In the dusty heart of Tombstone, Arizona, where the desert sun scorches the land and the scent of gunpowder and whiskey hangs in the air, Marcus leaned back in his chair, sipping on a warm glass of bourbon. The saloon was lively, but his attention was locked on the man across the poker table---James, a slick stranger with fast fingers and a faster mouth.

Marcus wasn’t your average gambler. Under the grit and charm was something older, deeper---something touched by magic. When he spotted James palming a queen from his sleeve, his smile curled into something a little too knowing.

“I don’t take kindly to cheaters,” Marcus said calmly, voice cool despite the boiling heat outside.

James rolled his eyes. “You got proof?”

“I don’t need proof,” Marcus said, standing.

He whispered a word that hadn’t been spoken in the West for a hundred years, and in a swirl of heat and shimmer, James was gone.

Where James had stood was now a stunning blonde woman, her hair cascading like golden silk, dressed in a gleaming gold mermaid gown that hugged her curves, a delicate shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and gold heels sparkling beneath her feet. A small gold purse hung at her side, filled with two quarts of water and a modest collection of makeup essentials.

And just like that---she was gone too.

Two Miles Out

The Arizona sun was merciless. James stood blinking in the desert, shimmering heat waves dancing on the horizon. The sand beneath the heels of his dainty gold shoes was hotter than sin. He hissed with each step, the slim heels sinking and slipping in the grit.