Harlan turned the gun on his son and said, "Please, please, no. I beg you. I will shoot myself if you want, right now. Adam, run away! Run away!"
Anna stood up in front of Adam, backing him toward her office while shielding him with her body. "Harlan! Listen to me. You don't have to do this. Your son didn't do anything wrong."
Harlan's jaw sawed back and forth and when he spoke, his voice was not the same. "You never wanted him anyway. When you saw how he was you thought about drowning him in the bath, old man. You hated what he took from you."
"What is wrong with you?" Anna shrieked. She yanked Adam down onto the ground next to her and covered him with her arms. "Leave us alone."
Tears streamed down Harlan's face and blood collected in his nostrils and spilled down his chin, dribbling between his lips. "I will not do this! You cannot make me, you son of a bitch!"
Marshal James McParlan ran down the street yelling, "Put that goddamn weapon down, Harlan! What the hell has gotten into you?" He raised his Balrog and fired at the ground by the old man's feet, but Harlan did not even notice.
"McParlan?" Harlan said. He let out a laugh and said, "Marshal James McParlan?"
"Stop talking and put the gun down, Harlan. You don't want to hurt anybody else."
Harlan turned on him and said, "Oh, but I do, old man. You took my brother, and now I'm going to kill every person in that little shit town. You know what happens to people who mess with my family, Marshal?" Harlan Wells lurched forward, dragging the soles of his boots in the dirt. "I mess with theirs." Harlan aimed the gun back at Adam and started to squeeze the trigger, but managed to get the gun into the air and fire it at the sky. "Stop resisting me, old man."
"What the hell's gotten into you?"
"All of Hell." Harlan's mouth twisted and his eyes bulged and it was his own voice that cried out, "Don't let me do this. I can't stop him! He's inside my mind. He's going to make me shoot them! Please, for the love of God, don't let me do this."
"Who's inside of you, Harlan?" McParlan shouted.
"The brother of that man you arrested. It's too late," Harlan gasped. He lowered the gun again at Adam and said, "I can't—Adam—Please, Marshal, save him."
McParlan's gunshot cracked the air and Harlan Wells collapsed. The Marshal holstered his Balrog and kicked the gun away from Wells' hand, standing silently over the body as people closed in on him.
Claire Miller carried a large basket of vegetables up to her front porch door and kicked it with her boot. "Frank? Frank! Come open this door up. This stuff is heavy."
She put the basket up against the wall and braced it there as she pulled the screen door open and turned the interior door's handle. She heaved the basket through the entrance, calling for Frank again. Claire set the basket down and wiped her wet forehead with the sleeve of her shirt. The light was on in the back bedroom. "Stop pretending like you can't hear me," she said. "I know you got one good ear. Don't try to get out of helping me."
Frank's chair was turned over in the entrance of her childhood bedroom. She hurried into the back room but stopped at the sight of a dirty-looking man sitting on her bed. He was resting a bandaged leg and picking his fingernails with a knife.
In the corner of the room farthest from her, Frank was standing on a wobbling stack of books. He was naked and shivering and had a noose tied around his neck. There was a sock stuffed in his mouth and the noose was taut from his neck up to the ceiling beams above. Frank's hands were bound behind his back with what appeared to be a pair of her pants and he was moaning when she walked in, tears spilling from his eyes.
The man on the bed held up a torn piece of a photograph and looked at Claire. He nodded with satisfaction and said, "I knew it. You did grow up to be a pretty one, Claire."
"Who the hell are you and what do you want?" Claire hissed.
"I'm a friend of your brother's," he said. Then he grinned and said, "Well. That might not be the entire truth. The Lord hates it when I lie. Jem and I ain't friends at all. Now me and you? We're gonna be real, real close friends before the night is over."
"Get out of my house, and leave us alone."
Elijah Harpe smiled to reveal a dripping cesspool of yellow and brown. "I'm trying to be nice to you. Trust me. This is the easy part. It's what comes next that you got to worry about."
14. Judges 19:25
Claire Clayton was six years old when her daddy died. Most of her memories of that time were covered by the kind of fog that renders faces blurry and voices faint. She remembered how Sam Clayton smelled, though. Something like good pipe tobacco and worn but well-oiled leather. She remembered sitting in Sam's lap and him always pressing his chin into the cup of her palm, he'd rub his scruff against her skin until she giggled and tried to get away. Sam let up just enough to let her catch her breath, and did it all over again.
She remembered the night Deputy Frank Banner was murdered in front of their house, and telling Sam, "I'm proud of Jem for protecting us and killing that bad man."
Sam looked at his little girl and bent down to her level, like he always did when he wanted to talk to her. He wasn't the kind to stand over her and issue edicts. He was the sort that got face to face with a little girl to tell her why it was necessary for her to go to bed on time. Sam said, "I know that's the truth, but I want us to agree to pretend that it was Frank who killed that Beothuk."
"But why?"
"Because it would be bad for Jem if people thought he'd already shot a man before he's even old enough to shave. They'll be proud of him for a little while, but if anything bad ever happens, they're gonna say he got a taste for killing and it never went away."
"Did he get a taste for it?"
"Of course not. I'm just as proud as can be for him, and of you too, darling. But for now, let's just keep it between us as a family, okay?"
She did not remember anything about Jem and Anna coming home to tell her that Sam was dead. Anna told her that she sat on her bed and stared at the wall saying nothing until Jem went into his room and slammed the door. Claire remembered the inhuman howling coming from his room. She remembered things crashing and breaking in his room and the gut-wrenching sobs.
Anna put her arm around Claire and rocked her back and forth. "Jem is gonna be all right, Claire. He just needs to let it out. Do you?"
Claire looked up at her and said, "No, ma'am."
After a time, Claire decided that she and Jem just saw things in different ways. Jem had real memories of their Mama and had lived through her death. For as long as Claire could remember, they'd been alone. The people she loved were already in grief. She never had a chance to think any other way than that you don't own anything in this world, you can't control it, and what you love can go away in the blink of an eye.
That's why Jem was a fool, she thought. He still believed you could hold onto what you love.
The only other thing that stood out in her child hood was an incident that she'd never spoken to anyone else about. It was two years before the night of the Beothuk raid, which made her about four years old. One evening, Katey Halladay knocked on the door and said their daddy was going to be working late. Jem was outside running loose with some local boys, and Claire helped Mrs. Halladay cook dinner and clean up. Sam had never imposed much in the way of chores on the children, and Claire was baffled as to why Katey wanted her to wash her hands and put on a clean shirt. "It's not like we're going to church, Miss Katey," she said.
Katey Halladay put three plates on the table and told Claire to arrange the silverware. "How come you aren't staying to eat with us?" Claire said.
"I am, sweetie. Your daddy won't be home for dinner."
"Where is he?"
"He just had to work is all, Miss Nosey Thing," Katey said. "Now go call Jem in."
Over dinner, Jem was shifting in his seat with excitement. "Did you hear what happened?"
"Did I hear what, dear?" Katey said.
"There was some sort of trouble at the Willow Funeral Home with Old Man Willo
w's assistant, Zeke. Daddy and Tom Masters had to arrest him and cart him off to the penitentiary all the way out at Seneca 5."
"Is that right?" Katey said. She tapped Claire's plate with the tip of her fingernail. "You need some more greens, young lady."
"Yes, ma'am. So what did the man do?" Claire asked.
Jem shrugged, "Nobody would say. Just that it was pure awful and Old Man Willow was chasing him around with a bat when Daddy got there." Jem looked over at Claire and said, "I wonder if he hurt Anna?"
"All right now, let's eat," Katey said.
"I reckon that's the only thing that would make Old Man Willow mad enough to chase Zeke around like that. I'm just guessing."
"That's enough guessing," Katey said abruptly. "I said to eat."
That night, Katey brushed Claire's hair and complained the entire time that it was like trying to run a brush through a net made of sailboat rigging. Claire grimaced every time the brush tore through another knot, but after it was done, she looked at herself in the mirror and smiled at the sight. Katey tucked her into bed and read her a story, then gave Claire a little kiss on the forehead and said, "Goodnight."
Claire closed her eyes and turned over, but could hear the discussion in the living room between Katey and Jem as to exactly how late Jem would be allowed to stay up and wait for his father. The conversation ended with Katey saying, "Until I say so."
Hours later, Claire felt a hand touching her face. She smelled that familiar tobacco and leather scent and felt Sam moving the hair out of her eyes. "I'm sorry, Princess," Sam said. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."
Claire rubbed her eyes and told him it was okay. She laid back down and pulled his big hand back to her face. "I'm glad you're home."
"Me too. I just wanted to make sure my little angel was okay."
"I'm ok," she yawned. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Sometimes, a daddy just needs to check. You know that if anybody ever tries to do anything bad to you, you need to tell me right away. Don't hide it, don't be ashamed of it, and don't keep it inside. You just come let me know and I'll take care of it."
"How would you take care of it?" she said. Her eyes started to close on their own. Sam kissed her on the face a few times and stood up without answering.
The next morning, Jem ran into Claire's room and told her "Hurry up and get dressed! I've got to show you something."
He waited anxiously for her in the hallway, and when she came out he held his finger to his lips and whispered, "Keep quiet."
They could hear Sam snoring in his bedroom, and both kids crept through the front door and onto the porch. Jem said, "I stayed up till Pa got home and overheard him talking to Miss Katey. She asked him if he was okay, and he told her he was fine, but then she said that Doc Halladay told her the penitentiary was filled up at Seneca 5 and they weren't taking any new prisoners. She asked him where he'd been all that time and what happened to Zeke."
Jem looked back through the door and made sure they were still alone. "Pa wasn't even mad that she caught him in a lie. He just said that he'd been out in the desert. She asked him again where Zeke was, and he told her never to mind."
"Why was he being mean to her?" Claire said.
"He wasn't," Jem said. "He sounded all sad and emotional when he said it, and Miss Katey gave him a hug and told him he was a good man." Jem took Claire's hand and led her down the steps, taking her around the side of the house. "This morning, I was tending to his destrier and looking around when I found something."
They went around the house to the rear and Jem bent down to sweep aside the long grass under the porch. He waved for Claire to come look, and she stared at Sam's blood-splattered shirt and pants bundled and hidden in the grass. Claire backed away and put her hands around Jem's arm, trying to pull him away. "Come on," she said. "We weren't supposed to see this. We're gonna get in trouble."
Jem let her pull him up, but as they walked back toward the house, he said, "I'm glad he done it."
Elijah Harpe hobbled around the corner of the bed, using the frame to keep himself upright. He came within arm's reach of Claire and said, "You don't talk too much, do you."
Claire stood her ground, but could not keep her eyes from flickering at her husband as he squirmed on his gimpy legs to keep his balance. His toes gripped the edges of the topmost hard-bound book, but the stack was uneven. It teetered under his feet as he danced back and forth on the books, whimpering a series of unintelligible pleas through the stuffed sock in his mouth.
"That ol' boy can't stand up there much longer, gorgeous," Elijah said. Claire recoiled as Elijah sided up next to her and touched her cheek. He smirked at the way she stared back at him. "Behold, said the old man to the sons of Belial as they beset his house and beat upon his door. There is a good man within, and to him you shall do no vile thing. But instead, take my daughter, his concubine, and humble her."
Elijah looked back at Frank and winked. "You know what those sons of Belial did next, partner?" He ran his finger down the length of Claire's neck toward the center of her chest. "They abused her all the night, until the morning. Later, the good man divided her into twelve pieces and sent her all across the land. That's in the Good Book."
When Claire did not answer, Elijah grabbed her by the hair and pulled her close. He pressed his mouth against hers, and to his surprise, Claire's mouth opened. He pushed his tongue against hers and swirled it around just as Claire chomped down with her teeth.
Elijah squealed and tried to push her away, but it felt like her teeth were about to tear his tongue in half. He went to stab her with the knife, but Claire caught his wrist with both hands and held his arm tight. Elijah landed a hard punch to her stomach with his other hand that doubled her over. He dropped an elbow onto the back of her head that dropped her to the floor in a heap.
He hopped back around the bed and shoved Frank off of the stack of books, making Frank's face turn purple as he swung by the neck. His cheeks puffed out like they were going to burst and his legs dangled in the air.
Claire was trapped on her back like a turtle and Elijah showed her the knife and started to tell her about blowtorches and hot irons. About cutting pieces off of her husband's body and feeding them to her. About how long it would take before she finally was allowed to die.
Claire slammed the heel of her foot into the thick bandages wrapped around Elijah's knee and he looked down with his mouth open wide, but he was too stunned to scream. His eyes rolled into the back of his head like a slot machine coming up empty spaces and the knife slid out of his hand as he dropped to the floor.
Claire laid there, waiting for the room to stop spinning. Fireworks had exploded behind her eyes when Elijah hit her and she was still seeing flashes of green and white while she lay there looking up at the ceiling. It was Frank's gurgling that lured her back. She grabbed a handful of blankets on the side of the bed and started pulling herself up.
Frank was swinging free on the rope and his face was turning black. Claire stumbled around the bed, and as she walked near Elijah, he snatched her by the ankle and wrapped himself around her leg.
Claire stomped him like an angry chicken, but he held her fast and managed to drag her down on top of him. She balled up her fist and slammed it into Elijah's face with all her might and strained back to grab the bed and shove it as hard as she could.
The metal frame slid across the floor, just close enough that Frank was able to get the balls of his feet onto the mattress and stand up to take a quick breath.
Claire lifted her head and shouted, "Don't you give up on me!"
Elijah grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted, winding it around his fist and cranking her head down until her ear was next to his mouth. "I was going to be nice to you before, you bitch, but now I'm going to show you what evil really is."
Elijah Harpe slithered on his belly like a worm, coming out of the bedroom to get to the kitchen. He could only see out of one eye and it stung worse than a thousand needles stuffed inside hi
s eyelids. He tried pushing up from the floor and collapsed. He tried again, but had to lay flat and catch his breath.
Claire was crawling out of the bedroom behind him. "Where…where… you going?" she said between two broken lips. Her whole face was swollen until both her eyes were just slits and the skin around them was green and bulging like the face of a fly. "Had enough… sissy?"
Elijah shook his head, "You are one twisted woman." He braced himself against the wall and was able to get up on his good leg to limp into the kitchen. At the edge of the counter, he lost his grip and toppled onto the tile floor. He groaned and wheezed with laughter at his own misfortune. Elijah reached up for the ledge of the countertop and fished around the pile of utensils and pricked his finger on the blade of a sharp knife.
Claire was still coming, calling to him from the hallway, "We're gonna finish this."
Elijah rested on his elbow on the floor for a moment before taking the knife down. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and said, "I could not agree more."
Claire did not respond as Elijah crawled back out of the kitchen. "You fought like a tiger, gorgeous. I hope you still have some fight left in you." He came into the hallway and came face to face with Claire, who did not look at him. Her eyes were turned toward the other end of the hall, by the front door and she mouthed the name, "Jem."
Elijah laughed at her and said, "It's just us, honeypot. And I'm gonna enjoy this more than you can—"
A hand grabbed Elijah Harpe by the ankle of his bad leg and yanked him down to the floor. Elijah looked back in disbelief and saw Jem Clayton standing over him, his eyes blazing with hellfire.
Jem dug into his pocket for the balled-up mask of black fabric. He shook it into the dusty winds that swept through the canyon.
The wrecked ship's parts were no longer smoking, and were now covered over with dirt and sand. The charred body of the pilot was gone. Jem reasoned that it had been picked over by birds and other scavengers, and the bones were carried off by creatures that were gnawing on them in caves at that very moment.
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