I stood and wiped my hands on my pants, which were sprayed with red, warm, coppery scented blood. Malachi was dead—deal with the devil or not—no one could survive the hole I’d blown in his head. Slick, crimson splattered the floor beneath the man, along with chunks of meat and skin, and his eyes were hollow glass. At least he wasn’t smiling that horrible smile any longer. But I suppose it’s hard to smile with your jaw blown off.

I’d killed plenty of monsters in my time as Sheriff. I felt nothing for the shell I’d made of this one. He deserved everything he got.

Lindsey was shaking, pale and shocked, on the couch. Not speaking. Her body moved in small jerks and shivers. I’d check on her later. There wasn’t time at the moment.

I passed Jon and ran into the bedroom. “Jacoby? It’s okay, Jacoby. Where are you?”

In the corner there was a small wardrobe. Jacoby said nothing, but the door rustled, and a moment later I heard the sound of sniffling.

“Jacoby, it is Alyssa. The Sheriff. Malachi is gone. He’s dead, Jacoby. He can’t get you.” I called, reassuring myself as well as the boy. “I am going to open the door, Jacoby.” I pulled open the door, and a bullet hit my shoulder, glancing off to the floor.

“I’m sorry!” Jacoby cried. He threw the gun—the tiny one I recognized as Lindsey Willing’s, to the floor. “I thought it was him. I thought he was trying to trick me.”

“Shh. It’s okay Jacoby. It’s okay. Look, I am fine.” I held out my arm so he could see where the bullet had deflected against my shoulder.

“But how?” The little boy asked. His brown eyes widened.

“Because I am your super hero, Jacoby. Me and your Pa. And we ain’t going to let anyone else hurt you.”

He watched me with uncertain eyes, then barreled into me, wrapping his tiny arms around my neck and burying his face in my long black hair. “Jacoby, listen. There is something very important I need from you. I need you to be big, okay? Can you do that?”

He nodded against my shoulder.

“Okay, I want you to squeeze your eyes closed as tightly as you can. Can you do that? Keep them closed until I tell you to open them, okay?”

He shut his eyes and I stepped around Jon, who lay on the floor, hurting but still alive. I stepped over Malachi, and walked to where Lindsey sat on the couch. She looked up as I approached, as if only then realizing where she was.

“I need you to take him to where he can’t see...” I let my voice trail off, but gestured with my chin to where Malachi’s body lay in a messy heap of blood and sloppy, red, gore.

Lindsey nodded. “Of course. We will go to Ms. Martha’s. She is the building owner on the first floor. Just...Just come and get me when it is okay. I need to know what is going to happen next.”

The pair walked carefully across the floor and out the door. I knew Jon wouldn’t be happy with having Jacoby out of the room—not when we’d only recently gotten him back. I knew Jon well, and I knew he wouldn’t trust anyone with his boy for a long, long time. But this was a call I was making for the boy’s safety and mental health. I didn’t know what horrors he’d witnessed before I’d met him, but I sure as hell could (and would) protect him as best as I could now. No matter what. No matter who it pissed off.

I knelt next to Jon, who was breathing in rapid, shallow succession.

“Jon,” I whispered his name. His eyes were glassy, deep brown orbs that stared past me into nothingness. “Jon, you are going to be okay.”

He struggled to breathe in. “Alyssa, Little Wolf...Please...”

I stroked his hair with the tips of my fingers, as I blinked hard against the tears pooled in my eyes. Jon didn’t need those tears. He needed my strength. My bravery. And I would give it to him. “Shh. Jon, Malachi is dead. We are going to get you to a real doctor. You will see. You will be fine.”

Jon shook his head, then coughed. “No, Alyssa. I need...I can’t die while they have my soul. I need you to...”

I pressed my hand to his cheek. His skin managed to be waxy and feverish at the same time. “I’ll leave right now. You just hang on until I get back, okay? I will bring a doctor. You will see it is going to be okay.” I forced myself to believe what I was telling him. This was no time for lies. I was determined that my words would be the truth. I would make them the truth. “Now, let’s get you to the bed.”

He tried to push up, but cried out in pain. I grabbed the feather pillow and the blankets, and tucked him into a make-shift pallet on the floor.  “I will free your soul, Jon. But you have to promise to not die. To hang on until I get back. Promise me!”

He coughed, then a small smile spread across his face.

Six feet away was Malachi’s body, and it repulsed me to leave Jon lying, fighting for his life, so close to a heaping pile of putrid death. But I couldn’t help it. I had to go.

I shut the door behind me and walked to where Lindsey was with the Jacoby in her landlord’s place.