"I won't. It will do no good."
"Glad you reckon that. You gonna keep that jughead and fish-head away from us?"
She held out her arm and the pumpkin-headed boy climbed to his feet, stepped close to her, and laid the side of his bleeding face against her chest. Fishboy Lenny swam up and rested against her knee.
"All apostles must face their masters on their own," Ma'am McCulver said. "You two evil brothers are no different."
Deeter stared at the granny witch and a crazed leer split his face. "I'll be back for you, darlin', and we'll have ourselves a good ole time, I promise. We'll have us some catfish and pumpkin pie for snackin'."
"You'll be dead within the hour," the three-eyed girl said.
Deeter looked back at his brother and said, "For swamp folk who know how to kick up a fine hootenanny, these people are startin' to work on my nerves some!"
"Mine too," Duffy said. "We'll burn the whole place down before we leave." He looked at Sarah and told her, "Come on along, little miss. Your daddy is waitin' on you."
Chapter 24
You are many things, the children said, bonded of great love and extreme hatred. Power and resilience. Ego and narrow-minded bias. Threatened and threat. Hopeful and hope. He is remote and He is not. He is vast and He is not. He is here within you and He is not. You are. You are in need of acknowledgment and response. Your questions can neper be answered because He is beyond understanding. You rely on faith. This is the distance between you and Him, you and the Almighty. We seek to bring the world closer. We seek to reopen Eden. We dream of taking down the flaming swords at the gates of the garden. It is our duty and our grace. We are mistaken, we have much to learn. We give thanks for your efforts. We love. He loves. You love. The children wailed because it was what children do. Because they couldn't understand all they were and all that was around them in the great divine experiment of humanity. They were lost, in need of their father.
Hellboy came down like a sputtering V-2 rocket and crashed through another shanty.
This one wasn't empty. This one had a family in it. A pretty large family packed into a tiny place. A man and a woman, two children, an elderly lady, and an old dude in a rattan wheelchair. Everybody was huddled to one side of the shack holding on to each other. The roof was mostly gone. The little girl was wide-eyed and on the verge of tears. Hellboy's head was on fire.
He'd landed in the fireplace and the flames lashed at him. The precocious shadows weighed on top of him, still inquisitive, nosy even, tickling the underside of his mind. They were trying desperately to communicate, drilling into his brain.
It wasn't easy, just letting this kind of thing go on, kids making mudpies in your memories, but he decided not to fight them this time.
He let them take whatever pieces from him they wanted. Whatever memories they needed to sift, drawing up his experiences and holding them before their own interest and attention.
Maybe Jester was right and they were similar creatures. Hellboy thought about being the destroyed and the destroyer. It was the truth that always lay within him that he refused to acknowledge. It was how he lived. He never dealt with what he was. He never thought about it and just did what he was supposed to do.
He didn't know the shadow children, but they knew him.
"Ain't your head hurt?" the old lady asked. She bent and peered at him. "Pull it outta the fire. Ain't you got no sense?"
Hellboy sat up."Ouch."
"You ain't burned much. I got some salve if you need it." Then she grunted and sucked at her gums. "Well, I did have some. Looks like you done mashed it beyond use."
"Sorry."
"Mama," the little boy said, "it's the devil."
"It ain't the devil, son."
"It looks like the devil. His skin is red."
"He just been out in the sun too long, and stickin' his head in the fire. You hush now, son."
The girl stared at him, trying not to cry. He wanted to console her. He had no idea how.
Clambering up, he stood and looked around the shack. He'd seen a few miracles in his time and thought this might be one for the books. The room was maybe ten by ten. Six people in it.
Hellboy had missed them all. What were the chances?
He said, "Sorry about the mess."
"A mess is what you make when you spill the porridge," the old man said, rolling forward. He couldn't get far because there was too much smashed lumber about. "This is a whole other matter now."
"Sorry about the whole other matter."
"It don't mean nothin', we'll fix it and get on by. What's of greater pertinence is you gettin' out there and kickin' them nasty fellas outta our village."
"You're right. Consider it done."
"I'll consider it done after you finish doin' it."
Hellboy marched out the door, tasting blood and glancing once more at the family behind, the children scared but both slightly grinning, the old woman nodding to him once.
When he turned to look outside once more, Brother Jester was stroking black flames from his chin, and Lament was there playing his mouth-harp.
Lament stood facing Brother Jester beneath the brightening moonlight, neither of them looking particularly upset or angry. In fact, they appeared rather relaxed. Like two old friends at odds for the moment, after a bitter but brief quarrel, who knew they'd make up soon. Lament kept plucking away, making his strange music.
The rain had stopped. The storm drifted above but the clouds had spun aside leaving a hole almost directly above. Lament had cleaned up and had fresh clothes on, his suspenders tight around his shoulders, his arms crossed against his chest as he held the mouth-harp. It took Hellboy a moment to realize that Lament was actively ignoring Jester.
Hellboy kept his gaze on the dark preacher, getting ready for the next game. He said quietly to Lament,"What are you doing here?"
It took a few seconds for him to finish his song. "Oh, I came to help."
"Go on back to Sarah. Don't you want to be there when she gives birth?"
"She's fine. Had the baby without any fuss and hardly no pain. Fifteen minutes and it was all over and done with. Doc Wayburn did little more than watch the proceedings. Granny McCulver's medicines are powerful."
"And the baby?"
"A beautiful girl."
"Congratulations."
Lament merely smiled, but there was a deeper frustration rising into his features now, something Hellboy hadn't fully picked up on before. He remembered then that Lament had never said he was the father of the child.
There was more to talk about but now didn't seem the time. "Anyway, this is my fight."
That got Lament chuckling. His laughter drifted on the breeze, real and wholesome. Jester flinched at the sound of it. "Son, you're a wonder, you truly are. But you can let it go now. This don't concern you."
"Sure it does."
"But it ain't your place. I appreciate your company more than I can say, and you helped out plenty in the swamp there, saved my life you did, but you can go on and get yourself some viddles and rest now."
Viddles?
"You've got to be kidding. I know what I'm doing. You just leave this to me, all right?"
Hellboy stood in a half-crouch, preparing to bound forward. Maybe if he covered the ground between him and Jester fast enough the guy wouldn't be able to pull that mirror routine. Ten feet separated them. All he needed was to get in one good punch. He thought he could make it this time. And if he couldn't, he'd just take another thrashing and come back and try again.
"Stop," Lament said.
Hellboy thought, Ten feet. I can do it easy. I've knocked down ice dragons, twelve-foot-tall werewolves, giant walking stone men, polar bear gods, bridge trolls, cave djinn. He wasn't about to let one gaunt preacher with a silly trick up his sleeve get the better of him.