?Your sister was here looking for you over the weekend.?

Canaan paused briefly, then resumed pulling on his pants. It was so quiet, he could hear the zipper being worked and Merrick?s soft breaths behind him on the bed. He didn?t answer, nor did he even look at the man before bending to collect his shirt and socks from the floor.

?I don?t know why she thought to come to me. You haven?t been here in a couple months.? His bed was pushed up against the wall and Merrick sat leaning his back into the wood paneling, one knee bent with his arm draped on top of it. He was naked, covered across the waist with a grey sheet. When Canaan reached for his boots next, the boy leaned to catch the back of his shirt.

?Merrick,? Cane rumbled, barely glancing over his shoulder. He didn?t sound pleased, but didn?t pull away from the hold.

?Stay? I?ve missed you.?

The Cajun sighed, finally turning around to fix his lover with a weary expression. Hazel eyes looked the boy over slowly from head to toe. He was tall with boyish features, usually sported a smooth face and had a pallid complexion despite all his time spent working on the docks in the sun. Where the boy?s color didn?t give his profession away, his physique did; lean and muscular. But it was the long, shoulder-length brown hair that had drawn Canaan to him in the first place. ?Merrick. I can?t give ya what?cha wan?.?

?You could, I think. You?re just not willing to try.? He lifted a hand to touch the Cajun?s cheek and frowned when Canaan pulled away. Angry brown eyes watched Cane turn his back once more, bending to pull on his boots. The bed creaked as he moved, sliding his arms around the man from behind. Merrick curled against him, leeching the heat that still poured from the Cajun?s skin. ?Why did you come to me tonight, then, if you didn?t miss me, too??

Canaan stared at his boots, elbows on his knees. ?Sal wasn? in da mood.? He had other lovers, sure, but this answer would hurt Merrick and the Cajun knew it. Reaching up, he pushed the boy?s hands away and got up from the bed to tuck in his shirt.

?He can?t do what I can.?

?You muddied what ya did f?me when ya fell in love wit? me, Merrick.? The boy glared at the Cajun, trying not to cry and Canaan had to look away from him. ?I tol?ja I ain? got a heart no more. I ain? got no love ta give, boy.?

?But you do!? He gathered the sheets around his waist and hurried off the bed to chase after Canaan. ?Cane, you do. You spend so much time trying to block out the pain, trying to forget Jeremy?s place in your life. It still hurts because you have a heart. Because you still love him. He wouldn?t want you to shut people out. He?d want you to move on.?

In a flash, the Cajun ?rounded on Merrick with fire in his eyes. The severe expression made the boy pull up short and take a step back. Canaan stuck a finger in the other man?s face, rage and pain distorting his face. ?Don?chou ever say his name again, Merrick. You don? know anyt?ing ?bout him.?

?See, my brot?er ain? never been right. My siblings an? I are Warlocks. Dat means we?s da product of a demon/human union. My maman ain? tell us why she done da t?ings she did. An? it wasn?t my place ta ask her. After she had my sister, she started seein? dis other guy--a mundane. ?Course, I didn? like him from da start, he was always smackin? us around an? drinkin? alcohol like a fish does water. I was ten when she got pregnant again. Wasn? til I was older dat I realized why she hid it from Ray for so long--baby wasn? his.

?One night, dey got in a argument. He was drunk, callin? her all sorts of names an? throwin? **** around. I guess he?d found out about da baby somehow. It got heated. I mos?ly jes remember Petra cryin? fer Maman. He, ah...pushed Maman down da stairs an? she ended up havin? Israel early da nex mornin?. Ray went ta jail and we ain? ever heard from him again. I looked him up a while back. Found out he drank himself ta death in da 60?s. Anyway, my maman wasn? but 7 months along. Israel had a rough start an? he suffered for it da rest ?a his life.

?Maman died when I was twen?y. My sister an? I took care of Israel. Petra was da one wit? a good head on her shoulders. She managed ta keep us toget?er an? got me outta trouble more times den I can count.

?Anyways, dat night in da bar was stressful. Dere?s always someone try?na take advantage of Israel. A group of vampires I didn? get along wit? often got mundane?s to try an? lure Israel inta false friendships. It never ends well an? we spend months try?na get Israel back to a healt?y place. So once I had gotten him calmed down, Petra kept an eye on him an? I tried to block out my problems like I always did. Sex and booze.

?Spent a good portion of da night dancin? wit? a black guy from outta state. Den we stowed away in a corner booth ta drink an? be naughty. T?ings was headed right where I wanted ?em to: a bed at a nearby hotel. Or so I thought.?

-----

It was late, but Bourbon Heat was just starting to come alive. The place was packed, the booths were all full, and the dance floor was covered in writhing bodies. Music pulsed and the lights were low. A smoky haze filled the room and, for the most part, helped to hide the necking going on in the booths.

Petra, situated behind the bar, ticked her attention between Israel eating his dinner at the end of the bar and her older brother in the booth with an out-of-towner. A wave drew her attention from her siblings and she sashayed over, throwing the bar towel over her shoulder.

?What can I get?cha, sug???

?I want to send a drink to someone,? he told her.

The Warlock grinned at him, putting a hand on her hip. ?It?s your birthday, ain? it?? She?d heard him and his friends crowing about it for the past hour, all of them buying drinks for the guy. It was a surprise that he hadn?t thrown up yet with all the liquor they?d poured into him. ?You?s supposed ta be gettin? drinks. Not sendin? em.?

?I know, I know! But I gotta make the most?a this night.? He hit his palm on the bar, smiling at her. ?Help me out, here!?

Petra winked and tapped a finger to her mouth. ?A?ight, cher. As my present t?ya t?night, I?ll letcha send dis drink on da house. What?cha wanna send and where, sug???

?Bourbon,? he told her. Then, turning around to glance towards the booths, he discreetly pointed to the one containing Cane and his friend.

Petra stared at the birthday boy, bottle of Bourbon poised to pour. ?Which one you talkin? bout??

?The one with all the tattoos.?

She snorted at him, setting the bottle down without filling the glass she?d gotten out. ?Oh honey, pick again. He?s busy.?

?Naw, c?mon now! It?s my birthday, remember??

?He?s?.you don? want dat one, babydoll. He?s bad news. He?ll use ya up an? leave ya wantin?.?

The birthday boy leaned a little closer to her. ?You know ?im??

Petra sighed. ?He?s m? brot?er.?

?Oh yeah? Send it to ?im. You gotta tell ?im it?s from me. I already run into him once tonight.?

?A?ight, sug?, but don? say I ain? warn ya.? Finally pouring the drink, she smirked. ?You?s gon? be hurtin? in da mornin?.? After putting the bottle back where it belonged, she swiped the glass from the bar and started walking towards her brother.

In the booth, things were getting hot and heavy. The out-of-towner had his hand sliding up Canaan?s thigh and his tongue in his mouth. So it was with great exasperation that the Warlock pulled away from the delicious bit to listen to his sister when she interrupted them. He stared at the drink she slid across the table.

?It?s from dat yummy little morsel at da bar.?

?Are you ****in? kiddin? me, Petra??

?Nah, it?s his birthday, cher. I promised him I?d deliver.?

Hazel eyes lifted from the bourbon to scan the bar. There sat the long-haired fellow he?d run into earlier, grinning like a fool. He even winked. Canaan quirked a brow, then had to shake his head to keep from smirking. Had to hand it to the boy...he had balls. Sending a drink to an occupied man? ?Tell him t?anks an? happy birthday.?

Petra returned to the bar, swinging her hips in a way that had almost every man in the room looking her way. She turned around just in time to see her brother lift the drink while locking eyes with the birthday boy and toss it back like it was nothing.

The grin on the birthday boy?s face was cute, she thought to herself. But he was destined for disappointment. Leaning with both elbows on the bartop and her chin in her hands, Petra cleared her throat. ?What?s ya name, babydoll??

Birthday boy swung his dark eyes around and answered, ?Jeremy.?

?Once upon a time, m? sister had a relationship wit? a mundane. It didn? end well. I?ve heard stories from ot?er Warlocks, da warnings ta stay away. It?s always a bad idea, dey say. It was a rule I?d adhered to fer decades and it served me well. Well enough, anyway. Nevermind I?ve never found anyt?in? dat stuck. Aside from Henri, everyone I?ve ever loved has cheated on me. True story.

?Anyway, I couldn? tell ya why I was even givin? dis kid da time ?a day. It went against everyt?in? I?ve ever tol? m?self. It wasn? even dat I planned ta break ?im...I legitimately wanted ta figure out why I was so drawn ta him, why he was so set on me. Fer all ?a his effort in getting my attention, Jeremy never once gave da impression dat he was trying ta impress me. He was real. We didn? go ta breakfast like planned, but we did park our ***es on a levee along da coast talkin? ?bout everyt?in? and not?in?. I don? know how many times he made me laugh ?fore da sun come up, but I remember wishin? time would stop.

?We ain? did more?n kiss dat night. An after mont?s ?a him bein? da one ta come ta me, never meetin? on his side ?a da line, I figured out he was still in da closet. Not only dat, but I was da firs? guy he?d ever gotten involved wit?. Jere? didn? have no idea ?bout me bein? a Warlock, but it made our relationship feel kinda special. He was my firs? mundane. I was his firs? gay partner.

?We really only saw each ot?er on weekends at firs?. Very occasionally durin? da week. He was finishin? up his degree an? I still had a business ta run. But it worked fer us. I?d never been happier in my life. We moved slow an? really got ta know each ot?er. I told ?im what I could, what I was allowed to. It killed me ta keep such an important t?ing from someone I loved dat much. Da deeper we got, da harder it was f?me ta keep it all a secret. Ya know how much I hate secrets an? lies.?


May, 9th 1998

The promise of the day?s heat cloaked the morning like a heavy, wet blanket. Even with the sun having barely risen, Petra?s dogs had already taken shelter beneath the wide stretch of porch along the west side of the house. It was even more stifling inside the house; Israel?s request to eat breakfast on the porch was met with little resistance from his older siblings and the three gathered around a circular wrought iron table.

?Do y?all have ta do dat??

To keep Israel from running off, Canaan occupied and amused him by tossing bits of biscuit for boy to catch with his mouth. The elder Cajun grinned, slouched in his chair with his plate of food balanced on a thigh, bare feet propped on the porch railing.

?Boy?s itchin? ta run aroun?. At leas? I?m gettin? some food in ?im firs?.?

?Cane, y?all ?r gettin? it all ovah da place.?

Canaan tipped his head to stare at Petra. ?We?s outside. What?s gon? happen? Hell, yer ****in? dog?s ?ll get it all up ?fore da bugs even find it.?

Israel made a particularly sharp dive to the side to catch a wayward throw and shook the table with a rough jerk, knocking over Petra?s coffee. The inky black liquid spread across the table and soaked the white linen sheet being used as a table cloth.

?Canaan,? whined Petra reproachfully.

?What?? Locking eyes with his sister, he tossed another bit of food at their brother who made an expert catch. The elder Cajun whooped loudly and clapped. ?Why ya t?ink I got my plate on my lap?? Ignoring his sister?s sigh, a sure sign of her displeasure, he continued the game of catch with Israel until the entire biscuit was gone before encouraging him to eat like a normal person. Of course, this included a bribe of climbing trees with him later, but it got the job done.

?Happy?? He asked, re-situating his plate on the table. ?He?s got a fork now.?

Petra hmm?d at Canaan without looking up from the newspaper, sipping her fresh mug of coffee. ?I saw ya pulled Jack in fer da afternoon shift.?

?Yep,? Canaan replied around a mouth full of eggs and toast. The shrill herald of an incoming phone call came from inside the house. Before Cane could get up to answer it, Israel darted away from the table. Beneath them under the porch, the dogs rustled around and not two seconds later, a pretty Brittney Spaniel trotted along in the youngest Warlock?s wake.

The newspaper tipped down, folding along a crease so Petra could level her brother with a suspicious stare. ?I thought?cha said Jeremy was busy today an? you?d be at da bar.?

As if on cue, Israel?s excited greeting wafted out of the nearest window. ?Hi, Jeremy!? A few moments later, he padded to the open window next to his siblings and sat on the floor. ?Yeah, he?s righ? here.?

Canaan?s smile was bright, but a little sly. ?He is,? as a quiet aside to Petra. ?But I figur?d out what he?s up to t?day.?

Israel laughed at something, tittering loudly while knocking the back of his head against the window sill. ?He is righ? here! Do ya wanna talk ta him, hmm, Jeremy??

?Ne pas nuire ? votre t?te, fr?re.? Petra leaned through the open window, slipping her fingers behind Israel?s head. He handed her the phone and proceeded to crawl through the window when Petra turned to pass the phone along to Canaan.

The long, spiral cord stretched across the table with length to spare. Careful not to get it in any of the food, Cane wrapped the excess around his hand.

?Hey, baby,? a smooth croon into the receiver.

?Hey, Canaan. I just wanted ta say hi before I had to go to work.?

?Ya ever figure out why ya got stuck wit? da weekend??

?Yeah, some new guy did the scheduling and posted it before Randy double-checked. Sorry it messed up our weekend.?

?Nah, it?s fine. **** happens. ?Sides, summer?s comin? up an? we?ll have more free time den. Don? worry ?bout it, Jere.?

?What?re ya gonna do today instead? I wish I was there.?

?Oh, I?m gonna be workin? da early shif? at da bar.?

Petra?s eyebrows lifted. Canaan put a finger to his lips.

?Alright, well, have fun. We?ll do somethin? special next weekend, ok? I love you.?

?Love ya, too, cher. Call me t?nigh??

?I will. Bye, Cane.?

?Bye, Jeremy.?

After the line went dead, Canaan passed the phone back to Petra, who handed it to Israel, who climbed back through the window to hang it on the wall. Upon his return, he exited the house through the front door and had the dog on his heels again. The animal went to work consuming scraps of food on the porch.

?Ya gon? tell me what dat was all ?bout??

?Dat,? Cane said, pulling his feet down from the railing to push the dog away from his space. ?Was Jere try?na pull a fas? one. I found out he?s graduatin? t?day.?

Still looking confused, Petra frowned and reached over to pet the dog now rooting around for crumbs beneath her chair. ?Well how come he ain? tell us??

?I?ll bet his whole family?s gon? be dere.?

?An he ain? wanna hide ya, so he kep? it a secret.? She nodded, watching Canaan intently. ?But?chou?s goin? anyway, huh??

?Yup!? Up out of his seat now, he started clearing his place at the table.

?Cane.?

?He ain? gonna see me. I don? mind stayin? outta sight. I wanna see dis. He worked hard f? dis, Petra. I wanna support ?im, even if he don? know I?m dere. I can tell ?im later dat I got ta see it, dat I was dere f? him.?

?I ain? gon? stop ya, fr?re, but I t?ink y? should tell ?im you?s comin?.?

Canaan scoffed. ?Yeah, it?s ****ty dat we gotta hide our love. I hate it. But it ain? fer much longer. I can?****, it?s fine, Petra. I don? care.?

They cleared the table in silence and Canaan prepared to leave. On the way out the door, Israel attached himself to his older brother?s back.

?I?m goin?.?

?No ya ain?, y?all don? know how ta keep quiet if yer life depended on it.?

?C?mon, Cane!?

Canaan reached around to wrestle the younger Warlock off him and the two rolled around in the grass for a few minutes before Cane gave up. ?I really can? take ya, buddy. But how ?bout we get?cha over ta see Nash??

Israel pouted and one of his tics kicked in. With his head jerking to the left, he reached out to touch Canaan?s face, but the older man caught his hand in a strong grip. ?But??

?Hey, hey.? Cane lifted his free hand to grip the side of Israel?s neck to hold him still. Not until the younger man looked him in the eye did Canaan continue. ?I?ll race ya.?

Israel bucked off of his brother?s chest with a wild laugh, accidentally kneeing him in the face in the process. He scrambled a few feet away to crouch down, ready to run. ?Let?s go, let?s go!?

Rolling over with a groan, Cane got to his feet and laughed, rubbing his jaw. ?Ready?? Israel nodded several times. ?On t?ree, fr?re. Un, deux, trois!? Canaan rocketed forward two steps before stopping, drawing himself upright to watch little brother book it down the driveway. With a glance to the porch, he tipped a few fingers off his forehead to Petra who was watching with a smile.

?Every time!?

?You?s terrible, Canaan.?

------

Pomp and Circumstance played as the stadium filled with graduation candidates dressed in their maroon gowns and caps. Mississippi State banners draped the wall behind the faculty lined up along the stage. Hundreds of students sat eagerly awaiting that final walk but Canaan had eyes for only one. He paced the back of the room, cloaked with Glamour, barely listening to the drone of speech after speech from the Dean and several teachers, the Valedictorian, the Salutatorian, and yet another faculty member. Finally, the Dean retook the stage.

?Thank you so much, Dr. Eckwood, and thanks to each of you this afternoon. Now is the time we?ve all been waiting for. It?s time to award some degrees to our students.? The audience clapped and cheered. Canaan held his tongue, but grinned with fierce pride. ?Members of the board, faculty, and staff, and guests, I would like to present to you the Mississippi State University 1998 commencement candidates.?

Several staff members rose from their seats to collect a stack of diplomas while the Dean took his place at the edge of the stage to greet the students on their walk. A woman?s voice rang through the P.A.. ?The following students are candidates for the General Education Development Certificate: Amber Catlin.? One by one, students with the highest GPAs in their selected field were called to the stage. Halfway through the list of names was the one Cane was waiting to hear.

?Jeremy Laroche.? Canaan sent a fist into the air as Jeremy strolled across the stage to accept his award and degree. He posed for a brief moment, hand in hand with the Dean, and a small group of guests jumped to their feet to cheer. The Cajun glanced in their direction briefly with a smile for the family he hoped to one day get to know.

After all the students walked the stage, the Mississippi State University fight song rang through the speakers and they all threw their caps in the air. The stadium filled with the cheers of graduates and guests alike. Canaan should have left then, but he wanted to see Jeremy one more time and went in search of the man?s family.

Still hidden, thanks to his Glamour, the Cajun eventually made his way through the throng until he found the happy group of family. But in addition to family, there was another. A woman. A blond. She hung on Jeremy like she belonged at his side, laughing excitedly while they posed for a picture. Canaan looked on as she squealed obnoxiously and threw her arms around the man that he loved and kissed him full on the mouth. Jeremy kissed her back, hard. He was not so close to hear them, but it was easy to read their body language. It was even easier to read Jeremy?s lips when he told the girl he loved her.

Separation

Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
― W.S. Merwin


Casa del Brujo - approximately 2 o'clock am

Canaan?s panicked gasp ripped through the otherwise silent room as he was startled awake, up and out of the nightmare he'd been having. He stared unseeingly at the whitewashed ceiling, pupils dilating to better absorb the glowing moonlight that streamed through the windows over the headboard. The distant sound of crashing waves on the shore sparked the memory of listening to the hiss of the train?s idle engine while he emptied the contents of his stomach on the side of the tracks. Nausea rolled through Cane as readily as it had two years earlier. He sat bolt upright mere seconds after awakening and felt the stinging prick of tears in the corners of his eyes.

It was too warm at night to use a blanket anymore with summer just around the corner, so when Cane sat up with his legs bent, it was on a bare knee that his forehead touched down when he curled in on himself. Arms wrapped around both legs in an attempt to quell the shaking that had started but the wild, spasmodic inhalation of air seemed only to help the nausea.

He continued to shake, sending off waves of heat as he tried desperately to hold in the violent sobs that threatened to claw their way out of his chest.

?Amante.? A solitary word accompanied by a singular touch. Cool fingers slid across an intact patch of scales along Cane?s spine.

That voice made a crack in the dam of his emotions. A pathetic, sniveling whine hissed out of the Cajun?s mouth and he turned, immediately, to lie back down and bury his face against Salvador?s bare chest.

Sal wrapped his arms around Canaan. ?Est?s salvo, mi ?gida,? he whispered. ?Estoy aqu?.?

The crack became a fissure, resulting in nearly half a minute of Cane holding his breath and hating himself while hot tears spilled from his eyes. When the wave of overwhelming emotion finally receded, he slid his fingers down Salvador?s side until they came to rest over the man?s waist just above the hip.

While taking a deep breath, he turned his face toward the ceiling and pressed his cheek against the Spaniard?s cool, scarred chest. ?I should?a listened to ?em.?

Salvador said nothing. He simply pressed a kiss into Canaan?s hair and proceeded to pull his fingers through the sweat dampened strands.

?I can? get de picture outta my head, Sal.?

-----

Bay St. Louis, MS
Sunday. March 3, 2013
6:13 pm


?He?s been gone all weekend, Jeremy. I gotta go find ?im.?

Canaan?s tall, bronze-skinned lover sat on their living room couch, elbows on his knees, hands folded in front of himself. He watched the Cajun passively while the man put on his jacket. ?We both got work in the mornin?, Cane. You don?t need to be driving all the way to New Orleans just to look for him.?

?It?s the only place I can think of that he?d be, babe.? Running a hand through his hair, Cane turned away from Jeremy to rifle through the cluttered mess on the kitchen counter in pursuit of his keys. ?He gets upset like dat, ya know he goes ta stir up trouble back home.?

Jeremy shook his head and sighed. ?He just got here. Came up here to get away from things over there. Your sister said he was planning to stay for a while, I don?t think he?d go right back ?cause y?all had a fight. He?ll come back when he?s cooled off.?

The Cajun grit his teeth with the reminder.

Israel had been going through a really rough patch and had come to stay with them to take a little break from life in New Orleans. Only, he?d shown up after a particularly hard day for Cane and a stupid argument quickly escalated into a screaming match. Jeremy?s intervention had been too late and the younger warlock had run off. Now he?d been gone for days.

?Can ya help me find my keys, please?? More than a little frustrated, Cane made an all-encompassing gesture with a hand toward the mess on the counter. Then he yanked a drawer open and started digging through the contents.

By the time Jeremy joined Cane in the kitchen, the Cajun was busy cinching the tiny drawstrings of a little black velvet pouch the size of his palm. A severe frown marred the Islander?s handsome features. ?What exactly are you plannin? on doin? in New Orleans, Cane??

The Cajun rolled his eyes and stuffed the little bag in his jacket pocket. ?It?s witchlight, not magic. An? I don? know, Jere?. He always goes back t? dem. It?s jes? a precaution, alright??

Though unconvinced, Jeremy pulled a set of keys out from under a pile of papers and held them out to the Cajun. ?You?re gonna be tired tomorrow,? Jeremy warned. He smiled and leaned forward, pressing the keys into Canaan?s outstretched hand.

The slightly shorter man smirked in response and met Jeremy halfway to thank him with a lingering kiss. ?You?ve kep? me up plenty ?a times, cher.? Cane?s fingers curled around the keys and most of Jeremy?s hand. ?I?ll survive.? He pressed one more kiss on the man he loved, then moved for the door. ?Do me a favor an? see if anybody ?round here has seen ?im? I?d love nothin? more ta be wrong an? have ?im still here in town.?

The screen door creaked shut obnoxiously in the Cajun?s wake. Jeremy moved to stand in the doorway, watching Cane get in his blue chevy. ?I?ll call ya if I find him.?

The truck?s engine roared to life. Cane eased the window pane down and hung his arm out the window to make the ?hang ten? hand sign. ?Je t'aime. Be back soon.?

Jeremy returned the gesture with a smile. ?Love you, babe. Drive safe.?

-----

New Orleans, LA
Sunday. March 3, 2015
10:22 pm


?Carol said she thinks he slept in the library on Friday night. And she saw him yesterday evening with a couple of kids at the cemetery next to Saints Crossing Church. I told you he didn?t go all the way back to Louisiana.?

Cane rolled his eyes while transferring the cell phone from one ear to the other. ?If you?s waitin? ta hear me say I was wrong, yer gon? be waitin? ferever.?

?Come on, tell me what I wanna hear! Say it slowly, I need to savor it.?

Canaan chuckled and worked on getting his truck turned around to head back home. ?Mmm, sorry. Dere?s no tellin? what?ll happen if I let dem words come out? my mouth.?

The voice on the other end of the line hummed a short noise in consideration. ?I guarantee you that a man who can admit when he?s wrong gets laid.?

?Is dat so??

?It is.?

?Well in dat case,? Canaan took a deep breath in an attempt to make himself sound as serious as possible. ?I was wrong. So wrong.?

?And who was right?? The sound of a car door shutting filtered through the phone?s speaker.

The Cajun chuffed an amused breath. ?You was right, Jere?. You goin? somewhere??

?Yeah. Ain?t gonna hurt to swing by the cemetery real quick. If he ain?t there, then maybe there?s still someone there who saw where he went next. It?s Sunday. How long do preachers stay at church??

?**** if I know. Listen, I?m already turned back around. Ain? see no cops on de way here, so...should be back home ?fore midnight wit? de way I drive.?

?Mmhm. See you soon. Hope ya pass a cop.?

?Gee, love you, too.?

Jeremy laughed. ?Bye.?

-----

Mississippi
Sunday. March 3, 2015
10:57 pm

As the Cajun flew down the Mississippi Interstate going twenty-something miles over the speed limit, he was blindsided by a sudden spike in Jeremy?s heart rate. The Islander was connected to Cane by the black stone ring he wore. By way of their connection, Canaan felt the other man?s pulse climb steadily; and just when he was reaching for his phone, Jeremy?s heart rate returned to normal. Brushing the episode aside, he assumed Jeremy had found Israel at last. The boy did have a tendency to terrorize folk.

-----

Bay St. Louis, MS
Sunday. May 3, 2015
11:48pm


Now inside the city limits, the Cajun was forced to obey the street signs and drop the number on the dashboard from over 100 to a measly 25 miles an hour. It wouldn?t do for him to get a ticket they couldn?t really afford. Not to mention it would look bad on him as a leader in the community.

Canaan had to slow down even further as he drove through the sleepy little town. He swung by the church to see if Jeremy?s truck was still parked there and when he saw that it was not, turned down another road that led away from the city proper. More and more trees began to dot the spaces between the little brick buildings; and soon, the street lights of town bled away into quiet suburbia.

Without any warning at all, Cane found himself blindsided by the searing pain of a torn connection. Absolute, sheer panic and white-hot pain hit him all at once; the air left his lungs in a rush. One moment he was staring wide-eyed at the road ahead of him and in the next he was blinking wildly to clear his vision.

His truck was on its side in a ditch. Because he had not been wearing a seatbelt, Cane lay crumpled against the passenger side window. It only took him a moment or two to clear his head. The crash could hardly be called a crash at all, just an accidental swerve into a deep ditch that rolled the truck on its side. As far as he could tell, he wasn?t hurt at all. The only thing that was wrong was his inability to sense the connection he shared with Jeremy.

As is the case with denial, the Cajun found himself making excuse after excuse for the severed connection, refusing to even entertain the idea that something was actually wrong. After ten minutes of searching in vain for his cell phone, Cane climbed out of the vehicle and started walking in the direction of home. A few minutes later, the familiar wail of sirens echoed through the empty streets. The sound stirred a bit of life into him and he picked up the pace.

Nothing and everything occupied his thoughts as he jogged through the otherwise quiet streets of the Bay. The Cajun rounded a corner and was met with the harrowing sight of lights flashing in the distance where, half a mile away, a passenger train was blocking the road, stopped dead on the tracks.

For the first time in six decades, Canaan prayed to a God he hated that he would not find Jeremy in the middle of whatever was going on up ahead.

The scene was rife with uniformed officers and firemen alike. Passengers from the first few cars were being deboarded and assessed by medical personnel. Too many voices overlapped one another. Cane moved numbly through the sea of bodies, buffeted by the throng like they were waves and he a boat without a rudder.

It wasn?t until a paramedic caught him by the arm that Canaan showed any sign of life. The touch seemed to draw him up out of whatever hole he?d fallen into.

?Let go ?a me.?

?Sir,? the medic stated calmly. ?Passengers need to follow the officers over there, you?ll be bussed--?

Canaan cut him off and jerked his arm away. ?I?m Lieutenant Devillier. Off duty...heard the sirens.?

The medic insisted, clearly not believing Cane and stepped to block the Cajun from moving any further. He turned aside to yell for a uniformed Firefighter.

A stout man in his late thirties looked up at the man?s call and appeared largely indifferent toward the paramedic until his eyes looked just past him to find Canaan. Even with a shaggy beard masking most of his face, one could see the way his hardened expression melted away into something more like pity.

The sight turned Cane?s stomach. With the paramedics attention preoccupied, the Cajun slipped away and continued his trek toward the front of the train still a couple hundred yard away.

?Wait a minute, you can?t--? The paramedic?s attempt to go after Canaan was waved off by the Fireman he?d flagged down.

Canaan only managed a few more steps before another body prevented him from moving any further.

?Get outta my way, Dale.?

The stout, bearded man shook his head and held up both hands. ?What?re you doing here? We?ve got things under control.?

Cane swallowed the lump in his throat. ?Move.?

?I can?t let you--?

Everything inside him went cold. It was the first time he could ever recall experiencing such a thing. Always he was heat and fire and burning. Right now he was cold and numb. ?Is it Jeremy?? Even now Cane prayed it wasn?t true.

?Listen,? Dale said, reaching to lay his hands on the Cajun?s shoulders. He watched as the weight of truth settled heavily around Canaan?s neck. Despair etched itself into the Cajun?s drawn expression. When his friend tried pulling away, his fingers tightened. ?Cane. Stop.?

?No!? He tried to get around his well meaning co-worker, but the man got in his way again. This time, he put some effort into restraining Canaan from proceeding any further down the line. ?****in? let me t?ru, he?s--?

Dale grunted as he grappled with Cane and cut him off with a shake of his head. ?No, you don?t wanna see that, brother.?

?It?s him?!? Anguish crackled through his disheartened question. ?It?s him...oh ****. Oh God.? Cane tried shoving Dale away. ?Oh ****!?

?Cane, please, listen ta me!? Dale tried desperately to maintain his hold on the Cajun, hoping he could get through to the man. ?Ya gotta stop. Ya can?t go up there.? While holding Canaan back with one arm, he lifted the other and grabbed the two-way radio clipped to his shoulder. ?Alex? Grab the Chief. Cane?s here.?

?I swear ta God if ya don? let me t?ru?? The Cajun?s voice rose. In his panic, he threw a punch that Dale easily avoided.

?Hey, easy. Easy!?

Cane pretended to give up, sagging in Dale?s arms. It took every ounce of self-control that he could muster, but he was finally still. ?Okay, okay. Please, jes?...let me go, man.?

Dale eyed Canaan suspiciously for several seconds and finally loosened his grip. ?Cane, just sit down, will ya? Chief?s comin? to--****. Hey!?

Canaan tore away from Dale as soon as there was room enough to weasel his way out of the man?s grip. He took off at a run and didn?t intend to stop for anyone.

?Someone grab him!?

Most of the people he passed made no move to stop him and the few that tried did not pursue him for very long. They all knew Cane and none of them wanted to be the one who got in his way.

As he ran, he focused on the sound of the wind rushing past his face. The sound of blood roaring in his ears. The sound of his heart beating furiously in his chest. The oddly comforting scent of smoke in the breeze. The stench of melted rubber and hydraulic fluid. Anything to keep from letting himself think about what he?d find up ahead.

It was dark, but there were several emergency vehicles parked with their headlights trained on a disfigured scrap of metal that used to be a green SUV. Canaan stood twenty feet away from the crumpled, smoking heap and stared in horror at what was left of the man inside.

Between the impact of the train obliterating most of the vehicle and the fire that raged as a result of that action, there was little to be found in the way of any recognizable features. The person slumped in the accordioned driver?s seat was a grotesque agglomeration of burned tissue and broken, exposed bone.

The driver?s side door had already been removed in preparation of extracting the body. Absolutely aghast, Cane?s eyes locked onto the mangled hand that hanged lifelessly, unmoving, in plain view. Adorning the dead man?s middle finger was the one thing that told Cane he could no longer pretend: a silver ring with a black stone. A gift for his fragile, mundane lover, given to him seventeen years earlier.

In his anguish, the Cajun began to cry. Deep, wracking sobs interspersed with despondent, unintelligible remonstration. Someone caught him as he began to back away, and just in time, too. His knees buckled. Cane?s faceless savior helped ease him to the ground. The hiss of the train?s engine swallowed the sound of his loud retching and vomiting.

?Get me away from here,? he begged whomever it was that sat beside him, steadfast like an anchor.

The last thing Cane remembered from that night was Nash?s deep voice asking him how far away he?d like to go.

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Story continues here: Kingdom Come