Tom Piccirilli - November Mourns

He headed back to the tree and his mother and the devil were waiting for him, both out of breath.

“Shad?”

Mama began calling to him again, like he wasn’t there, or she wasn’t. What would happen if he didn’t answer? Did he have a choice? Would she finally leave?

Beside her stood Ashtoreth, evolved from the ancient Phoenician mother goddess of fertility Astarte, who in his male incarnation is a teacher of sciences and keeper of past and future secrets. A grand duke of hell that commands forty legions, one of the supreme demons.

Ashtoreth smiled affectionately through terrible scars covering his face. It took Shad a second to remember where he’d seen the devil before.

Tattooed at the base of Glide Luvell’s back.

“Well now,” Shad said.

Mama groped blindly for him. The red devil moved from her and crouched before Shad’s body, which was still beneath the tree, breathing into his face and whispering something in his ear. Ashtoreth stared up almost contritely as Shad approached, quickly finished whatever he’d been saying, and stood.

The devil, dressed in the warden’s finest suit, stepped forward and straightened the knot of his silk tie. Shad thought he should grab for his mother and get it over with now. Wake up, turn aside, and get the blood out of his belly.

Ashtoreth’s voice was his father’s voice. “She wants to give you a warning.”

“She always does.”

“You need to listen.”

“No, I’m not so sure that I do.”

But this was another of his faults. Holding out hope that the ghost of the mother he’d never met might actually be searching him, loving him in her own grotesque way. You never got free of your mama.

She drifted out there in the brush, tangling in the camphor laurel, the maple, and catclaw briars. Slowly she became aware of him standing there and looked over, held one hand out to the devil, the other toward Shad. He rubbed the creases in his forehead and sighed. She stared beyond him, and said, “Son?”

“I’m here, Mama.”

“Son?”

“I’m right next to you. I’m always next to you.”

“Shad?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, hello.”

“Hello, Mama.”

Ashtoreth said, “Come closer. She wants you to come closer.”

“Quiet, you.”

Glide Luvell’s devil revealed disappointment in his expression. “Believe me, you want to hear what I have to say.”

“That right?”

The bizarre knowledge flooded him again, everything sharp and sensible as if he’d read it off a page many times before.

Instigator of demonic possession, most notably in the case of the Loudun nuns of France in the sixteenth century, who accused Father Urbain Grandier of unholy and perverse acts. After severe torture, Grandier scrawled a confession with his broken hands and was burned at the stake for consorting with Satan.

So , Shad thought, this is the guidance I get.

Ma smiled sadly, as if she too wanted this all to end as quickly as possible. Clutching for him so he’d wake up, get on with his life, and let her go back to the grave. She appeared even less interested in him this time than a few nights ago.

“Shad? You listen, son. You listen to me.”

“Shh, Mama, I want to talk to your companion now.”

“Son? I need to tell you… stay off the road.” Confusion twisted and contorted her features as she moved off in the wrong direction trying to find him.

He figured what the hell, grabbed Ashtoreth by the warden’s tie, and yanked him forward. “You got something that might actually help me or not?”

“Yes. I’m only here to deliver you a friend.”

That stopped him. “What friend?”

“One you’ve been missing.”

The devil faded from sight and soon Jeffie O’Rourke stepped up and stood there just a few feet away, dressed in Armani. His eyes had some new hipness to them that he hadn’t possessed in the can, and his grin was knowing and a touch badass. Murdering your lover had a way of giving you a new confidence.

“Where’d you get to?” Shad asked.

“Been out and about,” Jeffie said, taking a step closer. The three-thousand-dollar silk suit gave a gentle swish. Shad could see there was dried blood or paint on Jeffie’s hands, the bitten-down fingernails caked with it. “Spending a lot of time sitting around on beaches, doing seascapes.”

“Like the warden.”

“Yes, just like him. He always said they were calming, but I don’t find that to be the case.”

“You should probably quit then.”

“I’ll give it a while longer though. Maybe it just takes time.”

“Maybe so.”

Jeffie gave a kind of frowning grin, like he was glad to be there and had arrived just in time. “Jenkins, I know this town is about as backass backwater backwards as can be, but are you telling me that you actually walk around this place like that? No shoes, no coat? You’re young but you’re not quite Huck Finn.”

That slow crawling heat at the back of Shad’s skull made itself aware to him again. It was always there, as much a part of him as the beating of his heart, but forgotten until the strain became too great. It grew more intense but wasn’t yet too painful. He looked down and didn’t see his body under the spruce anymore, and couldn’t be certain if he was awake or asleep.

“Stay out of the woods,” Jeffie said. “There are snakes in the dark.”

“Jesus, you people and all these warnings about the fucking woods.” He was starting to feel himself come undone a little. “Are you talking about the snake handlers up there? The community of the hill families? Did one of them kill Megan? Did her heart stop because of rattler venom?”

“How should I know? I’ve never been around here before.”

“Why did you show up then?”

“You wanted me to.”

Slouching a bit, Jeffie had a swagger now, something else he’d picked up off the warden. He let out a deliberate smirk and started chuckling, standing as if he were twelve feet tall, all this power in his face. Shad felt his shoulders go rigid as Jeffie reached out and touched him on the side of the neck. Flecks of red drifted against his skin. You could find some kind of goddamn symbolism wherever you looked.

“You ought to let it go. You’re not doing this for the right reasons.”

“Is that so?” Shad asked as the rage dug in deeper, putting the fire in his skin, kicking his heart rate up. “I’m going to find out what happened to her.”

“No,” Jeffie O’Rourke said, with that new merriment in his eyes. “I don’t think you are. Not entirely.”

When the calm wasn’t there you tried to fake it as well as you could. Jeffie kept tugging at all the wrong nerves, the same way he sometimes did back in the joint. Dead maple leaves scuffled past their ankles, scrambling across the wide lawn as the morning winds staggered in and out of the brush.

“You having fun on the outside?” Shad asked.

“Not as much as you might think.”

“Being an escaped felon might hinder your sense of cheer.”

“It’s not that so much, really. The FBI will never track me down. Those assholes spend most of their time tripping over one another, and they’re into more crooked shit than all of C-Block combined. It’s a machine working against itself. I’ve been number sixteen on the most wanted list for almost a year. They’ve never even come close.”

“So what’s the problem?” Shad asked, genuinely curious.

At last, a little of the old Jeffie came easing through. The loving but distressed face shaping his heartbreak. “I miss him.”

“The warden.”

“Yes. It’s not the same without him.”

“Looks like you’ve got money.”

“I had plenty stashed away. But, even with the cash, there’s no… reason in my life, if you can believe that shit.”