Free Emerald Hell by Mike Mignola

hair. Dressed in jeans, suspenders, and a light white linen shirt rolled up to the middle of his muscular forearms.
    Lament quit his twanging, looked up, and said, “Well son, you look like you’ve had a hell of a time of it out in these black waters.” He drew a blanket from a rucksack. “Dry off and come sit by the fire ’fore you catch your death.”
    Hellboy nodded his thanks, yanked off his belt and ragged coat, and dried himself, doing his best to clean off the mud. His ankle was chewed up pretty bad and he had deep lacerations across his thigh. He tore off a couple of lengthy strips from his coat and bound his wounds, then put his belt back on.
    Lament offered a small jug. “You want a tap of moon to kill the pain?”
    Might as well make sure he was dealing with the right person. “You’re Lament?”
    â€œYessir. John Lament. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
    Lament made as if to shake hands. Hellboy held out his right fist. Lament’s face broke into a wide grin. Hellboy put his hand down.
    As good a time as any to get the ball rolling. Hellboy opened a compartment on his belt and tossed the Dome of the Rock charm, expecting some real action this time. Lament caught it in his left hand, turned the medallion over, and checked the ancient inscription.
    His lips quivered as if he was fighting to frame unfamiliar words. Then he said, “‘I invoke the protection of the Green One, Tamuz, Aradia, and Anu-Sais. I command evil and death to disperse and the moon to appear in my hand.’”
    That got Hellboy’s notice. He scratched between the stubs of his horns. “You read Sumerian?”
    â€œNo,” Lament told him, “but it speaks to me. You go ’round throwin’ this thing at every stranger you run across?”
    â€œLately,” Hellboy admitted, “it seems that I have.”
    â€œNot very civilized.”
    Lament threw the charm back and Hellboy pocketed it once again. The old lady had been right. The swamps were like nowhere else he’d ever visited.
    â€œListen,” Hellboy said as Lament twanged another tune. “I’ve had a kind of bad day so far. So if you want to rumble let’s do it now and get it out of the way.”
    Lament quit picking at his mouth-harp and looked up. “Rumble?”
    â€œFight.”
    â€œWhy we gonna do a foolish thing like that?”
    â€œI didn’t say we should, I just said if you wanted to I’d oblige you.”
    â€œRight neighborly that is.” Sitting up, Lament checked the meat on the spit. “You hungry?”
    Hellboy said, “Considering I just drank half the damn swamp, and before that I got a spoonful of a granny witch’s stew jammed down my throat, and before that a big catfish stared at me like he’d scream if I stuck a fork in him, I don’t think I’ll ever be hungry again.”
    That got Lament chuckling. It was an easy, honest laughter. He lifted his chin and squinted at Hellboy. “Yep, now I recognize them eyes. You been suppin’ with Granny Lewt tonight. She’s a right fine lady but her manners could use some polish. She did what she done to help you, so be at ease about the rest of it.” He tapped the meat on the spit with a stick and said, “No worries ’bout this food right here.”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œGray squirrel.”
    Hellboy turned aside in disgust. “I think I’ll pass anyway.”
    â€œIffun you say.”
    Lament ate the meat directly off the spit, tearing at it with his teeth and occasionally drinking from his jug. He kind of hummed and sang as he ate, fully enjoying his meal. Hellboy watched, a little dismayed. He’d been edgy and waiting for a fight, and the ruckus with the gators hadn’t gotten the tension out of his system yet. The smell of his own drying blood made him anxious, and his tail kept twitching at mosquitoes.
    Stepping up, he