David Barbour - Shadows Bend

Smith looked at her. “I’m sorry, Glory.”

“You’re doing the sensible thing, too,” she added. “Look what happened to my sister-and she wasn’t even involved in this escapade.”

Lovecraft and Howard were silent, and neither tried to urge Smith any further.

“I’m hittin’ the sack,” said Howard. “Somebody’s gotta rest up to drive y’all.”

THEY WERE SPOOKED by the house now, or perhaps it was that they were afraid of what the proximity of the Necronomicon might do to Glory if they slept inside, as was their first impulse after her possession, but it took only a few moments of debate before they decided to go back out to the compound under the trees. Lovecraft seemed to have no trouble getting back to sleep now that the Artifact was back in his possession, in that now habitual spot in his watch pocket. Howard strode about for a little while until Smith assured him that he would keep watch if necessary.

“Bob, I’m a light sleeper. And I live here, so I’ll do the honors of staying awake for a while and keeping an eye on her.”

“You didn’t sleep so light before.”

“I have forewarning now.”

“Well, I suppose I gotta do what’s sensible, huh?”

“Go on and sleep,” said Glory. “I don’t feel any demons coming on for a while at least.”

Howard gave a sheepish grin that made his face grotesque in the flickering light of the campfire. “Well, good night, y’all.”

“Good night.”

Howard crawled into the sleeping bag on his cot, tossed and turned a few times, and was still.

“You might as well get some sleep, too,” said Glory. “I don’t think I’m going to do too well after what just happened.”

Smith took a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. When he sat in one of the camp chairs, he reminded Glory of the old Indian whose story had moved her so deeply. “One could argue that you’re simply trying to get me to sleep because you’re still possessed,” he said.

“Oh, come on, Clark.”

“Well, in any case, I’ll keep you company. We can chat until you get tired. ”

“What I want to do right now is smoke a whole pack of cigarettes, but then when I think about it, it makes me sick to my stomach. I feel like I’m wearing a glove all over my body that’s the wrong size, and it’s full of cotton or something.”

“I’ve never seen a real case of demonic possession before, Glory, but I must say it’s everything I imagined it to be.”

“And you say that so casually, like you see it all the time.”

“I’m tired.”

Glory pulled a chair closer to the fire and sat down, following Smith’s example of covering herself with a blanket. She leaned forward until she could feel the heat of the dying flames on her face.

“Throw in more wood if you like.”

“No, that’s okay. It just makes me feel more solid to feel something against my skin.” She heard a rustling sound, a scraping sound, and then Smith was at her side with his chair. He took the blanket from around her shoulders and then enfolded the two of them with a single blanket, his arm around her shoulder. She leaned her head against the side of his neck.

“Does that feel better?” he asked. “Much.”

“Someone like Madame Blavatsky would say that your auric field was disrupted by the possession. Being in the healing presence of my intact auric field will make you feel more secure. I shall think repairing thoughts to activate the appropriate colors of my auric spectrum. And perhaps I should hum also. ‘Aum’? Or is it ‘Om’?”

“Oh, shut up,” said Glory. “It’s just nice to be hugged.” They laughed quietly, afraid to wake the others.

“Clark?”

“Yes?”

“What do you think I should do?”

“I’m afraid I’m as lost as you are,” he said. “For the longest time, I’ve tried to maintain a Buddhist kind of detachment to the problems of the world, believing everything to be some layer of illusion. But I never would have imagined that imagination and reality would collide like this.”

“If you were me, would you go with them?” ,

“I suppose I’d have little choice.. I can predict what would happen if you went to the authorities with a story of what you’ve been through.”

“I’ve never liked the authorities anyway,” said Glory. She closed her eyes for a moment to feel the faint heat of the fire against her eyelids. “Clark, would you mind if I asked you to touch my skin? With your skin?”

Smith was quiet for a moment, and then he moved his other hand up to stroke her cheek. “How’s that?”

“Mmm. It feels like my body again where you touch me,” she said drowsily. “Touch me all over, Clark.”

“Glory?”

“I know what I said.”

“We can hardly do that here with Bob and HP.”

“How about that moonlight stroll you mentioned earlier?” Glory stood up, leading Smith by the hand. She kept both of them enfolded in the blanket as she walked out of the compound into the clearing, toward the tree line in the east. Away from the fire, their eyes adjusting to the dark, they realized it was later than they had imagined. The sky was already the flat gray of false dawn, and they could see the silhouettes of the trees ahead. Glory took the blanket, folded it in half, and laid it flat on the dew-covered grass. She shivered as she unbuttoned her blouse.

“Glory, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she said. “I’m possessed, Clark.” She laughed sweetly when she saw the look of alarm in his eyes, and she threw her blouse down as she embraced him, to feel the touch of his flesh against hers, to make her feel real again.

Had they been listening attentively, they might have heard a sharp intake of breath, a hard clench of the jaw. From the edge of the compound, Howard crouched behind the trunk of a blue oak, watching them. When he was sure they could not see him, he knelt and crawled to get closer. Birds were already chirping in the still air. Howard drew as close as he dared, and then he parted the blades of grass in front of his eyes and peered through. He was angry, excited, and embarrassed, all in equal measure as he watched their bodies join and unjoin in the cold. He heard the little noises that made him bite his tongue in jealousy.

Their silhouettes were nearly black against the rising sun, and to Howard, still carrying the touch of sleep, Glory’s shape above Smith’s seemed to transform into a sleek sea creature. As she moved up and down to the increasingly intense rhythm of some invisible ocean, she arched backwards and flung her head, cascading her hair behind her like the shadow of spraying water, and the shape of her breasts, as she moved again, arching farther backward, merged together until they formed a single conical triangle like the dorsal fin of a leaping dolphin.

Howard heard the roaring sound of the surf beating against the shore.

His breath caught momentarily, and then he suddenly realized it was only the rush of blood behind his own ears. He shook his head to clear himself of this vision and crawled slowly backward in the wet grass until he was sure they couldn’t see him. Shivering with cold and emotion, he walked quickly back to camp and bundled himself back into his sleeping bag on the cot, pretending he had never left. It was hard, because he was soaked with the cold dew of morning, and he could not get the images he had just seen to leave his mind.

On the other cot, Lovecraft turned over and closed his own eyes to reenter his own pretense of sleep.

AFTER A HASTY BREAKFAST, Howard loaded up the Chevy with a sense of urgency that caused Lovecraft to make a few sharp noises of annoyance. While the two of them argued about what should go in the trunk and what should remain in the backseat, Glory stepped back to Smith. “Clark,” she whispered, “I want to come back. After this is all over and I’ve seen to my sister, I want to come back.”