"Stop," Lament repeated.
"What?"
"Stop fighting. You can't argue the dead back into the ground."
"What's that mean?"
"Exactly what I say. Quit it now."
Like that was even possible. "I never quit."
"When you're playin' a loser's game, you should."
Raising the mouth-harp back to his lips, Lament played on. Hellboy watched Brother Jester over there, and he did look dead. Hellboy had fought zombie hordes before, and a couple of immortal magicians that just kept resurrecting themselves, but he'd never felt like his enemy might truly be trapped just this side of oblivion.
The dark preacher stepped up and Hellboy cocked his fist back.
But he'd been out of his element from the beginning with these people. Lament waited so Hellboy decided to do the same. His head was still heavy with the murmurs of the shadows. Threatened and threat. Hopeful and hope.
"I want to see my grandchild,"Jester said.
Gators roared in the scrub, sounding close. Hellboy hoped he didn't break any kind of spell by engaging Jester in conversation, but he had something to say. "You have no family here."
"I want the newborn."
Genuinely curious, Hellboy asked, "Why?"
"Did you ask me why?"
Lament pulled the mouth-harp away and said, "I reckon your hearing's just fine for a dead man. He asked you, what do you want with Sarah's child?"
"I want to pass on my wisdom, to teach what I have learned. To love and be loved. To hold and be held. To have a family. It is my secret heart." Aiming a talon-like finger, Jester pointed at Hellboy. "It is his as well."
"Sure," Hellboy said."I think it's pretty much everybody's. That's not much of a damn secret. Did you expect me to be ashamed of that?"
Lips twisting, Jester couldn't seem to answer.
"Now you know why you don't argue with the dead," Lament said.
"Gotcha."
Eyes igniting with black furious power once more, Jester shifted his finger and pointed at Lament now. Sparks and flame played among his fingers. They licked out toward Lament but never reached him. "I know your-"
"Ayup, my secret heart. Not much to take pride in, a thing like that," Lament said. "A man's true heart is between his own sinful soul and the forgiveness of the Lord. The rest is just petty hate. It's how you creep into a good person's life."
"You speak like a preacher."
"Mayhap you remember I done my share, once upon a time." He raised his mouth-harp, plucked it a few more times, then placed it in his pocket. "Same as you. Before you lost your way and found greater satisfaction in ruining lives than in saving them. Or mayhap you don't recollect at all."
"I am not a destroyer. I am the destroyed."
"Call yourself whatever you like. I know you for a jealous, bitter, heart-wrenched killer. I seen your cruel nature rise up."
"I only did as I was bid to do by the Lord."
With no wasted movement, Lament's hand flashed out and he caught Jester with a vicious blow across the mouth.
The dark preacher twirled around once and landed on his back in the mud. He was grinning, but it was a false front. His eyes were spooked. He spat blood and black fire rose where his spittle landed.
Lament said,"Tkne you took responsibility for your own frailty, don't you think? Instead of blaming Heaven for all your failings?"
. Hellboy thought, Now why couldn't I do that? Why couldn't I just smack him in the mouth?
Jester drew the back of his fist against his bleeding lip, and the blood shone on his flesh like a slick of oil. "More sinned against I was-"
"You forget I was there. I watched you murder your wife. You even tried to kill me."
"John, that was… an accident… an-"
"So you do remember."
"I recall… some things… but-"
"It was the act of a furious man following his own evil heart."
Turning, Jester saw that the ghost of his wife was there again, standing to the right of Lament-she'd said she would not appear at Jester's side anymore-facing away and almost oblivious to the proceedings.
Hellboy saw the woman and knew she was a spirit, and figured it was the preacher's dead wife. But how was she going to help?
Lament saw her too and out of respect, perhaps even affection, nodded his head and whispered to her. "You go on now, you deserve your peace. Don't you worry about this little grief we got here, it'll be over soon."
"Save him if you can," she said, and slowly, very slowly, the way a woman full of love for her embittered husband is likely to finally give up on him after decades, that slowly, she faded into the wind.
"I am alone but for the cold, merciful angels," Jester said. "That's why I need my daughter and grandchild."
"Reckon you ain't never been alone, and that's been the trouble. Like with Saul and David, God blessed you too early on."
Hellboy was antsy, surprised there was so much talking going on. He had a need for action, and all this standing around was getting on his nerves.
But something seemed to be getting resolved, even though he wasn't sure what or exactly how. He glanced up the track and spotted a lot of the swamp folk in the scrub and on their porches and peering from their windows, the party lights glazing their figures. They stood and waited in the palmettos and palm fronds.
Not far from him, lingering back in the emerald hell, he spotted the kid with eyes like an insect, the beautiful girl without bones in her legs, the dwarf with the big feet, and the really weird conjoined twins. Somehow, knowing they were nearby made him feel better.
Lament stood tall, a young man strong in the night, making an appeal to the mentor who'd once taught him in the humble ways of helping a neighbor. "You recall your foul doings and they don't tug at your conscience at all. That's why your redemption lies so far from hand. You ain't even asked for forgiveness."
"From you?"
"From God. And you don't remember a whit. I was too late to stop you from murdering your wife. But you were moving off from her and going after the baby in the crib. You don't love Sarah. You nearly murdered her when she was an infant."
"No. No, that's not true."
"After you nearly brained me with a hatchet, I crawled through your house. I prayed for your enlightenment. It was all I could do, bleeding near to death on your rug. But you heard me. You let her live." Lament drew out a knotted piece of rope from his back pocket. "This bring back any memories?"
"Yes. No. What is it?"
"You recollect what happened later that day?"
"No. Yes. I was… I was hanged."
"You know who done it?"
"You did."
"No, I was a dying child. No, it wasn't me."
"Bliss Nail did it."
"He was rushin' over to save his woman and daughter, but no, it wasn't him. He showed up a little while later, and watched you danglin' for a bit. No, wasn't him who done it." jester's eyes widened, staring at the knot. "No."
"You done it yourself. You lashed the rope around the rafter and kicked off into purgatory. I crawled to you, blinded by my own blood. Bliss Nail was there, watching you swing. He held Sarah to his chest. I'm the one who cut you down. I prayed over you. Bleeding to death, I prayed over you."
"No."
"I ministered to you. I wanted to save you."
"No."
"And the healin' was strong in me. God wanted it so. Couldn't heal myself, but you… for you… I tended your body but couldn't do nothin' for your soul. Bliss Nail carried me to his car and got me to Doc Wayburn. And when he went back to that house later on… you was gone. You came back. You came back, but you learned nothing from your journey through oblivion."
"No," said Jester, a whine working through his awful voice.
"It's not too late. Ask forgiveness."
"No."
"It's my fault. I brought you back. My secret heart is that I'd never done it. That I'd left you to swing and sent you on your way. But we all got our sins. You're mine, Jester."