gaze lifting to meet Staley’s again. “Why don’t you tell me this story of yours.”
So Staley did, started with Butch dropping her off on the county road near her trailer late the night before and took the tale all the way through to when she got to William’s apartment earlier that morning. Somewhere in the middle of it the barman brought them a round of coffee, walking away before Staley could pay him, or even get out a thanks.
“I remember that Malicorne,” Robert said when she was done. “Now she was a fine woman, big horn and all. You ever see her anymore?”
William shook his head. “Not since that night she went off with Jake.”
“Can you help me?” Staley asked.
Robert leaned back on his side of the booth. Those long fingers of his left hand started walking up the neck of his guitar and he picked with his right, soft, a spidery twelve-bar.
“You ever hear the story of the two magicians?” he asked.
Staley shook her head.
“Don’t know what the problem was between them, but the way I heard it is they got themselves into a long-time, serious altercation, went on for years. In the end, the only way they were willing to settle it was to duke it out the way those hoodoo men do, working magic. The one’d turn himself into a ’coon, the other’d become a coonhound, chase him up some tree. That treed ’coon’d come down, ’cept now he’s wearing the skin of a wildcat.” Robert grinned. “Only now that coonhound, he’s a hornet, starts in on stinging the cat. And this just goes on.
“One’s a salmon, the other’s an otter. Salmon becomes the biggest, ugliest catfish you ever saw, big enough to swallow that otter whole, but now the otter’s a giant eagle, slashing at the fish with its talons. Time passes and they just keep at it, changing skins—big changes, little changes. One’s a flood, the other’s a drought. One’s human, the other’s a devil. One’s night, the other’s day… .
“Damnedest thing you ever saw, like paper-scissors-rock, only hoodoo man style, you know what I’m saying? Damnedest thing.”
The whole time he talked, he picked at his guitar, turned the story into a talking song with that lazy drawl of his, mesmerizing. When he fell silent, it took Staley a moment or two to realize that he’d stopped talking.
“So Mr. Rabbitskin here,” she said, “and that other thing I only caught half a glimpse of—you’re saying they’re like those two magicians?”
“Got the smell of it to me.”
“And they’re only interested in hurting each other?”
“Well, now,” Robert told her. “That’d be the big thought on their mind, but you’ve got to remember that hoodoo requires a powerful amount of nourishment, just to keep the body up to fighting strength. Those boys’ll be hungry and needing to feed—and I’m guessing they won’t be all that particular as to what they chow down on.”
Great, Staley thought. She shot the rabbit a sour look, but it wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“Mr. Rabbitskin here,” she said, “won’t eat a thing. I’ve tried carrots, greens, even bread soaked in warm milk.”
Robert nodded. “That’d tempt a rabbit, right enough. Problem is, what you’ve got here are creatures that are living on pure energy. Hell, that’s probably all they are at this point, nothing but energy gussied up into a shape that makes sense to our eyes. They won’t be eating food like we do. So far as that goes, the way they’d be looking at it, we probably are food, considering the kind of energy we’ve got rolling through us.”
The rabbit, docile up to now, suddenly lunged out of William’s lap and went skidding across the smooth floor, heading for the back door of the bar. William started after it, but Robert just shook his head.
“You’ll never catch it now,” he said.
“Are you saying that rabbit was feeding on me somehow?” William asked.
“I figure he was building up to it.”
Staley stared in the direction that the rabbit had gone, her heart sinking. This whole situation was getting worse by the minute.
“So these two things I called over,” she said. “They’re the hoodoo men from your story?”
Robert shrugged. “Oh, they’re not the same pair, but it’s an old story and old stories have a habit of repeating themselves.”
“Who won that first duel?” William asked.
“One of ’em turned himself into a virus and got the other too sick to shape a spell in reply, but I don’t know which one. Doesn’t much matter anyway. By the