I filled Tom in on what we were doing and why, on our ride to his sister’s place to drop off Jacoby. Just as I’d hoped, the boy seemed relieved when we entered the small house. There were tykes running around everywhere, and the smell of brown sugar and vanilla made my stomach rumble. Wooden blocks and hand sewn dolls littered the floor, and Sheila, Tom’s sister, had stood smiling, jiggling a cooing baby on her hip.

I could practically see the stress leaving Jacoby. “This is what a house is supposed to look like,” he said. “I...I think I used to live somewhere like this. Maybe. I dream about it. Back before Pa—-I mean Malachi—found me.”

All it took was a little boy to come and grab Jacoby’s hand, and he was off. Before we left, he ran back to me and threw his arms around my waist. “Come back for me. I want to see me Pa—my real Pa—again.”

I promised him I would and it was a promise I intended to keep.

***

THE RUSTY NAIL WAS flooded with piano music when we entered. I raised my eyebrows and walked over to the musician.

Peeking up from beneath her huge church bonnet was Mrs. Clarice Camden—the Reverend’s wife.  If she was shocked to see me, she hid it well. Her fingers never missed a note.

“Mrs. Camden! You are absolutely the last person I expected to see in here.”

She grinned. “Cheryl needed a piano player and I needed money. So here we are.”

“What does Reverend say about this?”

The stout, elderly lady pursed her lips. “I am eighty-two years old. I think I am old enough to do as I damn well please.”

I chuckled. “Good point.”

I left her playing Camptown Races, and joined Cheryl and Tom at the bar. Cheryl poured a glass of whiskey and slid it to my deputy. The two were whispering, and when I approached, stopped talking abruptly.

“What is with you two?” I asked.

Cheryl slid me a shot of whiskey. I tossed it back and signaled for another. Cheryl’s brows steepled. “Huh. I guess Tom is telling the truth, then, you two going to the mountain? I never see you drink like this.”

I downed my second and signaled for my third. 

Not much scared me. Nothing at all, really. But magic was unpredictable. I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t use it. It made me feel helpless. And feeling helpless was my biggest fear.

Whiskey took the edge off.

Cheryl shook her head. “No way. You really riding up to that mountain, then you are doing it at least half way sober.” She poured a glass of cloudy water and slammed it in front of me. “Drink up.”

I frowned, but she had a point.

“So. What is it you have planned, Alyssa. I know you aren’t charging into this situation without some sort of plan.”

The way she spoke told me that she knew that is exactly what I was doing.

“My plan,” I said, “Is to go to the mountain. Get back Jon’s soul. And shoot anyone who tries to stop me.” I remembered when I’d asked Jon his plan for getting back his son and he’d said basically the same thing. It had sounded crazy at the time—but now I understood. Nothing was going to stop me from saving Jon. Nothing. So plan or no, in my mind, I was going to succeed.

Cheryl crossed her arms over her corseted waist. Her long dark ringlets hung over her shoulders, bouncing as she heaved a sigh. “If you want to risk your own life then that is your business, but you are going to drag Tom in there, you need to be prepared.” She smiled at my deputy who turned the purple-red color of a beet.

I looked from Cheryl to Tom, then back to Cheryl. What was going on with those two?

Cheryl laid her hand on top of Tom’s. “I think you should go. You don’t have a choice, Sheriff. I’d do the same for the man I love.”

A smile blossomed across Tom’s face.

I pressed my lips together. So. Cheryl and Tom. Huh.

“You would?” Tom asked.

“I would,” Cheryl said. “So in order to make sure everything goes fine, I reckon I’ll be riding out with you.” She poured herself a shot then downed it. She grabbed her rifle from the back of the bar and slung it over her shoulder. “Of course, I’ll have to get somebody to watch this place. You want to see a riot in GloryLand? Try closing their bar.” Cheryl smiled. “And there is one thing you should know about me, Alyssa, and that is I do nothing without a plan.”

I know I should have tried to tell her she couldn’t go. She had no business risking her life to help me. But the truth was—I was glad for her help. Besides me, Cheryl with that rifle of hers, was probably the best shot in town. She was pragmatic and not prone to emotional decisions, not to mention she was as smart as a whip.

And she was right—we needed a plan. Luckily I knew just the person who could help us. “I have an idea,” I said. “I think I know someone who might know a thing or two about witches.”

Cheryl nodded. “I’ll get Martha to watch the place. I am sure she’ll rob me blind, but at least she’ll keep people from killing each other.”