terrible scars covering his face. It took Shad a second to remember where he’d seen the devil before.
Tattooed at the base of Glide Luvell’s back.
“Well now,” Shad said.
Mama groped blindly for him. The red devil moved from her and crouched before Shad’s body, which was still beneath the tree, breathing into his face and whispering something in his ear. Ashtoreth stared up almost contritely as Shad approached, quickly finished whatever he’d been saying, and stood.
The devil, dressed in the warden’s finest suit, stepped forward and straightened the knot of his silk tie. Shad thought he should grab for his mother and get it over with now. Wake up, turn aside, and get the blood out of his belly.
Ashtoreth’s voice was his father’s voice. “She wants to give you a warning.”
“She always does.”
“You need to listen.”
“No, I’m not so sure that I do.”
But this was another of his faults. Holding out hope that the ghost of the mother he’d never met might actually be searching him, loving him in her own grotesque way. You never got free of your mama.
She drifted out there in the brush, tangling in the camphor laurel, the maple, and catclaw briars. Slowly she became aware of him standing there and looked over, held one hand out to the devil, the other toward Shad. He rubbed the creases in his forehead and sighed. She stared beyond him, and said, “Son?”
“I’m here, Mama.”
“Son?”
“I’m right next to you. I’m always next to you.”
“Shad?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, hello.”
“Hello, Mama.”
Ashtoreth said, “Come closer. She wants you to come closer.”
“Quiet, you.”
Glide Luvell’s devil revealed disappointment in his expression. “Believe me, you want to hear what I have to say.”
“That right?”
The bizarre knowledge flooded him again, everything sharp and sensible as if he’d read it off a page many times before.
Instigator of demonic possession, most notably in the case of the Loudun nuns of France in the sixteenth century, who accused Father Urbain Grandier of unholy and perverse acts. After severe torture, Grandier scrawled a confession with his broken hands and was burned at the stake for consorting with Satan.
So
, Shad thought,
this is the guidance I get.
Ma smiled sadly, as if she too wanted this all to end as quickly as possible. Clutching for him so he’d wake up, get on with his life, and let her go back to the grave. She appeared even less interested in him this time than a few nights ago.
“Shad? You listen, son. You listen to me.”
“Shh, Mama, I want to talk to your companion now.”
“Son? I need to tell you . . . stay off the road.” Confusion twisted and contorted her features as she moved off in the wrong direction trying to find him.
He figured what the hell, grabbed Ashtoreth by the warden’s tie, and yanked him forward. “You got something that might actually help me or not?”
“Yes. I’m only here to deliver you a friend.”
That stopped him. “What friend?”
“One you’ve been missing.”
The devil faded from sight and soon Jeffie O’Rourke stepped up and stood there just a few feet away, dressed in Armani. His eyes had some new hipness to them that he hadn’t possessed in the can, and his grin was knowing and a touch badass. Murdering your lover had a way of giving you a new confidence.
“Where’d you get to?” Shad asked.
“Been out and about,” Jeffie said, taking a step closer. The three-thousand-dollar silk suit gave a gentle swish. Shad could see there was dried blood or paint on Jeffie’s hands, the bitten-down fingernails caked with it. “Spending a lot of time sitting around on beaches, doing seascapes.”
“Like the warden.”
“Yes, just like him. He always said they were calming, but I don’t find that to be the case.”
“You should probably quit then.”
“I’ll give it a while longer though. Maybe it just takes time.”
“Maybe so.”
Jeffie gave a kind of frowning
Tattooed at the base of Glide Luvell’s back.
“Well now,” Shad said.
Mama groped blindly for him. The red devil moved from her and crouched before Shad’s body, which was still beneath the tree, breathing into his face and whispering something in his ear. Ashtoreth stared up almost contritely as Shad approached, quickly finished whatever he’d been saying, and stood.
The devil, dressed in the warden’s finest suit, stepped forward and straightened the knot of his silk tie. Shad thought he should grab for his mother and get it over with now. Wake up, turn aside, and get the blood out of his belly.
Ashtoreth’s voice was his father’s voice. “She wants to give you a warning.”
“She always does.”
“You need to listen.”
“No, I’m not so sure that I do.”
But this was another of his faults. Holding out hope that the ghost of the mother he’d never met might actually be searching him, loving him in her own grotesque way. You never got free of your mama.
She drifted out there in the brush, tangling in the camphor laurel, the maple, and catclaw briars. Slowly she became aware of him standing there and looked over, held one hand out to the devil, the other toward Shad. He rubbed the creases in his forehead and sighed. She stared beyond him, and said, “Son?”
“I’m here, Mama.”
“Son?”
“I’m right next to you. I’m always next to you.”
“Shad?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, hello.”
“Hello, Mama.”
Ashtoreth said, “Come closer. She wants you to come closer.”
“Quiet, you.”
Glide Luvell’s devil revealed disappointment in his expression. “Believe me, you want to hear what I have to say.”
“That right?”
The bizarre knowledge flooded him again, everything sharp and sensible as if he’d read it off a page many times before.
Instigator of demonic possession, most notably in the case of the Loudun nuns of France in the sixteenth century, who accused Father Urbain Grandier of unholy and perverse acts. After severe torture, Grandier scrawled a confession with his broken hands and was burned at the stake for consorting with Satan.
So
, Shad thought,
this is the guidance I get.
Ma smiled sadly, as if she too wanted this all to end as quickly as possible. Clutching for him so he’d wake up, get on with his life, and let her go back to the grave. She appeared even less interested in him this time than a few nights ago.
“Shad? You listen, son. You listen to me.”
“Shh, Mama, I want to talk to your companion now.”
“Son? I need to tell you . . . stay off the road.” Confusion twisted and contorted her features as she moved off in the wrong direction trying to find him.
He figured what the hell, grabbed Ashtoreth by the warden’s tie, and yanked him forward. “You got something that might actually help me or not?”
“Yes. I’m only here to deliver you a friend.”
That stopped him. “What friend?”
“One you’ve been missing.”
The devil faded from sight and soon Jeffie O’Rourke stepped up and stood there just a few feet away, dressed in Armani. His eyes had some new hipness to them that he hadn’t possessed in the can, and his grin was knowing and a touch badass. Murdering your lover had a way of giving you a new confidence.
“Where’d you get to?” Shad asked.
“Been out and about,” Jeffie said, taking a step closer. The three-thousand-dollar silk suit gave a gentle swish. Shad could see there was dried blood or paint on Jeffie’s hands, the bitten-down fingernails caked with it. “Spending a lot of time sitting around on beaches, doing seascapes.”
“Like the warden.”
“Yes, just like him. He always said they were calming, but I don’t find that to be the case.”
“You should probably quit then.”
“I’ll give it a while longer though. Maybe it just takes time.”
“Maybe so.”
Jeffie gave a kind of frowning
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