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film between them. God, he thought, what'll happen to her. And that thought was almost as big and important as the one of death. But not quite. Otille's voice had become part of a general roaring, and it seemed the corpses were laughing and pointing at him. Bits of rotten lace flaked from the man's cuff as his hand shook with laughter. The woman's mummified chest heaved like the pulsing of a bat's throat, a thin membrane plumping full of air. The room vibrated with the exact rhythm of the laughter, and the air was glowing bright red.

Then he could breathe.

Sweet, musty air.

He gulped it in, gorging on it. The door to the attic had sprung open. His head spinning, he crawled toward the light of a gable window and slipped; a splinter drove deep into the heel of his palm. He rolled onto his back, applying pressure to the point of entry, almost grateful for the sensation. Blood and gray dust mired on his hand.

'I"m sorry, Donnell,' said Otille's voice from the speaker. 'I couldn't let you leave thinking you'd won. But don't worry. I still want you.'

Chapter 16

August 17, 1987

On the morning of Dularde's funeral, Donnell told Jocundra he had slept with Otille. He was contrite; he explained what had happened and why and said it had been awful, and swore there would be no repetition. Jocundra, who had tried to prepare for this turn of events, believed he was truly contrite, that it had been a matter of circumstance allied with Otille's charm, but despite her rational acceptance, she was hurt and angry.

'It's this place,' she said mournfully, staring back at the angelic faces sinking into the black quicksand of their bedroom walls. 'It twists everything.'

'I can't leave...' he began.

'Why should you? You're the king of Maravillosa! Otille's prince consort!'

'You seem to think everything's fucking normal,' he said. 'That I'm a guy and you're a girl, and we're stuck in this little unpleasantness, but soon we'll be off to some paradisiacal subdivision. Three kids with sunglasses, a green-eyed dog, the veve in the back yard next to the barbecue. I'm walking a goddamn tightrope with Otille!'

'Is that what they're calling it now?' she sneered. 'Walking a tightrope? Or is that Otille's erotic specialty?'

'Maybe Edman's right,' he said. 'Maybe you groomed me to be your soulmate. A sappy, morose cripple! Maybe you wanted someone to pity and control, and I'm not pitiable enough anymore.'

'Oh, no?' She laughed. 'Now that you've risen to the status of pet, I'm supposed to be in awe? I watch you swallow every treat she feeds you...' Tears were starting to come. 'Oh, hell!' she said, and ran out of the door, down the stairs and onto the grounds.

The sunlight leached the wild vegetation of color and acted to parch her tears. She found a flat stone beside the driveway and sat down, watching flies drone in a clump of weeds. The undersides of their leaves were coated with yellow dust. It hadn't rained in a couple of weeks, and everything was shriveling. She felt numb, guilty. He was in enough difficulty; he didn't deserve her insults. A butterfly settled on her knee. If a butterfly lights on your shoulders, you'll be lucky for a year, she remembered. Her father had been full of such bayou wisdoms. Nine leaves on a sprig of lavender brings money luck. Catch a raindrop in your pocket and it'll turn to silver. As he had grown older, he had stopped quoting the optimistic ones and taken to scribbling darker sayings on scraps of paper. During her last visit home she had seen them scattered about the house like spent fortunes, tucked between the pages of books, crumpled and flung on the floor, and a final one slipped under the door just before she had left. Those who love laughter pay court to disaster, it had read. Prayers said in the dark are said to the Devil.

Clouds swept overhead, obscuring the sun and passing off so that the light brightened and faded with the rhythm of laboured breathing. Donnell came out of the house and headed toward the graveyard. Jocundra stood and was about to call his name, but a girl, one of the 'friends,' ran down the steps and fell in beside him. Green eyes in a woman means passion, bitterness in a man, Jocundra remembered, staring after Donnell's retreating figure. One who has not seen his mother will be able to cure.

There were six coffins in