The Marshal bent low to look her prisoner in the eye. The ebony-skinned woman scowled, her eyes blazing, silenced by the thick, white cloth tied on over her mouth.

Dressed in pale blue, she wore a tight blouse, a long, ruffled skirt, split up one side, and tall, dark blue boots. A dark blue vest was pulled on over the blouse, matching the wide-brimmed hat atop her head. This contrasted her long, pale blue hair and cold, grey eyes.

Strong ropes pressed tight to her body. Wrapped up her arms from shoulders to elbows. Held her wrists behind her back. She was forced to kneel, her ankles and knees both tied together. The belt around her waist held a leather holster on her right hip. It was empty.

The tall, muscular Marshal smiled wide when their eyes met. She was practically a giant. Long, golden blonde hair flowed out from beneath her brown gunslinger hat. She wore a white, pressed blouse with a high collar, grey vest, matching tight trousers, and tall brown riding boots. Her long, brown duster coat lay hanging on a coat rack behind her. The blue-eyed Marshal touched the six shooter at her hip, watching her prisoner’s eyes.

“Ain’t gonna shoot you,” the Marshal said. “You and yours have always been too much fun.”

“Mmmrrpphh....” the prisoner growled.

“We never did get properly acquainted, Luna,” the Marshal said.

And I’m better off for it, Fa’rah Luna thought.

“And don’t you fret none. You’ll be reunited with your dearly beloved real soon. I get that feeling.”

She stared icy daggers at Fa’rah, the Marshal, and her captor laughed in her face. “Won’t hurt her none. You know that’s not my style. But you’ll be together in your little rebellion real soon.”

Luna furrowed her brow. Rebellion? What the hell is she talking about?

“Marshal,” a deathly cold voice said from behind her somewhere. “She’s not in the rebellion. Not yet.”

She hated his voice. He sounded just like... but she knew he wasn’t. He was something else. She wondered sometimes if he really was the devil, as some claimed him to be...

But he’d been a decent employer to this point. Much more fair than anyone else she’d ever worked for. And he’d given her a higher rank than she’d ever had. Marshal. The Law. She ran things in this territory. She liked that.

“If it ain’t the man himself,” Fa’rah said, standing up straight and turning around. “The Devil of Harrison.”

The man was the spitting image of a man she’d met a handful of times. Luna, herself, recognized him but knew he couldn’t be... the one she knew. He was different. Darker. Much darker...

Mr. Jade. Tall, broad-shouldered, tired but ferocious grey eyes, a thick brown beard across his face, cropped brown hair... and identical to Jonas in every way. He wore a grey bowler hat, square-rimmed glasses, and a neat, three piece suit, also grey, with a black shirt and a red tie. He flicked his golden pocket watch closed and tucked into his vest pocket, dangerously close to the revolver in his holster.

“You know as well as I do,” he said. “She has no idea she is in the rebellion.”

“But she will be,” Fa’rah said. “Her wife is.”

Luna’s eyes went wide and she battled her restraints. Mirelle! Mirelle is here! I have to find her! Damn these ropes!

“Not if she stays here,” Jade said. “I don’t understand why we don’t just kill them...”

“It’ll put the fight out of them. And they won’t come for her. Soon as they hear we’ve got wifey over here-”

“I am aware,” Mr. Jade said. “That is what I am here to discuss with you.”

“We leaking her location to them?” Fa’rah asked.

“Something like that. There’s a Sheriff in Gold Valley I want you to pay a visit.”

“I know this Sheriff?”

“Yes. You know each other quite well, I’d wager. I believe you once called her ‘boss’?”

“No way... she’s a Sheriff!?”

“She is. And I suspect the rebellion are headed that way. They’re after... something. You need to get to Gold Valley before they do. And let the Sheriff know about our prisoner.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Mr. Jade said.

“Huh... you don’t want me to... stop them?”

“They’re only chasing dead ends,” Jade said. “And this will distract at least a contingent of them. Split them up. I want you back here when they come for her and I want you to delegate someone to... look after Gold Valley in the Sheriff’s stead.”

“You’re removing Aurora?”

“Not as such. She may need... assistance. If you understand my meaning.”

Fa’rah nodded. “I get you. Get someone on our side down there.”

“Exactly.”

“No problem, Mr. Jade. I’ll catch the first train out.”

Mr. Jade nodded in return. “Good. And see to it that your prisoner is secure, will you?”

“I will. Don’t worry.”

Mr. Jade turned away from her and headed back toward the door. “I never worry, Marshal.”

As soon as he was out the door, Fa’rah shuddered. “Damn, that guy gives me chills... it’s like he’s not human...” she muttered to herself.

Remembering herself, she turned back to Luna. “All right then, wifey. Let’s get you taken care of.”

“Mmmrrppphhh!!”

...

“Hell is empty, for the Devil is here...” Those were the first words he had said to him. He hadn’t left his mind since they arrived in this god-forsaken territory. Mr. Jade, whoever, whatever he was, he was inextricably linked to Jonas in this world. He always spoke to him at the worst of times.

His times of self doubt. When he was vulnerable, shaken, and alone. That was when Jade would remind him that he was still there, in his mind, to speak to him, remind him of who he really was...

But Jonas tossed those thoughts aside. He hunched over a desk, typing away on the typewriter in front of him. Writing a story. It was something he had always done, though almost no one knew about this hobby. Celia knew...

He had to shake his head again. Get back to the writing. It was his only source of calm amidst a sea of chaos. It had started years ago, chronicling the many adventures of his friends through the realm of fiction. He took their stories, of the people around him, and used them as inspiration for short stories over and over again featuring a pair of recurring protagonists.

Jonas leaned back as he struggled to finish his latest sentence. He took in the room around him, briefly glancing at the roaring fireplace behind him. His bedroom. The bed rested against the wall, a window above it, poring the sunlight in through his dark curtains.

It was amazing what they had accomplished here, their home, the rebel town. Jonas let Artema name the place. To ensure everyone took care of it, she named it Lana. Jonas asked why.

“In that retirement of ours...” Artema said. “Lanala and I... we talked about kids.”

“Kids?” Jonas asked.

“Of our own. She told me that, in her research, she found out that Mageians like her procreate differently from us regular humans. They don’t need a partner and don’t even need to go through normal pregnancy, though they can choose to. We talked about it and, though we didn’t settle on having them just yet, we both want a daughter. One each to bear and bring into the world, both with our blood running through them. Lanala wants to name the one she gives birth to after me. Shorter name. Emma. So, the one I give birth to...”

“Named after her,” Jonas finished. “Lana.”

“Good name, don’t you think?”

“Fine name,” Jonas said. “Good name for a town, too.”

“Then that’s what we’ll call her.”

It was a ghost town, long abandoned, that Artema’s rebel gang rebuilt. When Mirelle joined them, she surprised Jonas with a house built just for him. She had personally gathered the materials and built much of the actual structure. All to give him some semblance of happiness. She wanted to break him out of his horrific mood... it didn’t work, though he was thankful to her.

And that was where he was now. Mirelle was also the second person to find out about his writing hobby, having stumbled upon a loose manuscript, written by hand on blank paper. She asked to share what she read with other people in town and Jonas, seeing her so happy, let her do it. She put the manuscript into a small, leather bound book, leaving some blank pages in the back and encouraged people to write in comments of what they thought of his writing. Yet another attempt to break his mood, make him smile...

Pretty soon, people were asking Mirelle for more. But their supplies were limited and they wouldn’t be able to pass around a single copy now that many people wanted to read what he wrote. She didn’t tell anyone Jonas wrote the story, as he requested, but people were hooked nonetheless.

So, to keep things going, she and a few others planned out several robberies of the local corrupt merchants and law from Harrison, the largest settlement in the area, practically a city already.

They stole plans for both a printing press and a typewriter, then stole the materials to build them. It was all of these robberies she spearheaded, peaceful and non-violent as they were, that drew the law down on her and wound up with her arrested and imprisoned in the town of Jericho.

In spite of this setback, people happily ran the printing press, and Jonas used his typewriter to write his manuscripts and pass them along to Mirelle, who had it printed into many copies of books to hand out to people. She encouraged that readers pen letters for her to deliver to the anonymous author, telling him how much they liked the stories, or any other kind of feedback. Yet another attempt to see Jonas smile...

Jonas took a moment to read over everything he had written thus far... and shook his head.

“Garbage...” he said to himself.

Of course it’s garbage. What do you expect?

Jade. Speaking to him. Again. “Go away...” Jonas said.

You and I are as one, Jonas. I can’t just ‘go away.’ My thoughts are yours as much as yours are mine.

Jonas hunched forward again, hands clasped, resting his chin on his knuckles.

Try and try to ignore me but you always fail. As you do with everything. Really, what were you thinking? Why would anyone read what a simple-minded baboon like you has to say? None of them mean their supposedly ‘kind’ words, you know. It’s not what they truly think.

“I know...” Jonas growled.

Yes. You do. You know the truth. About yourself. And everything you do. You are a failure. A freak. An outsider... A monster.

Jonas went silent and closed his eyes, letting out a long breath.

Those words you wrote... they’re worthless. Just as you are. Pretentious. Just as you are. Cast them to ash, as you should. Destroy them. The world will be a better place for it.

“Shut up...”

Tell that to yourself, Jonas. These are your thoughts. Go on. To the flames with those written words. Do it.

Every muscle in Jonas’ body tensed. He clenched his teeth. “Enough!”

You know where those words you wrote belong, Jonas. No one cares for them. No one will read them. It’s all garbage, as you said. A waste of everyone’s time. To the flames, Jonas!

With a shout of rage, Jonas sat up and cleared his desk, tossing everything to the floor. He stopped short of the typewriter. Mirelle had gone to so much trouble for it... he wouldn’t destroy it. It mattered too much to him.

But everything else fell to the floor, the paper was ripped from the typewriter and thrown into the fire behind him. He sat down and pounded his desk, breathing heavily, holding his head in his hands. Mr. Jade was gone now, his thoughts silenced for now, but his influence remained...

Jonas’ door burst open and Mirelle rushed inside. “Jonas! Are you all right? I heard shouting... oh.” She took one look at the state of the room and realized what had happened. “You were writing again...”

“Trying...” Jonas said.

Mirelle crossed the room, stopping by his desk. The green-haired woman peered around the room, shaking her head at the state of the floor from where Jonas had cleared his desk.

The hem of her dress, at least, wouldn’t get caught on any of it, reaching just below her knees. The long sleeved garment, with the sleeves themselves brown and the rest of the dress an earthy green, contrasted the knee high riding boots made of sturdy leather on her feet. The wide-brimmed hat atop her head matched these boots, covering part of her long green hair. Her kind, red eyes fell upon the man hunched in his chair over the desk.

“What happened this time? Can I see the story?”

“It’s... not here.”

“Where is it then?” Mirelle asked.

Jonas sat up from his chair and gestured toward the roaring fireplace. Mirelle clucked her tongue. “Oh, Jonas...” With a snap of her fingers, the fire blew out like a candle and she reached into the ashes. She waved her hand and the papers he had thrown into the fire were restored, print and all.

“You should know a little fire won’t stop me,” she said.

“Just my luck... we stumble into a world with powerful magic and you learn some new abilities. I can’t even destroy that crap.”

Mirelle sat down on his bed and met his eyes. She tapped the spot beside her with one hand. “Come sit,” she said.

Jonas stood from his chair and sat down on his bed, beside his sweet friend.

“Will you let me read this? I want to see what’s so wrong with it.”

“Go ahead. You know I won’t stop you,” Jonas said.

Mirelle pored over the pages, smiling a few times, letting out soft gasps, or giggling at others. After a long while, she looked up from the papers after turning over the final one.

“This is wonderful,” she said. “Like always.”

Jonas looked away from her. “I knew you would say that...”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Jonas. You know that.”

“True. But you would spare my feelings if you thought I’d be hurt... wouldn’t you?”

“Jonas, I mean it. And so does everyone else who says kind things. Why don’t you believe them?”

“I don’t see it myself. All I see is an idiot trying too hard and failing at everything.”

“But you haven’t failed. You’re here. Writing stories. And people like them. They care about them and your characters and what happens next. You’re not a failure, Jonas.”

Jonas heaved a sigh and shook his head. “I just don’t see it... it doesn’t make sense.”

Mirelle handed him the papers and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Finish the story. People want to see it.”

Jonas took the paper and tossed it back onto the desk. His tired, angry eyes met Mirelle’s soft expression... and he practically deflated.

“I’ll see what I can do...”

Jonas stood up from the bed and sat back down at his desk, staring down the story he had already thrown into the fire once before. Sadness entered Mirelle’s eyes as she watched her friend. Nothing would console him. It seemed nothing would make him happy, even things he enjoyed.

“Jonas... can you do something for me?”

“What’s that?”

She reached under his desk and pulled out a small wooden box. Opening it, a pile of letters fell out of it.

“Read those. They’ll make you happy.”

“They don’t mean it, whatever they said,” Jonas said.

“Jonas, those people like your stories! Read the nice things they said! It’ll be good for your heart.”

Sitting back in his chair, Jonas looked up and locked eyes with Mirelle. She tried to hide the pain in her gaze but he spotted it before she could conceal it.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

“You... you deserve to be happy. You’re worth more than you know. And I want Celia to see the strong person you are when we all meet up again.”

“Mirelle...”

“I mean it. Even if it’s only a little bit, and it doesn’t outweigh your sadness... find a little happiness in something. Okay?”

Jonas wanted to say he couldn’t. He was broken. Nothing would make him happy anymore. Not even his writing. Not even her and her endless waves of wonderful kindness. But he just couldn’t say that to her. Her efforts to cheer him up were breaking her heart. And he just couldn’t do that to her.

“I’ll try,” Jonas said.

“That’s all I want to see,” Mirelle said. “Read those letters. And finish that amazing story. I want to know how it ends!”

“I will, Mirelle.”

The perpetually optimistic, green-haired woman finally stepped out of his room, leaving Jonas alone with his broken thoughts yet again. He let out a long breath, ignoring the letters and the manuscript on his desk, instead laying down on his bed. He pulled his flask from his vest pocket, taking a long swig, praying that either sleep or death would steal his consciousness. It didn’t matter which anymore, so long as he didn’t have to be alone with his thoughts. Eventually, Jonas closed his eyes and sleep finally claimed him, taking his mind elsewhere for the time being. Until he had to wake and deal with his living nightmare yet again...

...

People always moved out of her way when the Marshal walked into town. And there was no town more afraid of Marshal Dermaga than Gold Valley. Fa’rah knew it, too, and often took advantage of this fear.

She smirked as a meek young man passed her by, eyes to the ground, and stood in his way. “Evenin’, son,” Fa’rah said. She started taking on her role a mite more than she expected. “Need a word with the Sheriff. She around?”

“I-I-I seen her by the stables this m-m-m-mornin’,” the terrified young man replied. “But I ain’t seen her since!”

“Beg pardon?” Fa’rah asked, folding her arms and raising one eyebrow. She towered over the poor fella, just compounding his fear.

“Oh! S-s-s-s-sorry, M-m-m-marshal! Ma’am! Is what I meant to say!”

Fa’rah tipped the brim of her hat. “Obliged. If you see her... tell her the Marshal’s lookin’ for her, will you?”

“I w-will, ma’am. Marshal!”

“Good.” She finally stepped away from the terrified young man, straight for the jailhouse and the Sheriff’s office. She stepped inside, her heavy boots clomping on the wooden floor, and removed her hat.

A voice, with a hint of a Hispanic accent, spoke up from her left.

“Bullying the locals again, Marshal?”

Fa’rah towered over her but, even still, the visceral fear that struck her at the mere sound of her voice never went away.

The Sheriff stood leaning against the wall of her office, just to the left of the doorway, waiting. As though expecting her. She was a rather tall woman, though nowhere near the height of the Marshal. The wide brimmed, black hat on her head blended into the raven locks tumbling down her back. Intense, dark eyes studied her visitor, peering from underneath the brim of her hat. With a black duster coat, matching knee-length skirt, red collared blouse, black fingerless gloves and tall, brown riding boots, the silver star pinned to her chest stood out.

“Again? What are you talkin’ about? We ain’t seen each other since Weston, Aurora.”

Her voice, eternally dripping with confidence, refused to waver. “I’m the Sheriff. I hear talk around town. And the word is, you push people around in my town. So, I’ll ask you again. Bullying the locals again?”

Fa’rah rounded on her, stepping closer to Aurora, the fear in her rapidly falling in place of anger.

“I am asserting my authority. In case you can’t tell, I’m in charge around here. You see this?”

Fa’rah tapped her own silver badge pinned to her chest. “Says ‘Marshal.’ Means I call the shots. Means I’m in charge. That includes you. You might be new to this whole Sheriff gig but that’s no damn excuse for talkin’ back to a superior officer.”

“Superior? Don’t make me laugh.”

Fa’rah stepped even closer. “Quit talkin’ back to me, Sheriff. Or I’ll be forced to assert my authority with you, too.”

Aurora raised her eyes, finally meeting Fa’rah’s stern gaze. “I’m shaking... ma’am,” Aurora said, tipping the brim of her hat.

“You’d better be...”

The Marshal stepped back again, turning away from the Sheriff, and looked around the jailhouse at the empty cells.

“You got a reason for bothering me, Marshal?” Aurora asked, finally moving from her spot.

“We’ve captured one of the rebels,” Fa’rah said.

Aurora raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“We’re holding her in Harrison at the moment.”

“Her? One of the main three?”

“Not as such,” Fa’rah said. “But she’s a rebel all right. No doubt about it.”

“I know this rebel?”

Fa’rah turned around, facing Aurora again. “It’s Luna.”

Aurora nodded. “I see. Any reason for telling me this?”

Fa’rah strode toward Aurora at a steady pace, her boots pounding the wooden floor. “You know, time was, you would have done anything to get your hands on her and her friends. And would have wanted to know whatever you could about their capture. What happened to you?”

Aurora smirked. “Times change. So do people, especially for the ones we love.” Aurora stepped closer, meeting Fa’rah halfway and stopping her dead. She peered up into the Marshal’s eyes, inches from her face. “Now... you gonna give me a reason or do you have any more stupid questions?”

“Watch your damn tone, Sheriff,” the Marshal said. “Don’t forget who’s in charge.”

“In this town... that’s me,” Aurora said. “Now, unless you got a reason for telling me all this... I won’t be afraid to run you out of here.”

Aurora’s subtle movements told Fa’rah that she now had one hand on the pistol holstered at her hip. Fa’rah twitched, making to reach for her own... but felt the Sheriff’s gun against her ribs.

“Keep those hands still,” Aurora said. “Tell me. Now.”

Fa’rah’s eyes flashed with anger. But she remained still. “We may have need of your cells in the future. We’ll be transporting the prisoner through Gold Valley in the coming days.”

Aurora lowered her gun and stepped back, holstering it again. “Thank you, Marshal.”

Fa’rah looked at the empty cells again. “Make sure to keep a cell open for her.”

“I can’t promise that. Trouble everywhere these days. No telling what’ll happen.”

Fa’rah glared again. “Keep. A cell. Open. I won’t repeat myself.” This time, Fa’rah’s hand fell to her hip and she brushed her own six shooter.

“You reckon you’re faster than me?” Aurora asked. “Go on. Skin it...”

Fa’rah straightened her posture, taking her hand away from her gun. “Keep one open. I’ll be sending two deputies along later on to check and make sure you have an adequate cell for the prisoner. Let them in.”

“I’ll know to expect them,” Aurora said, the smirk never leaving her face.

“See that you do.” Fa’rah tipped the brim of her hat again. “Sheriff.”

Aurora returned the gesture. “Marshal...”

...

The evening sun was only minutes away from sinking down beneath the horizon, giving way to the starry, clear night sky. Gold Valley was turning in, settling down, people finishing their days and preparing for the night. Only the law of the town, the Sheriff, remained at work.

The floorboards creaked ever so slightly as someone stepped into the jailhouse while Aurora sat at her desk. Her hat rested on the corner of her desk, just above the paperwork she scrawled on with her feather quill.

“You move quiet as always, scruffy,” she said, not even looking up from her work. “It would be impressive if it was intentional.”

A wry smile curled the lips of the man who had entered. “Don’t mean to sneak around. How’d you know?”

“Call it intuition,” Aurora said.

She finally looked from her paperwork, eyeing the man who had entered. Though he looked a little more beaten down than the last time she’d seen him, it was still the same old Jonas.

“Heard talk of the Sheriff around here,” Jonas said. “Hard to believe you’re the one they pinned that tin star on.”

Aurora shrugged. “With the law in these parts... is it so hard to believe?”

“Suppose not. Have to ask though... how do you work for them?”

“It’s not easy,” Aurora said. “The way I see it, someone has to be different. Protect folks. That’s what I do.”

Jonas nodded. “Quiet town like this... I’d say you’re doing a fine job.”

Aurora nodded back. “You in town alone?”

“For now. Heard about some trinket out this way. Could lead us to what we’re looking for.”

“And what is it you’re looking for?” Aurora asked.

“Some way to find... worlds. We know there’s magic in this world. And if this one exists, along with the others, there has to be another somewhere.”

“Another?”

“Someplace that split us up when we all came through. Artema and I aim to get there.”

Aurora nodded again. “You heard right about a trinket,” she said. “But it can’t do what you’re looking for.”

“That’s what we heard. My guy, Danny, he tells me he saw something out this way. It... teleports, does it?”

Aurora shrugged. “Might be better off asking that old man that runs the snake oil shop. He sells antiques in there, too. Loves to demonstrate its effects to the townsfolk.”

“So it does teleport?”

“From what I’ve seen, yes,” Aurora said. “Don’t know whether it’s magic or old technology or something else. The old man might.”

“Runs the snake oil shop, you said?”

“It’s not called a ‘snake oil’ shop. He just peddles his phony meds to people from there. But yes. Down the road a ways. He’s a bit... touched,” Aurora said, pointing to her temple and rotating her finger. “But he knows things.”

Jonas nodded. “Thanks. Hope he leads us someplace.”

“Before you go... got some news. From Harrison.”

Jonas’ eyes darkened at the mention of the place where... Jade... he put the name out of his mind for now.

“Important news?”

“To the green-haired sweetie... I’d say so.”

Jonas’ expression hardened further, his eyes going wide. “Luna?”

“Fa’rah’s got her. In Harrison. Says they might be moving her here but never set an exact time.”

Jonas scratched at his rough beard, turning away from the Sheriff. He placed his hands on his hips and pushed out a long breath.

“Damn it...”

“You all right?”

Jonas spun in place and met Aurora’s eyes again. “We’ve got to go after her.”

“She’ll be heavily protected,” Aurora said. “And it’s a ways to Harrison from here. Faster by train but Jade’s moles will see you coming from miles off that way.”

“You saying we shouldn’t?”

“I’m saying it’s a risk. You ought to be careful,” Aurora said.

“It’s always a risk. Springing Mirelle was a risk. But one I’ll gladly take. Every time.”

Aurora smiled. “Heard about that one. Burton was not a happy man.”

“Good. Old piece of shit deserves a little more pain in his life. You spoke to him?”

“I have contact with a lot of law types around. Jericho’s close. Warned me about the ‘demon in black.’”

Jonas chuckled, bemused. “That’s what he calls me?”

“You’ve got a reputation. A ‘ruthless killer’ they call you. Not exactly false, either. But that Sheriff of Jericho... I think you got him scared.”

“Well he won’t be the only one. Not while they have Luna. We need her. We need everyone we can get.”

“That include me?”

Jonas looked her in the eye again. “Of course it does. We’d love to have you.”

“I can be your woman on the inside,” Aurora said. “Give you word from on high, when it gets to me. And maybe a place to lay low, if the Marshal’s goons get on you.”

Jonas nodded again. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“So... what’s your plan for springing Luna?”

“Someone ought to go after her... but we really need to follow up on this lead here in Gold Valley.”

“You got people coming in behind you?”

“Artema’s on her way. So is Mirelle. She’ll want to go after Luna.”

“I say let her,” Aurora said. “Sweet girl as she is, you can see that protective nature in her eyes. She’d kill for her wife, I know it.”

“I don’t want to let it come to that,” Jonas said. “Keep the blood on my hands and mine alone.”

“And Artema’s,” Aurora said. “As I hear it.”

“Yeah...” Jonas said with a sigh. “Her too, I guess...”

“Times sure have changed...” Aurora said.

The two went silent for several long moments of time, waiting for the other to speak.

“So... the plan?” Aurora asked.

“My guess... One of us stays in town, talks to the old man. Maybe bring in some our people to back us up in case anything goes awry. The other two, they head for Harrison. And get Luna back home.”

“Home?”

“There’s a town at the top of the valley. An old ghost town. We rebuilt it and moved in.”

“The whole lot of you?” Aurora asked.

“That’s right. Good, peaceful place. What the rest of the people in this territory deserve.”

“Why not make that happen?”

“One thing at a time,” Jonas said. “We find a way to open a portal, first. Then, topple the bastards running the place. Take it back for the people.”

“I see you got your priorities...”

“Look, this is important to us. We have to...” Jonas lowered his eyes. “We have to know.”

Aurora started into Jonas’ eyes for a few moments. “I understand.”

“Thanks, Aurora.”

They spoke no more after that as Jonas left the jailhouse and Aurora alone, back at her desk with her paperwork. Now there was just the Marshal’s people to prepare for.

...

The train pulled into Gold Valley for its last stop that day, well after the sun had gone down, and the two deputies stepped out onto the platform. Both younger women, to her eye. Walking with the same stiff posture, the same look of contempt, as all the other law types.

The two moved with confident strides to the jailhouse. She let this one play out. The Sheriff could handle herself. Her real target was on the train, as she had suspected.

Artema stepped out from the train station long after the two deputies had passed her by. The train had pulled into its last stop so it wasn’t going anywhere. In fact, the engineer had already left to find room and board somewhere in town for the night. Not a soul would disturb her work as she climbed onto the train, walking back along the cars until stopping in front of one particular coach. It was padlocked and chained but that didn’t stop Artema.

Channelling the power of the world, as her wife had taught her, she grabbed hold of the padlock and closed her eyes. Adrenaline surged through her body and she grimaced, keeping her eyes shut, squeezing the lock hard. With one pull, the shackle snapped under the powerful woman’s crushing strength and the chain fell loose, allowing her to open the door.

Stepping inside, Artema’s eyes fell upon the squirming person at the very back of the car. She was seated in a chair, bolted to the floor. She recognized the woman. Heck, she would recognize the woman anywhere.

The seated woman was bound to the chair, ropes around her arms, ankles, wrists pulled behind her, and a tight cloth pulled over her lips. Sweat soaked her brow as she fought her bonds but she stopped when she heard the door open and looked up...

“Mmmpph!” Her muffled voice intoned surprise. But with a tinge of happiness in her eyes.

Artema smiled and tipped the brim of her hat. “Evening, ma’am,” she said. “Been a while.”

...

The deputies had taken her by surprise. Aurora refused to panic but she would have been lying to herself if she was happy with her current situation.

First, while hunched over her desk, she was greeted by the barrel of a gun in her face. Then a pair of hands roughly hoisting her out of her chair, pulling her arms behind her back, and quickly tying her wrists together with sturdy rope.

“You girls are making a mistake,” Aurora said. “Soon as your superiors catch wind of this-”

“Save your breath,” the woman with the gun said, stuffing a cloth in her mouth, following that up with another over her mouth, tied tightly behind her head.

“The Marshal will cover for us,” the woman holding her said. “And there ain’t nothin’ you can do about it.”

“Besides, we’re only here to inspect your cells. How about we give one of them a test? See if it’s good enough for that prisoner we’ve got?”

The two women laughed as they hauled the captive sheriff into one of the empty cells of the jailhouse. At the time, all of them were empty. Aurora had been alone, hard at work, when Fa’rah’s deputies ambushed her. They made quick work of her as well, placing her on the cot in the empty cell.

Binding her ankles, they pulled them up, level with her bound wrists, and tied them together to pull her into a hogtie. They took a final rope and wrapped it tightly around her arms for good measure. Closing the Sheriff in the cell, the two deputies left her there, quietly discussing their next move.

“One of the rebels is in town,” one of them said.

“Then we find ‘em and bring ‘em in,” the second replied.

Their hushed voices faded from Aurora’s ears as they left and she rolled onto her side, letting out a long breath through her nose. She tested her bonds and found them to be quite strong, though nothing inescapable.

Did a pretty good job she thought to herself. It’s been a while. Sort of missed this feeling. Although... She let out another long breath, her eyes drooping sadly.

Elyn... Find me soon, my dearest love...

Her thoughts came back to the present and Aurora flipped herself onto her stomach again. Might take awhile. Out of practice with this escape thing. Hope Artema can handle them...

“Hmmpphh!” Aurora grunted, trying to reach the knot on the rope around her ankles. She missed it completely and slumped back down into her hogtied position. This may be harder than I thought...

...

The two deputies had followed the trail to a store that still seemed to be open. They peered in the window and spied an old man, tending his wares, polishing the face of an old clock behind the counter.

“Odd for him to be open,” one woman said.

“Suspicious even,” agreed the second.

Before they could move, however, each woman felt something pressed into the small of her back and the presence of someone behind her.

“Stay where you are,” a man’s voice commanded. He sounded exhausted, just by tone alone.

“Shit.... it’s him!” the first woman hissed at the second. “Go on and kill us then, you bastard!”

“Don’t call him that!” came another voice, a woman’s voice, from behind them.

“I’ll call that damn killer whatever I please!”

“He’s not-”

“Mirelle...” the man said. “It’s all right.”

He stepped around in front of them, making sure they saw his gun, while Mirelle got to work pulling each woman’s arms behind her, tying their wrists together.

“It’s not all right, Jonas. You can’t just take that!” Mirelle said.

Jonas didn’t answer, instead letting himself feel the angry glares of the deputies.

“We know who you are,” the first deputy said.

“The Marshal will hunt you down,” the second said.

“I’m sure she’ll try,” the man replied.

“So why ain’t you killed us yet?” the second woman asked.

“I don’t kill women.”

The first woman scoffed. “Save your damn chivalry. Situations reversed, I’d put a bullet clean through your skull!”

“And that’s all you’d do?” Jonas asked.

The woman furrowed her brow, confused. “Well... yeah... what?”

“It’s not chivalry,” Jonas said. “Chivalry assumes weakness.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” the first woman asked.

“It’s what’s right. The women who joined the law in this territory... they’re corrupt, sure. Awful. Killers, even. But the men... most of them... they’re monsters,” Jonas said. “As it is, women only kill. And that’s it. Men are worse.”

The two fell silent and let him continue. “So yes, I’m sure you would kill me. But that’s all you’d do. The men around here... hell, men in general... there’s a reason I kill them.”

“Don’t change the fact you’re a killer,” the second woman said.

“No... it doesn’t.”

Jonas grabbed one by the shoulder, turning her around and helping march them back to the jailhouse with Mirelle.

“And besides, we wanted to keep this one quiet. Make sure your bosses know their little ruse didn’t work,” Jonas said.

“Ruse?” the first woman asked.

“Tried to lure us away to Harrison. But you brought your prisoner here, thinking we’d be overwhelmed. Didn’t you?”

Both women stayed silent. But their silence said more than their words could have. They spoke no more as they shuffled the two deputies along to the jailhouse.

...

Aurora kicked her feet up on her desk, raising her shot glass of whiskey to the two deputies locked in one of her cells. They both said nothing, though with the tight cloths over each of their mouths, they couldn’t have said much anyway.

She turned her attention to the other two people in the room. “Appreciate the help... though I could have done it on my own.”

“You’re lucky we were here,” Jonas said. “Could have been real trouble here otherwise.”

“Speaking of... why aren’t you in Harrison?”

“Spoke to Artema. I listened to her when she told me wait around. Something didn’t feel right. We saw it on the train soon as it pulled in. They were carrying a prisoner.”

Aurora nodded toward the deputies. “These two?”

“Tried to pull one over on us. Send us down to Harrison and likely get us killed. All part of the Marshal’s plan, I’d guess,” Jonas said.

“So you stayed. Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I did. Even convinced the old man to stay open. Act as a ruse. He seemed to like the idea of helping us out.”

Aurora nodded. “That one was a troublemaker, once upon a time. Loves to stick it to law types. Believe me, I know.”

“What’s he done to you?”

“Ah, just cusses at the badge, mostly. Sometimes he harbours actual lawbreakers in the store, though. So uh... you got it?”

Jonas reached into his vest pocket and placed a small pocket watch on Aurora’s desk. “This is it.”

“Huh. I was expecting... something else. It’s really a watch?”

“He showed it to me. I’ve seen what it does. Whatever it is, it’ll put us one step closer to getting what we need.”

“How’d you pry it from him?” Aurora asked.

“Soon as I mentioned who I was with, he was happy to give this to me. I think he’s taken a shine to what Artema’s been doing around these parts.”

“Seems likely. Speaking of...”

“On her way. With a guest.” Jonas raised his eyes and met the soft stare of Mirelle.

“Jonas? What is it?” she asked. “Who’s this guest?”

The heard boots on the wooden porch outside and Jonas nodded to the doorway. “See for yourself.”

Two figures stepped into the light from outside. Artema suppressed a smile when she stepped aside and watched as the world stopped for Mirelle. The ebony skin, the pale blue hair, her grey eyes... a sight she longed to see.

Luna, too, stopped dead in her tracks in the doorway. Artema hadn’t told her much on the way over. Just that a few of them had banded together. She didn’t know who. As she stared into the brilliant eyes of her wife, she watched a stream of tears roll down her cheeks. She rushed forward to wipe Mirelle’s face pull her in tight.

“Mirelle... I love you...” it was all she could say.

Mirelle returned the embrace, sobbing into her wife’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you, Luna...” she said.

The two of them said nothing as they simply held each other, letting their emotions wash over them. Jonas and Artema looked at each other, both able to crack the slightest of smiles before they faded again.

“Least we can make some good happen...” Artema said.

...

By midday, it was clear that Mr. Jade was in a foul mood. Through no fault of her own, the Marshal’s plan had not succeeded as he hoped. Having this knowledge brought his constant rage to a near boiling point, just beneath the surface.

In Harrison, he was often seen outside the Marshal’s dwelling, a small house on the edge of town. She had cells installed inside specifically to keep an eye on specific prisoners they caught from the rebellion. He didn’t care for any of that but he liked to keep in constant contact with the highest ranking member of his command.

At the moment, he sat on her front porch, watching the city of Harrison hum past. The edge of town better resembled Gold Valley and its country charm but the place still buzzed with activity.

A building of holding cells had been built across the street. His eyes shifted to it when he spotted two members of the Harrison constabulary emerge with someone between them. The woman they dragged with them had her hands bound and seemed to be fighting the two men dragging her along with everything she had.

She was a prisoner from the rebellion, this he knew. But his mind turned to why she would be fighting so hard. Coupled with a rather amused look on the faces of both men... Mr. Jade stood from his seat.

Hearing the commotion of the woman’s incoherent shouting, Fa’rah stepped outside as Mr. Jade passed by.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Step back inside, Marshal. You may not like what you are about to see,” Mr. Jade said as he passed, continuing on to intercept the men dragging the woman.

Fa’rah watched the scene unfold from her porch, hands on her hips, brow furrowed... what is that man up to?

The two rather unkempt law officials stopped in their tracks and the woman ceased her shouting when Mr. Jade’s cold stare met hers. He noted the fear and rage in her look... shifting his icy gaze to the two men.

“Oh... boss,” one of the men said. “There a problem?”

“What is this commotion about? And why is this prisoner out of her cell?” Mr. Jade asked, eerily calm.

“Oh, well...” the second man answered. “We’re lookin’ to teach these rebels their place, see?”

Mr. Jade’s eyes hardened. “Go on.”

“Well some of the boys and I we, well... we thought we’d have, you know, a little fun.”

“Fun?” Mr. Jade’s eyes passed over the woman again. Her breaths were heavy and the fear, the confusion, and the anger in her eyes had yet to fade. “This woman does not look to be having fun.”

“Not for her... for us,” the second man continued. By this time, the first man seemed to understand the look in Mr. Jade’s eyes and refused to say any more. He was visibly shrinking back at the growing icy rage in Jade’s voice.

“Fun...” Mr. Jade said. “I see...”

The world went silent for a moment. Mr. Jade calmly walked toward them, stepping between them and taking hold of the woman’s upper arm. Out of fear, the two men let her go as he guided her back toward Fa’rah, guiding her toward the Marshal.

“Look after her please, Marshal. And recall my earlier warning. I’d suggest shielding your eyes.”

The two men did not hear this but were fixed in place. Most people in Mr. Jade’s employ knew not to leave unless dismissed. And they had yet to be dismissed.

He walked back into the middle of the street, a few feet away from the two men. He drew the pistol at his left hip and left his arms at his sides.

“Boss?” the second man asked.

Jade ignored him. “Do you know my purpose? Either of you?”

Both men shook their heads. “I have but one purpose. To cleanse the world of monsters. It is all I am driven to do. To leave behind a world of peace. That is my purpose.”

He paused to let his words sink in further. “Monsters are to be destroyed. They cannot be allowed to flourish any longer. That is what I am here to do.”

His eyes passed over the two men. Neither of them could look at him. By now, the bustling place had gone still. Every pair of eyes on the street were on Mr. Jade. Moving faster than anyone expected, Mr. Jade raised his gun and fired two shots, blasting out both knees of the first man. He screamed in pain as he fell to the ground, writhing and bleeding.

“Boss!” the second man said. “What are you doing!?”

“Eyes upon me!” Mr. Jade shouted. His pale, grey eyes turned a terrible red and his entire body soon became draped in shadow. His voice distorted when he next spoke. “Look upon these monsters! Let them serve as examples! I will not suffer the presence of monsters! Should anyone be tempted by the behaviour of these men... then let you suffer my wrath as they do!”

The second man became engulfed in the shadows that Mr. Jade had once been, screaming violently. Every last inch of him cried out in scorching pain.

Fa’rah turned her eyes away and led the woman back into the house. She couldn’t look anymore. “Inside... now...” she said, breathlessly. She was unable to process what she had seen.

Both men were screaming now, shrieks of utter horror, terrifying pain... some people stood transfixed on what was happening to them. None would dare describe it. As for Fa’rah... she shut the curtains and placed the woman in one the cells inside her house. Now... she had seen it. Now she knew why they called him the Devil of Harrison...