“I’m still trying to make contact with the Fiends,” Beaumont says. “They’re a difficult bunch to track down.”

“Thanks again,” Jesse says. “Let me know as soon as you hear anything.”

“Of course,” Beaumont says. “In the meantime, I’d like to invite you to dinner. You and Edgar and Johona.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s been twenty years since we last got together. That’s too long for old friends like us. We have catching up to do.”

Jesse is in no mood to socialize but wants to make sure he stays in Beaumont’s good graces.

“As long as you don’t go to any trouble,” he says.

“Splendid,” Beaumont says. “I’ll be looking forward to it. I haven’t entertained in ages. I’ll expect you tomorrow at midnight. Take down the address.”

Edgar is thrilled by the invitation. “He still got that piano that plays itself?” he asks, recalling a visit they made to Beaumont when he was living in New Orleans. “He still got that parrot?”

That night, at Johona’s insistence, they take in a magic show at the Desert Inn. It’s a big production. Showgirls high-kick across the stage, a tiger appears out of thin air, and Buddy Hackett stops by to help out on a card trick.

Jesse’s having a fine time until the magician brings out a rope and ties his assistant to a post, telling a story about how they used to burn witches at the stake. Witch. That’s what the men in Hot Springs called Claudine. The magician douses his assistant with liquid from a gas can, strikes a match, and tosses it at the girl’s feet.

Flames shoot up around her, and Jesse’s suddenly back in that Arkansas clearing, coming to in agony but healing quickly after being shot to pieces by the friends of the drunk Claudine fed on. The men are standing over the drunk.

“Poor Jim.”

“Gone, is he?”

“Gone.”

Jesse plays dead as the men approach him and Claudine.

“Who are these two?”

“The bitch was drinking Jim’s blood.”

“Some kind of witch then, and him the devil that rides with her.”

One of the men brings a lantern close to Claudine. “Would you look at that,” he says.

Claudine’s bones are knitting, her flesh mending.

“She’s putting herself back together,” the man with the lantern says.

“We got to burn them,” another says. “We got to burn the both of them.” He runs down the trail to a shack.