“Aw, don’t talk about this boy’s momma that way. It ain’t right, or polite.” He reached down and actually scratched Malachi’s head, almost with affection. “And I didn’t send her there after you, no way, no how. I raised her, that’s a fact; but I only meant to ask her some questions. I only wanted to know about you—the rest of your kin—and she knew better than anyone. She seemed the one to ask, and I wasn’t about to let her being dead stop me.

“I didn’t know she’d take off like that, though. I didn’t know she’d be so wild and strong! She just took straight off, she did, and I couldn’t snatch her back no matter what I tried. So I just let her go on and get lost. I didn’t know she’d go back to that hospital, and I sure didn’t know that nutty old woman would still be hunting after your momma.”

“You must be . . . you must be twenty . . . or thirty years . . . older than Eliza.” My next question was so huge I could only ask it in one word. “How?” Even at his advanced age, Avery was half a head taller than me and I sensed no weakness about him. Except for his appearance, there was nothing in his demeanor, posture, or attitude to suggest he was any older than I was.

“Twenty-seven years older, at my best count. I was around your age or thereabouts when she came along. So I’m old. What does that mean against forever? Against what’s going to happen tonight? Eliza’s old too, but she’s old’ cause I let her be. An’ if she wants to cooperate some more, she can live to be older still.”

I looked quickly at the woodburning stove. Several pots bubbled with different colored brews. “Her medicine,” I said, and, glancing a bit to the left, I added, “And that damned book,” almost wanting to laugh at all the effort we’d wasted searching three states off the mark.

“She wouldn’t have lasted this long without me—without my formula. It ain’t perfect, as you can see by my old bones and her bent little body, but it’s been working well enough. Tonight, when John comes back, he’ll show me how to fix it. And once it’s fixed . . .” He waved one long hand and let my imagination fill in the rest.

“How many people need to die for you to live forever?” Malachi was looking pointedly back and forth between me and something on the floor. Trying to tell me something. What? Oh yes. Beside me. The gun. He was trying to remind me that I had a gun, but I couldn’t hang on to the thought without concentrating, and it was hard to concentrate when Avery was talking.