Vigilante Sin: Steamy western with a paranormal twist. (GloryLand Book 1)

by Lana Gotham

  Nothing happened.

  Across from me, the flames sent shadow’s dancing across Cheryl’s face. She’d been quiet ever since we’d left for New Plymouth. Now concern lined her normally soft features. Next to her, Tom took her fingers in his hand and squeezed.

  “Gee Sheriff. It don’t look like—”

  Tom didn’t finish his sentence.

  A loud boom—at least ten times louder than rifle fire, sounded from the fire. The smoke began twirling and twisting into the night air, lavender and green instead of gray. It swirled and danced into the starry night sky forming a small cyclone as it rose higher and higher and higher.

  Tom gasped and fell backwards, landing on his ass. Cheryl smirked, barely cocking an eyebrow at the scene in front of us, like the bad-ass she was.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and continued to watch until as suddenly as it began, the cyclone stopped and there in the smoke was Shoshanna. Her sunset curls moved wildly about her head, like a burning cloud around her face. Her yellow eyes glowed fiercely and her milky skin seemed lit from within. I could see through her form, as if she were a translucent screen—both real and a mirage.

  Tom stared with lips parted. It was probably worth mentioning that Shoshana wore not a stitch of clothing. Her full breasts swung as she moved from side to side, looking down at us. Her nipples stood erect, and her skin reminded me of the carved marble of an ancient statue. She was beautiful and cold and dangerous.

  Tom continued to stare.

  Cherly slapped Tom. “It’s not like you’ve never seen tits before, Deputy.”

  Tom rubbed his cheek and quickly averted his eyes.

  “Who dares call me?” Shoshana’s voice was low and raspy, same as I remembered it from childhood.

  “It is I,” I said, stepping toward the campfire. “Alyssa Davis. First female Sheriff of GloryLand City and daughter of Lucille Davis. She saved your life, once upon a time. You gave her a stone and promised her help if it ever arose. She’s dead, but I need your help—and she’d expect you to cooperate. No trickery, witch. You gave Ma your word.”

  Shoshana’s burning yellow eyes narrowed on me. My heart raced as I tried not to whither under the witch’s stare. I loved Jon—because there was no one else on this earth I’d confront a witch for. But I thought of him dying in a whore’s boarding room in an unfamiliar bed, when all he wanted was to see his son—to raise him and be his father. He deserved better. If he was brave enough to bargain his soul then I would be brave enough to get it back. No matter what it took.

  “Lucille Davis has a daughter. But she is a child. When I left her she was no taller than my waist.”

  I scrunched my face. It had been over twenty years since mama had met and helped Shoshana. Why would she think any differently?

  “I am Lucille’s only child.” I said. I kept the unsureness from my voice.

  The witch continued to watch me with a hawk’s predatory gaze. The firelight flickered, and she flickered with it. Looking down at her body, she seemed to realize where she was for the first time. The witch gasped. “Can it be?”

  Cheryl stepped closer to me. “You are a rune, witch.” My friend’s voice was calm. Even.

  Shoshana’s head snapped to Cheryl’s direction. “Liar!”

  Cheryl remained confident. “I mean you no harm—but you are not Shoshana. You are a rune—a shape cast by your creator in her own image. You are here to serve a purpose and that is all. You are not the witch you appear to be.”

  “Stupid girl. I know what a rune is. I make them all the time.” Shoshana’s voice rose with each word, but as she spoke her face softened, as if she realized what she was saying disproved her own argument.

  “You,” she began again, looking at me, “you are Lucille’s child?”

  I nodded.

  The image seemed to consider this. Finally, she spoke. “Why have you summoned me?”

  “A witch has stolen the soul of my beloved and now he might die. I do not want him bound to her for all eternity.”

  Shoshana’s face (or the rune’s face) hardened. “There is only one witch on the mountain capable of such magic. She is old and vile. Her name is Abiya and she is the one who ran me away from my home.”

  Tom had regained his composure and flanked the other side of me. “Why would she run you off?” He asked the question the same he asked every question; as if he were talking to an old friend and was genuinely curious.

  The rune’s eyes softened. “Because her power was fading. It had been many years since she made love with a virgin and because of this she’d grown weak. She thought I coveted her position—so she invented a tale to turn my sisters against me. So I...” Her eyes widened.

  “So you what?” I asked.

  “I left. I wandered in the desert and got lost before a woman found me and cared for me.” Her face slackened. “Yes. I owe your mother a kindess. I will repay it by helping you. There is only one way to kill Abiya. You must pierce her behind her left ear. She has bathed in the River Styx and this is the one area she is vulnerable.” The smoke thickened and then the rune held out her hand. “This dagger is dipped in scorpion venom and blessed by a priest. Shove this behind her left ear and twist. Then Abiya will be no more.”

  I took the dagger from her hand. How is this even possible? The knife was heavy in my hand. It was ice cold, though it had just came from the flame. It was as real as I was. Only, it had appeared in the flames, held by a rune. Before I could contemplate what was happening, Shoshana disappeared.

  Without saying goodbye, without a noise or pageantry, she simply was no more. Here and then gone.

  “Wow,” Tom said. “That there was something.”

  Cheryl shrugged. “Her job was done—she fulfilled her promise, so there was nothing to bind her here. She had to disappear.”

  “I wonder if the real Shoshana is still alive,” I mumbled.

  “Who knows?” Cheryl placed an arm over my shoulders. “A rune is like a postcard in time. Shoshana could be alive and living it up or have been dead for years—it wouldn’t have affected the delivery of the message.”

  “How do you know these things?” I whispered the question to my friend.

  Cheryl shrugged. “I had an interesting childhood before my parents sold me to the Madame.” She said the word parents as if it pained her. “Never mind what you overhear growing up in a whorehouse.”

  The pain of her memories was evident in the deepening of the slight lines in her face and the hard angles of her expression. Her answer was no real answer at all, but I wouldn’t push. Not if it hurt her. We all deserved our secrets.

  I squeezed the dagger. It was heavy in my hand. It felt right in a way I cannot explain—as if I were meant to have it. My heart was a bit lighter and I recognized the emotion. It was hope. For the first time, I thought we may have a chance to help Jon and get away with our own lives.

  “Well, let’s get going,” I said, looking toward the distance, where Red Soot loomed like a fairy tale giant. “We have a witch to stab and a soul to save.”

  Chapter 30

  The horses galloped through the desert. I knew we’d reached the half way point when the cracked, sunbaked earth changed from the dried golden brown, fleck with red dust that ran through GloryLand, into the fine, red soot-like sand for which the mountain was named. The dirt clung to everything. It was carried with the wind to our small town where it stuck to buildings and boots. But here, near the Mountain, it was a whole new creation. It was fine as fairy dust and stickier than sugar.

  It was said that you could spot a witch from the soot that trailed behind her wherever she went. I didn’t believe this was true, but at the same time, if you lived in this desert, there would be no escaping the clingy dirt. I remembered the red boot prints on my porch and the sand beneath Jon’s nails. How had I not noticed it before he’d confessed?

  It is crazy what you can turn a blind eye too. Especially when it comes to people you care about. They say love is blind, and I gue
ss that is true.

  I rode in silence, as did Cheryl. But Tom never shut up. He told one story after the other, of his childhood, of his days as a teenager, and even of what he’d eaten the week. When he began to tell me a story about the terrible gas he’d been having while I was gone, I had to draw the line.

  “Tom, can we have a little quiet, please?” I said. “I need to concentrate.” Why would I need to concentrate...wasn’t like I was about to do anything dangerous...Geez.

  “Why sure, Sheriff...I only thought you’d want to know that you should avoid the bean pie down at Trudy’s Mess Hall.” He beat his chest with his fist. “Indigestion like no other, I tell you what.”

  I shook my head and stole a glance at Cheryl, who was smirking. There was definitely something going on with those two. I couldn’t believe she was smiling after the story to which Tom had just subjected us. Maybe love is deaf, too.

  Cheryl slowed and her mare fell in step next to Tom’s. I looked over my shoulder and caught them. Their eyes were locked on each other like a couple of love sick teenagers. I was only gone a few days...when everything was over and I had Jon back safe and sound (if I didn’t end up dead or worse) then Tom and Cheryl would definitely have some explaining to do.

  Thankfully Tom took my request to heart and I was left alone with my thoughts for the remainder of the journey.

  We reached the path at the base of the mountain a few hours later. As the moon had risen in the sky, goose flesh danced across my skin. I told myself it was from the dipping temperature and not from fear. I wasn’t very convincing. I’d slid the dagger into the side of my boot, where it burned with a chilling coldness that could only be explained by magic.

  Somewhere in the distance a coyote called to her mate, otherwise the desert was silent.

  The horses whinnied as the three of us sat and looked at the path. How had Jon felt when he’d come here alone? Dread and heavy fear punctured me to my bones—and I was with two people I trusted with my life. If I were alone, I am pretty sure this is where my journey would end.

  “Well. This is it,” I said. I dug my heels into Diana, but she refused to move. I tried again, this time harder, and she reared, pulling her head to the side. “Shhh. It’s okay, girl. I’m nervous, too. But we can do this.” I leaned down and whispered into her main.

  Behind me, Cheryl and Tom both had trouble commanding their horses.

  “I hate to say it, Alyssa, but I think this is a journey we have to make on foot.” Cheryl slid from her horse and I followed suit.

  Tom hesitated. “I don’t know about this Sheriff. These are witches we are talking about. We are just going to walk up there and...what? Shoot everybody?”

  “I never said I had a good plan, Tom. Only that I have to do this. If you want you can stay with horses. You both can if you want. But I am doing this.” Without another word, I started the climb up the winding path.

  My friends followed me.

  I’D HEARD THAT WITCHES danced naked in the moonlight. That they sacrificed to the devil and painted their pale skin with the blood of their victims. I’d even heard that the red, sticky dust got its color from centuries of dried blood from fools who’d made the trek to the mountain top. I was prepared for the worst.

  What I wasn’t prepared for was what we saw when we reached the end of the mountain path.

  We’d climbed in silence—not even Tom spoke. My heart hammered in my chest so loudly I wouldn’t have been able to hear another person’s words anyway. The path ended abruptly and what lay before was...normal.

  Three houses—shacks really—made of wood. Smoke from fires burned into gray clouds. No one was outside—no witches walking around. It was eerily quiet, just as you’d expect it to be late night anywhere else.

  I’d expected more....more everything. But what I now saw was a quiet, tiny village of small homes. There were no horses or cattle or even gardens. How did they eat? How did they travel?

  The knife in my boot began to warm, and I pulled it free, and tucked in the waistband of my trousers, underneath my duster. My skin prickled against its heat and I tried not to think of what that meant. The blade was definitely enchanted.

  “What now?” Tom whispered. I could hear relief in his voice and realized that he’d also been expecting more.

  “I guess...we find Abiya.”

  I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy...

  Chapter 31

  I stepped into the village, and a sound rang out. It began low, like a rumble, but within seconds it gathered volume and grew in pitch until it was a full on wail. Cheryl’s hands flew to her ears.

  The doors to the three shacks flew open, and three women were in front of us.

  The oldest—or at least she appeared to be the oldest with her graying hair and deeply lined face—waved her hand in the air and the piercing wail stopped as suddenly as it began.

  “State your claim,” the oldest said.

  “I am here for my lover’s soul. He made a trade. His end of the bargain is kept—but he was wounded and couldn’t make the journey.”

  The witch’s gold eyes flashed brightly. “I am Abiya, leader of the sisterhood of soot. Why should I give you the soul of another? It is precious, and until the owner comes to claim it, it is mine.”

  “You don’t understand,” I growled, “I am taking the soul. He will not be your prisoner.”

  A cackle escaped the witch’s throat. Her shoulders shook as her eyes narrowed on my face. “You think that you could hurt me? That you could take what is mine? Plenty have tried. We have inhabited this mountain for centuries. We need nothing of this world—and nothing you do could send us from it.”

  I heard a gun click behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. Cheryl had her pistols drawn. Her dark curls flew around her shoulders and her long skirts bellowed near her ankles. She reminded me of a deadly princess. “Give us the soul and we will be on our way,” she said.

  On the other side of me, Tom drew his guns as well.

  “You’d dare threaten the sisterhood?” Her eyes again flashed, but now there was no laughter in her words.

  The dagger’s heat grew and seared against the flesh of the small of my back, where I’d tucked it into my waistband. I would soon have to draw it or fear being burned.

  “We don’t want no trouble, ma’am.” Tom’s voice was cool and collected in a way I’d never before heard him speak.

  The corners of the Abiya’s lips curled into a snarling grin. She flicked her wrist through the air, and both of my partners fell to their knees. I felt her magic glance off of my skin. It tickled my throat, but it did not affect me.

  Surprise colored Abiya’s face, and before she had a chance to react, I was on her.

  The other two witches made no move to help their leader, and I remembered Shoshana, who’d been banished and had no qualms in helping me on my quest.

  I pulled the knife from my waist and plunged deep behind Abiya’s left ear. She screamed. The sound was louder than the banshee’s wail.

  There was no blood. There was no dying breaths. Instead the witch began to flake away, piece by piece, curling and blowing in the wind—much like Jon’s borrowed skin.

  When her last crust of flesh disappeared, and the dagger lay in the red soot, the witch’s magic released Cheryl and Tom.

  Cheryl gasped and Tom pulled himself up, then helped her to her feet.

  They again drew their weapons.

  The witches in front of me only blinked.

  “Show us where we can find my lover’s soul,” I demanded.

  Neither moved. “Now!” I screamed, the sound cutting from my throat like a blade.

  Again, neither spoke or moved.

  Cheryl pointed her weapon. “Tell us now or I will shoot you.”

  She pulled back the hammer and aimed it at one of the witches.

  Before our eyes, the women’s forms began to shimmer. The moonlight seemed to shine through them.

  “What the hell is going on?” I deman
ded.

  One of the witches smiled. “You have freed us from our tormentor. Abiya kept us here, though we’ve longed to move on. You will find what you seek in her cottage. Be careful of the innocent. Abiya harmed the innocent and it warped her. It will do the same to you.”

  “What innocent?” What the hell were these two talking about?

  They continued to fade and shimmer until they were barely visible.

  “Who is innocent?” I demanded. “I just want Jon’s soul.”

  I turned and ran to Abiya’s shack.

  Chapter 32

  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.