Page 101 of A Boy Called Lovesong

The gears crunched as Maybelle drove with her one good leg operating the accelerator while using her walking stick to push down on the clutch and brake. Auggie’s truck lurched and a semi-trailer behind us blared its horn.

“It’d be great not to be involved in two car accidents in one day,” I muttered, sitting between Maybelle and Lovesong on the bench seat in front.

“Oh hush, child, and let me concentrate!”

By the time we pulled up in front ofMaybelle’s Manor, the afternoon sun was sinking toward the western horizon, a bank of furious black clouds rolling in from the south.

Already the heat was intensifying.

Already a snarl of thunder filled the sky.

With the note and the letter tucked into the reverend’s Bible in one hand, and Lovesong’s cassette tape in my pocket, I made my way to the elevator with Lovesong’s arm around my waist for support. There was no taking the stairs with broken ribs.

“I’ll fix you some food for your journey. And coffee,” said Maybelle, hurrying toward the kitchen. “If you wanna get as far from the reverend as possible, you gonna need to stay awake on the road.”

Lovesong and I climbed into the elevator and slowly the clunky old thing ascended.

In our room, I made sure Joel’s urn was tucked safely into my suitcase, then packed the tape and Joel’s letter, as well as the reverend’s Bible and the forged note. I wasn’t about to leave behind proof of the reverend’s evil doing. That note was a smoking gun, it was coming with us as evidence and, if need be, insurance against harm.

I shut my suitcase.

Lovesong was busy packing his instruments into their cases. He paused over the electric guitar. I saw the look on his face.

“You’re not going to the crossroads,” I said firmly. “Your days of trying to summon the Devil are over.”

“Maybe I can make a different deal,” he said, his nostrils flaring as a lifetime of anger started to bubble to the surface. “Maybe I could ask for my mother back, in exchange for the reverend’s soul.”

“Lovesong, enough. The fire and brimstone ends now. We’re getting out of here. I’m going to Earl’s to get our car. Meet medownstairs in five minutes. It’s time to get the hell out of Clara’s Crossing.”

I kissed him and left Lovesong in the room, then took the elevator back down.

I winced and grunted my way down the street toEarl’s Autoas a storm swirled and thickened in the sky. A flash of lightning gave warning that soon the heavens would open.

InsideEarl’s Auto, I found the key to Joan Collins hanging on a rack. I slipped in behind the wheel, turned the key in the ignition, and the car started instantly, the purr of the engine smooth and sound.

“Nice work, Earl,” I nodded to myself.

I drove out of the auto shop and pulled up in front ofMaybelle’s Manor.

I got out of the car and raced to the front door, but before I could open it, I heard a voice roar—“Mr. Van Owen! I believe you have something of mine!”

My blood ran cold as I turned to see the reverend, dressed in black and storming down the middle of the street heading straight for the manor, his fiery eyes fixed on me.

“Oh fuck.”

I charged into the manor and slammed the doors shut, only to find a distressed Maybelle hurrying toward me.

“Maybelle? What’s wrong?”

“I tried to stop him. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Lovesong? Oh God, where’s Lovesong?”

“Noah, he’s gone back to the crossroads.”

At that moment, the doors to the manor burst open… and there, looming large and furious, stood the reverend. “Where’s my Bible?” he boomed in a voice as loud as thunder. “Give back what you have stolen, you filthy wicked boy!”

Maybelle and I both reeled backward at his frightening, ominous presence.

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