A Cold Day In Hell

“You three takin’ your time,” Chuzah hollered. “We gettin’ tired of waitin’.” He whirled one hand above his head in an exaggerated queenly wave. A turban and billowing kaftan, both in a Hawaiian print featuring palm trees and hula dancers in grass skirts, and nothing else set off his black skin. “You like my seasonal decorations? In your honor. I don’t get many guests around here.” He swept back inside.

“Up we go,” Angel said, but before either of them could move, Sonny passed them, taking two steps at a time.

Chuzah’s laughter spilled from inside the cabin. Angel and Eileen gave each other a final look and walked through the door, which slammed hard behind them under the master of the house’s foot. His long, well-shaped bare foot.

“Here we are,” he said, rocking onto his heels. “I am Chuzah, and this is my friend, Locum. My assistant. Like a locum tenens, he takes over my practice when I am forced to leave for a while. And I must be forced, I assure you, because this man don’t want to go nowhere but right here.”

“Sir,” Eileen said. She couldn’t handle this politely anymore. “Where is my son?”

“All in good time, madam,” Chuzah said. “All in good time.”

A would-be Shakespeare thespian in a Hawaiian-print getup.

An altar took center stage, at least Angel thought it was an altar. Lit by many candles, giving off a variety of questionable odors, the tall, gilded base stood in the center of the room with a screen about a foot high on top. The screen, gold and enamel, stood open and Angel couldn’t begin to figure out the heavy load of items in front. He did note sticks of incense burning. He saw no reason to go closer.

There was nothing rustic about the furnishings—other than the oil lamps. Soft suede furniture in deep red invited you to sit or lie. Green and gold rugs covered the floor.

Root doctoring had to be paying better than Angel would have thought.

“Right this way,” Chuzah said and Angel stared at him. “You want to see the other boy, of course. Master Aaron, the curious. What amazement, discovering the depths to which an inquisitive youth will sink in order to investigate what he has no right to know about.”

Angel closed his mouth.

Chuzah walked on the balls of his feet to a door at the back of the room. He opened it gently and put his head inside. “We got company, boy. You put on your best face and make me proud, y’hear?”

Eileen didn’t dare to look at the other two. The gray dog returned, a wooden bowl in his mouth. This, he pushed at Angel.

“Water,” Chuzah said, flicking his fingers. “The dog, he need water.”

“Weimaraner,” Angel said. “Just remembered what he is. I’ve only seen a couple before. He’s a beautiful guy.” He took the bowl and looked around for a source of water.

“He has a large ego,” Chuzah said. “Do nothing to inflate his head. You’ll find water in there.” He indicated another door.

Eileen lowered her head, marched directly to the second door and passed Chuzah. She made it three steps into the room and stopped. “Aaron Moggeridge. What are you doing? You scared me out of my mind.”

“Mom—”

“No, don’t say a word. Be absolutely quiet while I take this in.”

“Mom—”

“One more word and I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“Eileen?” Still holding the dog’s empty dish, Angel came into the room and had to fight not to laugh. “There you are, Aaron. Having a rough time, I see.”

Propped against multicolored silk pillows on a fluffy divan, Aaron wore a robe not dissimilar from Chuzah’s. As usual, his curly black hair was pulled into a tail at his nape. True, his eyes looked huge and very dark in his unusually pale face, but apparently he felt well enough to eat chocolates out of a huge box.

“Shee-it,” Sonny muttered. “I tell ya, last time I saw him he was dyin’.”

“Dramatist,” Chuzah said, examining incredibly long, curved nails with silver tips. “There was an incident. Oh, yes, an incident. I’d lie if I denied that, but the boy is mending nicely. He’s fortunate he had his little episode right under my nose.” He turned up his hands and shook his head with exasperation. “Oh, Angel. It is Angel?”

“Yeah.”

“Aaron here told me about your former career. I’ve got something I think you might find interesting. Would you excuse me please, Eileen? Such an elegant name, Eileen.”

Eileen nodded. “Start talking, Aaron.” She sat on the edge of the divan and Aaron promptly pushed the box of chocolates under her nose.

5

His kaftan billowing, Chuzah led Angel back into the other room, closed the bedroom door and swung to face him. “Let’s be honest with each other, shall we?” He waved Angel into an armchair and sat on a couch himself. “We must use what time we have well. It wouldn’t do for your lady or the boys to hear this.”

Seated, Angel propped his elbows on the arm of the chair and tapped his fingertips together. “Your lady,” was an interesting choice of terms from a stranger.

“You do know what I’m talking about?” Chuzah said, keeping his voice down.

Angel raised his eyebrows. If this clown wanted information, he was going to have to prove he had a right to it.

“Very well.” Chuzah shrugged. “You’re going to be difficult, not that I blame you.”

“I don’t know you,” Angel said. “From what I see here, I never will.”

“You carry a grudge against…” He swung out an arm, taking in the room, and Angel noted what he hadn’t noticed before, rows of herbs hung to dry on rods at the tops of the walls. And more bones, skulls and various shrunken lumps of unrecognizable material.

On the altar, one of those lumps sizzled on a tiny spit above a candle flame.

A chest with many small drawers, like a Chinese herbalist’s cabinet, covered an entire wall.

He turned toward one of the sash windows. The curtains billowed inward and he saw how an artfully placed skull propped the lower window open. A loop of the colored Christmas lights outside cast cheery spots on the shiny white dome that had once contained a human brain.

Angel took it all in. “I’ve always believed in creative freedom.”

Chuzah’s knowing eyes revealed that he was more amused than offended by Angel’s careful verbiage.

“You want to tell me your story?” Chuzah said.

“First,” Angel said, holding up a finger, “would you like to tell me why you sound as if you have a split identity?”

Chuzah gave another huge grin. “You mean my accent, mon? Me, I like to keep my options open. All o’dem options. Now, are you going to tell me about yourself?”

Angel let a few beats pass. “I think I’ll pass. Who are you?”

“More questions about me,” Chuzah said, turning his head to give a view of his dramatic profile. “I am a being. A creature of particular talents. I use my skills as I wish, and I trouble no one who recognizes my superiority.”

“That explains a lot.”

“I do not like company,” Chuzah announced. He pointed at Angel. “You should be grateful I was meditating when the boy, Aaron, had his unfortunate…encounter.”

“Thank you,” Angel said. Antagonizing unknown quantities was a don’t in ATF 101. “I’d appreciate knowing what happened.”