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.

61

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.

71

“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

72

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.

73

“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

74

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

75

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

76

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.

77

“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

78

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

79

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.

80

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

81

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

82

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

83

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

84

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

85

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

86

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...

87