VenCo(78)

“Well, goddammit . . .”

Lucky suddenly realized that this old woman was facing a stranger by herself and sprinted to her side. The room was dim with the floral curtains drawn and the lights off. A large bed was made up with several layers of patchwork quilts and two rows of pillows. A dresser sat against one wall, the top overflowing with costume jewelry and random jars and even a brown taxidermied rabbit. But there was no man.

“Snake shed his skin,” May said, pointing to a pool of clothes on the floor—denim overalls and a grey flannel work shirt. Lucky felt the sudden urge to pee. Fear did that to her.

“You hit the outhouse, then join us at the table,” May said, without Lucky having said a word out loud. “We gotta figure this out before we figure you out.”





25

The Liar, the Witch, and the Wardrobe




Sitting at the table now, Lucky told May about the spoon, Meena, Lucille, Rattler Ricky, and, finally, the mysterious nephew who’d been waiting for them at the cabin. The woman asked odd questions, ones that didn’t feel relevant, but she did her best to answer them.

“You didn’t drink nothing he offered?”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t take any paper, no words?”

“Uh, no.”

“Okay. And you didn’t give him any chance to get anything off ya, did you?”

“What do you mean?”

“A fingernail or hair maybe?”

Lucky thought for a moment. He hadn’t gotten that close. “No, ma’am.”

“Well, I gave him some snot.” Stella laughed.

“Whatchu mean, Miss Stella?” May wasn’t laughing.

“Uh, well, I just mean he asked Lucky to smell some pepper and she didn’t but then I did . . .” she babbled. “I took a big whiff and then I sneezed . . . a lot.”

“Pepper?” May stroked her chin. Lucky noticed her nails were long, yellow with age and old dirt. She wore one ring, a large rectangular ruby surrounded by delicate diamonds, on her middle finger. It seemed an odd extravagance for an otherwise unextravagant woman—evidence, perhaps, that she had been loved. Or maybe that her services were valued by people who lived beyond these simple hills.

“Why would he do that?” Stella sounded suddenly hurt.

“I think to make you do whatcha did, Miss Stella. Sneeze. When a person sneezes in front of those with unkind intentions, it gives them a window. A way to see what that person sees, like they’re looking through their eyes, for a certain amount of time.”

What could he possibly get from seeing what Stella saw? “Why? And for how long?” Lucky asked.

“I don’t know why. And for how long? Well now, that depends on the power of the one witnessing.” She got up and went to the kitchen, searching around on the counter. She found what she was looking for in the sink.

“Here we go now.” She lifted a small green glass. “Did one of youse drink from this glass?”

They shook their heads.

“Alrighty. I’m gonna figure out who we’re dealing with.” She carried it towards the front door and they followed as she mumbled, “. . . come into my house . . . If I was drawn back sooner . . . Damn pests comin’ around playing dress-up . . .”

She noticed that they were right behind her and ordered, “You stay inside. Make a pot of coffee. Instant crap’s in the pantry. I gotta concentrate.” She shut the door behind her. Stella and Lucky looked at each other as if they were kids left with the babysitter, then went to make the coffee.

When May got back, she was pale and her hair was down, tangled with bits of leaves. She no longer had the drinking glass.

She sat at the table, and Lucky pushed a mug of muddy coffee into her hands. “Well?”

She raised it to her lips and took a sip without answering, her grey eyes far away.

“That bad?” Lucky asked.

May snapped out of her reverie and nodded slowly. “Y’all have something old on your tail.”

“He wasn’t that old, maybe late thirties, early forties—”

“That’s only how he appeared,” May interrupted her. “Creatures can be wily like that.”

“What does it want?” The question came out as barely a whisper.

“Well now, I think you could probably guess if you thought on it.” May got up with a soft grunt to retrieve a small bottle of whiskey from among the herb jars. She made generous pours into each of their mugs and put the bottle in the middle of the table.

And then she remembered what Meena had told her. “Could this man, this thing, could he be Benandanti?”

May didn’t answer the question directly. “He’s not on the back foot anymore. Now is the time when these men get really dangerous.”

“When they know where you are?” Lucky asked, wincing at the amount of booze in her coffee.

“No.” May reached across the table and grabbed Lucky’s hand. There was genuine concern in her eyes. “When they feel like they are above you.”



Lucky tried to call Salem, but there was no reception. “Come on, come on.” She had to let them know. The stories were true, the Benandanti were real, and not only that, they were after her. All her texts came back undelivered. May tried to calm her down.