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She tried not to flinch. No, she didn't know he was out of ammo. The way her eyes fixated on the end of the barrel said as much. "There is no book. "
"You know that's not true as well as I do. As well as Eden does. Eden, why don't you refresh her memory. She's quite old. Perhaps she needs a good jogging. "
I couldn't believe what I was hearing, except that I knew I was watching him menace her with an empty shotgun. I took this to mean that he didn't really intend to hurt her any, though the temptation to jog Eliza's memory with the back of my hand was almost more than I could resist. But no. I restrained myself. "It's filled with ritual magic," I offered a verbal jogging instead. "There's a dried-out hand mounted inside the back cover. It used to belong to a guy named John Gray. Your brother was a big fan of his. "
"I don't know where your stupid book is. I'm a God-fearing Christian, and I don't have your crazy magic book. "
"God-fearing Christian—like hell. " Harry said it before I had a chance to. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a grunt of frustration. "I've spent eight years combing this place—ever
y inch of it—and I've found enough to know that you're no God-fearing Christian, but I've not yet found that book. And you have to have it. There's nowhere else it could be except somewhere in your possession. "
"Eight years," Eliza spat. "Yes, eight years that I've trusted you. And this is what I get for it? You would betray me over some stupid book! A stupid book that doesn't even exist," she added, sticking to her story.
"People are dying because of that stupid book!" he shouted back at her, bringing the gun within an inch of her nose. "People are dying and you know it! Don't talk to me about betrayal—and for God's sake, don't talk to her about it. " He pointed at me and I waved, wiggling my fingers.
"You don't know what you're talking about. And you don't know half of what you think you know. " She hauled herself to her feet and stared defiantly up at him, ignoring the enormous shotgun. "Get out of my house," she directed, lifting one gnarled finger and gesturing up at the stairs. "You too—" She bobbed her head at me. "Both of you, get out. I'm through with the both of you. "
But Harry was done following orders, and he was the one with the weapon. "No. I don't think we will. "
"Actually," I interjected as unobtrusively as I could, "I'd rather like to be on my way, if that's okay with you. She says she's finished with me, and that's fine. I'd like to be finished with her as well. " I didn't blow his cover by following my request with, "And besides, that's not loaded anymore," because, hey—he was frightening Eliza, and that was all right by me.
"Don't go," he said, but it rang more like a request than a command. The gun was still trained on Eliza, but his eyes met mine sideways. "Stay and help me look for that book. You may not know it, but your life depends on us finding it. "
I stood still and thought about it for a second. He knew how to get a girl's attention, that's for sure. "What do you mean?" I asked, not wanting the answer but probably needing it, regardless.
He waved the gun towards the top of the stairs. "Bring her up and let's get her secured. I'll explain while we start hunting. "
Eliza's eyes were a dare, but I met them anyway. "You heard the man," I said. "Let's go. Get those little legs moving. "
"And if I refuse? I don't think he'll shoot me, and I don't think you'll hit me, either. "
"If you refuse, then you'll look mighty strange slung over my shoulder like a gunnysack. And don't think for a second that I won't do it. For that matter, don't be so sure I wouldn't hit you. If I were you, that's not a bet I'd take. "
She sniffed, then stuck her nose in the air and started up the stairs once more.
Harry was waiting for us at the top.
III
Harry affixed Eliza to one of the dining room chairs with an extension cord. I watched from the other side of the room, still uncertain what I should make of this shift in alliances. He did not speak until he had her wrists and ankles tied, and then it was to offer her one last chance to be helpful.
"Tell us where the book is. "
"No. I don't know what you're talking about. "
He wadded up one of the cloth napkins and held it up to the side of her face. "Is that your final word on the subject?"
"Yes. "
"Fine. " He stuffed the napkin into her mouth and strapped one of the curtain ties around her jaw to hold it there. "Then you'll at least be out of the way. "
"Harry, I don't know . . . we've got to let her go sometime, and she's going to run straight to the police. I don't need that, Harry. I really don't. "
"She isn't going to the police," he assured me. "She can't tell them anything about us without her harboring Malachi coming into it. And she has been harboring him, you can bet on that. Furthermore, you can bet she'll continue to do so once we're gone. He's gone off to lick his wounds, but he'll come back. He's got nowhere else to go. "
"But he's hurt. Maybe badly. Didn't you see him when you came downstairs? He's bleeding like a stuck pig. "
"I'm sure his God will take care of him," Harry said with a sneer. "Malachi always comes back. Surely you know that better than anyone. You're probably right, and he probably didn't go far, but that doesn't mean they'll catch him—even if we called the cops ourselves, right this second. They hunted around this place all today and all yesterday and couldn't turn him up. He'll hide as long as he has to, and then he'll be back for more trouble. "
