"Listen to me, Eugene," she said. The revolver was tipped up, its nose pointing to the sky. "Don't you ever make a deal with the devil. Don't you ever let him do a single thing for you, no matter what it is. Not even if you're going to die without him. Do you understand me?"

At her side, Johnny's expression was glacial. The only sign of emotion was in his eyes, which burned dark and furious as he stared at her.

"Please put the gun down," Eugene whispered.

She flashed a smile. "You better run, honey. And don't ever look back."

She thumbed the safety off and swung the gun around in a single motion, shoving the barrel between her teeth before Eugene could move. The trigger clicked and the shot split the air, stopping his heart before the bullet stopped hers. Staggering backwards, Eugene stared in shock as her body fell in slow motion, the roof of her skull blown off. Johnny released her hand before her weight could drag him down, and she fell, knees buckling, into her own spray of blood and brains.

Eugene's heart stuttered back to life, leaping into his throat to choke him. Lurching forward, he dropped to his knees at her side, his hands ghosting uselessly over her body, afraid to touch. He was hyperventilating as he leaned over her, blood soaking into his pant legs, the same blood that matted her hair. She had died with her eyes wide open, make-up smudged black around them, the hazel slowly going dull. Her mouth was still parted where she had shoved the gun in.

"Why didn't you take the gun?" Eugene asked wildly, looking up at Johnny. "You were right there!"

Johnny's mouth twisted to one side. "A shame," he finally said. "Come on, get up."

Eugene dropped his hands to Angelique's shoulders, digging his fingers in. She was already going cold. "What's happening? I know you know. You’ve known this whole time.”

Johnny put his hands in his pockets and glanced skyward. The sun didn’t look real anymore. “Say goodbye to your town, Eugene. Say whatever goodbyes you need. The water’s rising; it won’t be long now.”

Eugene stared into Angelique's faded eyes. Black blood welled up behind her teeth, coating her mouth like lipstick. Trembling, he touched her forehead like he wanted to bless her, but he couldn't remember how. His fingers came away sticky with blood and brain matter, and he flinched away from her, pushing to his feet. There, he swayed, weak and lightheaded.

"Come on," Johnny repeated, holding out one hand.

Eugene stared at him. He looked untouched by her death, standing over her body just like he had stood over that dying cop, weeks ago in Baton Rouge. Turning, Eugene forced his legs to hold steady. Angelique's last words rattled in his brain like a loose bullet casing. Sucking in a deep breath, he pointed himself at the church and ran.

It felt like his whole life had been a dream, and he would wake up in bed twelve years old again, Mary Beth still alive to keep their Sunday play dates like nothing had ever happened. He ran away from Johnny, away from Angelique's body, the asphalt steaming under his shoes like the water was already there. The grass was so green on the lawns, thick and wild with no one to cut it back. Eventually, there would be no one left who remembered Chanlarivyè at all, and it would vanish from people’s thoughts and mouths and maps like it had never been. Anyone who came looking would find the ruins of a ghost town, overrun with weeds, sinking into the bayou. Maybe everyone had already forgotten.