by Lana Gotham
“Jon?” I watched as he opened his mouth and then shut it.
He slumped forward on his horse, his body slack.
“Jon!” I cried. I threw my leg over the side of Diana and hopped from her back.
Jacoby screamed. “Pa!” While Lindsey tried her best to comfort him, patting his arm and whispering in his ear.
“Help me get Jon down. We have to think of something fast or he ain’t going to make it.”
Lindsey slid from her horse, then helped Jacoby down. Next she helped me get Jon out of the saddle and spread across the ground.
“He doesn’t look too good,” Lindsey said.
Jon’s skin was waxy and when I held open his eyelids, his eyes were glassy.
No. He didn’t look good at all.
Chapter 21
“Jon?” I patted his cheek. When he didn’t respond, I tapped him harder. “Jon. Wake up. You hear me? Wake up!”
Jacoby sat on his knees next to his Pa and silently cried. Lindsey Willing bit her bottom lip. I could practically see the gears turning in her head.
In my chest, my heart was galloping. What would I do without Jon? How could I live my life? He was my lover—but he was more than that. Even if you took sex out of our relationship—if you reduced what we were down to its barest essence—Jon was my soul mate. The person who got me. Even when I didn’t realize I loved him, I knew I didn’t want to live without him. He was my friend. My best friend. He was kind and good and all the things that was so sparse in our ugly world.
And I refused to lose him. Not tonight. I would not let his soul end up as a slave on Red Soot Mountain.
“Jon. Dammit, open your eyes. Now, Jon!”
My heart flip flopped when Jon’s eyes turned into two small slits. He peered out at me and I knew there was hope. “Oh Jon. Hang on! We are going to get you some help! Just give me a minute to think—but you stay right here with us.”
On his abdomen, the white sheet was beginning to bloom red with blood.
“How are we going to get through New Duluth? If the Rosemary Boys are looking for you—hell maybe they are on their way here... And much less getting you to Madame Jessica with a dying man who cannot even sit on his horse.”
“The person you are taking us to is your Madame?”
Lindsey’s eyes narrowed and the small woman bristled. “You got a problem with what I do for a living? Let me tell you, Jessica is one of the smartest women I know. Before her husband died, she was working as a nurse. But guess what? You can’t pay the bills trying to work as a healer—not when you got a puss between your legs instead of a cock. Her career change has made her money and hasn’t changed her smarts—not one bit!”
I’d clearly hit a nerve.
I held up my hands. “That isn’t what I meant at all. And right now—even if she wasn’t a nurse in a former life, if you can speak for her abilities, then she is our best option.” She is our only option. And no matter what I told Lindsey, I didn’t love trusting the life of the man I loved to the hands of a woman of the night. No matter what she’d been in a past life.
“Yeah well. It don’t matter, because like I said—we ain’t got a snowball’s chance in hell of getting him there without being seen.”
Across from me, Jacoby whimpered. “Sheriff, is Malachi going to get us?”
With the little boy’s words, an idea began to spark in my mind.
“Maybe not,” I said. “I think I know what we need to do.”
Chapter 22
It took a better part of an hour to coax Jon awake, and another hour for him to make his transformation. It was painfully slow—much different from the night in GloryLand when he stepped out of one skin and into another, leaving nothing but a shell behind. This time, the shift was gradual; a lightening of skin, a shortening of hair. Eye color changing while stature shrunk. But finally, Jon was gone and the Vigilante lay in front of us.
Jacoby cried and recoiled. “It’s Malachi!” He kicked at Jon.
Lindsey grabbed the boy’s wrists. “Calm down sweetie. Shhh.” She pulled him close to her and in that moment I had no problem believing that the whore was a great Mama. “Look sweetie, It’s your Pa. He is just wearing a disguise. He is dressing up as the bad man to help keep us safe. You got to trust us, okay? We aren’t going to let anyone hurt you.”
The fight left the boy and he lay against Lindsey, and after a while, his trembling stopped.
We rode into New Duluth with the Vigilante on my horse behind me. He lay close, and his skin was clammy against my own, but somehow Jon managed to keep his eyes opened. I prayed that it would look as if I were his prisoner.
Lindsey had said that Malachi kept to his self around New Duluth, but had a reputation as a man nobody should mess with—a man with connections. A man with money and powerful allies (though she admitted nobody seemed to know who those allies were...) I was banking on Malachi’s reputation to keep us safe until we were safely tucked away inside.
We rode silently through a town that seemed to be dead. Lights and music came from one building: the town’s bar. Gun fire sounded from the same direction, followed by yelps and hollers. The main street wasn’t totally deserted, there were a few people sitting on balconies, and men who’d had too much whiskey passed out on porches.
Lindsey was riding lead, Jacoby tucked in front of her. Odin, Jon’s stallion, followed along behind us.
Lindsey turned down a road, heading toward the rowdy noise of the barroom.
“Lindsey, where are you taking us?” I hissed.
She looked over her shoulder. “Where do you think the Madame would be tonight, Sheriff? Bible study?”
I swallowed hard because she had a point. “But how—”
“Relax a little. Y’all aren’t going inside. My apartment is three buildings down. Y’all will park it there and I will get help.”
We continued to ride steadily down the road, in the direction of the bar. A sign, painted haphazardly in a bright red that resembled blood, proclaimed, Calhoun’s. The way business was booming, I bet Calhoun was a rich man.
You couldn’t pay me enough to live in that shit-hole town.
Just as it seemed we were going to make it, the swinging doors opened and a man stumbled out. He wore a tan hat, and in the soft light flittering from the barroom windows, it was hard to make out how he actually looked. The man hiccupped loudly then drug the back of his arm over his mouth. He stumbled toward us.
My breathing hitched. I didn’t stop Diana, and my hand inched toward my revolver.
The man rubbed his eyes. “Why Ms. Willing! I was just looking for you!”
Lindsey stopped her horse. She giggled, and in a voice I barely recognized, said, “Is that right Spud? Well I am all bought up for the night—probably for the next few nights actually.”
Spud smiled brightly. “That is what I heard. Heard you done snagged ole Malachi. I guess even a man like him has needs.” I could tell the moment he realized that “Malachi” was sitting behind me. The color drained from Spud’s face. “Oh, no,” he said. “Hi there Mr. Malachi. You know ole Spud didn’t mean no disrespect. I just had a bit too much whiskey is all.” Spud hiccupped as if to prove his point.
“Oh Spud,” Lindsey drawled. “Why don’t you go ahead and go on your way. Best not talk about this, okay? We don’t want to upset Malachi.” I could hear the smile in her voice.
Spud wasn’t too bright. Or either he was even drunker than he appeared. He asked no questions. He didn’t mention me. He didn’t seem to expect Malachi to answer him. He simply nodded one last time to Lindsey and stumbled away back towards the swinging doors.
“Oh, Spud,” Lindsey called to his back before he could re-enter the bar.
The drunk man stopped. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Mr. Bridges has some...eclectic tastes. Can you send Madame Jessica over to my house to talk about things? Hmm?”
“Sure thing, Lindsey.” He began to turn to leave again, but again paused. He slowly spun to face us
again. “Is that a child you have with you there, Lindsey? What is that about?” The man looked horrified. His jaw was slack and his eyes opened wide. “I know I ain’t exactly a pillar of propriety, but nobody should be hurting no child...that is sick.” He spat on the ground.
Lindsey didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t be a disgusting fool, Spud. You are lucky Malachi doesn’t quarter you. This here is his boy servant. He fetches water and such. You know what Spud? How dare you hint at something so despicable? Don’t you be asking for me no more.”
“Aw Lindsey, I’m a good guy—that’s why I had to ask...”
“Yes, Spud, but it’s the fact that you’d even think that about me.” Lindsey lifted her nose into the air and clicked her heels. Her horse began to walk away.
I had to hand it to the woman—she knew how to lie and she didn’t take shit from men.
I held my breath as we continued to the small boarding house where Lindsey lived on her nights off. Luckily, no more men, drunk or otherwise, stumbled from the bar. Hopefully Malachi was as much of a twisted fuck as we believed—that way no one would mess with us. Spud hadn’t mentioned me at all. Maybe he didn’t know who I was. Or maybe he thought I’d been captured by Malachi—his fear of the man was evident.
Jon’s skin seemed to flicker, reminding me of a lightening bug on a dark night. Come on, Jon. Just hold onto the magic for a while longer...we are almost there. I wasn’t sure how the borrowed form worked or what it required of Jon. We had a few more yards and we would be home free—for a while anyway.
I kept my eyes trained ahead as we continued to walk, working at not drawing attention.
Jon’s skin flickered a second time, and this time, it didn’t stop. His form began to shed, peeling away in sheets of dried magic like skin from a sunburn. I could taste the magic and it hummed against my skin. His flesh was searing against my own.
When we were feet from the house—I could hear the barroom doors swing open, and without looking to see who’d came outside, I dug my heels into Diana, and we galloped through the small alley behind the boarding house, to the back door. A moment later, Lindsey joined us.
“That was close,” she said. “But I don’t think anyone noticed us.” She stared at Jon, whose bronze complexion was now showing through gossamer skin of the Vigilante—of Malachi. Jon’s fingers were pierced through the magical disguise and it gave the disgusting appearance of fileted flesh.
Horror flickered across Jacoby’s face, just as Lindsey clamped a hand over the small boy’s eyes. She slid from her mare and took the boy down from the saddle. “I am going to take him to the kitchen for a snack. You get Jon to room 3 on the second floor. She fished a key from a chain around her neck and handed it to me. “Let me know when he is settled and I will bring Jacoby inside. Jessica should be here any moment. I think this little man has been through enough nightmares. No need to witness...That.” With waved of her hand she gestured to Jon.
I agreed. “Should we be worried about your neighbors?”
The woman smiled. “No, Sheriff. The women who live here earn most of their money at night, so right now they are at work. And even if they ain’t—you don’t make it in New Duluth by squealing on your neighbors.”
I nodded.
Hooves beat the ground on the other side of the boarding house—near the front door.
“We need to hurry,” I said.
Lindsey took Jacoby, and I did my best to shake Jon awake, and get him down from the saddle. Slowly, with him using me as a crutch, we made it inside, and then I lay him down on the satin sheets of Lindsey’s bed. A moment later, he shed his disguise completely.
There were deep purple rings beneath his eyes and his skin was damp and pale—paler than I’d ever seen him. He seemed to have stopped bleeding, but the homemade bandage (now visible that the disguise had disappeared) was soaked through and crusted. He’d lost a lot of blood.
“Shit, Jon. What are we going to do with you?” I whispered as I tucked his black hair behind his ears. All I could think about was his soul sitting in a jar on a witch’s shelf far away on top of Red Soot Mountain.
Death would be horrible—excruciating. But eternal servitude to a witch would be unbearable.
Suddenly, I knew what I had to do.
Chapter 23
Madame Martha arrived minutes after Jon had drifted to sleep.
She was a tiny woman, with porcelain skin and long black hair that touched her child-sized waist. Her full skirts billowed around her like a wind storm when she walked, and her arms and legs were spindles. Even in here high-heeled shoes, she came up only to my collar bone. Next to her I felt like a cumbersome giant.
Martha’s brows furrowed, creating two tiny lines in the center of her forehead, and she chewed her bottom lip. “This isn’t good,” she kept saying. “This isn’t good at all.” She shooed me from the cramped room so she’d have space to move around and examine Jon’s wounds.
I moved to the tiny living area, where Lindsey put Jacoby to bed on the sofa and tucked him tightly under a threadbare quilt. I caught her staring lovingly down at the sleeping boy and wondered how hard it must be for her to leave her child, even though she was doing it to earn enough to give him a better life.
I left her sitting, humming softly to herself. I felt as if I were watching something deeply personal. I walked to the window and pretended to watch the street for a moment, before Madame Martha came and got me.
My stomach knotted and unknotted, but I refused to let myself feel hopeless. I refused to feel anything—not until I knew for sure what was going to happen. If Jon was going to get better and if we were going to make it out of New Duluth, then I had to keep my head on straight. I’d lived a days journey away from this city my entire life. And there was a reason I’d stayed away—turns out it was even worse than I could have imagined.
“So. What do you think?” I asked the Madame.
She heaved a sigh, but the lines between her brows disappeared. I took that as a good sign. “I think that he’ll heal. His wound isn’t terrible—whatever magic was performed to disguise him may have actually saved him.” Lindsey had filled the Madame in on everything when she’d arrived.
The Madame continued, “I have seen it happen before—shifting shape doesn’t heel you completely, but it will close wounds and stop infection. I don’t know how—nor do I pretend to understand it—but it is what it is. However, he has lost a lot of blood. I have heard of some of the cities doing transfusions—where they take blood from one person and put it in another. But obviously we are in no shape for that here, and I am no doctor.”
She said the last part as if the words were sour on her tongue. As if she believed that in other life, she’d have been a doctor. If the way she’d treated Jon was any indication—I couldn’t help but believe that maybe she would have been.
“So what do we do?” I asked.
Nothing. We keep him warm. We try to get him to eat and drink and build strength. We don’t excite him—just let him rest.”
“But we need to get back to GloryLand as soon as possible.”
“As soon as possible might be a while,” Madame Jessica said. “If he wants to risk it—that is his decision—but I would advise against it.”
Jon stirred in the bed next to us. I reached over and placed my palm against his cheek. It was still clammy—but the waxy texture seemed to be dissipating.
“I don’t know if Lindsey told you why we can’t stay here...”
Madame Jessica frowned. “She told me enough. Those Rosemary boys live for raisin’ sand—but they’re also stupid. And nobody messes with Malachi. He has a reputation of being...difficult.” She screwed her face into a look of worry. “I had no idea that Lindsey had gone off with him. I would never have let her.”
“Lucky for me she did, though.” I said.
“Yes. Lucky for you. And lucky for her that you came along. Sometimes girls don’t make it through the night with that monster. Sometimes he seems like the perfect gentle
man. When I first met him, I thought he was nothing but another blatherskite, but he has a mean streak. And I don’t know what dirt he has on who—but he gets away with whatever he wants. Anytime anyone has crossed him—they have ended up dead. So, if people think that Lindsey is holed up here with Malachi, nobody will come knocking, even if they know you are here too. Since they didn’t seen Jon,” she gestured to the where he lay on the bed, “They will probably think Malachi captured you for a plaything.” Jessica shook her head and shivered. “If you ask me, good riddance. I am glad he’s dead. People say he dealt with the devil; not with witches nor warlocks nor gargoyles—but the devil himself. I heard he killed his parents when he was a teenager, and figured he was hell bound anyway. Met Satan at the crossroads out in the desert, because then at least he’d get something for his soul.” She shrugged. “You know how rumors grow, but the thing is, with Malachi, it is an easy rumor to believe. I guess he is burning in hell now—the devil always gets his own.”
I raised my brows. “What do you mean? We didn’t kill Malachi.”
The color drained from the tiny woman’s already fair complexion. “What do you mean you didn’t kill him? This man takes his form? I figured he was wounded fighting him. You can’t take the form of another unless you’ve killed him—that is the way magic works. Or at least, the magic I’ve seen in my life.”
I didn’t ask her how she’d seen so much magic—I’d barely witnessed any. Maybe it was why she ended up in New Duluth. Either way—it was none of my business. But I didn’t feel right letting her think a lie when she was going out of her way to help us.
“We didn’t kill Malachi. Jon...he made a deal on Red Soot Mountain.”
Jessica stumbled backwards, and steadied herself against the wall. “Malachi ain’t dead? You aren’t kidding are you?” She whispered the words, then began hastily packing the small bag of gadgets and herbs she’d brought along. “And this man is covered in Red Soot magic? I should have known...he has red under his fingernails and I can taste the cinnamon in the air, but I thought maybe...I don’t know what I thought...I didn’t want to think anyone would go to that mountain...” She was now talking more to herself than to me. “He’s as bad as Malachi, then.”
