"Yeah. I got a converted cartridge pistol, just like you."
"Give me your revolver."
The deputy complied.
Jebidiah opened the cylinders and let the bullets fall out on the floor.
"What in hell are you doing?"
Jebidiah didn't answer. He dug into his gun belt and came up with six silver-tipped bullets, loaded the weapon and gave it back to the deputy.
"Silver," Jebidiah said. "Sometimes it wards off evil."
"Sometimes?"
"Be quiet now. And wait."
"I feel like a staked goat," the deputy said.
After a while, Jebidiah rose from the bench and looked out the window. Then he sat down promptly and blew out the lantern.
Somewhere in the distance a night bird called. Crickets sawed and a large frog bleated. They sat there on the bench, near each other, facing in opposite directions, their silver-loaded pistols on their knees. Neither spoke.
Suddenly the bird ceased to call and the crickets went silent, and no more was heard from the frog. Jebidiah whispered to the deputy.
"He comes."
The deputy shivered slightly, took a deep breath. Jebidiah realized he too was breathing deeply.
"Be silent, and be alert," Jebidiah said.
"All right," said the deputy, and he locked his eyes on the open window at the back of the shack. Jebidiah faced the door, which stood halfway open and sagging on its rusty hinges.
For a long time there was nothing. Not a sound. Then Jebidiah saw a shadow move at the doorway and heard the door creak slightly as it moved. He could see a hand on what appeared to be an impossibly long arm, reaching out to grab at the edge of the door. The hand clutched there for a long time, not moving. Then, it was gone, taking its shadow with it.
Time crawled by.
"It's at the window," the deputy said, and his voice was so soft it took Jebidiah a moment to decipher the words. Jebidiah turned carefully for a look.
It sat on the window sill, crouched there like a bird of prey, a halo of bees circling around its head. The hive pulsed and glowed in its chest, and in that glow they could see more bees, so thick they appeared to be a sort of humming smoke. Gimet's head sprouted a few springs of hair, like withering grass fighting its way through stone. A slight turn of its head allowed the moon to flow through the back of its cracked skull and out of its empty eyes. Then the head turned and the face was full of shadows again. The room was silent except for the sound of buzzing bees.
"Courage," Jebidiah said, his mouth close to the deputy's ear. "Keep your place."
The thing climbed into the room quickly, like a spider dropping from a limb, and when it hit the floor, it stayed low, allowing the darkness to lay over it like a cloak.
Jebidiah had turned completely on the bench now, facing the window. He heard a scratching sound against the floor. He narrowed his eyes, saw what looked like a shadow, but was in fact the thing coming out from under the table.
Jebidiah felt the deputy move, perhaps to bolt. He grabbed his arm and held him.
"Courage," he said.
The thing kept crawling. It came within three feet of the circle made by the crumpled bible pages.
The way the moonlight spilled through the window and onto the floor near the circle Jebidiah had made, it gave Gimet a kind of eerie glow, his satellite bees circling his head. In that moment, every aspect of the thing locked itself in Jebidiah's mind. The empty eyes, the sharp, wet teeth, the long, cracked nails, blackened from grime, clacking against the wooden floor. As it moved to cross between two wads of scripture, the pages burst into flames and a line of crackling blue fulmination moved between the wadded pages and made the circle light up fully, all the way around, like Ezekiel's wheel.
Gimet gave out with a hoarse cry, scuttled back, clacking nails and knees against the floor. When he moved, he moved so quickly there seemed to be missing spaces between one moment and the next. The buzzing of Gimet's bees was ferocious.
Jebidiah grabbed the lantern, struck a match and lit it. Gimet was scuttling along the wall like a cockroach, racing to the edge of the window.
Jebidiah leaped forward, tossed the lit lantern, hit the beast full in the back as it fled through the window. The lantern burst into flames and soaked Gimlet's back, causing a wave of fire to climb from the thing's waist to the top of its head, scorching a horde of bees, dropping them from the sky like exhausted meteors.
Jebidiah drew his revolver, snapped off a shot. There was a howl of agony, and then the thing was gone.
Jebidiah raced out of the protective circle and the deputy followed. They stood at the open window, watched as Gimet, flame-wrapped, streaked through the night in the direction of the graveyard.
"I panicked a little," Jebidiah said. "I should have been more resolute. Now he's escaped."
"I never even got off a shot," the deputy said. "God, but you're fast. What a draw."
"Look, you stay here if you like. I'm going after him. But I tell you now, the circle of power has played out."
The deputy glanced back at it. The pages had burned out and there was nothing now but a black ring on the floor.
"What in hell caused them to catch fire in the first place?"
"Evil," Jebidiah said. "When he got close, the pages broke into flames. Gave us the protection of God. Unfortunately, as with most of God's blessings, it doesn't last long."
"I stay here, you'd have to put down more pages."
"I'll be taking the bible with me. I might need it."
"Then I guess I'll be sticking."
They climbed out the window and moved up the hill. They could smell the odor of fire and rotted flesh in the air. The night was as cool and silent as the graves on the hill.
Moments later they moved amongst the stones and wooden crosses, until they came to a long wide hole in the earth. Jebidiah could see that there was a burrow at one end of the grave that dipped down deeper into the ground.
Jebidiah paused there. "He's made this old grave his den. Dug it out and dug deeper."
"How do you know?" the deputy asked.
"Experience…. And it smells of smoke and burned skin. He crawled down there to hide. I think we surprised him a little."
Jebidiah looked up at the sky. There was the faintest streak of pink on the horizon. "He's running out of daylight, and soon he'll be out of moon. For a while."
"He damn sure surprised me. Why don't we let him hide? You could come back when the moon isn't full, or even half full. Back in the daylight, get him then."
"I'm here now. And it's my job."
"That's one hell of a job you got, mister."
"I'm going to climb down for a better look."
"Help yourself."
Jebidiah struck a match and dropped himself into the grave, moved the match around at the mouth of the burrow, got down on his knees and stuck the match and his head into the opening.
"Very large," he said, pulling his head out. "I can smell him. I'm going to have to go in."
"What about me?"
"You keep guard at the lip of the grave," Jebidiah said, standing. "He may have another hole somewhere, he could come out behind you for all I know. He could come out of that hole even as we speak."
"That's wonderful."
Jebidiah dropped the now dead match on the ground. "I will tell you this. I can't guarantee success. I lose, he'll come for you, you can bet on that, and you better shoot those silvers as straight as William Tell's arrows."