The Ever After

Chapter Twenty-One: John the Jibber

PUMPKIN LET OUT A STARTLED SCREAM AND SHOT for the door.

The man laughed. "I'd freeze where ye are, or ye'll end up like yer friend."

Pumpkin, hovering and quaking, slowly turned.

"Get back here where I can look at ye."

Pumpkin complied, sidling up behind May.

In a vaporous swirl the man oozed down from the rafters and came to an upright hover an inch off the floor. He was a gruesome sight. Underneath his filthy clothes, which were ripped and covered in mold, his body was gaunt. His hollow cheeks sucked themselves underneath his cheekbones so that he looked like he was trying to make a fish face. Cockroaches crawled out from beneath his collar and into his hair and scraggly beard.

"A Live One! Look at you." The man laughed heartily again and lowered his water gun. He wore a smile, but his eyes glinted like steel. A cockroach ran along his bottom lip. "I haven't seen one of your kind in years. I couldn't believe it when they said you'd come through the gate! What a sight! I'm John." He thrust out his hand. "Ye can call me Mr. Jibber."

May stared at his hand. "Where's Lucius?" she asked, too stunned to speak above a whisper, her eyes glued to the spot where Lucius had vanished.

John eyed her sympathetically. "I'd say he's about a hundred miles south of us right now, dearie."

"No!" May threw her hands up over her mouth. Tears welled along the ridges of her eyes.

She felt a cold pricking on her chin. John the Jibber had tucked an index finger there and was lifting her face to look at him. "Chin up, lass. Don't waste yer time feeling sorry fer what's already past. Nothing you or I can do."

May shrank back, not just from his words, which sounded mean and hard, but from the unbearable smell. Just when she'd gotten used to the smell of the town hall, he'd appeared with a stench three times as bad. He smelled like maggots and slime and mold and old socks and all the bad things May could think of. As she moved backward she bumped into Pumpkin, who was cowering behind her. She felt stuck between them like ham in a sandwich. She turned back to John and swiped at her tears. "Y-You're John the Jibber."

"Don't like the looks of me, eh? Well, I don't blame ye. But it isn't me fault, what happened to yer friend. Everybody knows not to use the west door of the tavern. Except intruders."

May was speechless. John seemed to take this as agreement, because he once again burst into a wide grin.

"Hey, mates," he called back over his shoulder. "C'mon out! We've got ourselves a Live One in the grotto!"

An explosion of voices filled the hall.

"We're not yer mates, John the Jibber," one voice called. It seemed like it was almost just beneath May's feet.

"You wish, Jibber!" said another.

Slowly specters began arriving from all directions-oozing up through the cracks in the floor, pouring in through the front door of the hall. The women were as rough-looking as the men. Many of them were covered in scars and tattoos; several were missing fingers. One was missing a head. As May watched in awe, they watched her in return, crowding around her and Pumpkin, but only staring at her. Some grabbed drinks from the bar before they joined the others.

"Can I touch her?" one woman with three teeth and a rope mark around her neck asked, leaning forward and sticking an index finger against May's arm. They all seemed to think this was a good idea and followed suit. May shrunk back, horrified.

"It sure is an honor meeting you," one man said. "Can I have your autograph?"

May just stared at him, her eyes blurred with tears.