We dug through the shelves, scooping jars with two hands and peering through their grimy glass. What would a soul look like anyway? How would I know it if I even found it? The shack was filthy—filled with bottles and canisters. There were skeletons of all types and charts of the moon tacked to the wall. A fine coating of red dust covered everything.

Tom was going through one shelf, taking each bottle down and shaking it before sitting on the floor. “What do you think they meant ‘don’t harm an innocent?’ An innocent what?”

“They had to mean Jon,” Cheryl said. “We are getting his soul. I bet we could do all kinds of harm if that was our intentions.” She shook a large, green jar as she spoke.

I shrugged. I didn’t know and I didn’t care. Thoughts of Jon dying while waiting on me spurred me onward. He would see his son again. We would grow old together. I would not abandon him. No matter what it took.

“If Jon is the innocent, and we harmed him, I wonder what would happen?” Tom looked somber. “Not that I would ever want to hurt Jon. Not ever, Sheriff. But I am just saying what do you think those witches would do? And what do you think they meant they were leaving this place? They just...faded away.” Tom’s eyes grew large and the tiny glass cylinder he was holding fumbled in his fingers. He steadied it and lowered it to the ground, then wiped his sweating hands down the front of his pants.

I stopped moving jars. “Tom, stop. You can’t understand magic. Or witches. Or any of it. All you can do is keep moving forward. And try not to let it drive you crazy. Right now that means finding this soul and getting it back to its owner. Getting it back to Jon.”

I pulled a wooden crate from the corner and started digging through. The jars inside were filled with brown sludge that seemed to bubble and stir with its own accord. I hated to think what Abiya had trapped and who it belonged to. I knew it was crazy, but the sludge inside seemed aware that I was holding it in my hands, that  I was contemplating what to do with it. I shook my head and continued to dig.

Suddenly, a warmth seemed to radiate up my arm, to my heart. I dug through the crate faster until I reached the bottom. The last jar—the very last one—was glowing bright gold. While the other sludge filled jars seemed to bubble and pop, this one seemed to hum and sing. And it called to me. My hands and fingers tingled with warmth, and when I picked up the jar, the heat exploded through my body. It was Jon. I knew it. I don’t know how I knew it—it certainly made no sense. But then, when witches were concerned, what did? My heartbeat sped and the tiny prickle of hope that had taken hold of my stomach began to swell and grow. Maybe...just maybe things were going to work out. Maybe I hadn’t been lying to myself after all.

“I found it!” I cried. “I found it!”

Tom and Cheryl dropped the jars they were holding. They crashed to the floor with a loud clatter. My friends hurried to my side.

“Wow,” Cheryl said. Her face softened. “That belongs to Jon huh? We all have one?” She tapped the side of the jar. Tom smiled.

I looked around at the sludge filled jars. Who were they? Were they still alive? Or were they the slaves of a bad witch? Suddenly I felt a sadness for each of them. Without knowing what I’d be loosing on the world, I couldn’t free them from their glass cages. I couldn’t help them—and now they’d spend eternity trapped.

But I couldn’t worry about that now. I had to save Jon.

“Come on,” I said. Maybe it’s not too late.”

We turned to run from the shack, and made it to the door when a soft mewling sound stopped us in our tracks.

“What is that? You hear it?” Tom’s brow furrowed. “It sounds like a kitten.”

The mewling continued and Cheryl’s face fell. She ran to the barrel and lifted away a blanket. “Ahh,” she said, her mouth dropping open. She reached into the barrel, and pulled out a baby.

It had the bright red hair and golden eyes of a red soot witch.

Cheryl cradled the naked infant girl close to her chest and squeezed. The baby gurgled and cooed.  “She is all alone now. No one is here for her.”

“If you ask me, it’s a good thing. That Abiya witch, she was a nasty monster,” Tom said. He crooked a finger and stroked the little girl’s chin. “This baby will be better without those nasty witches.”

“It’s not a person, Cheryl,” I said gently. “It’s a red soot witch. You saw them. You saw what they can do—they can leave this world. They don’t rot when they die—they flake away. They capture souls and cause pain...”

Cheryl’s eyes narrowed into two slits. “If you are my friend and you truly care about me, you will never say those words again. This is a baby, Alyssa. I don’t care who her mother was. I was motherless and come to age in a whore house. Far be it from me to abandon a needy infant.” She cradled the girl close.

“How will you explain her to the people of GloryLand?” I asked.

“I pour their whiskey. That is the only explanation they need from me. And if you think I should leave her here, then you aren’t who I thought you were.”

Even Tom’s eyes narrowed at me.

“No. That isn’t what I meant. Of course I don’t think you should abandon her—I just don’t think you should keep her. Maybe we could summon Shoshonna again and—”

“No, Alyssa. I am taking her.” And with those words, Cheryl left the room and started toward the path with Tom on her heels.

I sighed and followed suit.