Darkfall

that Carver Hampton was sincere in his religious beliefs and a perfectly level-headed man, no less rational because his religion was voodoo rather than Catholicism or Judaism. However, it was one thing to believe in a religious doctrine and in the possibility of magic and miracles — and quite another thing altogether to claim to have seen a miracle. Those who swore they had seen miracles were hysterics, fanatics, or liars. Weren't they? On the other hand, if you were at all religious — and Jack was not a man without faith — then how could you believe in the possibility of miracles and the existence of the occult without also embracing the claims of at least some of those who said they had been witness to manifestations of the supernatural? Your faith could have no substance if you did not also accept the reality of its effects in this world. It was a thought that hadn't occurred to him before, and now he stared at Carver Hampton with mixed feelings, with both doubt and cautious acceptance.

Rebecca would say he was being excessively open-minded.

Staring at the bottles that now stood on the shelves, Hampton said, “The serpent slithered toward me. I backed across the room. There was nowhere to go. I dropped to my knees. Recited prayers. They were the correct prayers for the situation, and they had their effect. Either that… or Lavelle didn't actually intend for the serpent to harm me. Perhaps he only meant it as a warning not to mess with him, a slap in the face for the way I had so unceremoniously ushered him out of my shop. At any rate, the serpent eventually dissolved back into the herbs and powders and ground roots of which it was composed.”

“How do you know it was Lavelle who did this thing?” Jack asked.

“The phone rang a moment after the snake… decomposed. It was this man, the one I had refused to serve. He told me that it was my prerogative, whether to serve him or not, and that he didn't hold it against me. But he said he wouldn't permit anyone to lay a hand on him as I'd done. So he had smashed my collection of herbs and had conjured up the serpent in retaliation. That's what he said. That's all he said. Then he hung up.”

“You didn't tell me that you'd actually, physically thrown him out of the shop,” Jack said.

“I didn't. I merely put a hand on his arm and… shall we say… guided him out. Firmly, yes, but without any real violence, without hurting him. Nevertheless, that was enough to make him angry, to make him seek revenge.”

“This was all back in September?”

“Yes.”

“And he's never returned?”

“No.”

“Never called?”

“No. And it took me almost three months to rebuild my inventory of rare herbs and powders. Many of these items are so very difficult to obtain. You can't imagine.

I only recently completed restocking these shelves.”

“So you've got your own reasons for wanting to see this Lavelle brought down,” Jack said.

Hampton shook his head. “On the contrary.”

“Huh?”

“I want nothing more to do with this.”

“But—”

“I can't help you any more, Lieutenant.”

“I don't understand.”

“It should be clear enough. If I help you, Lavelle will send something after me. Something worse than the serpent. And this time it won't be just a warning. No, this time, it'll surely be the death of me.”

Jack saw that Hampton was serious — and genuinely terrified. The man believed in the power of voodoo. He was trembling. Even Rebecca, seeing him now, wouldn't be able to claim that he was a charlatan. He believed.

Jack said, “But you ought to want him behind bars as much as I do. You ought to want to see him broken, after what he did to you.”

“You'll never put him in jail.”

“Oh, yes.”

“No matter what he does, you'll never be able to touch him.”

“We'll get him, all right.”

“He's an extremely powerful Bocor, Lieutenant. Not an amateur. Not your average spellcaster. He has the power of darkness, the ultimate darkness of death, the darkness of Hell, the darkness of the Other Side. It is a cosmic power, beyond human comprehension. He isn't merely in league with Satan, your Christian and Judaic king of demons. That would be bad enough. But, you see, he is a servant, as well, of all the evil gods of the African religions, which go back into antiquity; he has that great, malevolent pantheon behind him. Some of those deities are far more powerful and immeasurably more vicious than Satan has ever been portrayed. A vast legion of evil entities are at Lavelle's beck and call, eager to let him use them because, in turn, they use him as a sort of doorway into this world. They are eager to cross over, to bring blood and pain and terror and misery to the living, for this world of ours is one into which they are usually denied passage by the power of the benevolent gods who watch over us.”

Hampton paused. He was hyperventilating. There was a faint sheen of perspiration on his forehead. He wiped his big hands over his face and took several slow deep breaths. He went on, then, trying to keep his voice calm and reasonable, but only half succeeding.

“Lavelle is a dangerous man, Lieutenant, infinitely more dangerous than you can ever comprehend. I also think he is very probably mad, insane; there was definitely a quality of insanity about him. That is a most formidable combination: evil beyond measure, madness, and the power of a masterfully skilled Bocor.”

“But you say you're a Houngon, a priest of white magic. Can't you use your power against him?”

“I'm a capable Houngon, better than many. But I'm not in this man's league. For instance, with great effort, I might be able to put a curse on his own supply of herbs and powders. I might be able to reach out and cause a few bottles to fall off the shelves in his study or wherever he keeps them — if I had seen the place first, of course. However, I wouldn't be able to cause so much destruction as he did. And I wouldn't be able to conjure up a serpent, as he did. I haven't that much power, that much finesse.”

“You could try.”

“No. Absolutely not. In any contest of powers, he would crush me. Like a bug.”

Hampton went to the door, opened it. The bell above it rang. Hampton stepped aside, holding the door wide open.

Jack pretended not to get the hint. “Listen, if you'll just keep asking around—”

“No. I can't help you any more, Lieutenant. Can't you get that through your head?”

A frigid, blustery wind huffed and moaned and hissed and puffed at the open door, spraying snowflakes like flecks of spittle.

“Listen,” Jack said. “Lavelle never has to know that you're asking about him. He—”

“He would find out!” Hampton said angrily, his eyes wide open as the door he was holding. “He knows everything — or can find it out. Everything.”

“But—”

“Please go,” Hampton said.

“Hear me out. I—”

“Go.”

“But—”

“Go, get out, leave, now, damnit, now!” Hampton said in a tone of voice composed of one part anger, one part terror, and one part panic.

The big man's almost hysterical fear of Lavelle had begun to affect Jack. A chill rippled through him, and he found that his hands were suddenly clammy.