Part XXVIII

Part XXVIII

Gater, there's two men with bad sunburns coming up fast in a canoe.

Oh hell Aubrey, she's seen us.

We weren't sneaking up Carl. It'll be fine, just make sure that when you see Alexander that you don't say a single thing that comes into your mind. Ok?

I'll try.

As if on cue, the man they called the Swamp Devil stepped out of the small house. He was drying his hands with a towel. I could only imagine he'd been doing the dishes.

He was shirtless, and who could blame him in this heat. His skin was the color of cigarette ash, speckled with with bumps like a 70's spray foam ceiling. When he flapped the towel over his shoulder to give it a place to rest, it sounded like it was hitting concrete, not skin. When he opened his mouth to speak, his teeth were big and stained the deep rich color of saffron broth. Carl started to shake, and I was afraid he was going to start crying.

I took the advantage and cut Gater off before he could do more than clear his throat.

Alexander Delacroix?

How do you know my name?

It was told to me a long time ago by my Uncle.

I brought the canoe to a rest a respectful distance away. Carl whimpered in the front.

Did I know him?

No.

You've come a long way to find me.

I need your help.

What is it you think I can do for you?

I need to find the woman they call Mother.

Gater smirked and caught a small laugh from getting away.

What business do you have with her?

I need to ask her some questions. I'm hunting The Tall Man.

I saw what the name of the moniker did. Olivia quietly took her brother's hand, and the chill from her touch froze the moisture still on his hand.

The thing was that they'd probably never heard him called that, because everyone had their own secret name for him. But when someone said their name for him, the intonation was always the same, the understanding instant in its dread.

Come inside. Speak no more here. The Swamp is always listening.

The house was humble and sparce, but it also exuded charm. All of the furniture was handmade from the floatsum and jetsum of the world just beyond its front door. We sat at the kitchen table, whose base was a small cypress stump with a finished Oak door for a top. The chairs were similar to one's I'd seen in the Appalachian Mountains, tethered branches and logs manipulated with steam and held in place with wood pegs.

We don't have much, but I can offer fresh sassafras tea.

Sounds good.

Gater poured three glasses and Olivia went around the table and one at a time, she gripped the glass and chilled the tea.

Carl picked his up and took a long drink. It seemed to settle him.

Thank you.

Gater looked at him and dropped a smile of pity for Carl's obvious fear. Then, he turned back to me.

Your Uncle, was he a Magician?

You could say that I guess.

I think I have heard of him. There was a Magician twenty years ago or so, turned Mother down when she offered him a place among the Uniques.

Uniques?

Like me. People with the great gift of uniqueness.

The Carnival?

Gater nodded.

He never told me that.

You're unique too, aren't you?

Not really. There's a lot of people that can do what I do.

But not a lot who use it the way you do.

I couldn't answer that, so I took a sip of tea.

What is it you think Mother can do for you?

Help me figure out how to put an end to the Tall Man.

Gater leaned back and I could see him mulling it over. I was asking a lot, and I had a feeling it would probably come with a price.

Gater picked up a pencil and tore off a piece of newspaper from small stack lying on the floor behind him. He wrote phone a number on it and before he handed it across he locked his yellow eyes on mine.

How do I know I can trust you?

You don't.

Gater nodded and slid the piece of paper across to me. It wasn't much, but I memorized the number then turned the paper to ash with a green flame from my palm. It seemed to be enough.

I'll tell Father you're coming.

Thanks.

That little matter out of the way, we were invited to stay for dinner. I'd never known snake could taste so good.

It was dark out when we climbed back in the canoe. We hadn't brought flashlights, so I mumbled under my breath. At first I didn't think it had worked, but then they started to arrive. Around us the swamp began to pulse with the light of a thousand fireflies. I could hear the pleasured yelp of Olivia as they clustered around the canoe and then fanned out in front of us to guide our way. In a rare show of solidarity, they blinked in unison. As I lowered the paddle into the water and pushed us off and away, I was overcome by a feeling of well being, a sense that I was on the right path.