Southern Gods

by John Hornor Jacobs

  He nodded.

  “Not for you, Bull. I hardly know you.”

  “Wouldn’t have dreamt it.”

  She laughed and he did too and the bed shook again. He put a hand on her hip. She watched his face.

  “I didn’t realize how much I needed… contact. Human closeness, maybe. Until I met you. I feel like I’ve known you all my life. Like we are supposed to be together. Does this make any sense to you?”

  “When we found you in the boat, I… I knew. I knew you were here for a reason. And since I was the only one to know it—except maybe Franny, I think she may have sensed something too—”

  “You scare me a little, too.”

  She snorted. “What? I scare you?”

  “The feelings I’m having. Like they’re beyond my control. And with everything that’s happening…” He took her cigarette from her hand and took a long drag. He handed it back. “Sarah, I’ve seen the dead rise. And every time I try and think about it, well… I’m getting distracted.”

  “I’ve had the same feeling. You woke up and my mind’s been occupied solely with you. You and your body. I haven’t had a chance to think about everything I’ve learned.”

  She shook her head, a frown crossing her brow.

  He rubbed the bridge of his eyes. “I had a dream before—”

  “We got distracted?”

  He ran his hand across her flank, watching the goose bumps break out across her flesh. “It was a dream of my old captain, Cap Haptic. He died in the war.” He frowned and looked away. “It was strange. He was dressed as a Roman soldier, a gladiator or something. The dream was clear, not like a dream at all, but like I had seen him only yesterday and just remembered. I can remember the conversation we had perfectly.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said Hastur has to be checked. To be stopped. And that he wants to possess me. Him, not Hastur. To ‘inhabit’ me. That when the shit hits the fan, if I call on him, he’ll help me do what needs to be done.”

  “Call on him? Did he say how?”

  “He said just for me to say his name.”

  He opened his mouth and then grinned sheepishly.

  “You don’t want to say it?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “OK. Spell it.”

  He pushed her back on the bed and traced a letter on her stomach.

  “A double-u?”

  “No.”

  “An em?”

  After a while she knew the name and he was hard again. He grazed her nipples with his fingers. Leaning forward, he took her breast in his mouth, and her hand sought him out.

  Later, Ingram fell asleep and she slipped from the room, padding down the hall. She stopped at her mother’s door, listening. Nothing. Back in her room, she realized Franny was gone again. Snuck off to Fisk and Lenora’s bed.

  She ached as she climbed into bed. Her legs felt rubbery, and her thighs and buttocks burned with the exertion. Pulling up the covers, she sighed and went to sleep and did not dream.

  Chapter 20

  It began raining in the morning, the patter of drops on the roof stirring Ingram slowly. He stretched, reached for Sarah in the bed, remembering the previous night. He felt good—amazingly good. Humming, he peeled the bandage off of his chest and threw it in the trash can. Gingerly, he set his great bulk on the settee and unwrapped his injured hand. A whiff of spoiled meat hit him, and he realized he smelled himself, the unaired flesh of his ruined hand. He dressed again in his dirty clothes—no help for it—and went across the hall to the bathroom, washing what he could of his hand and forearm. Purple and yellow streaks went down his forearm to his pinky and that side of his hand was swollen to twice its regular size. His fingers looked like sausages. When he flexed his hand, he felt bones grind inside, but it seemed like he still had mobility. The swelling impeded his hand’s flexibility more than the actual break.

  He went back to his room and replaced the brace and rewrapped his hand. He slipped on the dead man’s boots and thought of Cap Hap, dressed as a Roman soldier. Mithras, he’d told him.

  All I have to do is say his name.

  In the kitchen, the percolator burbled and Alice pulled a tray of toast out of the oven.

  “Hey, Bull,” she said, looking him up and down. For an instant, Ingram worried that she’d heard his and Sarah’s frantic lovemaking the night before. He considered being embarrassed, then shrugged. Fisk and Lenora burst into the kitchen, arguing.

  “No we ain’t, fool. Tell him, Momma! We ain’t gonna get any more peafowl.”

  “Don’t call me fool, fool. I know just as much as you. And if Franny asks Missus Rheinhart, you know she’ll get some more.”

  Alice looked at the children, and placed her hand on her hip. They stilled and looked at her.

  “Franny ain’t in charge. You know I don’t like that fighting this early in the morning. Go sit down.”

  Sarah came padding in, tying her robe. She looked at Ingram and then quickly to Alice.

  “Where’s Franny?” She moved over to the counter, pouring herself a mug of coffee and chasing it with two spoonfuls of sugar. “She sleeping late?”

  Alice, plucking bacon from the cast-iron skillet’s popping grease, looked at Sarah curiously and said, “I don’t know. She didn’t sleep with Lenora and Fisk last night. I thought she slept with you.”

  The mug shattered, sending streaks of scalding hot coffee shooting across the kitchen floor.

  “What? Where is she?” Sarah turned and ran through the house. Ingram ran after her.

  “Franny! Franny! Answer me, baby!” Her voice pitched into registers of panic. “Franny! Godammit, answer me!”

  She stopped in the atrium, hair wild, and turned in a circle.

  “Sarah, wait a second—”

  “Momma’s room. She’s with Momma.” She turned to the stairs and vaulted up, taking two steps at a time, her robe fluttering behind.

  Ingram kept close on her heels. She burst into her mother’s room.

  “Franny!” She flipped on a light then went to the window and pulled back the curtain, filling the room with a thin gray light. Empty.

  “Your mother’s gone. Maybe they’re out walking.”

  An irritated look passed over Sarah’s face, and she began biting her fingernails.

  “No. No. Franny’s terrified of Momma. She’d never go with her.” She turned, not looking at Ingram. “Where is she?”

  She turned and raced out the door and back down the stairs, yelling, “Alice! Alice! Get Reuben! Franny’s gone, and Momma is too. Get Reuben to start looking!”

  Alice came to the atrium with Fisk and Lenora behind her. The two children looked scared.

  Father Andrez appeared behind them, peering over reading glasses. He looked rumpled and tired.

  “What’s this? Your daughter is missing?”

  Sarah brushed past Alice, the children, the priest, heading toward the back of the house.

  “Franny! Franny! Answer me right now!”

  She bolted through the kitchen door, slamming it behind her.

  Ingram followed. Andrez grabbed his shirt as he passed.

  “Bull, stop. Sarah’s mother is gone too? Is that right?”

  He nodded, chewing his lip.

  “You have to get Sarah calmed down. We don’t have much time. We have to find Franny quickly because—” He rubbed his face. Exhaustion marked his features. “I think you know. Get Sarah and bring her to the library.”

  Ingram nodded and went after Sarah. Outside, he ran to the field shop, where Reuben and his field hands sat on barrels, eating cornbread and drinking buttermilk. They looked startled to see Ingram.

  “Franny. She’s missing. Get up and start searching the farm. I gotta find Sarah, she’s running around like a—”

  “Yessir. Right now, boys. You heard the man.”

  “One of you get a car and drive the highway. Put one man on the roof if you have to so you can look down into the ditch.”

  Reub
en gave a sharp nod, then bellowed orders.

  Ingram turned and ran back to the house. He went around the side and looked in the old peafowl roost. From the corner of his eye, he saw a flutter of white against the gray gloom of the morning. Sarah. He turned and ran.

  He caught her as she entered the dark woods, on the way to the river.

  “Sarah! Stop.”

  She whirled, her hair limp with rain. Her robe was open, her nightgown plastered to her body.

  “I can’t! Franny might be in the river!”

  “No, Sarah. She isn’t. Come back.”

  “I have to find her, Bull. I…” Her face looked drawn and pale. Her hands shook. He came closer, put his hand on her shoulder. The wind whipped through the wood, bringing with it another quick burst of sideways rain. His shirt stuck to his back and the cold water ran down the backs of his thighs, down his legs.

  He tried to draw her to him, to hug her, give her comfort.

  She jerked violently away.

  “No! I can’t.” And then her face crumpled, and she slumped down to the muddy ground, leaving Ingram standing above her, hands useless at his sides.

  She sobbed, hard inhalations that wracked her body.

  “Franny… It’s my fault…”

  Ingram knelt, put his hands on her shoulder and tried to draw her up.

  “No, goddamnit. It’s my fault, Bull. Don’t touch me.”

  He brought his hands back, but stayed kneeling in the mud.

  She hit the ground with her hand. “I was fucking you and I should’ve been taking care of her. It’s my fault. You’re just a goddamned distraction.”

  “Sarah, listen to me. Something’s going on here we don’t understand. If we don’t act quickly… I can’t say what might happen to Franny.”

  She stared into the mud, rain streaming down her neck, dripping from her hair.

  “Sarah!” he bellowed, putting all of himself into it. She jumped involuntarily. “We don’t have much time! We’ve got to go back to the library and talk to Andrez. He knows what’s going on here.”

  She didn’t resist him when he drew her up.

  He kept his arm around her on the way back to the Big House. Alice waited for them at the back door, holding towels.

  “I sent Reuben to look for her. He and his boys are searching the farm and the roads.”

  “That’s good. The little priest’s waiting for us in the library.”

  Andrez looked up from the Quanoon when they entered. He came around the side of the desk, took Sarah’s hands in his, and looked at her sincerely.

  “We have to move quickly, Sarah. I know what’s happening now.” He let go of her hands and walked back around the desk. As he moved he took on a magisterial posture, a straightening of the back, a precision of his gestures that Ingram hadn’t seen in him before.

  Alice went to stand by Sarah, rubbing her shoulders and whispering in her ear. Sarah began to nod. Her hands stopped shaking.

  “I had a suspicion yesterday but now we know. The slaughter of the peafowl was a sure indication of either territory or possession. But it’s also a sign of a bargain. And Hastur made a bargain with someone in this house yesterday.”

  He let the words sink in.

  Sarah’s eyes became large, and she said, “Momma.”

  Andrez nodded. “Yes. She bargained with Hastur for health and longer life. That’s why she’s missing now.”

  “That bitch,” Sarah muttered. She looked up. “She took Franny! She bargained away my daughter! How could she do that?”

  Andrez looked pained. “She does have a claim to your daughter, at least as far as Hastur is concerned. There are very few rules that the gods adhere to, but the significance of blood is undeniable.”

  “But why? Why would Hastur want Franny?” Ingram’s own voice surprised him. He could hear the tension.

  “He’s trying to get back to his parents. He’s trying to bring the Old Ones through.”

  “What will they do to her?” Sarah asked in a very small, soft voice.

  Andrez looked pained.

  “Sarah…”

  “What will they do to her?”

  “I think you—”

  “What will they do to her?”

  The priest sat down in the desk chair, slumped his shoulders.

  “Violate her. Kill her. Violate her corpse.”

  A high-pitched keening came from Sarah’s throat. Alice gripped her tight, trying to pull her head down, but Sarah resisted.

  “No no no no no no—”

  “But we can do something,” Ingram said. “We can find her. Can’t we?”

  Andrez shook his head, and said, “I’ve been reading the Quanoon all night. When I heard that Franny was missing, I came back in here to see if I could find something to locate her. The best I could find is a spell to discover if someone is dead. And it requires… sacrifice. Nothing to locate someone who is missing.”

  “Wait a sec. I know where she is.”

  Sarah whirled on him, hands drawing up like claws. “What? Where is she?”

  “On the Hellion. The boat from Ruby’s. The barge I saw leave with the Pale Man. This has to be connected. It’s all connected. She’s on that fucking barge.”

  “The boat! The one we found you in. We can use that to find her.” Light came back to Sarah’s eyes, and suddenly she moved again with vigor. “Alice, get Reuben to bring gasoline. The boat did have a motor on it, didn’t it?”

  From the doorway, a child’s voice said, “Yep. Sure did. Johnson 15 horse. It’s enough for the river, that’s for sure.”

  They turned to see Fisk and Lenora standing in the doorway.

  Alice barked, “Get your butt in the kitchen. This is adult talk.”

  Fisk began to cry. Lenora looked defiant and wounded.

  Their mother went to them. She said more gently, “Honeys, I know you’re scared. I want you to go in the kitchen and wait for me there. Mr. Bull is gonna figure out how we can get back Franny. Go on, now. It’s gonna be okay.”

  Ingram turned back to Alice. “You have a gun in the house?”

  She nodded and went to get it.

  His eyes fell on the sword resting on the table. He picked it up, and again he had that feeling of wheels locking into place. In his hand, the sword felt light. For a moment, Ingram just looked at the sword in his hand, admiring how good it felt there, how it completed his arm. He’d been missing something before then.

  “We might want a little more than a gun when we get there,” he said, looking around the room. Andrez and Sarah stared at him.

  Alice re-entered the library carrying two pistols and stopped.

  “What in the world?”

  “What?” He turned to Sarah. “What’s going on?”

  “You look different, Bull. You look… I don’t know… right. Like you were meant for that sword. Have you said his name?”

  Surprised, he shook his head.

  Andrez said, “What? Whose name?”

  “Bull had a dream last night—”

  “That’s neither here nor there.” He turned to Alice, taking the pistols from her. “You get Reuben?”

  “I called the field shop. One of his boys answered. I told him to get that boat ready for you. Gas. Everything.”

  He looked at the Andrez. “Are you coming with us?”

  “Of course.” Andrez pushed away from the desk and stood up. “I’m ready.”

  “Sarah, go change your clothes. We can’t do this with you in your night gown. Put on good shoes. And I can use that time finding a flashlight.” He turned to Alice. “Get a bag. Something sturdy. Put some water, a towel or bandages in it. Some booze. Any extra ammo you have. And rain gear.”

  He looked back at Sarah.

  “Girl, we have to hurry. Run, now. Run.”

  She ran, and Alice followed.

  “Come on, Andrez. Let’s go wait in the kitchen.”

  Minutes later, the women returned. Alice carried a small canvas duffle bag with two pl
astic ponchos, two flashlights, a bottle of brandy, a roll of hurricane tape, two towels wrapped in a plastic trash bag, and a few rolls of gauze.

  Ingram looked up from where he inspected the pistols on the kitchen counter. “Sarah, you and Andrez get into the ponchos. I’ll be fine.”

  He picked up one of the pistols and handed it to Sarah.

  “This is a twenty-two magnum revolver. You’ve got six shots. If you need to use this, don’t waste it on a gut shot or body shot. Only headshots will drop them.”

  He took the other pistol and tucked it into the front of his pants.

  “I’d tell you to stay here, but I know you wouldn’t have any of it.”

  “I’m going.”

  “So, let’s go.”

  Chapter 21

  Since the moment she realized that Franny was missing, Sarah thought she was going mad.

  Her thoughts careened around her head without any direction. Focusing for any time was painful. It was as if her mind was trying to distract her from the reality of situation, that her daughter was gone, ripped from her and in mortal peril.

  But when Bull raised the sword her mind calmed down and she allowed herself to hope that Franny would be okay. The idea that they could be violating her daughter now, killing her, filled Sarah with a cold fury she hadn’t felt since she’d slapped her mother. Looking at Ingram calmed the rage but didn’t extinguish it.

  She watched Ingram as they walked through the woods toward the river. His shirt was plastered to his skin and his back rippled with muscles, crisscrossed with a fine lattice-work of scars from the war visible even through the fabric.

  I guess the Marines prepared him for this. I hope so.

  As she had followed Ingram and Andrez out the door, Alice had stopped her.

  “I’d go with you but—”

  “Alice, you’ve got to stay with the children.”

  She nodded. “I got something for you.” She removed a folded straight razor from her blouse—her bra, Sarah realized—and handed it to her.