'I did answer. You just ain't in the mind to hear.'
Lament finished the meat on the spit and threw the remainder into the fire. He lifted his mouth-harp to his lips and played a bit more, somehow making the song sound pretty. Hellboy wouldn't have thought it possible, strumming a rubber band and making music.
When Lament finished he sighed hard enough to fan the fire. 'I'm here to save my Sarah from harm, and them other girls swole with children too. Same as you, ain't that the case? 'Cept none of this is your burden.'
'You need help, so I'm here.'
'Well, if you're of a like mind and want in with my task and purpose, I could use a friend. You want out, I can point you the way any time you like, Fair 'nuff?'
Hellboy decided it was. 'Fair enough.' He sat at the fire and looked around, then spotted a rucksack. 'I don't suppose you have a candy bar or a bag of pretzels you could share, now do you?'
'Caught some catfish earlier, if you want a taste.'
Hellboy grimaced. 'Christ, not with the catfish again.'
Bull gators roared in the distance, the loons cried into the night. Reflections from a dozen peering eyes made Hellboy turn and turn again. The tension rose within him once more and the muscles in his back tightened. 'Shouldn't we keep going, make sure Sarah and the others are all right out there?'
Lament said, 'There ain't a critter anywhere in this swamp that can get the drop on her. She been out in these marsh prairies since she was baptized. In fact, it happened right here, on this basin. The holy spirit visitin' her.'
'How do you know?'
'How do you think, son? Because I was there.' He then pointed to a patch of flattened weeds and a few strewn rocks nearby. 'They made camp here a day or so ago.'
'For someone who claims he wants to save those girls, you don't seem too worried about them.'
'I am,' Lament said. 'But it's a loser's game to stumble about in the dark on the blackwater.'
Hellboy thought, Did he just call me a loser? 'Hey, pal-'
'You already shovin' your luck just by not already bein' gator bait. You travel any farther at night and ain't nobody ever gonna see your princely face again. Like I said, Sarah knows these waters better than damn near anybody in Enigma. The man who raised her wrassled gators out in these parts, and used to head up the swamp tent revivals and the all-night gospel sings.'
'You're from here.'
'I been adrift all over.'
'But you know Enigma.'
'I know Enigma.'
'There's someone else after her. Sarah and the girls.'
'Ayup.'
'You know him?'
'I know him.'
'What if that guy doesn't camp tonight?'
'Then he'll probably be knockin' on the pearly gates by mornin' and we won't have to worry about it Vail. Sometimes, problems have a way of rightin' themselves.' He gestured vaguely. 'There's a swamp shanty town yonder. We'll make for it come sunup.'
'You know where it is?'
'You sure are a curious fella, ain't ya. I know where it is.'
'Where's yonder?'
'Well, when we find it we'll know for sure. Now, lay in on that blanket and let's get some sleep.'
Hellboy laid down. He wasn't sure that he could trust this guy, and said, 'I'm not sure I can trust you.'
But Lament merely turned away from the fire, drew his blanket over his shoulder, and soon was softly snoring.
It had been a hell of a day all right.
As Hellboy fell asleep he saw the shadows lengthening, thickening around the campsite, easing toward him to clutch at his clothes and face. They spoke in an infantile and inhuman language that he couldn't name but could still understand. They told him he would find remorse and pain in the marsh, but he should be true to his own secret heart. He brushed the shadows from his nose as he settled in to dream, hearing the children calling him.
Chapter 8
Jester sat in shadow with the demon's secrets.
It had been too late to take a skiff into the swamp, with the moon already beginning to rise, so they'd decided to wait until sunup. The Ferris boys lived in a two-room shack not far from the house where Brother Jester had been raised by his own brutal father, another man corrupted by bitterness, ignorance, and corn liquor. They were terrified that Jester would murder them in their sleep, and they tried to appease him any way they could. They offered him food, wine, and the tramp down the lane, and even their sagging, fetid mattresses although Jester hadn't slept under a roof in twenty years.
Jester hadn't slept in twenty years. His mind periodically wandered away from his body, and the body occasionally rested.
They gave him a torn blanket spattered with old bloodstains. It was a child's blanket and featured a cartoon bird character. He folded it and laid it on their sagging back-porch step and sat there looking into the lush vegetation of the woodland that eventually cascaded into the marshes.
Held within the folds of their black wings, the shadows of angels brought with them the secrets of the sleeping demon, aflame with hellfire. When the shadows dropped the mysteries, puzzles, and contradictions at Jesters feet, the dark preacher poked through them with the toe of his shoe, struggling but incapable of understanding.
A Russian who would not die. A loving foster father, a hard man of justice. A once-evil but eventually repentant mother. A prince of Sheol. Enormous unholy beasts with the faces of pigs, frogs, and dogs. Brutish shamblers that burned from the touch of iron or innocence. Griddle cakes. Horseshoes. Holy water and the bones of saints.
Brother jester took off his hat, cleaned the brim with his handkerchief, and put it back on.
Children. Inhuman, horrific in nature, but blessed. Calling to God and those that aid Gods will. And the Holy Spirit giving favor.
A great tree of life, perhaps the very tree of knowledge still bearing fruit in the garden of Eden, away from mankind's transgressions.
Those were only the few images he could easily grasp. A greater number of them were visions and scraps of infernal knowledge that tore into his mind. They went behind his small human brain and settled at the back of his skull where his immortal rage sat perched, waiting to eat.
There were words and legacies.
The power inside Jester rose up on its own accord, rearing in pain and exhilaration. Sweat burst upon his brow and he began to shudder, his pulse snapping hard in his neck, his heart hammering.
His hate was the hate of all men who twisted in faith and doubt, incapable of examining themselves too closely. He felt even closer to the demon now, understanding how they were both set on destined courses long before their births. They had become diverted and subjected to the will of others. To the endeavors of men and the testaments of Heaven and Hell. They had walked both paths, even if neither of them could fully remember who they'd once been.
Jester's arms were thrown open, his head pressed back as his mouth widened and the sparking black motes of arcane energy bled from his tongue, nostrils, ears, and eyes. His vertebrae popped and crackled as his spine
