The Witch of Tin Mountain(52)

Harlan laughs. “I’d like to see you try. Sounds like somethin’ I could charge folks real good money to watch. Especially when you lose.”

Heat tingles in my fingertips. I shove against his skinny chest, hard as I can.

Harlan gasps. Little bitch burned me. What the fuck’s wrong with her eyes?

It’s my turn to smile now. His fear is as delicious as a ripe pear. He walks backward, real slow. I want to charge him like a rabid dog.

“Hey now, what’s going on here?”

I’d know that deep Kentucky drawl anywhere. Bellflower rounds the corner of the mercantile as if he’s been summoned. Even though he’s the man I came to town for, at the sight of him, a wave of nausea breaks over me and I get a little dizzy.

Harlan squares up to face him. “This ain’t none of your concern, preacher man. Stick to your camp meetings. This is town business.”

A strange dark mist curls around Bellflower, just like when I saw him with Val, tendrils of shadow reaching toward Harlan. I wonder if Harlan can see it. I shake my head. I’m beginning to wonder how much of what’s happened in the last few days is real and how much is a delusion.

Bellflower’s eyes harden under the brim of his hat, cold as two black stones in a river bottom. He stalks closer, anchoring himself between me and Harlan. His scar twists as he smiles, drawing his lips upward in a cruel line. “You ought to get back to work, hadn’t you, son?”

Harlan stills, hands dropping to his sides. His jaw goes slack, and his eyes fall vacant. I ain’t never seen a Northrup cowed so quickly. “I reckon I oughta get back to work,” he intones dully.

“Go on then. Get out of here and don’t you dare bother this girl no more. You hear me?”

Harlan grunts and shuffles off. I draw in a belly-deep breath. The suffocating air sears my lungs. “What’d you do to him?”

Bellflower ignores my question and takes a step toward me. The shadows swirling around him recede. “Did he hurt you?”

Why the hell is he so concerned about my well-being? “No. And thanks for your concern, but I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.” Bellflower chuckles. “I’ve seen your like before.”

“Have you? ’Cause I swear I’ve seen your ilk, too, and it ain’t no better than Harlan there.”

Aunt Val rounds the corner, a fishing pole propped against her shoulder. Bellflower glances heavenward and sighs. He’s tired of her already. That didn’t take long.

She sidles up to him and scowls at me. “Why’d you come to town today, Gracelynn? Ain’t you got things to do up at the house?”

“Maybe I wanted to bend Reverend Bellflower’s ear for a minute. And ain’t you supposed to be working?” I echo. “You’re always telling me how lazy I am, and yet here you are whiling away the days with your new man. Does Hosea know? Reckon he’d be mighty upset, since you’ve kept his bed warm for so long.”

“You watch your tongue, Gracie. Show some respect.” Val lifts her chin. “Hosea knows I’ve been called to help Josiah with his ministry. Besides, things ain’t like that with Hosea. People just talk.”

I cross my arms. “Well. Caro’s doing the work of three right now, because of your calling. The law’s after Morris, ’cause of the damned Northrups. Everything’s gone to hell up on the mountain. Granny’s so sick she can’t even get out of bed.”

“Mama’s sick?” There’s not an ounce of surprise in her voice. She shifts and looks away from me.

Now I’m wondering if she had something to do with Granny’s fit. I can’t be sure, but I’ve learned the best way to catch Val in her guilt is to be direct—to accuse her as if I already know what she’s done. “Yep. She almost died. But you knew that already, didn’t you, Val? What’d you do?”

“I didn’t do a damn thing, Gracelynn.”

“Valerie,” Bellflower says, his voice warm. She turns to him, her mouth going all slack like Harlan’s had. He reaches out to push a wayward strand of brassy hair back under her scarf. “Why don’t you go and fill the lamps for our service tonight, hmm?”

“I . . . I . . . ,” Val stammers, then nods her head, transfixed by the gleam in Bellflower’s eyes. “All right, Josiah. I’ll go do that.”

“Good girl,” he croons. He whispers something else in her ear. She giggles and turns to go, walking with a lift in her step.

Bellflower cuts me a conspiratorial grin. “She’s so full of faith, isn’t she? Every prophet needs a willing . . . acolyte. Val is simple. Easy. You’re not simple at all, are you, Gracelynn?”

You’re a challenge. And I haven’t been challenged in so very long.

His lips aren’t moving, but I can hear his voice in my head, clear as day. It’s worse than when Harlan put his hands on me. The sick feeling wells up, sending my guts into a twist.

“Stop it,” I hiss, gritting my teeth. “Get out of my head.”

Bellflower snaps his fingers. The air stills, like time itself has stopped. The old men on the mercantile porch fall silent, their mouths frozen open, mid-conversation. “If you want me out of your head, you’ll take the time to listen to what I have to say, won’t you? You’ve been wondering why I’m here. What I want.”