I opened the lid.

Nothing happened.

“No.” The tears and wails tore from me. They scratched my throat like a caged creature fighting its way to freedom. A creature who’s life depended on that freedom.

I heard my screams, but they felt like they came from another. I threw myself over Jon. I know I did, but it was like I was hovering at the ceiling, watching the events unfold.

I could still feel the warmth of the jar in my palm but it was like it belonged to someone else—like this experience—this terrible, terrible experience—belonged to someone else. It was a comfort and a curse. I deserved this pain. I needed it. Jon was mine in life and death and if he was leaving me than I craved the hurt that accompanied it.

Jon wheezed beneath me, still alive but barely. When my tears landed against his cheek, something amazing happened.

The golden glow that was housed inside the jar—Jon’s soul—rose into the air. It swirled around the room, afloat on the sound of bells and laughter. I watched, still feeling as if I myself was outside of my body. As if the entire experience were a dream.

The golden swirl smelled of cinnamon and sugar and lemons and a million other good things I couldn’t wrap my fatigued mind around. Then, as suddenly as it had risen, it poured toward Jon, entering his nose and mouth and warming his skin.

My lover glowed brightly as he was filled with the goodness of his own missing soul. Light shot from his fingertips and, and if I’d checked I am sure it would have shown from his toes as well. His eyes opened and they too glowed.

His back ratcheted straight and arched against the bed but the look on his face was not one of pain.

His skin grew tawny and iridescent and warmer until he again felt like a person instead of a corpse. Gone was the waxy pallor of a dying man in need of saving.

When the magic had filled him and settled, Jon’s eyes opened.

They no longer glowed golden and his skin no long shown bright.

Jon—my Jon—was the picture of health.

He sat up in the bed. “Hello, my Little Wolf.”

***

“JON!” THE SHRIEK WAS so loud it alerted Lindsey. I heard the door slam open and her feet bound up the stairs.

“Oh Jon!” It was all I could say—my mind and tongue failed me. I threw my arms around his neck and squeeze as if I were the only thing holding him to this life—as if I were to let go God would realize his mistake and pull him away.

Jon coughed, then wrapped his long arms around me. “Little Wolf,” he gasped, “Alyssa...it won’t have done any good to save me if you are only going to choke me to death now.”

For some reason—maybe the adrenaline, maybe the relief—this struck me as the funniest thing I’d ever heard. I released my choking embrace. My laugher was rough, erupting from my belly in loud tight spasms. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes and I fell forward, on top of Jon. Between my body shaking giggles, I planted kisses across his face. His high cheekbones. His chin. His nose. I covered him.

And Jon did something he rarely did—he laughed. Not his reserved laughter. No, he joined me in the kind of gut splitting laughter that was obviously contagious. 

“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.” I pressed my lips on one cheek and then the other.

Jon’s palms caught each side of my face, gently squeezing my cheeks. His laughter had ebbed and he looked deep into my eyes. “You saved me, Little Wolf. Without you, I would be dead. Without you my son would still be lost. Without you...I don’t know what I would do.”  With those words he pressed his lips to mine and kissed me so deeply it stirred my soul. He opened my mouth with his own and his tongue coaxed me even deeper into the toe curling kiss. My body relaxed against. I am not the kind of woman to swoon—but at that moment that is exactly what happened. A warmth crawled through me and the edges of my vision blurred with a love sick haziness.

As the heat covered me I realized what I was feeling. Love. True love. I loved Jon. He loved me. I’d learned this along the way of our adventure. But this feeling—this physical feeling of that love...it was better than anything. Better than even the best sex—and with my six foot four inch, tightly cut man—that is saying something extraordinary.

“Jon,” I said, coming up for air, “I think you saved me, too.” And I meant it. He gave me something to look forward to each day. He was my home.

“Are you better?  Can we...can we get out of here?” I wanted nothing more than to be back at our house, away from the godforsaken town of Duluth and its band of idiots. I wanted to never set another foot on Red Soot Mountain or to deal with any likeness of Malachi again. I had a feeling that it would be a long while before I got over the sexy dream or the fact that I’d slept with his doppelganger.

In response to my question, he sat up. I moved to the side so he could get his feet on the ground. The blanket fell to his waist.

“It seems I am going to have to find some clothes first,” Jon said. The skin of his chiseled chest was back to its beautiful rich gold.  He snorted. “I wonder if Ms. Willing has anything in my size?” His eyes gleamed with the joke.

As if she were on cue, Lindsey walked into the room. “I’ve been giving you all a moment, but I couldn’t wait another second.” She crossed the room. “We gotta get y’all out of here. Now. As soon as news gets out that we shot three of the Rosemary boys, the rest will undoubtedly be on their way.”

Keeping the sheet and blanket over his waist, Jon slung his feet over the edge. “Y’all shot three of the Rosemary boys?”

I nodded without explanation. Jon shook his head with a smirk.

“I guess they must have had it coming?” He asked.

“Those idiots have more than had it coming for a long time now,” Lindsey said. She paused, then clearly changing the subject, added, “I think I have something around here somewhere. Men are always leaving things—I guess it comes with my job.” She opened the wardrobe and dug out a pair of trousers that were obviously too short and too wide for Jon. “These will have to do.  Not many men with your, uh, body type pay for services.” She tossed the short, wide pants in our direction. When she turned away, she added, “I guess they get all they need for free.”

“What about you?” I asked. “They are going to know you were...involved.” I didn’t say that she was the one who’d actually done the killing. I’d gladly take that credit off of her shoulders. She’d done so much to help us.

She shrugged. “I know the men in this town. They know me. I should be safe enough. Besides—I have always taken care of myself. Why stop now.” Lindsey kept her voice flat and even but I could hear her the doubt in her words.

“No,” I said. “That won’t do. I can’t have you getting yourself killed when we are the reason for it. You are coming with us.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Oh, but I think you do.” I crossed the room to where Lindsey stood, looking defeated despite her best efforts. “I know you have a son. I know you can’t risk your life because he and your sister depend on that money you send. Think about them. Take my offer.”

She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know. What am I going to do for a living?”

“You can keep on with what you are doing if that is what you want, or...” An idea was forming in my mind. I didn’t want to offend Lindsey’s career choice. My friend and regular bad ass, Cheryl, had been a brothel bunny once upon a time. It was good money from what I understood. But, as tough as she pretended to be, I had the feeling that Lindsey Willing wasn’t turning tricks because she enjoyed it.

“Or what?” Her voice was skeptical.

“Or,” I looked at Jon, pleading for him to trust me. “Or Jacoby will need a nanny. At least some of the time. My job is dangerous and Jon sometimes has to leave for days at a time. And good god—do we know we can trust you.”

“I don’t know. I reckon it might be too hard on my mama-heart to raise somebody else’s boy while mine is in the care of my sister.”

“So get him. Send for him. There is no reason he shouldn’t be with you. I don’t know how old he is—but he and Jacoby would probably be fast friends regardless. There ain’t that many kids in GloryLand and we live kind of out of the way.”

“Where would I live, speaking of that? I don’t mind working for somebody and this offer is too good to pass up, but I ain’t one to take charity.” Her voice still held bite but her eyes shown with hope.

“If you were going to keep my son,” Jon said, “then it would make sense for you to be near. We could eventually build you a small place on our property. In the meantime you could get a room in town or stay with us—it would be cramped but it would only be for a little while.”

Lindsey Willing seemed to mull this over. “I wouldn’t take the place from you for free. I’d either rent it or—”

“You wouldn’t be taking it. It would be a part of your payment.”

She nodded slowly, and considered what exactly we’d thrown on the table. A smile unfolded across her face and the hardness lifted from her eyes. “Yes. Yes, okay.” Her voice was skeptically optimistic.

I couldn’t blame her for being cautious.

She ran to the window and peeked through the curtains. “Now get dressed. We can work everything out later. Right now, we need to go. Fast.”

I wasn’t worried about the Rosemary boys looking for me in my home turf. There, in GloryLand, I had the higher ground. I had the law. I had friends and people who’d help me out without even so much as blinking.  The sooner we left New Duluth the better.

Jon dressed to leave and Lindsey packed her bag.