean it was murder," AJ shrugged. People died all the time for unknown reasons. Such was life in the rugged West.

"But why would the dogs appear if she died of natural causes?" Daniel wondered.

"Good point." AJ asked. "Did she have any enemies?"

Daniel shrugged. "I don't know. She hadn't lived here in Bannack that long. But she made an impression on the men around here, that's for sure."

AJ raised his eyebrows.

Daniel smirked. "She had an unusual hair color, like fire from what Brie tells me. And a temper to match."

"Did she get into a fight with someone and they killed her?"

"Who knows?" Daniel sighed. "There are some very petty people in this town, and dangerous ones as well. But since there were no witnesses, we might never find out what killed her."

An idea occurred to AJ. 'Can you ask Ms. Lynch what happened to her?' he asked the Saint.

The Saint looked startled as if it never occurred to him to try to talk to the souls of the dead. He shrugged. "I can try, if she hasn't moved on."

They were interrupted by someone entering the courthouse, slamming the door open and shouting, "Where's Daniel?" It was Sheriff Mizanin.

Bryan rubbed his eyes as if he were trying to ease a headache. "What the hell does he want now?" he asked the air around him.

AJ sat back and schooled his expression into polite interest. This was going to be good.

Mizanin stomped into Daniel's office and stopped dead at the sight of AJ, slouched in his chair. "Who let you out?" he demanded as he pointed at AJ. "Was it you?" he shouted at Daniel.

"Mizanin, what the hell are you talking about?" Daniel asked, sounding infinitely weary. "And please, you don't need to shout. We are right here and can you hear you just fine."

"Its SHERIFF Mizanin and I asked if it was you!" Mizanin lowered his voice, if only slightly.

"Sheriff Mizanin, I have no idea what you're talking about. Allen and I were just sitting here talking," Daniel replied, sounding tired.

But Mizanin interrupted him. "Bullshit! I arrested him last night! He should be in jail right now!" he insisted.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you talking about, Sheriff?" AJ asked, blue eyes wide. "You didn't arrest me. I went to bed after stopping at the saloon last night," he shrugged at Daniel with feigned helplessness. Behind him, the Saint chuckled.

His face bright red, Mizanin took a menacing step towards AJ with a hand on his pearl-handled gun, but Daniel got to his feet and intercepted the irate sheriff. "Sheriff Mizanin, I don't know what's going on here but I'm sure we can work it out," he started.

"He's calling me a liar!" Mizanin shouted in Daniel's face.

Some spit must have landed because now Daniel flushed red and despite his earlier entreaty to keep voices down, he started yelling right back at Mizanin. An audience started to gather at the office door. AJ could tell by the expressions on the faces that this situation wasn't unusual. AJ tried his best to look as if he had no clue what was going on, but he had a hard time hiding his smirk.

Seeing it, Mizanin pushed past Daniel to loom over AJ who was still slouched in his chair. "Who helped you?" Mizanin demanded, bending over to get right up into AJ's face. "It was Daniel Bryan, wasn't it?"

"What?" AJ asked, feigning puzzlement. He wasn't doing a great job and he could tell Mizanin wasn't buying it. But it didn't matter, because Daniel wasn't going to believe anything Mizanin said at this point.

"Who. Helped. You. Escape. From. The. Jail!" Mizanin shouted.

"Like I told you, Sheriff. You can ask anyone and no one helped me," AJ persisted, just to aggravate Mizanin even more. "Because I was never there."

"Calm down Sheriff," Daniel told him, trying to get Mizanin to back away from AJ. "You'll give yourself a stroke in this heat."

But that was exactly what AJ was aiming for. "You can ask the night clerk at the hotel. I was there all night." He stood up and said to Daniel, "Look, you obviously have things to discuss. We can finish this later. Sheriff," AJ acknowledged and headed toward the office door.

Nearly frothing with frustration, Mizanin grabbed AJ by his sore arm and AJ went from amused to infuriated in a heartbeat. He jerked his arm out of Mizanin's grasp and grabbed the pearl-handled gun from Mizanin's holster before the sheriff could even think of reaching for it. The hammer was cocked and the barrel in Mizanin's face before either Mizanin or Daniel could react.

"Don't you EVER touch me again," AJ warned, hissing through clenched teeth.

For a few seconds no one moved.

"Alright, everyone just CALM THE FUCK DOWN!" Daniel said firmly. He could not believe how fast AJ was. "Allen, please put the gun down."

Glancing at Daniel, he took a breath to master his rage. AJ held the gun in Mizanin's pale face for another heartbeat before uncocking the hammer and lowering his hand. He forced himself to smirk again as he brushed his hair out of his face. He nonchalantly reversed the gun and held it out to Mizanin, handle first. "Certainly, Daniel. Here you go Sheriff," he said.

With a shaking hand, Mizanin took the gun and put it back in its holster.

"Those are some quick reflexes," a good looking gentleman with dark, lively eyes observed from the door. He had short gray hair but his face didn't have many lines.

"Commissioner McMahon," Daniel greeted the newcomer with relief. He looked over at the people peering into the office pointedly and they reluctantly shuffled away.

Looking between the newcomer and Daniel, Mizanin looked like he was going to spit, decided against it and stalked out of the building without another word. Watching him go, Daniel sighed and shook his head. "Commissioner, this is Allen Jones. He's been helping me with an issue."

"Please, call me Shane," Shane told him as he offered his hand to AJ.

"Okay, Shane. I'm Allen." AJ shook his hand. He grinned his cocky grin as he looked up at Shane. "Nice to meet you."

"What do you do Allen?" Shane asked with genuine interest, looking directly into AJ's eyes.

AJ was opening his mouth to say 'I used to lead Bullet Club until they tried to kill me, now I'm hunting a Skinwalker for the Saint of Killers' but the Saint's hand landing on his shoulder stopped him just in time. "I'm an assayer," he said, feeling a bit bewildered. He had no idea why he had almost said that about Bullet Club and the Saint.

"That was close," the Saint growled.

Before AJ could react, Daniel smiled and told AJ, "Shane and I have some things to discuss. We'll finish the Lynch case later." He held the door for AJ.

AJ didn't take offense. He had accomplished what he set out to do. Mizanin's remaining credibility was gone. "Let me know when you're ready, Daniel. Shane, nice to meet you." AJ nodded to the commissioner and left.

As they watched AJ leave, Daniel shut the door and leaned on it in relief.

Shane raised an eyebrow at Daniel. "Was that the reason you wanted me to come here? To see how unstable Mizanin is? Or to meet Allen Jones?" He had used some of his power on Allen just as a test. For a second he had thought Allen was going to answer differently. Interesting.

"Both," Daniel admitted. "Mizanin's getting worse."

"Why was Allen threatening him?" Shane asked.

Daniel replayed the events in his mind. "Mizanin has always hated Allen. He made the sheriff look bad by running Cactus Jack out of town before he could kill anyone. Then, last night I asked Allen to go with me to the cemetery. He saved my life from those dogs I told you about. But in the process he got bit in the arm, the one Mizanin grabbed him by. I'm sure it really hurt Allen but, even though he was mad, I don't think Allen was really going to shoot him. He was just letting him know that grabbing him wasn't going to be tolerated."

"Really?" Shane's eyebrow's rose.

Sighing, Daniel nodded. "Yeah. Allen isn't the type to lose control in high-stress situations. Please, sit down; we have a lot to discuss."

Outside, AJ couldn't resist grinning. That couldn't have gone any better. He sauntered back through town.

"Feeling pretty good about yourself, aren't you," the Saint observed.

'Of course. That idiot Mizanin tried to pull a power play on me and failed miserably. There's a reason I was the ace of Bullet Club.'

"Don't get too cocky, boy. That Commissioner has power and he used it on you."

That sobered AJ up. 'Yeah,' he thought. He'd have to watch that one closely. Where the hell was Corbin? He needed that Wolf to get back so he could finish this stupid mission and get the hell away from Bannack and its weirdness.

Speaking of weirdness, he decided to go check the graveyard. Maybe examining the bodies of the Barghest in daylight would shed some answers. He retrieved his buckskin from the livery and headed west out of town. In broad daylight, the graveyard looked normal. Dead grass rustled in the slight breeze and small birds sang as they flitted among the sage brush. He dismounted and tossed the reins over a fence rail. The gate creaked as he opened it and entered. He frowned when he saw there were no signs of the bodies of the dogs he and Daniel had shot just last night. Disturbed, he made his way to Rebecca Lynch's grave marker. It was tilted just a little bit and he absently straightened it. The Saint hovered nearby.

"Is she there?" he asked quietly.

"Don't know yet," the Saint shrugged. He was concentrating on the earth below their feet. "It's not the best time to do this. Daylight makes this much harder." He grew quiet again. Bored, AJ shifted his weight and studied the horizon. He saw a line of clouds far to the west and hoped they indicated a rare August rainstorm. But the month was almost over and things usually cooled down in September.

Beside him, the Saint glared at the earth. "She's down there. Gonna need you for this."

"What?"was all AJ had time to say before the Saint stepped into him. AJ felt the guns manifest but the Saint stayed in control, buffering their horrific power on AJ's soul.

"Get up here, young lady," the Saint of Killers commanded in a voice that brooked no argument.

In front of them, a transparent young woman rose up from the ground. Like Daniel had described, she had hair like fire. She was sturdily built, obviously used to hard work. She also had a thick chain wrapped around her neck and wrists. The links were so black they absorbed any light around them. The end of the soul chain sank into the earth at her feet. She seemed to be straining against it.

"What killed you?" the Saint asked the chained soul bluntly.

"A curse." Rebecca Lynch had a very thick Irish accent. Her voice sounded as if she was speaking from far away. "I was unable to move. They buried me alive. I lay in darkness until I died. I can't move," she repeated frantically. She pulled against the chain but it was no use. It was too strong for her, the links bound too tight for her to free herself.

'She's stuck in her corpse,' the Saint told AJ, who was only able to watch in horror. AJ could feel the Saint's rage, not directed at the helpless, bound soul in front of them, but for some reason, he was thinking of Randy. AJ had no idea why.

'Can we do something to set her free?' he asked.

'Easiest way is to break the curse. Then she can move on,' the Saint told him. "Who cursed you?" he asked out loud.

"The witch. She cursed me," the soul of Rebecca Lynch said. She pulled against the chain in vain. Tears were leaking from her eyes like rivers of ice. "I couldn't move. I called out but only the Barghest could hear me."

"Do you know her name? What does the witch look like?" the Saint asked, impatient.

The trapped soul shook her head. "White hair. Please don't send me back down there. My body is rotting," she begged. The chain had started to retract into the ground, pulling the girl with it. She was on her knees now.

The Saint hesitated, if only fractionally. Then still using AJ's body, he reached out and grabbed the soul chain. Despite the spirit's buffering presence, AJ screamed in his own mind when his hands touched the icy black links. As if it had a will of its own, the chain unwrapped itself from Becky's soul and reached for AJ's which was already aching from the presence of the Colt Walkers. It wound around his wrists and neck, binding him to the rotting corpse below. Through the chain he could feel the maggots, which had finished with the eyes and were burrowing further in. The chain continued to resist but Saint of Killers pulled with all of his incredible strength to slow it down. Blood from the Barghest's bite wound soaked through the bandage and poured down his arm from the strain. AJ's sanity started to slip as he felt grave worms squirming inside the corpse of Becky Lynch's stomach and along her legs. For long seconds the cursed chain resisted, but the Saint, despite heavy damage it was doing to AJ's mind and soul, continued to pull. Slowly, inch by inch, the chain started to give. Then one link, slightly weaker than the others broke with a silent 'snap', freeing AJ from the corpse.

The unbound soul of Rebecca Lynch smiled at them. She had been very pretty when she was alive. "Thank you." Then she disappeared as if she had never been there at all. Nearby, a finch trilled on a thistle.

The Saint left AJ's body and he collapsed, panting with agony. The fresh memory of the rotting corpse below the ground he knelt on made him violently sick. After his stomach was empty, he dragged the back of his trembling hand across his mouth. He attempted to get to his feet but he was too weak, so he ended up crawling to the grave marker. He set his back against it, bracing his elbows on his knees and tilted his head back to let the slight breeze cool the sweat on his forehead. He had witnessed many atrocities during the War, but nothing had horrified him like the feeling of being trapped in a copse as it rotted around him. He closed his eyes and desperately tried to forget.

Expressionless, the Saint watched AJ slowly recover and knew he made a serious mistake. The soul chain and the Colts together were too powerful for a living human to be near without devastating consequences. AJ's soul, vulnerable from the proximity of the Colt Walkers, now bore black marks where the chain had wrapped around it. And the black was very gradually spreading. But the sight of the Lynch girl's soul, chained to her corpse, unable to move on reminded him too much of his son. His regret for Randy had gotten in the way of the mission.

"What was that?" AJ asked hoarsely when he finally opened his eyes again. He flexed his aching hands. It felt like he had held them ice for an hour. The sun overhead was unbearably bright, making his head pound. And the Barghest bite on his arm continued to leak blood.

"A very nasty curse. It took a lot of power to do that. You need to be careful. What you're dealing with is not some hedge witch."

"I thought you said we had to break the curse to set her free." AJ had imagined finding the person who cast the curse and making them reverse it. Not grabbing the chain and...he shuddered again and slid his aching hands through his hair.

"We did. Breaking the chain breaks the curse."

Still on the ground, AJ tried to think of something else. "White hair? Mizanin's wife?"

"Could be," the Saint shrugged. "But in any case, the curse is broken and there will be no more Barghest. We're done."

"And the person that did this just gets away with it?" AJ asked, getting angry. Anger was good; it was something to focus on instead of rotting corpses. And grave worms. He shuddered as his stomach did a slow roll.

"Don't forget what you're true objective is here," the Saint warned. He wouldn't let AJ to go on some crusade against a powerful witch. Not after being weakened like this.

But AJ was stubborn, and being bound to a decomposing corpse by a soul chain was apt to get a man's temper up. AJ somehow found the energy to glare at the Saint but didn't care to argue. It took him several tries to get to his feet and stagger out the cemetery gate to his horse. He leaned against the animal for a good minute before he could gather the strength to climb into the saddle. He grimaced at the blood still trickling down his arm as he gathered the reins. It seemed he was destined to never have a non-bloodstained shirt.

AJ let the horse walk back to Bannack. Every part of him ached. He hadn't felt this punished since the war, and didn't that bring back unpleasant memories? After putting the horse in its stall with some hay and water, he considered going back the hotel and sleeping. But the hotel was a long walk back through town and he just didn't have the energy. He ended up on a cot in the livery office. The barn was warm and quiet and he was asleep in a matter of seconds.

The Saint of Killers was troubled. He didn't want to leave, but knew it was best for AJ to be away from the Colt Walkers. He decided to talk to Mark.

TBC