The Devil Take the Blues--Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Beatrice

The Devil and I had scarcely finished exchanging blood that I fairly flew up to my sister’s house. The wind thrashed the trees and the bushes so hard that they twisted, creaked, and moaned liked the damned. I barely noticed. All I could see in my mind was my sister. I had to know that she was safe. See her with my own eyes, feel her with my own hands, breathe in her scent of hay and sunshine.

A coyote howled in the distance.

When I arrived, I pounded on her door, fear freezing my bones. Somewhere in the back of my mind I perceived that the strong wind had changed directions, flooding in from the north, turning cold, but that didn’t give me pause.

“Agnes!” I shouted. “Agnes!” My throat became raw from screaming. My fist hurt from banging on the rough, wooden door.

The door opened, and a sliver of light shone through. Still, illuminated by the desolate, dingy light, was the visage of my sister. I nearly collapsed in relief.

“Beatrice?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you ok?” I gasped, throwing my arms around her. She was here; she was warm and solid and my sister. Still alive.

“Of course, I’m ok,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I thought you were in danger,” I said, trying to conceal how much my heart felt like it was breaking. “I thought...”

Still hugging me, Agnes stroked my hair. “Well, as you can see, I’m alright.” She drew back and regarded me with her large hazel eyes. She laughed a bit. “Did you have a nightmare?”

No.

It was too real. The flesh too solid. The flash of the knife and the slicing of skin.

Wasn’t it?

“Yes, that was it,” I said. “It seemed…so real.”

Agnes gave me a long look that searched my face for hints as to what instigated this whole episode. But she remained quiet.

“Well, let’s get you home. Tim is asleep. I’ll just write him a note and we’ll be off. He hates it when I wake him. Here, come in out of the wind. Can’t believe how cold it turned, can you?”

I stepped inside and was grateful to be in the stillness and silence of the house.

“I’ll just throw on a coat.” She gave a smile that was more sorrow than anything and disappeared into the dark.

From the living room, the grandfather clock ticked, and the tree branches scratched against the window. The wind calmed down some, but I didn’t trust the weather of the South.

Sure enough, hail suddenly pounded on the roof.

Something in the dark shifted, and I sensed a presence. I was not alone. My breath caught, and the drumming of the hail drowned out the sound of the clock.

Was I crazy? Had I finally lost my mind?

I glanced at the band of gold on my finger; it was solid, unmovable. That was at least some sort of proof that I had not imagined the whole thing.

I wondered if it were all a dream. Surely it must have been; what was it Mr. Poe said? Dreams within dreams within dreams. There were no such things as devils or tricks or deals. That was just the rouse of the preacher man to get you to drop a few more dollars in the collection plate. I knew better than to pinch myself; I had experienced plenty of pain in nocturnal hallucinations before.

Dream or not, crazy or not, I had to act as though it were real.

My knees and fingers shook. What in God’s name had I just done? All I wanted was to protect my sister, keep her from every evil thing that stalked the Earth. The only thing that I had gained was time; then again, time was all we had.

If I knew one thing, there was hope. All the stories spoke of tricking the Devil at his own game. I’d find a way. There had to be a way.

“Well, let’s be off now. Thank the good Lord it stopped hailing, but we should make haste before it starts up again.”

I nodded and walked toward the door. Agnes followed, her dress swishing out behind her. When I crossed the threshold of the door, I felt him, just behind me. I knew from the spider’s crawl down my spine.

*

Frank

After tending to her sister, Agnes walked along the long, dusty road to her house that dawn, and behind her I slithered. My human body remained at my house, but my mind occupied the same cerebral matter as a cottonmouth. I could enter into any animal, but snakes were among my favorite. That, my dear Reader, is not so much a power as it is a form. All my powers were still locked between sheets of metal and reeds.

I was curious about this person my beloved wanted to save so much. For whom was it worth giving up their life? A pleasant enough face, long and oval, with a small scar above her left temple. Long hair, color of the hay in the fields. Slender, with youth; she was barely more than a babe.

She had not shown the slightest bit interesting. A man who I could only assume was her husband, or else an overly excitable damp blanket, had marched in the juke joint the other night, as though his feet were on fire and yanked her out.

“What are you doing here?” he had hissed.

“Beatrice wanted me to come with her—”

“I can’t believe you’re here, with the—” He grit his teeth. “Let’s go.”

I tasted the air with my tongue. Dead bats and broken dreams. Delicious. Agnes entered the house, and I was quick on her heels through the door. Tim sat in a chair, clutching a glass in his hand. A ray of sunlight to warmed me as I settled into a corner to watch husband and wife. The delightful thing about my snake form is that I have no eyelids, the better to see every juicy, bloody detail of what occurred in the lives of humans. 

“Hello darling.” Agnes took off her shawl and draped it over a chair. She eyed the glass and half-empty decanter. “Bit early, isn’t it?”

Tim took a long, slow sip in response. He met her gaze as if finally acknowledging her presence.

“Where were you?” he asked, drinking again.

Confusion crinkled her forehead. She motioned to the note. “Didn’t you read what I left—”

“I didn’t ask what you had written, I asked where you were.”

Agnes stood frozen to the spot. “Tim, I was with Beatrice. I took her home after she had had a nightmare. Why are you drinking?”

Tim motioned with his glass. “I had to, to calm myself after this idiocy. You expect me to believe you just left in the middle of the night, because your sister was afraid of the dark?”

“Well, yes. What is this all about?”

But he remained silent. The grandfather clock steadily ticked, and the ice in his drink clinked against the glass.

“I don’t want you sneaking out again,” he said.

“I’m not a child, Tim.”

“Then why are you acting like one?” He stood up from his chair, setting his glass down with a hard thud.

Boredom made my scales itched. I rubbed myself against the wooden plank of the floor. Were all humans this infantile and dreary? Or was that just long-term companionship?

 “Beatrice needed company, and I remembered how you said to not wake you in the night. That it’s selfish to wake you.”

“Christ, Agnes, use your brain for once.” He stabbed his temple. “What was I supposed to think? Wake up, room’s empty. I’ve seen how people in this town look at you.” He strode closer and gripped her arms. “Did you ever think of how embarrassing it would be for me for everyone to talk about you? A woman wandering around, alone, at night?”

“Tim, let go, you’re hurting me.”

He held her gaze, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.

Then suddenly he released her. “I just worry about you,” he said. “It’s not safe for you to be alone. And now that I’m running for mayor, we both have to watch what we do.”

“I promise I was just taking Beatrice home,” she whispered, lowering her eyes.

“That’s another thing,” he said. His voice oozed more honey than a beehive. “Beatrice. I don’t like you hanging around her so much. She’s not good for you. She was arrested, and I had to bail her out. I’ll be lucky if Beau keeps his mouth shut. She’s not a good influence if she’s making you wander around after midnight. Taking you to Negro bars.”

“But…but she’s my sister. Are you saying I shouldn’t see her?”

Tim tilted Agnes’ chin up and pressed his lips to hers. “I’m just saying that maybe you should think about what’s best for this family.”

I found a hole in the plank and slipped through. Wiggling my way through a crack in the foundation, I slunk into the bright sunshine and wandered away, leaving the ghost of my skin on the ground. My ennui arose just as easily as my curiosity. I didn’t understand what was so special about the one called Agnes. I mostly pitied her. She was one of two billion on the piece of dust floating its way through space. Even a bit mousy.

Good thing snakes loved mice.

*

Angelo

Angelo walked to the shotgun shack down a forgotten lane as the sun rose over Azoma. It wasn’t much more than a few boards put together, like most folks around here. Just wood and rusty nails keeping their souls together.

Angelo walked up the porch. Lifted his hand to knock. Turned right around, stepped down, and took a step back toward the road. Then, he turned around and regarded the house. With a heaviness in his step, he returned and knocked on the door.

His grandmother opened it a crack.

“What do you want?”

“Gran…I’m back.” His voice came from a deep well.

She waved him in, and he entered.

To Angelo, it was coming home.

“I just came to tell you that…I made it. I’m going to make a record.”

Shirley continued washing potatoes in an aluminum tub. “That so? Well, it sounds like you haven’t made it at all. Where is that record? Not made, not done. You haven’t ‘done’ anything. You haven’t ‘made’ anything yet.”

“Gran, don’t be like that. I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy! Yes, happy that my grandson left me, happy that I was left alone, happy that the boy I raised took all I gave him and threw it on the rubbish heap. What compenny?”

Angelo swallowed. “With a man named Frank Charbonneau—”

“Fool boy! Idiot! What have you done?” Shirley grabbed a potato and lobbed it at Angelo’s head.

“You made a deal with Frank? Do you have any idea, any idea what you have done? Do you know what he is?”

Angelo picked up the potato from the ground. “Well, yes. He offered me protection—”

“Ha. Protection. Let me tell you something, he offered my baby protection once.”

Suddenly, the impact of Shirley’s words hit Angelo. “Wait, you know who Frank is?”

“Of course I do,” said Shirley, her voice scalding water. “He took my baby away from me. When I was nothing more than a young woman working for the Dixons, I had a baby. Sherry Lynn. She was my first, and she was your mother’s sister. I loved her with all my heart and soul. She was my very first child, and I wanted nothing more than to shield her from the life I had.” Angelo kept his suitcase in front of him in case of any more potato missiles, and Shirley continued.

“One day, I was tending garden of marse Dixon. Pulling up nestles and thistles, and my hands were raw. Skin done clean off them. I wrapped them in rags. Well, wouldn’t you know it, but I saw a tiny little snake right there in the garden. Nothing but a little green snake. But it seemed a little too pale. I thought it would slither away first thing I came toward it, but it stayed underneath the leaves, underneath the shade. Well, I touched it a bit, and this snake was injured something fierce. Tail near gone, huge gash in its side. I tore off a little more of my own clothes, my good clothes, and wrapped it up some just to stop the bleeding. Apparently, a hawk had got to it.

So then, for about a week, I fed it grasshoppers and them tree roaches, you know the ones about as big as your thumb. Don’t know why I did it. Maybe felt sorry for the damn thing. I can’t even remember now. I thought it was harmless, for a snake.

On the 7th day, this snake done sprang up and changed into a man. Thought I had truly lost it. Now this man had jet black hair and bright blue eyes that shone like a fire. Shoulda been my first warning. He told me that he was a wand’rin’ spirit. He told me that in repayment for my kindness, I could have one wish.

Well, the only thing I wanted was for my daughter to have a better life. That’s the only thing a mother wants. To protect her daughter. So I wished that my daughter would always be safe. Always protected. Never have the sort of life I did.

And do you know what happened? She died not three months later. Doctors said it was a matter of the heart. Now it was true—she could never suffer, never be in pain, always protected by the darkness of death.” Shirley paused for a moment before continuing. “Now, I won’t tell you how, for that is a story for a different time. But I tracked this Frank down. Used his own magic against him. Trapped him in a bottle.

“How’d you do it?”

“Doesn’t matter now because I can’t do it again. You remember Remy Dupont? He helped me.”

“How come you never told me?”

“‘Cuz I never thought this would happen. I don’t know how he got out, but he did.” Shirley glared at Angelo. “And you done made a deal with that monster.”

*

Frank

My tongue flicked out, and I tasted heat in the air. No one paid attention to the snake in the corner of the church. After Angelo had gone to the house of that traitor and beloved friend, Shirley, he had knocked on my door, accepting my offer to stay in the guest house awhile, and I escorted him there. His eyes held that melancholy that all blues musicians have; bearing the scorn of one’s family is a heavy burden, indeed. Before settling in, I told him that I would need his band’s services one week from today, when my wife and I would have our wedding.

Now I waited for tomorrow, when Beatrice would join me at the courthouse, laid out in a bright patch of sunlight; I relished my blood growing hot, and listened to the hymns. They were as complex and hypnotic as my current form was. A mouse’s heart hammered, as it sensed my presence. It scampered away, and I let it. I was not here for church mice.

I was here for Johnny. This creature had yet a part to play.

He was trying to figure out why Beatrice’s brother-in-law was staring at him the whole time during the service. Tim kept stealing glances over the hymnal at him, mouth open, droning the same old words as the rest of the congregation in the stuffy, oven-hot church, which wasn’t much more than whitewash and cheap wood.

After the service, Tim came up to him.

“John, how’re you doing? Looking sharp. How’s your mother? Still got that cough?” He shook hands with Johnny and clapped him on the back.

“Nah, it’s gone now. Surprised you remembered.” Johnny hooked a piece of greasy blond hair behind one ear.

Tim chuckled. “I always remember things about my friends.”

“Friends?”

“Of course. Now, the word is that you used to be sweet on Agnes—”

Johnny opened his mouth to reply.

“—But that don’t matter now. I’ve heard you want to be in law enforcement; is that right?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“And you’ll do anything to be Sheriff, isn’t that right?”

A fire lit behind Johnny’s eyes. “Anything.”

Tim glanced at the groups of congregants chatting here and there around the church, then motioned with one hand.

“Come on, then, I got a proposition for you.”

As Johnny let himself be led by Tim outside the wooden church, I followed them. The grass tickled my belly and felt luxurious. But beneath the satisfaction lay a deeper itch, and I would have to change my skin soon. Once they left the church and went around the side, Tim leaned closer toward Johnny. I curled up under a dying rose bush.

“Now, Sheriff Beauregard said you were a fine help the other day in keeping our town safe and preserving the integrity of the white race.”

That got Johnny’s attention. His chest puffed out slightly. “Yes, sir, I shore did.”

“Because of your fine work, I got something pretty sweet for you. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” Tim spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Alright.”

“Now, I’ve been looking for men like you. You’re perfect for what I have in mind.” Tim flashed such a genuine smile that Johnny couldn’t help but smile back.

“Really?” Johnny stood a little straighter.

“Of course. You’re young, got a good head on your shoulders, ain’t a fool to be led around.”

“What’s the opportunity?” Johnny practically licked his lips.

“Now, this is just for you, understand? I’m about to let you into one of the most exclusive associations this side of the Mississippi.”

“That sure sounds slick.” Johnny withdrew a snuff box and stuck a lump of tobacco under his lip.

“Now, I need to know you’re with me on this. We only let a certain discerning man enter, you understand? I need to know your position on a few things.”

“Shoot.”

“How you feel about alcohol?”

“I like it.”

“Hm, well we can work with that. What about businesses? How do you feel about the government letting businesses run everything?”

That last question made Johnny pause; it was obvious from his scrunched face that thinking was something he wasn’t accustomed to doing, so it took him a few moments to respond. The church was nearly empty. Only a lone hawk circled overhead. I didn’t pay it any mind.

“I don’t know, still kinda burned at losing my job at the factory.”

“You were in that strike, right?”

“Yeah, cuz they were workin’ us 12, 13 hours, then what did they do?” He spat his tobacco juice. “Overseer went out and hired a bunch of damn Mexicans for half the wages.”

“So your opinion of foreigners and Negroes…?”

“Worth less than the spit to shine a shoe.”

Tim smiled. “Excellent. You’ll fit right in.”

“Sign me up.”

“I like your enthusiasm. Now, here’s the thing: normally, you’d have to enter at the lowest level, as a Goblin.”

“A what?”

For the briefest of moments, Tim’s patience wavered. His smile cracked.

Stupid names. People will put up with anything if it means money.

 “A Goblin. Don’t mind the titles for now.”

“I get a title?” Johnny’s eyes lit up at the idea.

“Of course. Everyone does. Now, normally, you’d have to enter as a Goblin. The lowest rung. But I’m going to give you this special deal. No one else gets this, you understand? But I’m coming to you, because I can trust you with this.”

I doubted that anyone had ever trusted Johnny before. Not his momma, who threw empty bottles at his head, and certainly not his pa, who used him as a punching bag.

“You can trust me.”

“Excellent. Now, you have to put in your membership dues. They’re ten dollars for the year, and—”

“Ten bucks!” Johnny nearly walked away. Ten bucks was a month’s salary.

“Now, just hold on. All you have to do is pay that ten dollars, then get three of your friends to join, and you’ll get a cut of their ten dollars.”

Johnny’s face scrunched up, then spat his tobacco juice. “How’s that?”

Tim breathed deeply. “With each new member you recruit, you’ll get a cut of their membership. So the more you get to join, the better it is for you, understand?”

Johnny nodded as if he understood, but it was obvious he didn’t.  

“And once you get just three people to join, you’ll become a Kleagle. A leader in the organization,” Tim added quickly, when Johnny’s mouth dropped open to ask what the hell a Kleagle was.

“A leader? What do they do?”

“Oh, they get all kinds of special privileges.”

“Like what?”

“Now, that’s for you to find out when you get three people to sign up. But I promise, it’s worth it. And if you do real good, then we’ll see about you becoming deputy Sheriff.”

Aren’t you leaving the part out where you also get a cut of every member Johnny recruits? And all those other fees?

It was a wonder that anyone could join, the way that the organization nickel-and-dimed their members. Fees for the required robes, fees for the required Bible with the official stamp, the sword, and helmet—all made by members of the Royal Knights of the Invisible Empire, of course.

Hell is a pyramid scheme.

“Here, have a candy.” Tim pulled a strawberry-flavored candy from his pocket. Even the wrapper had the official insignia stamped on it.

Johnny rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Hmm...How’s about this: I got a near-full bottle of whiskey. It’s worth about seven of those dollars. What if I gave it to you, and then just gave you three more at the end of the month, when I get paid?”

“Hm, must be good whiskey to cost seven whole dollars.” Tim rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Deal.”

They shook hands and quickly parted. I slowly slinked away, severely satisfied with how events were unfolding like the palest magnolia blooms.

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