Darkfall

hear your molars start cracking apart any second.”
    “I wasn’t aware of it. But believe me, I’m not worried about your driving.”
    They were approaching an intersection where half a dozen cars were angled everywhichway, spinning their tires in the snow, trying to get reoriented or at least out of the way. Nick Iervolino braked slowly, cautiously, until they were traveling at a crawl, then found a snaky route through the stranded cars.
    On the other side of the intersection, he said, “So if you aren’t worried about my driving, what is eating at you?”
    Jack hesitated, then told him about the call from Lavelle.
    Nick listened, but without diverting his attention from the treacherous streets. When Jack finished, Nick said, “Jesus Christ Almighty!”
    “My sentiments exactly,” Jack said.
    “You think he can do it? Put a curse on your kids? One that’ll actually work?”
    Jack turned the question back on him. “What do you think?”
    Nick pondered for a moment. Then: “I don’t know. It’s a strange world we live in, you know. Flying saucers, Big Foot, the Bermuda Triangle, the Abominable Snowman, all sorts of weird things out there. I like to read about stuff like that. Fascinates me. There’re millions of people out there who claim to’ve seen a lot of truly strange things. Not all of it can be bunk-can it? Maybe some of it. Maybe most of it. But not all of it. Right?”
    “Probably not all of it,” Jack agreed.
    “So maybe voodoo works.”
    Jack nodded.
    “Of course, for your sake, and for the kids, I hope to God it doesn’t work,” Nick said.
    They traveled half a block in silence.
    Then Nick said, “One thing bothers me about this Lavelle, about what he told you.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Well, let’s just say voodoo does work.”
    “Okay.”
    “I mean, let’s just pretend.”
    “I understand.”
    “Well, if voodoo works, and if he wants you off the case, why would he use this magic power of his to kill your kids? Why wouldn’t he just use it to kill you? That’d be a lot more direct.”
    Jack frowned. “You’re right.”
    “If he killed you, they’d assign another detective to the case, and it isn’t too likely the new man would be as open- minded as you are about this voodoo angle. So the easiest way for Lavelle to get what he wants is to eliminate you with one of his curses. Now why doesn’t he do that-supposing the magic works, I mean?”
    “I don’t know why.”
    “Neither do I,” Nick said. “Can’t figure it. But I think maybe this is important, Lieutenant. Don’t you?”
    “How?”
    “See, even if the guy’s a lunatic, even if voodoo doesn’t work and you’re just dealing with a maniac, at least the rest of his story-all the weird stuff he told you-has its own kind of crazy logic. It’s not filled with contradictions. Know what I mean?”
    “Yes.”
    “It hangs together, even if it is bullshit. It’s strangely logical. Except for the threat against your kids. That doesn’t fit. Illogical. It’s too much trouble when he could just put a curse on you . So if he has the power, why doesn’t he aim it at you if he’s going to aim it at anyone?”
    “Maybe it’s just that he realizes he can’t intimidate me by threatening my own life. Maybe he realizes the only way to intimidate me is through my kids.”
    “But if he just destroyed you, had you chewed to pieces like all these others, then he wouldn’t have to intimidate you. Intimidation is clumsy. Murder is cleaner. See what I mean?”
    Jack watched the snow hitting the windshield, and he thought about what Nick had said. He had a hunch that it was important.
    VIII
    In the storage shed, Lavelle completed the ritual. He stood in orange light, breathing hard, dripping sweat. The beads of perspiration reflected the light and looked like droplets of orange paint. The whites of his eyes were stained by the same preternatural glow, and his well-buffed fingernails also gleamed orange.
    Only one thing remained to be done in order to assure the deaths of the Dawson children. When the time came, when the deadline arrived for Jack Dawson and he didn’t back off as Lavelle wanted, then Lavelle would only have to pick up two pair of ceremonial scissors and cut both ends of the slender cord from which the photographs hung. The pictures would fall into the pit and vanish in the furnacelike glow, and then the demonic powers would be set loose; the curse would be fulfilled. Penny and Davey Dawson