“It’s just that...I used to love the hand. Even the idea of the hand excited me. Look at it. The miracle of the whole thing. Your whole life is mapped out in the lines and curves and ridges and whorls, all the answers are right there—even those hidden within the lines that shouldn’t intersect—but you’ll never have the time to find all of them. So many sentient sensations enter the body through the hands, y’know? A baby grasping your finger, that crackle of electricity when you first touch someone you hope will become important in your life, cupping them together to splash cold water over your face when you come inside on a hot day...” He shook his head. “But that’s all ruined now. I look at this thing at the end of my arm and all I feel is…scared.”

Jackson moved even closer to the guy. “Why’s that?”

The guy leaned back, almost whispering. “Because of Mr. Hands.”

Jackson’s hand began to slide down toward either his holster or handcuffs; the Reverend caught sight of this and quickly—but subtly—gripped the sheriff’s wrist, shaking his head.

Grant gave a slight nod of thanks to the Reverend and then turned back to the guy at the bar. “Okay…?”

“I’m serious.”

“About some guy named Mr. Hands?”

He stared at Grant for a moment before answering. “Huh-uh, not a guy. A thing. A monster. A demon.” He placed the object in his hand on the bar.

For a moment, Grant thought it was some kind of plastic toy that fast food places put in their kids’ meals, a promotional tie-in for an animated movie, because the thing on the bar was so silly-looking it had to be from some kind of movie or cartoon; but as he leaned over to get a closer look he realized two things: it was not made of plastic, but hand-carved from a piece of wood; and once you got a good look at it, it definitely wasn’t silly.

“Makes an impression, doesn’t it?” asked the guy. Grant could only nod, unable for the moment to find his voice.

It stood about four inches tall, a gourd-shaped figure that had only stumps for legs, long arms, and almost ridiculously large hands with lengthy, skeletal-thin fingers. Its head was semi-rounded, with two deep chasms where eyes should have been, no nose, and the too-wide rictus grin of a mummified corpse. The detail was all the more remarkable because it was so hideous, and Grant couldn’t help but wonder what sort of a mind came up with such a thing.

“Did you make that?” he finally managed to ask.

The guy at the bar shook his head. “No. It was a gift.”

Grant reached out and touched the top of the thing’s head; why, he wasn’t sure. Maybe to make certain it was just a lifeless figure.

As soon as his finger touched the top of the thing’s head, it moved.

Startled, Grant pulled his hand away and took a stumbling step backward. The guy at the bar waved an apology, then also touched the figure’s head. It moved again.