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.