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Act One of Beverly, Guitars and Monsters
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Beverly
Part One:
Guitars and Monsters
By: Peter A. Bulmer
1
Chapter One:
Drought
Everything changed after Elijah came to Beverly.
I grew up here in Louisiana and it was my home. There are days
that I'm angry at myself for not leaving and just going to a big city
somewhere, or moving back to New Orleans. There are days that I
regret not marrying Reed who went on and made something of himself in
California amid the palm trees and Pacific Ocean beaches. And there
are days I hate myself for not being able to go to Julliard and study
music and just getting out.
But Beverly is a part of me, and I am her. It was what my
mother named me and when she died while we were living in New Orleans
my Grandfather thought it best that I move back to the town of my
name sake.
Eli had been in Beverly for all of three months when I met him.
Ray Warren owned the local gas station and repair shop and it had
been in his family as far back as Beverly had needed one. It was a
surprise to everyone when this unknown from up north brought up the
old Louisiana Mutual building over on Temper Road on the outer part
of the town proper and turned the first two floors into a garage and
repair shop. For three months just about no one saw him, and no one
was going to his shop. I'm not even sure if anyone knew he was still
in business.
It was the end of August and it was so damn hot that I felt like
2
I could melt if I stayed out in the sun for too long. It hadn't
rained for a month and the guys on the television were saying that it
could turn into the worst drought in some time.
It was six in the morning and the sun was already too bright and
there wasn't a cloud in the sky save for a wispy little bit of a
thing that was all alone. My Grandfather died five years before and
the only thing he could leave me was his Dodge Charger that he had
restored. I've never been much into cars, but even I can admit that
was one sexy car. Beside s the emotional value, however, it was also
a necessity of life down here. You don't have a car you're pretty
much persona non-grata because the public transit was pretty much
non-existent.
And here I was on the corner of Main and Temper and God help me
my car wouldn't start. Now like I said I don't know much about cars,
but I knew that Ray's shop wouldn't be open until eight and it was
just six-thirty right then, and I had just about no options. I work
as a dispatcher for the local Police, and I couldn't be late for a
job like that. I slammed the car door in such frustration, and
looked around. I didn't even have my cellphone on me since it was in
the next town over getting repaired. At six thirty there was just
about no one around. Realistically the Police Station is withing
walking distance, but in the heat that was pouring down like the
Devil's own furnace and me in a white shirt – well, let's just say
that I didn't want to give everyone a free show.
3
And there was the old Louisiana Mutual building and I remembered
what I was told about it's new occupant. I wiped the sweat off my
brow and approached slowly, hoping that someone would at least be in.
My prayers were answered as I drew closer and noticed the lights on
and the sound of machinery within. Someone was inside and working.
I looked down and unbuttoned my top two buttons to show a little
cleavage; I noticed it always made Ray give me a discount and I'm not
above turning myself into eye candy to get a good discount. I
knocked on the door, and waited. When no one answered, I knocked
again this time louder. The work stopped for a moment, then
continued on, as if he didn't believe there was someone knocking on
his doorway.
I knocked again and this time when the work stopped I shouted as
loud as I could, “Hey, is someone in there? I need some help out
there.”
I heard footsteps from inside and stepped back so the door could
open without giving me a knot on my head. The door swung open slowly
as if the person inside wasn't quite sure how to handle someone
knocking on his door.
I'm five four and if I had to guess I would say that the man who
stood on the other side of the now opened door way stood about five
ten. He was dressed in a dirty white tank top, black in several
places with grease stains, and a pair of jeans that had obviously
been lived in. I could see behind him several cars, one covered with
4
a tarp, and probably the biggest pick-up truck I've ever seen and I
live below the Mason-Dixon line. They caught the sunlight and shone
and vibrated.
The man who stood there sized me up and down and I hoped that
some part of him, either his heart or his loins, would give him the
motivation to help me.
“Mornin',” I started, “That's my car right there, in the
intersection, and I was hoping you could help me. It just turned off
at the red light and wouldn't start again. Is there any way you
could help me?”
He stared at me for a moment as if he were sure I had two heads.
Then slowly, as if he were remembering how to talk aloud, he spoke in
this quite, but in now way gentle voice. Surprisingly, though they
said he was from Boston he spoke the way a native son of Louisiana
does. He might have been from Boston, but he wasn't originally.
“Yeah, I don't do that. There's a gas station down the street.”
He started to close the door, but I grabbed hold of it. Likely
he could have simply forced it, but he didn't, and I'm not sure why.
“Please,” I told him. I don't like to beg, but I was desperate. “At
least let me use the phone.”
“Don't have one.” And he just stood there, as if he were having
some kind of internal monologue, and after a moment he just looked
tired. “You have somewhere to be?”
“I work at the police station. About two miles away, and it's
5
hot out here. I might find something, but usually people don't get
started around here until seven or seven thirty. Is there any way
you could help me?”
He sighed, looked over to my car again, and then looked a bit
intrigued. “You drive that?”
I smiled nervously, “Yeah. That's mine.”
“All right, I'll take a look. Come on in for a moment while I
get some things.”
He held the door open for me and I followed him through. I
stood in probably the biggest room I'd ever stood in. There were no
walls except what kept the outside out, and what was lode bearing.
There were four cars I could see. The truck I mentioned that was
truly massive. It was about as big as you could get without being a
tractor trailer. There was something underneath a tarp that for some
reason made me nervous to look at, as if the tarp were to protect the
world from it instead of keeping all the dirt and grease away from
getting to the paint coat. Some old car sat in the corner and I
couldn't help but feel that it was staring at me. I began to rethink
the kind of men who would spend all their time with cars. The fourth
car was something he was working on up on the lift. It looked like
an old Buick.
He got his things together quickly and came back with a tool bag
filled with things that I didn't really recognize. “I'm Eli by the
way. Short for Elijah. What's yours?”
6
“Name's Beverly. Same as the town.” He stared at me for a
moment then gave some kind of small smile.
“Fine then. Won't you show me to your car.” Somehow he had
become far more friendly and I wasn't entirely sure what changed.
I lead him outside and he squinted in the daylight. Quickly I
opened the door and popped the hood. Immediately it was like he
forgot about me, and started working on the engine. I stood behind
him and watched him, but he might have been doing brain surgery for
all I knew. As I said, cars weren't my thing.
He worked for all of thirty minutes without saying a word. I
didn't dare bother him after he started the morning not even able to
be polite. There's a funny thing that happens when you start
watching someone. You start noticing all those things about them
that don't get noticed on the first impression. The way his
shoulders moved as he worked, or the way he bit his lower lip as he
was concentrating. His hands worked quietly, delicately, as if he
were caressing a woman with them. And just for a moment I imagined a
man touching me like that, and I couldn't help but look at him that
way. Once you see someone like that, it's hard to look at them anyI
way else.
Then just like that he straightened up and I expected him to say
something along the lines that he couldn't help me or that I was
better off with Ray or that I was a woman and that women shouldn't
have cars like that (I had actually been told that).
7
Instead he simply said, “Turn it on, let's see what happens.”
I turned the key and the engine caught and felt stronger than
ever before. It sounded like a freaking choir of angels right then.
“Oh my God, you fixed it. Thank you so much!” I could lay it on
thick when I wanted to.
He smiled sheepishly, and closed the hood carefully, not like I
ever did by simply dropping it from on high. “This is a good car.
You should treat her better. It's a she, by the way. Just saying.”
I didn't even know what to say to that. “Well, uh, how much do
I owe you?”
He shrugged, “Don't worry about it. Like I said, I don't do
this sort of thing anymore. And I'm not looking to take any business
away from the station down the street.” He brushed his hand across
the hood again, but his eye caught the bass guitar in my back seat.
“You play?”
I looked back at it and nodded, “Yeah. And what do you mean you
don't to take business away from Ray? Aren't you a mechanic?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, “I have a select clientele.
The people who come to me aren't likely to go to a place like the
station down the street. So I'm not going to take any of those
customers away from him.” He shrugged and then sighed, “Anyway, I
should be going back inside.”
“Wait.” I touched his shoulder and was surprised that in this
blistering heat he could be so dry. “Look, I need to do something
8
for helping you. You like music?”
“Yeah. I like music fine enough.”
“I'm playing down at Rhapsody tonight with some friends and I
could get you in. You know, as a favor. Or as thanks.”
He looked far away for a moment but said, “If I can, sure. It
sounds fun.” He reached down and picked up his things. “Nice to
meet you Beverly.”
It was the end of August and it was hot as hell.
9
Chapter Two:
Prayer and Sin
There ain't much to do in Beverly, and in the center of town
there are two places that divide the town right down the middle. At
one end of Main Street where it meets with Elizabeth is the First
Baptist church of Evangeline County. At the other end, just before
Main meets Temper there is Rhapsody, a combination restaurant, night
club and bar. At one end everyone prayed and at the other all anyone
wanted to do was sin.
As I said, there ain't much to do in Beverly, and the town was
divided just like the street was. There were those who spent their
days praying for a way to absolve them of their sins and there were
those who spent their Sundays learning new ways to sin. I play bass
guitar in a band called Jefferson's Cross, so honey, what category do
you think I'd prefer to fall in?
I arrived at Rhapsody just after work just like always when I
had a gig. I keep a change of clothes in my car so I don't have to
go home after the police station. I had changed into a miniskirt and
a red tank top that showed off a tattoo I'd gotten shortly after my
Grandfather died. He wouldn't have approved, but likely he wouldn't
have approved of a lot of what I've done.
Ray Warren was there at a booth when I walked in, eating some
steak fries and drinking a beer. Ray and I used to date, if dating
was the word I'm looking for, which it isn't. Dating implies your
10
with the one you love. How does that song go? Love the one you're
with? That was Ray and me. The truth was, we barely even liked each
other but we were good for each other in other ways. Bad too, but we
both knew that going in.
He sat with Lee, and when I said that there were two types of
people in this town? Lee was the other kind. I've known Lee since I
moved back to Beverly too; he lived in the house just across from my
Grandfather's. Now he moved out into an apartment that was the size
of a closet, but he didn't seem to mind.
I walked over to the both of them and sat down next to Lee, who
like a gentleman, made room. I smiled at him sweetly. “Evenin' Lee.
Didn't expect to see you here.”
Ray grinned at me in that lewd way men do when they think
they're getting lucky, but Ray wasn't that lucky tonight. Not with
me anyway. Lee's smile was much more genuine, but he looked nervous
like he always did around women, or at least women when they're
dressed like I was just then.
“Evening Beverly. You know I had to come when I heard you were
playing here tonight.” I think Lee thought he could save my soul, or
at least safeguard it until I decided to save it myself, but I think
he really did like me. He probably liked me more than he liked to
admit, but at least I trusted his feelings were real. In a place
where I've had a person look me straight in the eye and tell me that
I was going to hell and be completely serious, his manner was
11
reassuring. The boy was uncomplicated. And that's hard to find on
either side of the street.
“Well that's just nice of you.” I looked across the table and
met Ray's eyes. “You know Ray, I could have used you this morning.”
“Could you?” He took a sip of his beer. “What happened? Car
trouble?”
I stole a fry from him. “Sure. But it was early and you weren't
up yet. You know that new guy? Over on Temper? I got him to fix
it. Did a right fine job too.”
He paled, and then managed to not look furious that I had gone
to someone else. I'd just completely undermined his masculinity and
I was okay with that. “You went to someone else Beverly? That's
cold.”
I just smiled at him. “He didn't even charge me anything. Talk
about weird.” I took another fry but he wasn't paying attention.
“You mind if I take a look? Just to make sure he didn't mess
anything up?”
I shrugged, and looked around. There wasn't anyone else here
yet and drinking alone sucked just as much as drinking with these
three. “Got a moment now? Before you've had one too many to drink
and you puke all over my engine.” He took another sip of his beer,
and stood up, leaving his bag on the booth seat.
“Sure. Coming Lee?” Lee shrugged and came along as well. Not
like he knew what he was looking at, but not like there was anything
12
else going on in Rhapsody either.
I parked my car fairly close to the door so it wasn't long
before I popped the hood. Ray wasn't looking under there a minute
before he shot up, banged his head right against it. “Mother
fucker!”
“Hey now.” Lee didn't like it when he cursed around the ladies.
I think it's sweet how he thinks I don't hear those words. I think
it's sweet how he thinks I never use them.
“Well shit Lee.” He rubbed the back of his head.
“You all right?” That was me. “Here, let me see.” I parted
his hair back and it was just scalp. He might have a bump in the
morning. “You look fine.” Lee was looking at me with, well, the
kind of look that Ray sometimes looked at me when I was with another
man. I knew Lee was sweet on me, otherwise a boy like him wouldn't
be found in Rhapsody tonight.
“Of course I'm fine. But I don't know what the hell he did with
your car. Jesus, it's a mess in there.”
I looked in, but like I said, I don't know cars. One engine
looks like another to me. Unfathomable. I crossed my arms and
shrugged, “There ain't nothing in there I know about. What's wrong
with it.”
“Well, it shouldn't be working. What the hell did he do to it?
It's a miracle this thing's running. I don't even know what this
is.” He was pointing towards the center of the engine block where
13
something was attached to the engine that I didn't recognize.
“Well, don't touch it. I need this car.”
“You're going to have to take it in tomorrow. I don't want you
driving around with this thing.”
See, that's what I don't like about Ray. He likes telling
people what to do instead of just suggesting it, or finessing it. He
just orders. “It drives fine Ray. When she breaks down again, I
promise you I'll bring her right to you.”
He looked like he had some fight in him, but Lee cut him off.
“Wait, you're saying the guy over on Temper Road fixed this? The guy
who brought that building?” I nodded. “Beverly, I think Ray is
right, I've been hearing bad things about that guy. I mean there's
that woman that comes in and out of there all the time.”
I laughed, “You think he might be a problem because he has a
woman who comes visiting him?”
He looked uncomfortable, “Well, no. Not just any woman. Look,
I've met her. There's something not right about her. She's missing
a thumb and she's just...she's just wrong. Brick says he always sees
her going up into those woods where Mama Rourke lives.” Mama Rourke
was an old woman who lived in the forest in an old trailer or a bus
or something. They say she practices Voodoo; when there's something
that happens that people can't explain they'll always say that Mama
Rourke did it. I'd only seen her once, this hobbled woman who walked
slowly down Main. Frankly she was a bit creepy, but she was just an
14
old woman.
“Well, even if that's true, I still can't have Ray taking my car
for God knows how long right now. I don't have another day off until
two weeks from now.”
I unlatched the hood, and this time, I carefully let the hood
close and lock.
Back in high school they called the three of us musical
prodigies. Jefferson always sang and his voice was like sweet honey
over a stone. It was him I met first and he introduced me to Bobby,
who played the six string and listened to BB King and Fats Domino and
Eric Clapton all day. If Bobby could drink guitar solos he would
because I swear that boy got drunk off them.
When they were looking for a drummer they found me. I played
bass, and I was probably good enough to go to school for it, but I
could never afford a school. Jefferson was the only one who could –
and did, and when he came back home, he thought we should just start
the band right back up again just like we always did.
Rhapsody was the place we played the most and it was the place
we liked the most. The lights were all turned towards the three of
us right up there on stage and the crowd was dark. There was a cold
beer that was quickly turning warm under the lights on the amp next
to me, and I took drinks between songs trying to let the bass come
out of my soul.
15
Back when we were in school together Jefferson liked to say that
music that you might hear in a church or on a classical CD is about
love, and the blues are about sex, but rock is about fucking. Part
of me agreed with him, but whenever I played the bass I felt like I
was trying to reach out to the hand of God.
I was on my fourth beer and nearing the end of the set when I
looked out into the crowd and there standing in the back was Elijah.
I think I was surprised to see him, but I wasn't surprised he came.
No one seemed to notice him standing in the back, and new people in
Beverly are usually found out quickly and the closest word for what
it turns into is interrogation.
It was strange seeing him in a crowd, because it didn't seem
right. Some people are social animals, but he just carried himself
like he didn't want any of these people. I tried to imagine
something like that and I just couldn't.
I played the final chord and let it just hang there in the air.
Then the applause washed over us like waves on a shoreline, pushing
us and pulling us. Jefferson spoke for us like he always did and
Bobby was already putting away the six string, cradling it like a
child in his arms. He was actually expecting his first child in
January, and I wondered if he would treat him or her with the same
amount of reverence.
Jefferson turned back to me. “That was great shit Bev. You too
Bobby. I'm soaked.” We all were. We'd played for almost an hour on
16
stage under those hot lights. I put my guitar back in the case and
slung it across my shoulder.
“Thanks. I'm going to see if I can find someone.” They
probably thought I meant Ray, or Lee, but I was looking for Elijah.
I went out into the crowd, and I smiled at all the thanks, and
managed to get the numbers of two guys who were from Maxiel down the
road a few miles that thought a woman who played the bass was the
sexiest thing they'd ever seen. I pocketed the numbers and moved on.
Lee found me in the crowd, “Beverly, you were great tonight.
When are you guys going to cut an album?”
I smiled at him, “Well we will eventually. We're trying to get
the money, and one day we'll play at New Orleans. Could you just
imagine that?”
He smiled at me in that shy way he always did and I tried to
look for Elijah in the crowd. If he had been here he wasn't now. I
turned my attention back towards Lee, linked my arm into his. I was
buzzed, and I wanted some company tonight, and what's the phrase?
Love the one you're with?
We started kissing in his car. Let me rephrase that. I started
kissing Lee in his car, when he offered to drive me home and I knew I
was too drunk to drive. My bass guitar came with me, because there
was no way I was going to leave that in my car over night in the
parking lot at Rhapsody. Lee put me in the passenger's side and when
17
he got into the driver's side I just started kissing him. We were
both drunk, me more than him, but I needed someone; I've felt like
I've always needed someone to spend the night with since my Grandad
died. You think there's a psychological mess there?
It was the first time Lee and I were hooking up, and thank God
it wasn't his first time with any woman. It didn't take much between
him and me, since we'd been flirting with the idea of hooking up for
years. Since high school.
He drove us back to his apartment, and his apartment he tried to
be real gentle but I took him hard. I'm just not that kind of girl,
but one day Lee would have made some other girl real happy. And on
so many different levels.
I was never in love with him. I think up until then I'd never
been in love with anyone. Oh, I'd loved, if you could call what I
did love. I wouldn't have. But I'd never been in love. I wasn't
with Lee either, but it was the closest I had ever come. I was
friends with him first.
That was why, when I left him at 2 in the morning, newly sober,
or at least sobering up, I was practically glowing I was so happy. I
was almost skipping.
I walked down Temper Road listening to the music in my head with
my bass guitar on my back. A real lady might have stayed in Lee's
bed till morning; but a real lady would have been dead the next day.
18
I was near Elijah's garage when I saw that truck of his coming
down the road like a monster, or a devil. It had this dark sound,
like an angry God, but didn't sound like a truck should. I could
barely see it, save for the two headlights that shone in the dark
night.
I almost called out until I saw who sat in the driver's seat.
It was a woman with red hair all done up. She was beautiful in her
own way, but to look at her left me feeling cold. As she passed me,
she looked in my direction and for a moment we made eye contact, and
just for a moment the universe stood still. It just stopped. And it
wasn't the drunk and it wasn't the post orgasmic lull that just
sometimes pops over you. It was as if the universe just stopped.
Then she looked away and nosed the truck into the open garage.
I didn't know her name yet, but I had just seen Elise.
19
Chapter Three:
Fourteen Seconds
BB King was on the radio singing about how he'd been downhearted
and I wondered just what I had done to deserve feeling this way. I
remembered Lee and how his hands felt on me the night before and God
help me I was happy. I hadn't been happy in a long time, at least
not like this. Not since my Grandfather died and left me more than
an orphan.
The clock on the side of the bed said that it was 6:30 and I
would have to get started if I wanted to make it to work on time. So
I got up and threw on some clothes, and walked into the kitchen to
start making hotcakes. I don't know what the hell was wrong with me,
it's like I fucked a boy and I just felt like a whole new person. I
never cook, and here I was, just finishing over the hot stove when
there came a knock on the door and I saw a black and white outside.
I glanced at the time, it was only seven in the morning and I
wondered just what I'd done to warrant the cops showing up at my
house this early in the morning.
Quietly I made my way to the front door and opened it. Red
Wicker stood on the other side of the screen door, shifting from one
foot to the other looking as nervous as a school girl before the
prom. He had this expression on his face like he had swallowed
something bad, and I knew whatever he was here for it wasn't likely
20
something I'd done. I mean, the last night what I might have done
with Lee was illegal, but it wasn't as if they would know that.
Red Wicker was the local sheriff. I knew him because I worked
for him, but the only other time he'd been out to my house was when
my Grandfather died. “Mornin' Red. Something wrong? You look
upset.”
“Morning Ma'am,” the ma'am only came out when something was
wrong. “Mind if I come in a moment?”
I opened the door and he stepped inside, his hat literally in
his hand. “Would you like to sit down? I made some hotcakes if
you'd like some.”
“No ma'am, I really don't think I could eat a single thing right
now. I'm sorry, but I have to ask you where you were last night.”
I lead him through to the kitchen where the hotcakes lay in a
stack on a plate next to the pan. I'd made too many, but the recipe
was my Grandmother's and she always did like to feed more than one.
“Well,” I told him as I started to clean the pan, “I was over at Lee
Callahan's place last night. There until two in the morning,
thereabouts, then came home.”
He had this expression on his face like he was relieved and
sorry to hear it all at once. “Well, that's what we heard too. Do
you have some time so you can come down to the station and we can
take your statement?”
I was taken aback. What the hell had happened. “Now what are
21
you talking about? What's happened? And you know I work over at the
station.”
He bit his lip. “Lee Callahan was attacked last night, probably
shortly after you say you left. He didn't make it. Lee's dead.”
There's no way to take something like that.
When it happens, and someone you care about in one way or the
other gets hurt, or they die, you feel personally attacked. Like
someone just steps in and rips everything you have out of you. For
fourteen seconds I just stood there and stared. For fourteen seconds
all I did was stand there and stare. It felt like an eternity; for
Red it must have felt even longer because he was the one who just
watched me.
For fourteen God damn seconds all I could do was stand there.
I went to the police station in a fog, driving my Grandfather's
car automatically, and attempting to keep it together. Lee and I had
a lot of shared history together and now it just felt empty.
It didn't take me long at the police station to realize that
they were considering me a suspect. I couldn't blame them. Lee's
next door neighbor had said that she saw me coming out of his
apartment at 2 am, and it wasn't like I was denying it.
I didn't kill Lee, but I felt sick to my stomach and I was
crying. I was actually crying. I hadn't cried in years. I hadn't
even cried when my Grandfather lay there on my kitchen floor dead of
22
a heart attack. Here I was in the interview room balling like I was
five years old again.
I felt vulnerable.
When I left they said that I should take some time off, since I
was a suspect, and to have a suspect working as a dispatcher sounded
like a conflict of interest. I understood.
I collected my things, and walked out into the hall in search of
sunlight and the promise of absolution from whatever sins I might
have on me. It was the middle of the day, and the floor was crowded
with people, but I saw Lee's parents right away. I'd known them for
as long as I'd known Lee. They lived across from me and I looked at
them and just saw so much sadness. No parent should have to live
through the death of their child.
But then again, no child should have to live through the death
of a parent. Sometimes the world is just fucked up that way.
I approached them carefully. You never know what to say in a
situation like this. “I'm sorry your son was murdered,” just doesn't
cut it. It's like a parody of what life is supposed to be. I walked
up to them and I looked into their eyes and I just wanted to tell
them I was sorry. For what I didn't know. I was sorry but I hadn't
done something wrong. Maybe I was just sorry.
Mrs. Callahan never let me get that far. The word stuck in my
throat and her eyes seemed to just turn black as she looked at me
with such anger, and such rage that I had never seen before. “You!”
23
she screamed. Screamed isn't the word. She was growling like a
monster or a beast. “You killed my son!” It sounded barely human.
She didn't sound human. She just lunged at me, grabbed me and took
me down to my knees.
She was violence impersonated and she scratched my face and neck
with her fingernails. She punched me twice in the head, and my eye
felt like it exploded. I tried to push her away, I tried to
struggle, but she just kept coming and coming and coming and coming.
I don't know what happened next. I didn't lose consciousness,
just awareness. There were police and civilians and Mr. Callahan and
it took all of them to contain this...I don't even know what to call
her at that point. She wasn't a woman. She was a creature. She was
a demon. She was still screaming in that terrible voice when they
dragged her off me, and they dragged her off out of sight into a
closed off room. Mr. Callahan looked over his shoulder and he almost
looked apologetic towards me.
Red Wicker helped me up; I was dazed, but not dizzy. I wiped my
lip and my hand came back with blood. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah Red, I'm fine. I'll be okay. I just need to
go home.”
He paused for a moment and studied me. “You know, I have to ask
this, but do you want to press charges?”
I paused for a moment. At a time like this one it sounded
ludicrous. But Red was a professional, and while a murder might test
24
his professional limits, he knew he had to ask. I shook my head,
“No. No I'm okay. I'm okay now. I just want to go home.”
“You should see a doctor.”
I nodded to get him off my back and I started home.
The rest of the day was spent inside. I wasn't one to spend
days inside, but there was a bruise developing around my eye and I
felt like shit. Physically, emotionally, and every other way you
could think of, I just felt like the devil had beaten me down.
I cleaned, which I just never do. I took a mop to my kitchen
floor, and remembered how Gramps would always mop every day because
this was his house and he worked for it. I looked around and all I
could think of what how fucked up I'd become. Since he died, I
hadn't changed anything. His pictures still hung on the wall, and
his curtains still hung in the windows. His bedroom was still the
master bedroom and I didn't have much occasion to go up to the top
floor since most times I just slept on the couch anyway. I was a
guest in my own home, at least that's how I felt.
So I just scrubbed and scrubbed until the kitchen shined just
how he would have liked.
It was two in the afternoon when I went outside to dump the
dirty water. It was two in the afternoon when I heard a booming like
the voice of the devil from across the street. Where Mr. and Mrs.
Callahan lived. Where Lee used to live. It took me all of four
25
seconds to realize that what I heard was a shotgun blast. It took me
another ten to run across the street and onto their front porch, the
door hanging open to their house like dead skin over a new wound.
Carefully, I opened the door, and what I saw there I will never
forget. Mrs. Callahan stood over the body of her husband and there
was so much blood. It was on the walls and on the floor leaking out
of his ruined chest. And she had the most frightening look on her
face I'd ever seen; so horrible it was that I didn't even see that
she held a shotgun below her chin. I didn't notice until she
screamed out at me like a woman possessed by a demon.
“Get it out of my head!” Her eyes were black, and unnaturally
so. I had noticed it before in the police station, but I hadn't
truly understood it, believing it to be an artifact of her attack
upon me.
I cried out as I tried to step towards her.
And she pulled the trigger.
26
Chapter Four:
Self Medication
Part of me wants to say something profound about those minutes
and hours after the suicide I witnessed. In that moment it was
everything to me, it was my entire world. I'd dealt with death
before of course. Not long ago I'd come home to see my grandfather
dead on the floor of a heart attack. Years before that I'd watched
my mother die the slow death cancer brought. But this was somehow
different. As terrible as it is, and was, I'd never experienced a
moment like that. It was pure unadulterated violence. It was
unapologetic, and Mrs. Callahan's brains were on the wall, little red
bits that I just couldn't get out of my head.
So yeah, I wish there was something profound I could say about
that moment, and everything that came after, but the reality is
there's nothing profound to say. There's no deep meaning there's no
fucking understanding. It's just murder and suicide and death and it
stays with you. And if you're not lucky it eats at you.
The police were moving in and out of the house across the street
and all I could do was sit on the front porch of my house and watch.
It didn't take long for people to start arriving to watch the show.
Some came up to me and practically begged me to tell them what I'd
seen, while offering up little platitudes about how it was such a
shame, or it was such a tragedy. Red had said that they found a
27
knife that matches the stab wounds on Lee and a bloody shirt in the
laundry. Mrs. Callahan had likely murdered her own boy and the next
day her husband until finally the only thing left was herself. An
entire family was dead and people were treating it like a show.
Before long there would be barbeques.
I felt sick.
I couldn't get her out of my head, she just pulled that trigger
over and over and over and over again. The police were coming and
out with things in little plastic evidence bags. Little portions of
a pair of lives. They would piece it together and come up with some
kind of explanation for why this happened. There would be doctors
and psychiatrists, and priests and they would all have these little
explanations for why this happened. Why they could find a knife with
Lee Callahan's blood on it below his now dead mother's bed. Why she
murdered her husband before taking a shotgun to herself.
I just couldn't deal with it anymore. I found blood on my shirt
where I'd run to check on Mr. Callahan and I just felt completely
soiled. I walked back into my house like an automaton and just shed
my clothes as I went. I took a shower, and I vomited, but the
memories just would not come out. I opened the drawer next to my
couch were I had little bits of chemical heaven.
I took out two little blue pills Jefferson had given me the fist
night we'd ever been on stage. Despite my sexual promiscuity and my
propensity for smoking copious amounts of weed I was not a regular
28
druggy.
It wasn't happiness. I know that. I'm not an idiot. It wasn't
happiness but it was better than what I was feeling and that was
enough. I felt like dancing. I felt like running. I knew I
couldn't stay in the house, not with the police next door. It just
didn't feel appropriate. Not because I was high, but because I was
trying to forget the very people they were currently taking out in
body bags.
I got into the front seat of my Charger and turned on the engine
and I just wanted to drive. That's not me; that's never been me.
I'm the kind of person who drives to go somewhere. I drive to work,
I drive to band practice, and I drive to Rhapsody and once I even
drove to New Orleans, and I always arrive in style. But I never
derived pleasure in driving just to drive. Yet here I was attempting
it while high on E trying to forget myself in the moment.
Somehow in forgetting myself in the moment I slammed head first
into the truck exiting the mysterious garage on Temper Road. It was
lucky for me that I wasn't driving quickly at the time, or I would
have done myself serious and probably permanent damage. I certainly
did permanent looking damage to the car.
What was amazing was how nothing hurt. I mean, I just crashed
my car and I just jumped right out as if I hadn't been jarred at all.
Elijah was in the driver's seat of the truck just staring at me with
this look of complete disbelief. Slowly he opened the door and
29
looked around as if the world had dropped a bomb on him. He looked
at the back of his car, and then at the front bumper of my car, which
had sustained a good amount of damage.
He looked back at me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He
seemed furious. Maybe I should have been afraid. I barely knew him;
as far as I knew no one knew him. Maybe I should have run, but I
just tried to look concerned and I don't think I did very well.
“Well,I didn't see you backing out of your garage.” All I could
think about was how absolutely beautiful he looked. He had dark hair
– which I don't usually go for – and this simple open face. It was
like he couldn't keep whatever he was feeling from being expressed.
Still there was something dark about him, as if behind all his
expressiveness he was trying very hard not to say something.
He took a long stormy look at me, “You are drunk.”
I shook my head vigorously. “I am not drunk. It was a mistake,
I swear!”
He shook his head, “Let's get out of the street.”
I nodded and started towards my car, but he stopped me. His
touch felt like electricity going up and down my body. But in a good
way. “No, you're not getting back in that car. You're not drunk,
but you're something. And I don't want anyone driving that way.”
I wanted to put up a fight, but I just didn't have a fight in
me. I relented and gave him my keys.
Before long I was sitting in his garage once again while he was
30
looking at the damage to his truck. Now that I had a better look at
it I could tell what it was. Or at least what it said. It was a
Ford F-750 with upright exhaust pipes on either side of the cab.
This was the kind of thing you could move a mountain with, if you had
such an inclination.
When he was done, he considered me for a moment. “It'll survive.
You're Beverly right? The girl who saw the woman kill herself.”
I nodded, trying not to think about it, but it didn't seem to be
so bad now. It was just sort of a dull feeling, like trying to cut
yourself with a spoon.
“I heard about that. I'm sorry.” He stood around for a moment
awkwardly, and I thought about what kinds of things I could be doing
with him. Anything was better than thinking about a woman blowing
her brains out. “Can I get you some water?”
“Sure,” I told him. He walked to the back where there was an
old water fountain still built into the wall from when this place was
an office building. I felt fuzzy all over, like everything was
covered in cashmere, or wool. When he came back with a cup filled
with cold water, I took it and enjoyed the feeling of the liquid
going down my throat. It felt like the electricity from before.
Like heaven itself were trying to find it's way inside my body.
I finished the water, and when I looked back to Elijah, I didn't
see him. Instead a woman stood there; the woman I'd been warned
about. The woman I'd seen in the front seat of the truck the night
31
before.
Her eyes were dark, like Mrs. Callahan's before she blew the top
of her skull off. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. The world
faded out and all I could be was within those dark pools that stood
in for her eyes.
The world shut down.
32
Chapter Five:
Age
I woke up and it tasted like something had died in my mouth.
It smelled like polished leather, and I was cramped in the front
seat of the extended cab of Elijah's truck. He'd drugged me.
The memory came back with fear, and I barely even registered
that I was no longer in the garage amid the mechanical debris. I
just checked myself over for signs of things done to me while I was
asleep, and thank God I couldn't find anything to say I had been
touched or violated. But someone had moved me to the front seat. It
was then that I allowed myself to see the world outside.
It was no longer day, and night had fallen; I was somewhere
between sleeping and waking in more ways than one. The headlights
were on, illuminating a dirt road ahead for a dozen of yards ahead.
Likely I was in Elijah's truck, and we were stopped somewhere
along a dirt road on the outskirts of Beverly, where there used to be
farms before they brought up the land and turned it into a State
park.
I fumbled my phone out of my pocket, but the damn thing wouldn't
turn on. In my drug addled state somehow I'd forgotten to charge it.
Just add it to the long list of stupid things I'd done that day.
I opened the glove box in front of me, and found a mag light.
It was better than nothing. I armed myself with it and stepped a
33
couple of feet down from the truck to the dry ground. There were
dying things all over; the drought had left it's mark on the
landscape.
Once I got behind the truck the world settled into darkness and
I turned on the flashlight. Shadows moved around me in intricate
little dances sent shivers down my spine and I tried not to over
react and ignore them. The mag light shot a tight beam of light
across the landscape, dispelling the shadows and putting the world
into high contrast; it was the kind of light that makes everything
look like you're being filmed in black and white and I focused on
getting out to the road. There I might be able to flag down a
driver, or even find my way back to Beverly. But I didn't get very
far.
“Good, you're awake.” I whirled to see the woman who lived with
Elijah walk out of the shadows behind me. She didn't use a
flashlight, apparently following mine. I put the light on her and
got my first good look at her.
She was beautiful. And I mean in a drop dead gorgeous movie
star kind of way, but she wasn't attractive. She had this dark red
hair, darker than anyone's I'd ever seen (though that might have been
the light) with those eyes like dark pools that I'd seen...only hours
before? It was hard having no reference point. She was dressed in a
black skirt and a burgundy blouse with the sleeves rolled up. Her
forearms were wrapped in bandages, and the thumb on her right hand
34
was missing.
“You drugged me.” My voice came out slowly; my throat was dry.
Certainly it didn't sound as angry as I was.
“Elijah wanted me to apologize for that. And I am sorry.” She
spoke with a French accent but understated. I'd learned French in
high school from this old Parisian woman who had this thick accent
that sounded like she was speaking french even when she wasn't. This
woman's accent was gentler though, less aggressively “French”.
“Where are we?”
“The forest. My name is Elise.”
Despite my anger I almost had to laugh. “Elise and Elijah?”
She cracked a smile. “There's someone I think you should meet.
I won't hurt you, I promise.”
She backed away out of the light and disappeared into the
forest. I didn't know whether I should run or follow this strange
woman who'd given me every reason not to trust her. Unfortunately, I
didn't have much choice. I didn't know my way around out here, and
if I got lost there was no one to help me get back home. A person
could get real lost out here among the shadows and trees; there were
miles and miles and if you didn't know what you were doing...
I sighed and followed her into the trees.
I walked about a hundred feet into trees and bramble and dirt
when I came to a clearing lit by the mag light and the harsh glow of
a fire pit. Elise was there already standing by the open flame;
35
there was someone else there already. It was an old woman, who
everyone called the oldest woman in Beverly. Everyone called her
Mama Rourke, and everyone knew about her but I can't say that I ever
met anyone who could say they knew her. She had dark skin that
looked like wrinkled leather in the firelight, and a full head of
silver hair that was well kept.
This was the closest thing that Beverly had to a boogeyman and
here she sat on a mat by a fire in the middle of the woods.
“This is the girl I told you about. Her name is Beverly.”
I never told her my name, but Elijah must have. Elijah was
seeming less attractive to me by the second. “Why the hell am I
here?” She might have been the boogeyman, but I learned a long time
ago not to be afraid of anyone.
“You spent time with that boy yesterday.” When she spoke you
could hear the age in her voice, like she was talking to you through
a phonograph. “His name was Lee.”
“What about Lee?”
Elise spoke, “We think we know what killed him.”
I laughed, which sounded just as bitter as I felt. “You and
everyone else now. Her mother killed him. Stabbed him with a knife
and then I watched her blow her brains out.”
The two women shared a look, “You saw her kill herself?” Mama
Rourke struggled to stand, and when she couldn't manage it on her
own, she beckoned with her hand. “Come to me girl.” I hesitated. I
36
wasn't afraid of her, but I wasn't stupid either. “Come here, I
won't hurt you.”
I approached slowly, passing Elise on the way. I knelt down
beside the old woman, getting dust and dirt on the knees of my jeans.
The old woman took my hand in hers, and she had this strangely strong
grip. When I was a little girl my mother had taken me to see a
Raptor show and her grip felt like what I imagined it must have been
like to have one of those birds perched on your arm. With just as
much menace too.
She manipulated my hands, and opened them, looking at the palms,
then the their backs. She peered into my face and it felt more
invasive than when I had to see the doctor. Likely she would have
been able to diagnose whatever ailed me with the inspection she was
giving me.
“You did see what killed Lee Callahan.”
“That's what I told you. I told you I saw his mother blow her
brains out all over her damn living room. What do you want from me?”
Elise knelt next to us, her knees not quite touching the ground.
When she walked she glided; the way she moved I wasn't sure she
walked on two legs or whether she flew just a few inches off the
ground. “No,” she said, “his mother caused his death, but we don't
think it's what killed him.”
“You're both crazy.”
Mama Rourke laughed again, “That may be girl. That may be. But
37
what we need from you, it won't hurt you even a little bit.”
Her hand vanished inside a bag to her right and she came out
with small scissors. Before I could react and pull my hand away she
spit on my hand and used the scissors deftly, cutting a nail off my
right index finger.
I resisted the urge to slap the shit out of her, and I pulled my
hands back from her, wiping them on the ground, trying to get her
saliva off of them. “What the hell?” I meant to say it loud, but it
came out somehow louder than even I had intended.
Mama Rourke chuckled a little bit. “You were with Lee, and some
of Lee is with you here still. So we're going ask Lee some
questions.”
I was speechless. This woman was fucking nuts.
Elise put her hand on my shoulder, her left hand, the one with
the thumb, and gave it a squeeze that was probably meant to reassure.
“Relax. She's been doing this a long time. But...something's about
to happen and you need to not over react.” Over react? I thought I
had stayed fairly calm thus far for the situation that I was in.
Mama Rourke's hand disappeared into the bag again and when it
came out she was grasping this little beanbag doll. Around these
parts you see them sometimes from teenagers who want to pretend
they're practicing voodoo out in the forest, but from this old woman,
I didn't know what to expect. Her hand disappeared again, this time
coming out with vials and bottles of strange liquids. Quickly she
38
took my nail clipping, still covered in her spit and placed it on the
dolls heart. Then, she opened the vials and anointed it with oil.
Then all she did was sit back, and wait.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh,” Elise said, “We're waiting for something happened.”
And something did happen because all of a sudden the bean bag
doll was screaming.
39
Chapter Six
God and Monster
So fuck that.
There was a banging on the door, and I woke up on the couch in
the first floor of my house. Last night was just a bad memory and I
tried desperately to believe that it could stay that way. The
banging on the front door wasn't going away though.
I was still in my clothes from the night before, a white t-shirt
and cut off jeans and I just felt like shit. It was like a hangover,
but it was worse. At least with a hangover you get the joy of
getting drunk as hell the night before.
The banging was coming from the front door, and I opened it to
find Bobby there. I'd been playing with him for a couple of years in
Jefferson's Cross, but he hadn't ever been over to my house. I'd
been over to his, at least twice, the last time when he was getting
married to that girl he was having the baby with.
“Morning Bobby, is there some reason why you're here?”
“Figured you might want some company to stop by the church.”
I must have looked at him like he had two heads. I hadn't been
in church for a long time. Not since my grandfather died. Not since
I stopped caring about God or Jesus or whatever.
“What are you talking about Bobby?”
40
“The church, it's having a service for the Callahan family. The
funeral is on Monday, but Pastor Johns thought having a service for
them would be good for Beverly.”
Bobby was one of those who tried to walk the line in Beverly
between church and everything that I held dear. I used to be one of
those people too. After last night I wasn't sure what I wanted.
“I'm not dressed Bobby, and I just got up.”
He looked at his watch. “If you're coming, get dressed then.
It starts in twenty minutes and it's going to be packed as a mother
in there.”
I considered telling him to go fuck himself. I don't know why I
didn't.
“I need to get dressed.”
He smiled at me. “I'll wait.”
I motioned for him to come in, and took a look at the time. I
usually don't sleep passed seven a.m. It was 10:45 now and I tried
not to think about what had happened the night before that made me so
able to sleep late.
I changed into a black button down shirt (with a pink shirt
underneath that read “Fuck Doll”). I wore a black miniskirt beneath
which wasn't entirely appropriate for going to church, but I'm not
entirely appropriate in a church.
It's actually not that far from where I live on Temper Road to
41
where the church is at the head of Main Street, but that's because
the center of Beverly isn't really that big. It was ten minutes
before a service, and there was already a crowd outside the nearly
century old stone building that the church used for its services. It
was the first Baptist Church of Evangeline County, but the church
itself was newer. The original burned down in a massive fire that
leveled most of the town that had been there at the time.
When we got there Bobby found his family who had come in his
wife's car and left me alone in the back. In Beverly everyone knows
everyone, but I didn't like most of them. It's small town Louisiana
and I've never been a very good fit here.
I stood with Jefferson in the back, who was dressed in an un-
tucked shirt and tie and a pair of jeans. He hugged me when I walked
next to him, and we both got the evil eye from an old woman who stood
behind us. Any other day we probably would have been thrown out of
the church. Any other day probably neither of us would be here.
“Sorry I didn't come around last night Beverly. I know you were
with Lee last. And I heard about what happened later.”
I squeezed his hand. Jefferson had been a good friend for a
long time. God knew why we hadn't slept together yet. “I think
everyone has by now. Good thing you didn't stop by last night
though. I wasn't home.”
He gave me this strange look, but the service started then.
I hadn't been to church in years, but it was much the same as it
42
always had been. When I first moved here from New Orleans my
Grandfather put me in Sunday school. I took my baptism when I was
sixteen and all it felt like was some people were trying to drown me
while saying I should be filled with the Lord. I never felt it. I
don't think my Grandfather ever really forgave me for that, for not
being close to God. I don't think I ever really forgave him for
being close either.
Pastor John was young, but he was old school, all fire and
brimstone and sin. I think he secretly wanted the Old Testament God
to come and smite everyone who disagreed with him on matters of
faith, which counted just about everyone in America. And here he was
with a full church. He had a full church just about every Sunday but
to have one on Saturday too was something special for him. The truth
is I didn't pay much attention to what he was saying. Sermons scare
me and Pastor Johns once told me that I had a demon inside of me. I
wonder what he would say if he saw the shirt I wore under the black
one.
The Pastor's wife stood with what was left of the Callahan
family. Lee's grandparents stood there and I could almost hear their
thoughts just by looking at them. 'What do we do now' they might be
thinking. No one should have to bury their own children.
“I spoke to God last night.” Pastor Johns words brought me back
to the present and just for a moment I listened to him. “I spoke to
God last night and I tell you last night I heard him speak back. I
43
speak to God every night, and most times God does answer, but its in
little ways. I'll open my bible to the perfect passage, or my answer
will come when I'm least expecting it. But last night, and I tell
you truth, I was angry. Lee was a holy man. Yes, he struggled with
faith, and he sinned. But we all struggle with faith and we all sin.
And yesterday a great tragedy befell him and his family. And I asked
God why would this fall unto them. And I tell you he answered me as
clearly as I am about to tell you. God told me that there is a devil
in all of us. And that we spend our entire lives either trying to
feed him or banish him. Lee, he ended his earthly struggle late last
night, and now he is with God. I pray for his soul and I pray for
the soul of his mother and his father.” Johns had heard the voice of
God.
The service lasted only a couple of hours, which was short since
his Sunday services could last upwards of four. Religion lasted too
long to be my drug.
After it was all over I made my way to the front, since I wasn't
likely to offer my condolences if I didn't go to the funeral. And I
wasn't planning to go to the funeral. Too much death for one week.
I shook Lee's grandfather's hand and said what I could. Just about
everyone else there was giving me this look of mortification since I
was dressed in a miniskirt, but I wasn't there for them. I wasn't
even there for myself. I would grieve for Lee in my own way. I was
44
there for Lee, because Lee liked church. I was there because Lee
would have been there for me.
Pastor Johns met me as I walked out of the church with this
disapproving look on his face. Even on a day like that one he could
judge me. Sometimes I wonder which one of us was closer to Jesus's
teachings. “Beverly, I don't see you around here anymore.”
I wanted to tell him so many things. But it was a church and I
wasn't there to cuss out a man of God, if that's what he was. “No
you haven't.”
He seized my hand, and his was cold. It was odd to have a cold
hand at the end of August here in Beverly. It was the middle of a
drought, and it was pushing 101 that day and his hand was like ice.
I tried to jerk my hand away from his but he was stronger than he
looked. “Beverly, you must stop feeding your demon. Lee would have
wanted that.”
I jerked my hand away and stopped myself from slapping him. I
walked away from him then, because there are things you shouldn't do
to a man of God either.
I walked back down Main towards my house, since Bobby had driven
me and I wasn't in the mood to accept a kindness back. Besides, the
walk would do me good, and I didn't want to explain to anyone where I
was going next.
Ray's garage is on a side street off Main and I was surprised
45
that he wasn't at church that morning. Ray wasn't Baptist, but he
wasn't against religion like I was; and he was the closest thing Lee
had to a best friend. For him to not be there...well, let's just say
he was more likely to be there than I was.
“There are some things you should know.” It was the night before
and I remembered what Elise told me after I picked up Mama Rourke's
doll and hurled it far away. There are things that are too much to
handle, and what she'd just showed me was one of them.
“What did you just show me? Why did you just show me that.”
Mama Rourke lit up a blunt behind her, took a drag. “Because
you're touched. Because you saw what you saw and you're touched.
You're connected to me, you're connected to her, you're connected to
that poor dead boy and his mother. And you're connected to the thing
that killed them both. That boy, his mother hand his father.”
I stood up and backed away to the corner of the campsite.
“You're all crazy. Lee's mother did it. Lee's mother killed them.”
She took another drag and just looked me in the eye. “It was
the shadows that killed them both.”
I walked into Ray's garage, and it was dark. He liked to work
on Saturdays because he was the only station in town, and he didn't
like to hire employees. Ray liked money and he didn't like paying it
to other people.
46
But here I was in the middle of the day on Saturday and I knew
Ray hadn't been to church. And if Ray wasn't at his garage it meant
that he was home or he was at Rhapsody. There's just not enough to
do in Beverly otherwise.
I walked from the open garage – a sure sign Ray had to be around
– to the office that Ray worked out of when he wasn't working on cars
or pumping gas. We'd done a lot of things in that office while we
were dating. I think there are grooves on the desk where I...you
know what? There are some things that you just don't need to know
about me. And I've been far too forward as it is.
Besides, I'm just stalling because I really don't want to tell
about this next part.
Ray was in his office and when I opened the door and let the
light in, my eyes went to the movement of the shadows that ran like
roaches. The shadows didn't just disappear with the light, they
moved, as if they were hiding, as if they were scurrying away from
something.
And everything that had frightened me up to that point in my
life, everything that had set me on edge or that I'd deemed as too
horrible to be true, they all just went away, because of what I saw
there.
Because Ray was sitting there, working on something, writing
something, and there was this...thing by his shoulder. This devil.
It's the only way I can describe it. It didn't have horns or wings
47
or anything like they tell you. It didn't even have form. It just
was.
And tears that weren't tears were streaming down Ray's face;
rivers of black ink that just pooled down at his feet. And he spoke
then, and I don't know who it was, but it wasn't Ray. The man who
spoke through Ray's mouth was not Ray.
“Hello Beverly, there's someone I've been wanting to introduce
you to.”
I don't like to admit this, but I may have screamed.
48
Chapter Seven
Things I Should Know
“There are things you should know.”
I was running down the street in broad daylight, but most people
were still at the church waiting to be seen or wanting to be seen.
What I had seen there in Ray's garage, what he looked like, that
scared me. In the last few days I'd seen a woman blow her brains out
and a doll start screaming and, well, we'll get to the rest. But Ray
was a friend, and it was just all too much.
What happened there in that garage, I don't think I need to tell
you that it wasn't normal. It wasn't natural. And these last few
days, from fixing my car, to taking me into those fucking woods with
Mama motherfucking Rourke, when things weren't normal the Elijah and
Elise were around. Like I said, when they came around everything
changed.
It wasn't voodoo. She was telling me it wasn't voodoo.
“There are old things. Things older than Voodoo, things older
than Christianity. Some of that is what I do. Some of that is who I
am.”
She was telling me it wasn't voodoo. Because when shit like
that happens in Louisiana you always have to talk about voodoo. And
49
she was doing freaky things with dolls. And she was telling me that
it wasn't. I didn't believe her, but a few hours ago I didn't
believe a lot of things.
Elise sat down next to me and touched my shoulder. “It was the
shadows that killed Lee. And his mother. The doll was supposed to
show us, and it did.”
Mama Rourke just took another drag from her blunt, and stared at
me through black eyes. Windows to the soul. From how people spoke
about Mama Rourke and looking at her black eyes they were likely
right about that.
“It was a long time ago. A long time ago child. There were
three of us then. The witch, the priest and me.”
Who else did I turn to?
Halfway down Main Street I was sure that Ray hadn't followed me,
but I wasn't so sure about the thing that had been with Ray.
Something like that could follow you and you wouldn't even know it.
What I'd seen, it was evil. I know I hadn't seen anything done,
and I know that all I saw was....I don't know what I saw. Anyone
else, they'd get religion, but my religion was never in a church. My
religion was in the back seat of my Charger, or on stage with my
bass, and a hundred people watching me play. So when I see a demon I
didn't go running for church, I went running towards Temper Road and
everything that stood there.
50
I think I went running for Elijah or Elise.
I wasn't even thinking as I turned onto Temper, still running
but desperately out of breath. My lungs were burning and I was light
headed, but there was no part of me that wanted to stop.
I can sit here and talk with you about all of my reasons for
running where I did. But I would probably be lying to you because
all I was trying to do was run. And when I ended up at the garage on
Temper Road, I knocked on the door so loud that it could wake the
dead in the middle of the day.
Mama Rourke was the oldest person in Beverly. I know I've said
that before but it bears repeating, because no matter how many times
I say it I can't make you see or believe just how old Mama Rourke is.
She oozes age. She was probably one of those people that was just
born old. There are pictures of her in the library, sometimes in
newspaper clippings when they'd caught her in the background . When
she thought no one was looking.
I hadn't wanted to stay that night. I'd just seen a doll scream
and I'd thrown that abomination so far away from me I couldn't hear
it anymore. I still felt sick, and it was partially because of what
I saw and it was partially because of those drugs that I'd taken.
I hadn't wanted to stay that night but I had no where else to go
because I didn't have my car.
The three of us sat around the fire that Mama Rourke had likely
51
made. Now that my eyes had adjusted I could see the outline of a
trailer a few dozen yards away into the murky blackness of the night
that had embraced the three of us. It was getting cold out here, I
noticed. It was night and at the end of August I wasn't dressed for
it.
“There were three of us then.” she was saying. “The witch, the
priest and me.”
Elise handed me a thermos, but the way I looked at her she must
have felt that I didn't trust her. Gee, I wonder how the hell I
could have ever thought about that. She smiled at me in the way that
said she was mocking herself more than she was me. “Don't worry. I
only drug people once a day.”
I took the thermos and smelled the contents. Tea. She was
giving me tea. It wasn't quite the drink I would have wanted for
that moment.
“You said the shadows killed Lee.” I was done waiting for them
to tell me why I was here. Why they showed me what they showed me.
“What did you mean?”
Elise sat down next to me on the dirty ground but somehow I got
the feeling that she would never get any of it on her. “It was a
long time ago. And it involved the three of us, like she was saying.
But I'm not a witch. The wiccans wouldn't have me.”
I stared at her a moment. “But you're new in town here. You
just arrived a month ago. With Elijah.”
52
Mama Rourke grunted. “This isn't now she's talking about. This
was a long time ago.” She sighed, “A long time ago. Before the
Crash. Before all the bad things happened. Before the flood. What
year was that now? When was it Elise?”
The air hung dead a moment and Elise just had this grave look on
her face. “It was 1929. It was a long time ago.”
I hadn't been knocking that long when Elijah opened the door for
me. He was dressed how he was always dressed when I'd seen him. In
a dirty tank top and semi-torn jeans. His dark hair was tousled, as
if he'd just woken up, but judging by the fact that he was covered in
grease it was more likely that he'd come out from underneath a car.
He frowned at me.
“I didn't think you would show up here again.”
I pushed passed him because I couldn't be outside. Not while
knowing that whatever had been at Ray's could have been following me.
He closed the door behind me.
“Okay, yeah, you can come on in.” I wanted to pace. I wanted to
do what I did yesterday and self medicate, but that hadn't worked out
all that well. I wanted to fucking scream.
“I was over at Ray's garage,” I started, and the rest just came
out of me. Where I had been, and what happened after that service.
It came out of me like I had to vomit it out.
When it was over I was shaking. I hadn't realized just how far
53
down I'd gone. I was upset beyond my capacity to be upset. It's
hard to even describe it, and I'm not sure if you've noticed but I'm
not particularly good with words. My grandfather had always told me
I swear way to often to have a command over the language.
For a moment he just stood there. I didn't know at the time
whether it was because he didn't know what to say, or just how to say
it, but it looked like he was debating something in his head. It was
like you could watch him thinking. I'd seen it before, the first
time I met him when I asked him to fix my car. He looked like he was
having entire conversations in his head.
“Can you show me?”
“No,” I told him. “I'm not going back there. Not now.”
“Look, we'll drive there, and you can stay in the car if you
want.” He looked up at his truck and smiled. “Believe me, there's a
demon under her hood.”
A few days ago I could have believed that he was joking.
He saw I was still hesitating, and he sighed, “Look. You came
to me with this. You can either stay here all by yourself, or you
can come with me. It's your choice.”
Right at that moment, I didn't want to be alone.
The hot liquid inside the thermos was too enticing and I took a
sip. If she did poison me at least I would be poisoned while warm.
It was strangely cold for a Louisiana summer night. Or maybe I was
54
just in shock.
Also I wasn't sure whether or not they were crazy or whether
they were just feeding me bullshit. Mama Rourke was always someone
that people thought was dangerous, but no one ever said she was a
liar. But Mama Rourke was old...maybe it was dementia?
“This has happened before. Murders like this. Deaths like
this. Other things too. Other things are going to come.”
Mama Rourke took another drag, “The first time it happened was
1929. Back when the church was made of stone and we didn't have
paved roads even.” She laughed, at it looked like a scarecrow
laughing. Say what you will about the woman, but she is creepy as
hell. “It's a long story. And tonight is not the time for it.
There are things we're going to have to do in the coming days. We
thought we'd stopped it back then. But we were wrong. Because what
we stopped is back. The shadows are back and that means he's back
too.”
The old woman stood up and dusted herself off. “It's getting
late, and I'm not as young as I used to be. I'm feeling the age in
my bones Elise. Damn you for your youth.”
Elise's face was flickering in the firelight. “I'm going to be
damned for a lot more than my youth. Good night Mama Rourke.”
She waited until Mama Rourke was gone before she spoke again.
“Last night, when Lee died...things like that have happened before in
Beverly. You were with Lee before he died. And because of that you
55
still had some of him on you. We needed that to find out if Lee's
spirit was still lingering, because if he was killed by what we think
killed him, his spirit would still be around.” I tried not to think
too hard about Lee still being on me. That wasn't my kind of kink.
“You're telling me that doll is him?”
She hesitated. “No. Not exactly. Not quite. It's what's left
of him. And it's here because the pieces of him that remain stay
here to warn everything else. The Shadows have come back to
Beverly.”
There was silence between us for a time. “You're not going to
tell me what any of this means, are you?”
The moon was setting in the west and she shook her head.
“Tonight? No, tonight it's late and we've seen what we've come to
see. I can tell you this. What has come here, you're in the middle
of it. This won't be the last strange thing you see.”
The inside of the truck was like the cockpit of a plane. Okay,
I'm lying to you because I've never seen the cockpit of a plane. So
it's what I imagine the inside of a plane might look like.
It wasn't the first time I'd been in it. The night before Elise
drove me home in it, and I was amazed at just how quietly it ran.
Something like this, a pick up truck big enough to make other pick up
trucks look small, you expect to sound how it looks, like a monster.
You couldn't even hear it purring.
56
He drove down to Ray's garage, and I stayed in the truck while
he got out to check. I'm not normally that type of girl. The type
of girl that stays in the car while the man goes somewhere, but this
wasn't a situation I knew how to handle. He lived with Elise, and
likely he knew how to deal with it.
At that point, I just wanted no part of whatever was going on.
Elijah came back, looking around like he was waiting for
something to happen. “Come on. It's safe now.”
I climbed out, and walked closely behind him as I followed up
passed the gasoline pumps and into the office where I'd seen Ray. It
was a mess in there, like a brawl had taken place, or something
worse. Of that little...what do I even call it? Saying it was a
demon doesn't do justice to what I saw here last. Of whatever it was
there was no trace. Which, to my mind was a good thing.
But Ray wasn't there either, and that was troubling.
57
Chapter Eight
Eat You Up
I took a shot of tequila and poured myself another in between
songs. Jefferson was drinking a beer, and Bobby was smoking, despite
the no smoking sign above the front door. I'd originally came with a
blunt in my hand, but Bobby talked some sense into me, because if I
was caught on stage with weed, then I would probably lose my job at
the police station. Not that they didn't know I was a pothead.
Plausible deny-ability.
Really I always played drunk. Music just flows better out of me
that way, but I was hitting the tequila hard. Harder than I had in a
while. It had been a rough week. I just allowed myself to get lost
in the music. Jefferson turned to me, looking concerned for a
moment, but I gave him a thumbs up. I was a big girl, I could handle
myself drunk.
“All right, let's do Eat You All.” That was one I was supposed
to begin. It was also one of the most popular songs we did locally.
I kept the beat loose and languid and I started to strum. The music
that came out was like being in heaven and just for a little bit I
could forget what had happened. Bobby's guitar came in, syncopated
and high and the audience started to clap and yell.
And then he started singing. The closest way I can describe
Jefferson's voice is like you're being beaten a rock wrapped in
58
velvet.
Whywas I the enemy in your midstas the dog who never barked loudas the lion always lying downIn the endwell I guess you really showed meDropping napalm, every blitzkrieg,all the mustard gas for lunch
And I can subsist on thatYes, I can subsist on thatI'll eat it up
Rhapsody was alive that night with all the nervous energy that
comes when people are frightened, when people are shocked, when
people are upset. They were just eating all this up, and Jefferson
was drinking in their energy and the adulation from the girls who
were screaming out in the closest thing that Rhapsody had to a front
row and they were screaming.
I found a hornet's nest in my houseSwarming angry starved and half crazedbut I couldn't stay awayAnd I knewthat I had to make a pact with themcause their poison almost killed meafter drinking every day
Well I can subsist on thatYeah, I can subsist on thatI'll eat it up
And they were thinking of all the things that Jefferson would
like to do with them that would probably land him in jail – and
knowing Jefferson he would want to do it to all of them at the same
59
time.
Better prayThat modern therapy's effectiveYou're not seeing all these animalsHowling at your doorAnd praywhen you step out of your houseThat I won't be out of there waiting
Waiting
How did I never end up sleeping with him?
It was me that finished the song too, my bass chords wrapped
tightly around Bobby's screaming guitar.
I'd moved on from Jose Cuervo to my best friend, Jack Daniels
and Bobby was standing with his wife looking worried. Rhapsody is
open till 3 am on most nights, but by 1 most everyone was gone. Now
it was just me, Bobby, his wife and a couple of her friends (who I
never did get along with. Cheerleaders from high school. Ever
notice how the bitches who are cheerleaders never actually stop being
bitches?) and Jefferson and his little cadre of underage jail bait.
My pink “Fuck Doll” shirt was covered in sweat and I just felt
that there was something not right about the moment. I've never been
the popular one in the band – and I've never been the stable one
(that was Bobby), but I was always happy having Ray and Lee around,
60
even if I hadn't slept with one enough and I slept with the other too
damn much.
Have I ever told you that I fucking hate this town? Well, I
fucking hate this town. Everyone knows everyone and everyone knows
everyone else's damage. A place like this you can't have an affair
and not have everyone now know. There are no secrets, there are no
lies but what we let people have. And there are sins that are worth
keeping to yourself.
The bartender had given me the bottle because I paid him enough,
and I was pouring myself another shot when Bobby came over.
“Let me drive you home Bev.”
I must have looked at him like I wanted to punch him in the
throat. I must have looked at him that way because that's how I felt
and I have a bad poker face. But he took it well – Bobby always
does. Sometimes I think that I'm really just fucked up. Bobby's the
kind of guy you fall in love with, and he was making his girl very
happy. Me? I was drinking Jack Daniels and thinking about Lee and
Ray and how I'd really just messed up with both of them.
I softened up and kissed him on the cheek. “No Bobby. I'm
fine. Just gonna walk home.” He hugged me despite the fact that I
must have smelled like a distillery.
Bobby said his farewells to Jefferson, who barely paid attention
to him because he was getting the phone number of one of his
groupies, and signing his name on another's t-shirt over her tits.
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Jefferson's a real classy son of a bitch.
But like I said, he sings like an angel would sing.
I slammed back another shot of Jack and didn't bother saying my
farewell to anyone.
I was drunk as fuck, but it wasn't my first time, and it sure as
hell wouldn't be my last. But this one was unhealthy, even if you go
by my rather low standards. It was almost three in the morning and
it was Sunday, so it was time to atone for all of my sins.
Now you might wonder what's wrong with me. And there's a list,
somewhere. By this time I'm sure someone's compiled one. But what's
this time what was wrong with me for being a girl walking home – even
though it was only a half mile – in the dark, drunk as hell, carrying
an expensive bass guitar, and wearing only a pink shirt with an
obscenity written on it, and a black miniskirt. You might wonder
what was wrong with me, but the answer was, I was drunk.
That seems to be what people always answer to justify a lot of
sins.
I was halfway home when I noticed the shadows. It wasn't like I
should have before – it was night and the only light was a half assed
moon hanging low in the sky and streetlights, only half of which
worked – there were shadows everywhere. And if you've ever done any
62
walking at night, and you probably have, then you know that the
shadows play tricks on you. Shadows move and deform and change and
you're just so keyed to see movement that when you can't explain it,
you get this irrational fear even if you can explain away what you're
seeing rationally.
But these shadows were different. These were like black ink.
These were like the shadows I'd seen in Ray's garage. They weren't
humanoid shadows, but they were alive. They breathed, they slithered
and they were like nothing else. I might have been drunk but I
wasn't mistaken in what I saw.
And it just became so important that I just go home and close my
door so the world can't come in. So whatever horror I'd found myself
in could just go to hell and leave me alone.
I started to run.
But I didn't get far.
Temper Road curves towards Main, I live close to where those
streets meet up. By the beginning of the curve my lungs were burning
and I started to think that all the time I spent drinking and smoking
and generally treating my body like shit should probably have been
spent at the gym. Or at least in a place not quite so self
destructive. But self destructive behavior is what I do best.
And maybe it was because I could barely breathe, and maybe it
was because I was so focused on getting away from the shadows that
were all around me, and maybe it was the memory of that thing that
63
hadn't been a shadow with Ray in the office, but I just didn't see
what hit me as I ran. I went sprawling and twisted my ankle on the
pavement, which hurt like hell. My guitar hit the ground with me,
and I prayed it hadn't broken.
I was panicked and when I looked around, half in a daze, half in
a crazed maniacal state, I saw the one person I didn't to see.
I saw Ray. He was just standing there with this strange
expression on his face, like he didn't know why he was there. Like
he wasn't himself. His face was silhouetted in the pale glint of the
moon and streetlights, and his eyes were still black, like they had
been in his office. And in his hand was the one thing I could see
clearly in the darkness because he held a knife.
“Beverly, have I ever told you what I thought about you?” I
shuffled myself backwards, trying to stand despite the pain of the
twisted ankle. I had to get away. “I think you're a whore.”
That stung. I don't know why. It wasn't like I hadn't slept
around. A lot. But the way he said it, I knew he meant it, and
maybe it wasn't him talking because the thing that had been with him
in the garage had to be a demon, because if that wasn't I don't want
to know what is. And demons, they posses you. At least that's what
they say. That's what Pastor Johns thought. Everyone had a demon
inside them. Don't feed my demon. I started laughing, I couldn't
help it. It was just so God damn funny on some level.
“But you're so pretty. I could just eat you up.” He started to
64
advance.
The next sound I heard sounded like salvation. This truck came
roaring out of the darkness like some kind of monster, and the growl
of her engine sounded like a demon itself. The headlights shone
bright, and turned the night into day, and the truck came screaming
to a halt along Temper Road heading in towards the center of town.
What does it say about me that I felt I could trust a man who
had drugged me the night before? What does it say about me that it
was the second time I trusted him the day after?
Elijah reached over and opened the passenger's side door as Ray
stopped and stared at him in the most inhuman way I'd ever seen
anyone look. It wasn't like the Exorcist, with that little girl
who's head turned all the way around. It was like...it was like
something worse than that. Something subtle.
What happened next wasn't subtle at all.
Ray opened his mouth, and it dropped wider than it should have,
and these shadows just came pouring out of him like he was vomiting
black sludge; and these shadows writhed with life and malevolence and
I could smell the promises of death and destruction.
I grabbed my guitar automatically and ran/limped to the monster
truck, and didn't even bother climbing in; I just jumped headfirst
onto the passenger's seat and slammed the door behind me.
As soon as the door was closed – and possibly before that –
Elijah's foot slammed on the gas and the monster I was in just
65
slammed forwards like it was trying to pull down a mountain.
“Let me guess,” he spoke while he was driving, “that was Ray.”
I put on my seat belt, and he shift up into another gear.
Behind us the streetlights went out one by one. I didn't need to be
told that Ray, or what had been inside Ray, was now following us.
Elijah looked up into his rear view mirror and cursed.
“I'm lucky you passed by.”
He grunted, “Luck has nothing to do with it. Listen, what has
to be done right now, I can't do it. So something's about to happen
and just keep in mind that when it does, we're in a moving car.”
He took the right onto Main Street hard, and the tires squeeled
below us.
I was looking at him, and resisting the urge to laugh, “Honey,
I'm not sure anything will surprise me anymore.”
And I'm sorry, I was wrong, because what happened next, it was
surprising. Even with everything else that had happened in the last
two days.
Elijah was driving, and then, he just wasn't. He changed,
shifted, and just wasn't himself any longer. It was her, it was
Elise. Still wearing Elijah's clothes, but it was Elise, and I could
see her arms covered with old and new scars from the wrist to the
elbow.
And I don't know. I think I started laughing, because it was
just so preposterous, so over the top, even in reference to the last
66
two days that there just wasn't anything else to do but laugh.
I wasn't even quite sure of what I just saw. Elijah was Elise?
They were the same person? They were two different people in the
same body? Have I mentioned I was drunk? Only ten times right?
Elise was not as good a driver as Elijah was and she took the
next turn inexpertly at the speeds we were going at. Almost tipped
over the truck. “Open the glove box.” She was talking to me.
I shifted my guitar around and opened the compartment in front
of me. A knife sat inside, a wicked looking one too.
“Give it to me.”
Elise never seemed like the kind of person you should say no to,
but what she wanted to do with the knife was beyond me. I handed it
over, and she rested it in her lap. She took her left hand of the
wheel and ground her wrist against the blade.
That looked painful as shit.
Blood dripped down from her wrist, and I cried out, “What the
hell are you doing?”
“Relax.” She smiled, “I'm a professional.” She stuck her hand
out the window and took another turn – left this time, and now we
were facing Temper Road again. Behind us the streetlights were still
going out one by one. “Now shut up. I'm going to need to focus.”
I shut up.
We drove back towards Temper Road and took a left. I felt like
I was going crazy. She was driving around in circles, and how would
67
that help? And all the while her blood was just dripping out the
driver's side of the car and likely onto the pavement below.
And as we drove she spoke in this strange language. It sounded
like a prayer, or a hope, or a dream. It sounded desperate. We took
the next left back onto Main and we really were driving in a circle I
realized. She was making a circle (really more of a square, but I'm
not sure the actual shape matters) with her blood. For what ever
that might mean.
She was taking the corners dangerously and part of me wanted to
scream, and cry out that we should slow down because we were going to
crash, but the things were still behind us. I could feel them, even
if, in the darkness of a night without streetlights for comfort I
couldn't even see them anymore.
She slammed on the brakes roughly when we reached roughly where
she had cut herself before, and spoke one more word. Her voice was
now calm, and she was completely collected.
And the world turned to white, and there was this sound; it was
this low sound, something primeval, something primitive. Something
barely on the edge of hearing.
68
Chapter Nine:
Tourniquet
Elise was tying one of the laces from Elijah's shoes around her
arm to staunch the bleeding and I sat next to her not knowing what to
say. Things were eerily quiet all of a sudden, like the world
outside had just come to a full stop. But we weren't. We were still
moving and breathing and living. Elise was still bleeding.
“Are you all right.” She was asking me. She was asking me.
My ankle hurt. I was no longer drunk I realized, but just sick
to my stomach, like something was living there and it wanted to just
crawl out of my as fast as possible. “I'm fine,” I lied. But it
wasn't like she could help me. It was my own damn fault for drinking
that much to begin with.
“Good,” she said, “Because we still have miles to go before this
stops.” She hesitated and then looked at me again. “I'm letting
Elijah drive. Don't freak out.”
And all of a sudden, like before, she wasn't there anymore, it
was just Elijah, in his tank top and ripped jeans. His hair was a
mess, but otherwise he looked no worse for wear. Even his arm was in
one piece, while her's hadn't been after what she did with the knife.
Still, he left the shoelace tied.
I didn't understand it, and I wasn't sure I ever would.
“We have to see someone,” he told me.
69
“Who exactly do you mean? And what the hell is going on?”
“Mama Rourke,” he answered. “We're going to see Mama Rourke.”
For a few minutes we rode in silence, up the dark roads of
Beverly's outskirts. The digital clock told me that it was 2:30 am,
but I was wide awake, although the adrenaline that had been powering
me before had drained out of me. Still, I couldn't fall asleep, not
now.
I cleared my throat. “I have some questions.”
“I imagine you do.” He laughed then, a little bit, and kept
checking his rear view mirror. He'd been doing that ever since left
Beverly by way of Temper Road. Maybe Ray was still following us.
Maybe whatever had been inside Ray was still following us.
“I met Elise about five years back.” He began and I listened
closely because Elijah Elise and Mama Rourke had been particularly
close lipped during these last few days about what the hell had been
going on. There are things I needed to know they told me, but there
never seemed to be time to tell it. “I didn't know who she was then,
but she knew me. At least she knew about me. Elise, she's old.
Older than Mama Rourke. It's not my place to tell you more than
that, but for now that's enough.”
He flipped on the high brights and the shadows in front of us
ran away in the incandescence. “She was looking for something that
didn't exist anymore, and because I knew cars, and I knew roads, I
70
knew how to get to places that others just can't get to. It's not
traveling back in time, mind you, but it's close. I was taking her
on roads that don't exist anymore. Kind of like we're doing now.”
I looked out the window and I could tell he was right. We
weren't in Beverly anymore, I didn't know where we were. The road
outside was dirt, or clay and there was a river on the side that had
never run through Beverly before. A chill ran down my spine and I
stayed as quiet as the grave. I stifled a laugh and I remembered the
screaming from the night before. That was supposed to be Lee's
spirit they told me. And it was screaming. Maybe the grave wasn't
all that quiet.
Or maybe the grave wasn't all that quiet around here.
Instead of laughing I held myself tight to ward away the cold.
“We met something on the road back then. Something that shouldn't
have been there. Something that she wasn't expecting and it almost
killed me. Almost killed her too, but I don't think she wants to
admit that.” He took a right over a wooden bridge over the river.
It looked primitive. It looked like it wouldn't hold the weight of
the massive truck that we were in. But it held and we met the other
side all in one piece. It was strange to be on this road that he
wasn't shouldn't have been there, because clearly we were on it. I
believed him though, because despite all of my years here, and all of
my years in Louisiana this didn't look familiar. This didn't even
look like Louisiana. I told him that.
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“We're not in Louisiana anymore. We're actually halfway around
the world. But don't think about it too hard. Sometimes it confuses
me too, and I have to concentrate.”
I shut up. I barely understood what he was doing. “Anyway, I
almost died out there and Elise saved me. But everything Elise does,
it comes with a price. That's why she bled. That's why there's all
those scars on her arms. That's why she's missing a thumb. There
are other things too, but she doesn't like to talk about those.
She's sacrificed more for her art than anyone else I've ever heard
of.” He laughed, “And everyone thinks Van Gough ear thing is so off
the wall.”
He shifted down into another gear and the world changed again,
ever so slightly, but it was enough so that I could tell the shift.
The road was no longer clay, but a strangely colored red dirt that
was hard packed. Other tire tracks were grooved in; this was a well
traveled road.
“The price of saving me and saving her own life was that we must
share physical reality. It's far more annoying than having to share
a room mate.”
He didn't drive for long, and he didn't bother explaining much
more as he drove. He seemed worried, and I got the feeling that
whatever Elise had done back there in the middle of town, it wasn't
enough. Certainly they were both worried enough to go to Mama
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Rourke.
He pulled into the clearing that finally did look familiar. It
was where I'd been – holy shit, was that the night before? It felt
so much longer. It felt like a life time.
Mama Rourke sat on the closest thing the trailer had to a front
porch. She was smoking a pipe, and rocking back and forth in a
chair. Elijah changed once again to Elise, and I'd gotten used to it
by now.
“Beverly,” she told me. “We're going to need your help here,
and then we'll answer all of your questions in the morning. Because
after everything that is about to happen, we're going to need to
sleep.”
I laughed, “What still needs to be done?”
“We still need to save your friend.” She reached behind us into
the extended cab and took out an over coat, the same one she wore the
night before. She shifted it around herself, giving her some modicum
of decency, since a man's tank top didn't really leave much to the
imagination.
“Come on out. Say hi to Mama Rourke.”
She opened the door and called out. “It's me, Elise. And I've
brought Beverly back. She ran into a spot of trouble tonight.”
“Is that right?” I climbed out of the truck and onto the dry
grass. The drought had hit here hard, and most of the grass was
dead, brown material that crinkled underneath my feet.
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“Hello,” I said, not really knowing how else to begin. It's not
like Mama Rourke and I are old friends. “I ran in Ray Warren on my
way home. He was...he had something inside of him.”
She stood, although she did so at great difficulty. “Well then,
there's much to do. Come here child. These old bones aren't what
they used to be.” She cackled like that was somehow funny.
“There were three of us back then Mama, and there are three of
us now. Do you think this will work?” Elise was building another
fire, like the one that was lit the other night.
I limped over to the porch and lent the old woman my arm. The
lame leading the aged. It was a comical sight. “Oh girl, you have
to stop hitting the bottle. If I lit a match you would light on
fire.”
“I've had a hard day.”
She laughed again, only this time more quietly. “Yes child, I
imagine you have. Well, Elise, last time we had a priest, and I
don't think this girl is no priest. But she'll have to do for now.”
I lead her to where Elise was starting the fire, and she sat down on
the ground. I sat next to her, happy to be off my foot, which felt
like it was on fire.
Elise lit a match and put it in the fire pit. The bits of grass
and paper lit and soon the fire was burning and growing. “Magic,”
she began to say, “it's not like it is in the books. Magic is not
about circumventing the world, or trying to break the rules. Magic
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is about doing what you know best. It's about making it work for
you.”
Mama Rourke took a doll out of her pocket and laid it out on the
ground between us. Elise stood and then spoke again, unwrapping the
shoelace around her arm. It had clotted somewhat, but she nicked
herself with that wicked looking knife again, and the blood flowed
freely, dripping down onto the ground. She walked about us in a
circle, and then took a burning brand from the fire, and held it
close to the dirt. Where her blood had dripped lit and caught and we
were surrounded in a circle of fire.
“Beverly, what do you know best?” Elise asked the question
after wrapping the shoelace tightly around her wrista again. “What
are you good at?”
I blushed. “Well, Ray Warren once told me I was only good at
two things. Fucking and playing the guitar.”
What I'd said didn't even phase her. “Sex can be a powerful
thing. A powerful magic, but frankly we don't have time for
something like that. Your guitar is still in the truck. Get it.
The fire won't burn you.”
I stood again, cursing the ankle. Pain shot up through my leg
with each step until I came to the fire. She was right, the fire was
burning but it did not burn. It wasn't even hot. I passed through
it without harm. I moved quickly to the truck and took my bass
guitar out. There were sounds out here in the woods, and I closed
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the door again and moved quickly back into the circle.
Mama Rourke held the doll up to me. “Spit on it girl.”
What the hell was with Mama Rourke and spit anyway? I did as
she asked and then she tossed the doll to Elise who bled on it. God,
these people were weird.
“Is Ray dead?” I asked.
Elise shook her head, “No, but he is in trouble. The closest
thing I can say is that he's possessed. What we're about to do,
well, you could call it an exorcism.” She passed the doll back to
Mama Rourke who began to sing. It sounded old, and it sounded like
some mix between French Creole and some kind of Native American
language. It sounded beautiful, but it was harsh.
“Last time this happened, you had a priest. Now it's just Mama
Rourke, the witch and a whore.”
A chill went down my spine and I turned to see Ray standing
there, but it wasn't really Ray. I could see that now. It didn't
move like Ray, it didn't stand like him. It didn't feel like him.
For all of Ray's faults, and he did have so many, he thought of
himself as a gentle person. But now when this thing that looked like
Ray moved it just promised violence. It was some kind of
abomination.
Elise looked up at him, her black eyes flashing. “You are not
welcome to that body. You are not welcome here.”
“Elise, you were a bitch back then and you're a bitch now.” He
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grinned at me. “Come out Beverly, I can make this sweet. You would
taste so nice. So much better than this Ray. So much sweeter.”
I swallowed nervously and didn't know what to say. Mama Rourke
spoke for me. “You are not welcome here Santos. Do as Elise tells
you and remove yourself from that body before we do it for you.”
He shook his head, “No that's not going to happen. Do you think
you'll be able to get her to perform correctly before I break your
circle?”
Elise stood and put her hand on my shoulder, “Let's find out.”
Ray's face changed and it was no longer mocking, but it was just
terrible. He stood over the fire and stepped forward, but it was
like he was held back. Whatever Elise had done it seemed to be an
effective barrier for him, whereas I had just passed right through.
Then Ray just reared back and slammed his face against he
invisible barrier and the shadows just came pouring out of him again
like so much blackness.
I was afraid, and I didn't know what to do. Elise bend down in
front of me and took my hand. “Do you want to save Ray?”
My heart was racing and I truly did not know the answer to that
question. Not now. A few days ago things would have been easier.
Of course I would want to save Ray, but right now I was just tired.
So damn tired. But it was the right thing to do. Saving Ray, it was
the right thing to do. And I know Lee would have wanted to do
anything to save him, and that was all I had left.
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“All right,” I said, “All right, what do I need to do?”
The shadows were traveling out from Ray around the circle,
testing, looking for a way in. I don't think Elise or Mama Rourke
expected it to last for long. “What we need to do,” she was speaking
but I wasn't quite paying attention, “Beverly, listen to me. You
listen to me, because we don't have much time. What we need to do is
call Ray back. We need to call Ray back. I don't know him, and Mama
Rourke doesn't know him either. We need you to call Ray back into
this doll.”
I met her eyes, “Well, how the fuck am I supposed to do that?”
She knelt down by me and Mama Rourke just kept on singing,
oblivious. “Like I said, magic happens when you do something you
know how to do. And if you know how to play, then play and the magic
will just flow out of you. Trust me. We don't have much time.”
It wasn't like I had much choice. The barrier wouldn't hold for
long and I didn't want to know what would happen if the shadows burst
through. I'd seen enough blood and violence in these two days than I
wanted for a life time.
I opened my guitar case. Thankfully had left my guitar in
better shape than my ankle. I didn't have the amp with me, but I
slung it around my shoulder and well....I just didn't know what to do
next.
“What do I play?”
Elise quickly looked over her shoulder and I could tell that the
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shadows had wrapped around us like a sphere. I couldn't hear the
music. Just hours ago I'd been playing up on stage and I just
couldn't hear it anymore. There was too much din around. There was
too much of this bullshit around. Too much fear.
The the fear was something I could play about. I had played
about sadness and death and even hope before, but not about fear. I
could play about fear.
And it was like I hadn't even asked my fingers to start, but I
just started strumming. It was a bass melody almost sub audible, and
that became everything my world was. Elise took my shoulder as I
played and I could feel her blood just washing over me, but that
became a part of the melody too. And everything from the past few
nights, all the fear and the sadness and the death just flowed out of
me like water or blood.
Ray said he liked to listen to me play. When we were sleeping
together, afterward when we were just a tangle of legs and arms on
the bed he would say, “I want to hear you. I want to listen to you
play.” I tried to tell him that it was just the bass part but he
loved it. And I loved playing for him. We were dysfunctional, but
there were good things about the relationship Ray and I shared. And
that became a part of it too.
I played and I didn't even notice that the shadows had broken
though, drifting inside the circle and blowing out the fire.
But I did notice when Mama Rourke stood up, as if she was half
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her age, and took the doll and plunged it deep inside the shadows.
Elise had been holding me, and I knew that I hadn't played that
alone. Elise had helped me. What Elise had helped me do I wasn't
quite sure.
The fire sprung up again, but this time from the central fire
pit. The shadows ran, and at first they seemed to want to go to Ray,
but Mama Rourke had taken his hand and pressed the doll into it.
And it was like Ray was like the sun to the shadows, they just
ran away from him. And for a moment, everything was still.
Then Ray blinked, and just stared at us for a time. “What the
fuck was that?”
He fell down unconscious.
And I was covered in Elise's blood.
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Chapter Ten:
Sunday
On Sunday morning I was dead to the world.
I can remember what I told you about the night before, but
nothing about what happened after. I know the fire died down and I
know Ray fell as if he were dead or unconscious, and I knew that I
had done something with the guitar that simply shouldn't have
happened. When I moved to Beverly from New Orleans my grandfather and
grandmother couldn't afford movers, so we made do just with
ourselves. It took eight hours to move all of the stuff I wanted to
keep from that disaster of an apartment we used to keep; I didn't
think we had eight hours of stuff in our entire lives. Anyway that
night I couldn't help but continue moving things in my mind; it was
like the physical memory of it wouldn't let it go. That night I had
dreamed about moving.
Sunday morning I was dreaming about playing the guitar.
I've known how to play a bass guitar (with varying degrees of
competency) since I was fourteen when my grandfather brought a used
one a few towns over. I don't think I need to tell you that the
night before I had never done anything like that. In my dreams I was
playing and it was music. And I don't mean to say that it wasn't
music what I'd been doing with Jefferson and his Cross all these
years. Until the day I die I will forever love all that I've done
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with Jefferson and Bobby. I'm proud of it, and if it never gets
picked up in the mainstream I'll still be proud of it. But what I
did that night, that was music. That was special. That was truth
and love and everything that I pretended not to understand. That was
high fidelity.
When I woke I was in a place I didn't recognize, at least not
right away. I was wearing a white robe, and I'd passed out on a sofa
that looked less comfortable than it apparently had been. I'd never
seen a room so clean; every surface sparkled, and the rug looked as
if it had been vacuumed every day for the past year. The only clue I
had to where I was was a small model car on the table that looked
hand made, and hand crafted. It looked like it was made out of love.
There was only one person who loved cars that much, and that was
Elijah.
I'd hoped Elise had taken my clothes instead of him, but he
didn't seem like the type to cop a free feel. Elise on the other
hand....well, she didn't either, but she seemed worlds more
disreputable.
There was a black blouse that sat on the table, along with my
clothes from the night before folded neatly and in a plastic bag. I
took off the robe and put on the blouse, which was a little small,
but at least not revealing. It was likely Elise's shirt, and while
she was taller than I was I'm wider across the shoulders and bust.
If I'm being honest I'm a little chubbier too, but I'm not in the
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mood for honesty of that kind. Thank God Elise liked black because I
didn't have on a bra. I took my jeans out of the bag and put them
on, feeling a little slutty even for me for not wearing any panties.
There was a mirror, and I looked at myself quickly. My eyes
were puffy, and my peroxide blonde hair was going in every direction
but straight. I felt the same way.
My ankle throbbed and just looking at it I could tell it was
half again as big as it should have been. I could walk on it, but it
hurt.
I left the room feeling in disarray and found myself ina
hallway. The building had been vacant offices when Elijah took it
over, and despite the fresh carpeting and the attempt to hang
pictures in the hall it still looked like that. There was an
elevator at the end of the hall, but it was boarded up. A few feet
away there was a staircase, which hadn't been carpeted and still
looked plenty industrial.
I walked down the stairs and I felt like a ghost. I don't know
why. Despite my reputation (and don't get me wrong it's a reputation
I cultivate) I tend to wake up on my own. It's either because I
hadn't slept with anyone, or either I left or my date left before we
decided to sleep for the night. I know, I date real winners. But
then I'm a real winner myself.
But that morning it just felt....lonely. I wanted to see Ray.
I wanted to see Lee. I wanted it to be like it was, before
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everything got bad. Before everything got all fucked up.
In the staircase I found I was on the third floor and decided to
go down instead of up. I took the stairs gingerly considering my
messed up ankle, and found the second floor boarded up as well. I
went down to the bottom floor. There was an old sigh there, half
destroyed from age and misuse that had a capital letter L there for
Lobby. It wasn't a lobby anymore.
I went through the door and found myself in Elijah's garage and
it wasn't a surprise that he was already there. My car sat in the
back parked in between the monster and whatever he had covered by
that tarp. He was working on it, fixing the damage that I'd done to
it in my high and distraught state just two nights ago. It's amazing
how quickly the two days go. And how much had happened. In just
three days everything changed and I realized that even if Elijah and
Elise left and Ray could run his business unmolested by freaky little
fucking demons this would never be the same. Even if I lived my life
in the most boring and dull way possible I knew things would always
be a little different. A little more frightening.
Eljiah must have heard me walking in because he took his head
from underneath the hood. “Good morning Beverly. Did you sleep
well?”
I cleared my throat, and I almost wanted to laugh at the
question. “I'm alive. I'm not sure if I should be.”
He smiled. I had to say I kind of liked Elijah. I mean, he was
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weird as shit with that whole turning into Elise thing, but he had
this shy little look about him. And he saved my life. “How's the
ankle?”
I shrugged and leaned on the table in the middle of the room to
get off of it. “Like I said, I'm alive. I'm not sure about the
condition I'm in.”
“Yeah, I think we're all a little worse for wear from last
night.”
I hesitated. “You seem fine.”
He got this little dark look before he laughed and shook his
head. “Yeah, well, not everything is what it looks like.” He wiped
the grease off his hand with a towel and walked towards a pot of
coffee that he's probably put up a while ago. “Can I get you some
coffee?”
“Sure.” I usually don't drink that stuff, but I needed
something this morning. Then I remembered what had happened the last
time Elijah had given me something to drink. “Are you going to spike
it this time?”
I couldn't tell his expression since he was pouring with his
back to me. “Yeah, well that wasn't my idea. Milk or no milk?”
“Milk with sugar if you've got it. What happened to Ray?”
He brought me my cup of coffee in a mug that said “Kiss your
mechanic” and handed it over. “Ray's back with Mama Rourke. It's
going to be a while till he's right again. He's asleep right now is
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my understanding.”
I took the coffee, and sipped it. It had stayed hot. “I think
it's time we talked about the things I should know.”
Elijah sighed and sat down, and I sat across from him. There
was this radio that lay in pieces on the table that he started
fiddling around with the moment he sat down. I sat down across from
him, hoping that I would start getting answers.
“I think Mama Rourke or Elise should tell you about what's been
going on around here. Because frankly, they're the ones who know.
I'm not. I'm just the mechanic.” I know he said the last bit
sarcastically.
“But aren't you Elise? I mean don't you and she....” I didn't
know how to say next what I knew.
“I can sometimes hear what she's thinking if she wants to make
it known. And she can hear mine if I want to make it known, but it's
not like we have long conversations.” He pointed to his head with
the screwdriver he'd picked up. “Having a room mate up here's not
all it's cracked up to be.” I didn't think it sounded all that great
to begin with.
“So you were saying you and she didn't used to be the same?”
“I've never told this story to anybody.” He didn't seem to want
to. But I wasn't about to miss out on trying to figure something out
today.
“I think it's time you told me. Because there's a lot of fucked
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up stuff that's been going on around here. And you're here now and I
don't know where Elise is.”
“Elise is asleep. She's here, but she's not here.
It's...complicated. Damn it.” He banged the screwdriver down on the
table again, took a moment and I think I started to understand how
hard this story was for him to think about. “I grew up in Georgia,”
he began...
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