Free Shivaree by J. D. Horn

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    “Well, no, sir, I ain’t anointed myself nothing. A greater power than myself has chosen me. And it ain’t no coincidence that I have those or any other of God’s words on the tip of my tongue. ‘Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips.’ No, sir, scripture is the armor of the spirit, and I wrap myself in it. ‘Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. ’ ”
    “But you did commit these acts of vandalism . . .”
    “Vandalism? The word of God is vandalism?” She shook the book at him. “ ‘In the same hour came forth fingers of a man’s hand, and wrote over against the candlestick upon the plaster of the wall of the king’s palace: and the king saw the part of the hand that wrote. ’ ”
    “ ‘Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting, ’ ” Bell interrupted, determined to knock her down a peg or two by showing her she wasn’t the only one who knew scripture. “Knowing what the Good Book says doesn’t necessarily qualify you to act as judge.”
    She lowered the book and smiled at him as if he’d just told a joke. “No, I am happy that I am nobody’s judge.” She nodded. “Yes, Sheriff, I shared the words of God. The angel, I done told you, she comes to me.” Raylene’s eyes lost their focus. “She’s such a beautiful thing. Blue like the heavens themselves.” She dropped her cigarette, and it fell, rolling down the steps. Raylene took no notice of her loss. She turned her gaze to his face. “She knows everyone’s sins, all of them. And she’s told me to announce them all. Warn these poor weak sinners that they’re running out of time. These are the last days. The angel of death has come to Conroy, Sheriff. She’s passing through right now, and there’s only one way to make sure she’s gonna pass you by.”
    “Exodus 12:22,” he said thinking of the letters that had been sent to just about every church in the county. “You saying this angel wants folk to paint their doorways with blood.”
    “That’s right, Sheriff. ‘And ye shall take a bunch of hyssop, and dip it in the blood that is in the bason, and strike the lintel and the two side posts with the blood that is in the bason; and none of you shall go out at the door of his house until the morning.’ I got down on my knees before her. I pleaded with her, just like Abraham pleaded for Sodom. She swore to me, she’d accept this as a sign of a person’s righteousness. She wouldn’t raise her hand against those who honor her by keeping this pact.”
    Bell wasn’t easily frightened, but something about her intensity spooked him. He went backward down the two steps he’d climbed toward her. “All right, Raylene. I’m telling you, you need to knock it off. Stop harassing people, or I’m gonna have to lock you up. Merle ain’t gonna like seeing his mama behind bars.”
    “My boy, he understands . . .”
    “Well, I don’t, and I’m the law around here. This is your last warning, Raylene. Cut this nonsense out, and find somewhere else to do your preaching. The mayor, he doesn’t like having you hanging out here. Keep this nonsense up and you’ll find yourself standing before the real judge in these parts.”
    “I ain’t worried about none of you,” she said, shaking her head, almost like she was trying to wake herself from a dream. “ ‘For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. ’ ”
    “Go home, Raylene.” He pushed the brim of his hat back and then pointed at her. “Get yourself home, and get that boy of yours back in school, you hear me?” He turned his back on her and took the widest strides he could without looking like he was running