He looked at me with those huge, watery blue eyes, rimmed with red from the pain and smoke. For the first time I saw written on his face not maniacal certainty, but fear. Everything he’d spent his life believing had been wrong, and now he had nothing but . . . well, nothing but me, and the relationship we’d established thus far did not amount to much. But he was my brother. And he was going to die if I didn’t do something.

I reached down and wrapped one of my arms behind him, under his armpits, and pulled him to his feet. “Come on. This place is going to go.” I guess I’m just not one to say “I don’t care” and really mean it, even if I think I do.

He nodded and did his best to follow orders, flopping one foot down in front of the other in a pitiful attempt to walk. It was enough. We limped together onto the porch and down the stairs, and then into the yard.

Avery’s house fell down behind us, spewing a burst of heat against our backs and collapsing into a pile of flaming rubble. We stumbled across the wet, thick yard where the women no longer stood, and we weakly began our way back towards the road. Except for the light of Avery’s pyre, the swamp was dark.

I was just beginning to wonder how we’d find our way out when a bobbing white light charged forward at us from between the trees. “Eden? Eden, is that you? Are you all right? Dear God, it’s taken me forever to find this place! I saw the fire through the trees, and dear sweet Baby Jesus—is that . . .?”

“I’m fine, Harry,” I cried back, though it was possibly something of an overstatement to use “fine” in such a context. “Yeah, it’s Malachi. It’s okay, though.”

My brother put his head down on my shoulder and lurched along beside me. “Thank you. I know . . . you didn’t have to do . . . this for me. I mean . . . after all I did to you . . . and everything.”

“Aw, Malachi,” I said, awkwardly patting his ribs with the arm that held him up. “It’s okay. I was never very afraid of you anyway.”

12
Finis

I still see ghosts, but then again, I always saw ghosts. Now I see them more, that’s all. And my dreams have settled down. Most of them are like Dali paintings, just like before this whole mess started. Well, except for that one dream. I had it just last night.