Samael sat with his back against the trunk of a cottonwood, watching the river flow past like the blood of the earth surging through a vein. In the distance, the revival tent glowed like a candle flame. He wondered how much longer Silas’ show would go on. Warm air caressed his face, and the hypnotic song of the passing water tried to lull him into a tranquil state, but his thoughts turned dark.
He recalled an October morning. The Paris sky was as gray as the hair of the Widow Capet, who sat in the back of a garbage cart wearing peasant garb, hands bound, her eyes lifeless and dull. The crowd whistled and jeered as she passed. When she arrived at the Place de la Revolution, her guards shoved her onto the guillotine plank. Yet she retained a queen’s bearing. “No tears,” he whispered from his invisible perch, and she complied, a slight tremor in her hands the only sign of fear. Her life ended with a hiss of steel, and the crowd roared its approval. But it was not enough to still her heart, no, they must also take her dignity, and so they tossed her body onto the grass. Her severed head was placed between her legs. The queen of whores at last was vanquished.
Samael found a stone and hurled it at the river. Mulling over Marie’s death blackened his mood. Why should I think of this now? Something has happened to produce this vulgar memory.
Sounds carried from the road—the sputter of car engines, horseshoes clapping against concrete, pounding feet. Samael cocked his head toward the noise and concentrated. The wind became a faint whisper, the river a trickling stream, while the murmuring voices of the people amplified.
“Did you see him? He couldn’t heal any of those folks.”
“It hurt me to watch. With everything that’s been going on, I needed to see a miracle.”
“Silas is a swindler just like all the others. We ought’a grab a rope and string him up.”
“Why don’t we burn down his tent?”
“Maybe we should have the sheriff run him out of town.”
Samael stood. Something has happened at the revival. He set off toward the camp.
Hardy stood in the light cast by a fire. He looked up as Samael approached. “Trying to find Cresil?”
“Have you seen him?”
“Check at the tent. Jonah had him watching the crowd tonight. Good thing too.”
“Trouble?”
“I’ll say,” Hardy said.
Samael continued toward the main tent. What does Hardy mean? Is Cora in danger? Vance stalked the ground near the trucks. He held a large wrench. “Are the townsfolk gathering?”
“I don’t think so,” Samael said in passing.
“Let ‘em come. I’ll crack a few of their skulls.”
Samael crossed the open field that separated the workers’ camp from the big tent. No sounds came from the worshipers’ encampment to the east. How strange, he thought.
He found Cresil inside the tent gathering peanuts off the ground. Cresil looked up and smiled. “Can you believe they threw away perfectly good peanuts?”
“Will you ever stop eating?”
“When I return to the spirit world.”
Samael scanned the tent. Several chairs lay on the ground. “What happened? I heard people complaining about Silas, and now Hardy’s crew is ready for a battle.”
“You should have been here.” Cresil popped a peanut into his mouth and started to chew. “Silas broke down on the stage.”
“Broke down?”
“People came up to be healed and he couldn’t do a damn thing. Silas tried, I’ll give him that. He shouted, wailed, and touched them with his healing hand. I’ve never seen anyone sweat so hard.”
“How did the crowd react?”
“Someone shouted fraud. You should have seen Silas’s face. He cowered like a dog and ran off the stage. Damn, those folks were sore. I guess this means the end of his revival. Too bad, I liked the food.”
Samael massaged his forehead. “Why would Silas lose his ability to heal? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe God decided he wasn’t worthy of such a gift.”
“Is Silas still in the back of the tent?”
Cresil spit out a peanut. “That one’s spoiled.”
“Did you hear what I asked?”
“I haven’t tried finding him.”
Samael stomped over to the giant and hooked a hand under one of his arms. “Come on.” He lifted Cresil to his feet.
“Where are we going?”
“To look for Silas.”
“I’d rather look for peanuts.”
Samael’s throat tightened as he entered Silas’s room. Crates and a broken lamp lay scattered over the floor. Samael squatted to examine shoe prints in the dust. “Two people struggled here. One was a woman.”
“How can you tell?”
“Look at the size of the shoeprints.”
Cresil gazed down at his massive feet and then at the prints in the dust. “You don’t think that …”
Samael stood. “I’m going to check on Cora.”
“Shouldn’t I go with you?”
“No, you stay and make sure nothing happens to this tent.”
At the camp, Samael checked all the family tents and found them empty. Voices carried from a nearby fire. Orden and Ruth stood near the flames. Ruth waved a finger in her husband’s face. “I’ll tell you what I think. I think that stranger has brought this trouble on us.”
“You talking about Emma’s teacher?”
“I’ve never liked him, or that big friend of his. They can’t be trusted.”
Orden tossed a stick on the fire. “Cora and Emma seem to like him just fine.”
“I’m telling you, Silas never should have hired him.”
Samael returned to the tents and stared into the darkness. Perhaps they’re with Jonah. If anyone threatened Silas, Jonah would take care of Cora and Emma. The clouds peeled back. Moonlight revealed a pair of shoeprints in the dust traveling away from the camp side by side, one print larger than the other one. Cora’s taken Emma and run away.
Samael followed the tracks to the road, where they blended with the prints left by the worshipers. He squinted and spotted Cora and Emma’s shoeprints continuing across the bridge and into town. He quickened his pace. Several men in ragged clothes with unshaven faces sat on the sidewalk, backs against a wall. They passed a bottle stashed inside a brown paper sack. An Indian woman wearing a flapper dress eyed his approach. Her fingers played along the hem and flashed just enough skin to make a man curious. Samael turned his head as he passed to avoid eye contact.
Dust powdered the sidewalk and street, which made following Cora and Emma’s route easier. He jogged in front of a slow-moving buggy and headed east toward the train station. Would she take Emma and try to jump onto a train? He envisioned their bodies crushed beneath the steel wheels of a locomotive and grimaced. Jonah had mentioned a jungle outside Lamar. He shuddered to think Cora might seek refuge amongst those wanderers. If something happened to her and Emma he’d peel the flesh off Silas’s bones.
He hurried past darkened shops. The black and gray world became quiet; the only sound the occasional rumble from a passing car. A faint cry carried across the night. He headed toward the whimper, which grew inside his mind with each step.
Samael slowed near the entrance to an alley. He pressed against a building and peeked around the corner. Cora stood with Emma, facing two men in a circle of yellow light cast from a bulb over a nearby door. She held up a suitcase to shield them. Emma hugged Cora’s left leg. Tears glistened on her cheeks. The men wore the shabby attire of bindle stiffs. Oil and soot blackened their faces. The one closest to Cora waved a knife and motioned her forward with his free hand. Cora snarled, her face drawn into a mask of desperation.
“Just hand over the suitcase and we’ll be on our way,” the knife-wielding hobo said.
“Yeah,” his companion chimed in, “give it up and we won’t hurt you.”
Cora swung the suitcase at them. “Leave us alone!”
The hobo with the knife held it up and simulated a sawing motion. “You want your little girl to see you cut?”
“Everything we own is inside this suitcase.”
“That ain’t our problem.”
Samael stepped into the alley. “It’s your problem now.”
Emma’s eyes opened wide. “Samael!”
“So, he’s your friend, huh?” The armed hobo watched Samael approach. “If you’re really their friend, you’ll talk the lady into giving up the suitcase, or I’ll gut you all like hogs.”
Samael saw the bruise on Cora’s face. “Did they hit you?”
“We didn’t hit her,” the unarmed hobo said.
“But we’ll do a lot worse if we don’t get that suitcase,” his friend added.
Samael moved closer. “I have a better idea.”
The armed hobo whirled around and stabbed the air. “Get back!”
You have some experience with your blade. Of course, slitting the throats of three men as they slept doesn’t qualify you as threat to my mind. You’re just a scurrying cockroach that’s about to be crushed.
The expression of the armed hobo went blank with confusion. “The bastard just threatened me.
“What’d he say?”
“You didn’t hear him?”
“I didn’t hear nothing.”
But you heard me, cockroach, and that’s all that matters. Now take your knife and stab yourself.
“What?”
Stab yourself or I’ll reach down your throat and rip out your heart.
“I won’t do it.”
Do it or suffer the consequence.
The hobo’s trembling hand slowly turned the blade around until it faced him. His eyes glazed with tears. “Please don’t.”
You should have considered all the possibilities before threatening my friends.
“I’ll leave now. You can have the knife. Please, for the love of Christ!”
I don’t believe he’ll be joining us tonight, but if he did, he would take my side in this. An eye for an eye and all that. Now stab yourself.
“No, please no.”
“Flint, what are you doing?” the other hobo shouted.
Stab yourself now.
“No, no, I can’t.”
Samael took a step forward. Do it now!
The hobo plunged the knife into his shoulder. Blood sprayed onto the front of his coat. He pulled the knife back and stabbed himself again. The other hobo ran to him and grabbed his wrist. “You crazy bastard.”
“Take your friend and get out of here,” Samael said.
The hobos retreated, a trail of blood marking their passage.
Cora stood with her mouth agape. He stepped toward her and she put up a hand. “Why did you do that?”
“What?”
“Tell that man to stab himself.”
“I didn’t say any—”
“An eye for an eye and all that.”
He looked at Emma, who beamed at him, then at Cora who set down the suitcase and folded her arms over her chest. “You heard me talking?”
The corners of her mouth sagged. “Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”
“I’d never dream of it.” Samael gestured at the suitcase. “May I?”
She stared at him several seconds before nodding. “Why are you here?”
He lifted the suitcase. “Why are you running away?”
“I have my reasons. Did Silas send you to stop me?”
“No. I came on my own.”
Emma waved a finger at his face. “Why didn’t you have supper with us?”
Why am I always in trouble with women? “I planned on coming, but got busy and forgot.”
“That’s not true,” Emma said.
“Emma!” Cora scolded.
“Mama, you said lying is bad.”
Samael couldn’t help but grin. “She’s right, I didn’t forget. I just wasn’t sure everyone wanted me there.”
“You’re talking about Silas and Mama,” Cora said.
“Cresil told me what happened at the show tonight.”
She moved closer and looked him in the eye. Every nerve in his body tingled, as they did in Eden when he first saw her rising naked from a mountain pool—a gentle lily for him to nourish.
“I’m not surprised by what happened. I never understood why God gave Silas the power to heal folks.”
He leaned forward to examine the angry bruise on her face. “He took it hard, I see.”
“No, I took it hard.”
“And now you’re running away.”
“Better than getting beat.”
Emma took hold of his free hand. She looked up and smiled. He squeezed her hand and returned the smile before glancing back at Cora. “So what’s your plan?”
“To get out of this alley.” She walked toward the sidewalk.
He fell in next to her. “And after that?”
“Hitch a ride.” She stopped and glanced down the sidewalk in both directions.
“To Texas?”
“Where else can we go?”
Emma tapped him on the arm. “Are you coming with us?”
“If your mama insists on leaving, what choice do I have?”
Cora wiped sweat from her forehead onto the back of her hand. “That’s kind of you, but I can get along just fine. Besides, why would you want to come with us?”
“You may need my help again.”
“I could have used your help an hour ago.”
“Don’t leave,” he said.
Her eyebrows gathered as she studied his face. “What would you have me do, go back to Silas?”
He wanted nothing more than to take her from Silas, and yet, he knew she wasn’t ready to travel that road, not with him anyway. He needed more time in order to make her love him. “Silas won’t beat you again.”
“Are you gonna stop him?”
“Yes.”
Emma yawned. “Mama, I’m sleepy.”
Samael rested the suitcase on the sidewalk. “Come on.” He hoisted Emma onto his left shoulder. She snuggled against him. “How’s that?”
“Perfect,” Emma said and yawned again.
Samael lifted the suitcase. “So, are we headed to Texas?”
Her gaze traveled toward the train station, then back to him. “Did you mean it when you said you’d protect us?”
“I’m not afraid of Silas.”
“I wish I had your courage.”
“You’re stronger than you think. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here now. Silas told me what happened in Texas with Vincent. I’m sorry.”
“Silas says I was a whore for being with Vincent.”
“’Let he who has never sinned cast the first stone.’”
“Using the Bible against Silas is the reason I got hit. All right, I’ll come back to the revival. Lord knows my daddy would go crazy worrying about us.”
They started down the sidewalk, side by side, their footfalls in perfect harmony. He felt something wet on his shoulder and turned to see Emma asleep, drool trickling out of her mouth.
“Emma says you’re the bee’s knees. She thinks you can do magic, and after what just happened, I’m starting to believe her.”
“That was nothing.”
“No, it was telepathy.”
“What’s that?” he said feigning ignorance.
“Communicating with your mind. You know, like Dracula.”
“I don’t recall Dracula having telepathic powers.”
“Have you read the novel?”
He shook his head.
“Then you’ve seen the movie? I heard Bela Lugosi was fabulous in the part.”
“No, I’ve never seen the film.”
An exasperated sigh rose from her chest. “Well, you communicated with your mind back in that alley. I heard your thoughts and from the way that hobo acted, I’d say he heard you as well.”
“I don’t have special powers and I’m not a magician, so if what you say is true, then I suppose anybody could do it.”
Cora stopped walking. “You’re saying I can send you a message with my mind?”
“Try it.”
“All right.” She flattened her hands on her hips and concentrated. I’m glad you showed up. I hate to imagine what would’ve happened if you hadn’t. I probably shouldn’t tell you this but I knew you were coming into our lives. I’ve seen you in my dreams. I don’t understand why I dreamed of you, but it feels as if I’ve known you all my life.
He suppressed a smile.
She blinked several times and her hands fell to her sides. “Did you hear what I said?”
“You said you’re glad I’m Emma’s teacher and thanked me for carrying your suitcase because it was starting to get heavy.”
“Yep, you got it.” She walked away.
“I guess you were right about that telepathy,” he said, catching up to her.
She remained quiet with her head down. Her pace quickened.
He struggled to keep up. You’re as stubborn as I remembered.
Cora slowed to a stop. “I’m not stubborn.”
“What?”
“You said … or rather you were thinking that I’m stubborn.”
“It must be the Texan in you.”
“You have a problem with Texans?”
“I’m starting to like them more every day.”
She grunted and continued walking. I already have enough trouble with Silas. Please don’t give me more.
“I’m sorry for your troubles with Silas.”
Cora stopped again and stared at him through narrowed eyes. “I knew you could hear my thoughts.”
“What?”
“Just now, you heard me thinking about Silas.”
He struggled to find an explanation. “Well …”
“I knew it,” She said and started walking. “That’s so strange.”
They continued north through town, passing desperate men who found sanctuary in dark alleys, and deliverance in outlawed whiskey. A few confessed their sins to unholy clerics—painted women who danced like Salome with an erotic sway of their hips, seeking not a severed head, but a severed soul. When they came to the bridge, Cora paused in the center and leaned onto the rail. Moonlight shimmered across the dark surface of the water. He stood behind her, noting the contrast between the night and the red of her hair.
“I’m sorry for being short with you,” she said. “After everything you did for us, you didn’t deserve that. I’m stubborn and I’m a fool, but at least I can admit it. Silas never will and he’s the biggest fool of all.”
Samael stepped next to her. “The river’s beautiful at night.”
“I wish I could float away on it.”
“I think we’d better get you back to camp. I’m sure your mother will find a full day’s work for you in the morning.”
“Sometimes I wish my mother would float away too.”
“On or below the surface?”
She gave a quick smile. “Are you always this evil?”
“It depends on whom you ask.”
Darkness enveloped the revival camp. The smoldering embers of the fires provided a touch of color. At the tents, she held out her hands.
“You better let me take her,” Cora said gesturing to Emma. “If Silas saw you there’d be hell to pay.”
Emma stirred with a groan before settling onto Cora’s shoulder.
“Are you suggesting Silas is the devil?” He couldn’t see her face but knew that she smiled.
“I wonder sometimes.”
So do I.
“I heard that,” she said over her shoulder as she walked to her tent.
“Should I wait to see if Silas has returned?”
Cora hesitated at the tent entrance. “No, I’ll be all right.”
Samael stayed despite her assurance. He moved close to the tent and waited to hear Cora snuggle down with Emma.
Are you going to watch over us all night?
Cora’s question made him smile. Do you think I should?
No, I will sleep well just knowing you’re near.
He returned to the river. A withering cottonwood hunched over the riverbank like an old man losing balance. Leaves rustled in the breeze. Samael pressed against the hard trunk of the tree and sank to the earth. A mouse scampered from the cover of an elderberry plant. Nose raised, it sniffed the air before starting along the trail that followed the river. A dark shadow swept overhead like the hand of God stealing life from the firstborn sons of Egypt. An owl speared the mouse with a thrust of talons and launched back into the sky. Samael watched until the owl became a distant speck and then closed his eyes.