Page 103 of A Boy Called Lovesong

THWACK!

The reverend grunted in pain and suddenly my throat was free of his grip.

THWACK!

I gasped for air, coughing and wheezing and pulling myself away from the balustrade. I blinked away the stars and saw Maybelle bring her cane down once more, as hard as she could, on the reverend’s skull.

This time he reached for her weapon, seizing it in his grip, trying to yank it from her hands.

Maybelle refused to let go, the two of them staggering backward, fighting for possession of the cane, side-stepping left and right until—

Maybelle was teetering on the top step of the grand staircase, about to lose her balance.

The reverend laughed. “Time to meet your maker, you meddling old bitch!”

He went to shove her.

But before he could do his worst, I charged as fast as I could, ramming my shoulder into the reverend’s back.

At the same time, I snatched Maybelle by the forearm and hauled her out of the way.

Together, she and I fell to one side, while the reverend staggered forward toward the stairs, his eyes wide as he lost his balance, swaying for a moment on the top step before he blinked in horror and uttered, “Oh Lord!”

He lost his balance as gravity took hold, sending him crashing down the grand staircase.

Fragile steps broke under the weight of him as he toppled, head over feet, thump after thud…

His limbs bending…

His wrists and ankles snapping…

His torso contorting and his back breaking.

Until soon he crashed onto the floorboards at the foot of the staircase, his arms and legs knotted, his body mangled into an ungodly mess, like a spider washed down a drain, disfigured and dead.

“Oh shit,” I panted, panic setting in. “I killed him. I fucking killed him.”

But Maybelle took me firmly by the hand. “Take your suitcase to the car and go find Lovesong. We need to get our story straight, before the reverend’s wife comes looking for him. Now go!”

I did exactly what Maybelle told me.

I grabbed my suitcase and raced to the elevator, the stairs now completely impassable.

As I hurried across the vestibule I glanced back once at the tangled body of the reverend.

Part of me was sickened by the fact that I just killed a man. But part of me knew that what I did was done in self-defense.

Then again, part of me was convinced that the reverend got what was coming to him.

I packed my suitcase into the trunk of the car.

I turned to the street and started running toward the crossroads.

Thunder rumbled menacingly above me, the churning black clouds so low it looked as though they were sinking under their own weight.

I could hear the chords of Lovesong’s electric guitar sailing through the air, loud and vibrant through the amplifier, before I caught sight of him. But as I drew closer, I heard more than just his instrument.

His playing was accompanied by thechingandtinkleof a pair of silver spoons.

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