Tom Piccirilli - Emerald Hell

"Ayup, my secret heart. Not much to take pride in, a thing like that," Lament said. "A man's true heart is between his own sinful soul and the forgiveness of the Lord. The rest is just petty hate. It's how you creep into a good person's life."

"You speak like a preacher."

"Mayhap you remember I done my share, once upon a time." He raised his mouth-harp, plucked it a few more times, then placed it in his pocket. "Same as you. Before you lost your way and found greater satisfaction in ruining lives than in saving them. Or mayhap you don't recollect at all."

"I am not a destroyer. I am the destroyed."

"Call yourself whatever you like. I know you for a jealous, bitter, heart-wrenched killer. I seen your cruel nature rise up."

"I only did as I was bid to do by the Lord."

With no wasted movement, Lament's hand flashed out and he caught Jester with a vicious blow across the mouth.

The dark preacher twirled around once and landed on his back in the mud. He was grinning, but it was a false front. His eyes were spooked. He spat blood and black fire rose where his spittle landed.

Lament said,"Tkne you took responsibility for your own frailty, don't you think? Instead of blaming Heaven for all your failings?"

. Hellboy thought, Now why couldn't I do that? Why couldn't I just smack him in the mouth?

Jester drew the back of his fist against his bleeding lip, and the blood shone on his flesh like a slick of oil. "More sinned against I was-"

"You forget I was there. I watched you murder your wife. You even tried to kill me."

"John, that was… an accident… an-"

"So you do remember."

"I recall… some things… but-"

"It was the act of a furious man following his own evil heart."

Turning, Jester saw that the ghost of his wife was there again, standing to the right of Lament- she'd said she would not appear at Jester's side anymore -facing away and almost oblivious to the proceedings.

Hellboy saw the woman and knew she was a spirit, and figured it was the preacher's dead wife. But how was she going to help?

Lament saw her too and out of respect, perhaps even affection, nodded his head and whispered to her. "You go on now, you deserve your peace. Don't you worry about this little grief we got here, it'll be over soon."

"Save him if you can," she said, and slowly, very slowly, the way a woman full of love for her embittered husband is likely to finally give up on him after decades, that slowly, she faded into the wind.

"I am alone but for the cold, merciful angels," Jester said. "That's why I need my daughter and grandchild."

"Reckon you ain't never been alone, and that's been the trouble. Like with Saul and David, God blessed you too early on."

Hellboy was antsy, surprised there was so much talking going on. He had a need for action, and all this standing around was getting on his nerves.

But something seemed to be getting resolved, even though he wasn't sure what or exactly how. He glanced up the track and spotted a lot of the swamp folk in the scrub and on their porches and peering from their windows, the party lights glazing their figures. They stood and waited in the palmettos and palm fronds.

Not far from him, lingering back in the emerald hell, he spotted the kid with eyes like an insect, the beautiful girl without bones in her legs, the dwarf with the big feet, and the really weird conjoined twins. Somehow, knowing they were nearby made him feel better.

Lament stood tall, a young man strong in the night, making an appeal to the mentor who'd once taught him in the humble ways of helping a neighbor. "You recall your foul doings and they don't tug at your conscience at all. That's why your redemption lies so far from hand. You ain't even asked for forgiveness."

"From you?"

"From God. And you don't remember a whit. I was too late to stop you from murdering your wife. But you were moving off from her and going after the baby in the crib. You don't love Sarah. You nearly murdered her when she was an infant."

"No. No, that's not true."

"After you nearly brained me with a hatchet, I crawled through your house. I prayed for your enlightenment. It was all I could do, bleeding near to death on your rug. But you heard me. You let her live." Lament drew out a knotted piece of rope from his back pocket. "This bring back any memories?"

"Yes. No. What is it?"

"You recollect what happened later that day?"

"No. Yes. I was… I was hanged."

"You know who done it?"

"You did."

"No, I was a dying child. No, it wasn't me."

"Bliss Nail did it."

"He was rushin' over to save his woman and daughter, but no, it wasn't him. He showed up a little while later, and watched you danglin' for a bit. No, wasn't him who done it." jester's eyes widened, staring at the knot. "No."

"You done it yourself. You lashed the rope around the rafter and kicked off into purgatory. I crawled to you, blinded by my own blood. Bliss Nail was there, watching you swing. He held Sarah to his chest. I'm the one who cut you down. I prayed over you. Bleeding to death, I prayed over you."

"No."

"I ministered to you. I wanted to save you."

"No."

"And the healin' was strong in me. God wanted it so. Couldn't heal myself, but you… for you… I tended your body but couldn't do nothin' for your soul. Bliss Nail carried me to his car and got me to Doc Wayburn. And when he went back to that house later on… you was gone. You came back. You came back, but you learned nothing from your journey through oblivion."

"No," said Jester, a whine working through his awful voice.

"It's not too late. Ask forgiveness."

"No."

"It's my fault. I brought you back. My secret heart is that I'd never done it. That I'd left you to swing and sent you on your way. But we all got our sins. You're mine, Jester."

They all turned then as the Ferris boys walked up to them, bracketing Sarah and the child, their knives hooking the moonlight.

"Well, here she is," said Deeter, who pressed his stubbled cheek to Sarah's, "the little miss that caused such a stir."

Duffy said, "I been a jot nibbled on, but I ain't complain', preacher. Here's your girl. We done what was asked of us, my brother and me."

Proud of themselves, the Ferris boys leered and drew back, the shotgun aimed loosely in Hellboy's direction.

Lament grinned and Sarah returned the smile. Her movements still held a defiant air, as she lifted the sleeping child and held her closer. Hellboy wondered where it came from, such faith and belief and love in the middle of a hellish day like today. But he already knew the answer. It was the only answer.

"Should you be up and about?" Hellboy asked her.

"When harvest is being brought in, there's women bear their children, then go bring in the sugar cane or tobacco. Or the peanuts. Mrs. Hoopkins wouldn't have let me lay around, I can tell you that for sure."

Brother Jester moved to Sarah as if to embrace her, "Daughter, I'm here."

"Begging your pardon, preacher, but you ain't my father. The man who raised me is in the ground. The man who sowed me is Bliss Nail. I don't see what bloom you've got on me at'all."

"Your mother-"

"The woman who raised me is in the ground. The woman who sowed me is closer to twenty years dead."

Again that unearthly mewl entered Jester's decimated voice. "Your mother was my wife."

"Don't see how that makes me any of yer business, reverend," Sarah said.

"You come two decades and thousands of miles in and out of mountains and valleys for naught, Jester," Lament said.

"But the child-"

"Is mine," Sarah said."Ain't yours. Nothing here is, though you feel you got a right to whoever and whatever you wanna take. You put your black mark on many. You cursed my half-sisters, the six other daughters of Bliss Nail."