The Devil of Echo Lake by Douglas Wynne Read Free Book Online Page B

there’s any such thing, exactly.”
    Billy shook another cigarette out of the pack. He twirled it in his long, thin fingers without lighting it.
    “So are you going to tell me your story?” Johnny asked.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Come on, people don’t usually ask the kind of questions you’re asking unless something weird happened to them.”
    Billy lit the cigarette. Until now he had been carrying around a vague notion, but he hadn’t articulated even to himself exactly what he thought had happened. He said, “The night my father died, I had a really good scare.”
    “Did you have a dream about his death? I’ve heard of that happening.”
    “No. It was a dog. Not in a dream, a real dog almost attacked me, scared me pretty bad. But here’s the weird part: the thing I was most aware of at the time was my heart pounding.”
    “And you think that through some… invisible connection, you may have caused your father’s heart attack. Half a world away.”
    “Is it possible? I mean, he’s my father. I’ve heard stories about mothers who can sense when their kids are in danger.”
    “Billy, you probably need to unplug for a while and get some rest. I think you’re a lot more stressed and burned-out than you realize.”
    “But don’t you believe in psychic connections, mind acting on matter over a distance, something like that. Is that possible?”
    “Okay. I think it is, but I don’t think it applies here. If you really think about what you’re saying, it’s kind of narcissistic.”
    “What?”
    “You think you’re responsible for everything. For your father’s second heart attack, which had nothing to do with you. Think about it, instead of wondering about his health and his eating habits, you’re thinking about what was happening to you at the time. Your emotions are so powerful they can kill someone? That is what you’re suggesting, right?”
    “But you just said—”
    “It’s not your fault. Stardom is doing a number on your head, but listen to me man, it was not your fault. ”
    “Wait a minute…”
    “Seriously, Billy, you are not the cause of everything. Why do you think I have those little heart icons next to certain dishes on the menu? Men your dad’s age have heart attacks sometimes. Your dog story is a coincidence. A synchronicity at best.”
    “Isn’t that a Police song?”
    “Yeah, and a book by Jung. It means an acausal connection. No cause and effect, just a remarkable meaningful coincidence. How did you get attacked by a dog, anyway? Don’t you have a bodyguard?”
    “I was being stupid. But it seemed more ominous than a coincidence at the time. And ever since, I can’t get that Robert Johnson song out of my head, ‘Hellhound Blues.’ They said he sold his soul to the Devil.”
    “That’s just because white guys were jealous of him getting so much pussy.”
    “I think he must have believed it, or he wouldn’t have written those songs about it.”
    “You said it yourself. It’s a mystique. Look, Billy, your father just died. You need to take a break and get some perspective.”
    “Too much fucking perspective,” Billy said in a perfectly convincing English accent.
    “Spinal Tap?”
    “The immortal words of Nigel Tufnel.”
    Johnny laughed. “It’s good to know some things don’t change. It’s good to see you, man. You should come home more often.”
    “Yeah, that’s what I hear.”
    “So you think you’ve got hellhounds on your trail, huh? I get the feeling there’s more you’re not telling me.”
     “If you have some booze in this joint, I’ve got a story that just might change your mind about the Devil.”
     
    *  *  *
     
    Echo
     
    By the time his voice cracked on the high note at the climax of “Crucifixation,” Billy Moon had decided that tonight was the night he would kill himself. No point in doing it on stage, though—the bar was empty.
    It was a Tuesday night in January of 1994 and Purple Jesus was playing a gig at O’Niells, a