Pap added awkward to awkward with an even more somber anecdote.

"My ma said if any of us kids ever went into the woods at night, witches would find us and put us into barrels with ten-penny nails pounded all through it. Then they'd roll us down the mountain to their caves or to old mine shafts or coke ovens." I believed he was trying to lighten the mood. "Brutal," Ben said. He leaned back, feet up on a rock next to the fire, hands in his pockets. Not a care. Maybe I was jealous of him. "The old country... That's some hard living there. Talk about some mean bastards." Greg raised a finger, signaling a question. He said, "So we're talking about Black Bibles and all that?" I couldn't tell if he was genuinely interested or just trying to keep the witch talk going. Personally, I'd had my fill of witch talk, and interrupted, "Sorry guys. Im going to bed. This has been a shit day, and the superstition... I'm getting sick of it." Sparks from the fire flew past my face. My pap held his hand up to cut me off. "Henry, sometimes you're dumber than a mud fence. How do you know you dont need to hear this? Like it or not, some of this pertains to you. You're young, and I can understand your skepticism. But the Lewis clan--out of all of us here, you probably need to hear this the most," my pap said, quite adamantly. He patted the log beside him, a signal to sit. I sat out of respect to him, not because I believed any of this crap. Champ rested his head on my leg and watched me with sad old eyes. "What is it, huh?" I gave his neck a good scratching. I looked at Jamie for some kind of sign that this was all bullshit. He said, "You need to listen. Ben, you too. Preston found out the hard way this winter that the difference between believing and not believing can be very dangerous." Preston didn't say a word. He stared right into the fire as if Jamie were talking about somebody else. After a moment to compose his argument, Jamie went on, "Why do you think every old house between Oakland, Maryland and Boone, North Carolina have SATOR squares pinned above their windows? It's to keep the devil away. To knock witches. The reason the old magic is still around is because it works."

"What kind of square?" Dave said, acting only half-interested. He passed Jamie a bag of peanuts and poked the fire with a stick. "I'm a bit addled." Jamie picked open a pair peanuts then threw the shells into the fire. "SATOR squares? I dont know. Theyre like puzzles I suppose. Theyve been found on the walls of buildings destroyed by Vesuvius at Pompeii. Early Christians say it was a message from God saying their savior was on his way." He gestured for Dave's stick and began drawing rows of letters in the dirt. "Five lines of five letters arranged in a square that form multiple palindromes." I tried to read the letters, but it was difficult in the low light. I leaned over to see. It read: S A T O R A R E P O T E N E T O P E R A R O T A S "Some people say the words are nonsense, but when rearranged in a cross they spell out 'paternoster' flanked by an 'A' and an 'O'." Jamie handed Dave back his stick. "Our father and the Alpha and Omega." Jamie stomped the letters away with his foot. Silence fell over the camp. By now the crickets were in full swing. Finally, I couldn't keep my mouth shut anymore. "In my life Id never seen anything to prove to me magic was real. Magic wouldve kept my mom around. Wouldve kept Jane alive." My pap spoke up again. I wasn't trying to disrespect him, but his tone told me he felt I was. He said, "Well son, you ain't going to like what I'm fixing to tell you. I know what I saw. And Im an educated man too. Not a doctor, but I put my time in and earned my degree. All so my boys didnt have to work in a coal mine." It came out before he could catch himself. He opened his mouth, but couldnt force an apology out. And he didnt have to. I knew why my dad ended up in the mine. So he went on. "Belsnicklers came to our farm every Christmas, dressed in sackcloth with coal dust all over their faces. Scary sons of bitches. Us kids had to just stand there while they threw candy on the floor. If we fidgeted they whipped us with switches. I've even seen elder spring from the frozen ground on Old Christmas Eve--"

"He wasn't trying to refute you, Dad," Jamie wiped his hands on his pants then held his palms up. The firelight reflecting in his lenses made it difficult to see his eyes. "He just hasn't seen the things you saw." Ben sat up, ready to come to my defense too, if need be. Wood sparked and popped as it burned. The rush of water from Red Run was louder than it had been all night. I didn't like the noise, because it hid other noises, like whispers and footfalls. Pap looked at Jamie. "The first time I saw Old Christmas," he paused to put in some chewing tobacco. "Up in the barn they started to bray. All of them, awake and on their knees. The sounds were words. Chants. Prayers. It sounded like church when the nuns pray the rosary. The sky was clear, there was no wind. Starlight and a full moon lit up the snow. All the fields glowed with fresh, white snow. We got scared. So we took off back to the house." He spit into the fire and took off his hat. "And out in the snow there were hundreds of sets of footprints. Human footprints and other footprints. Into the fields over the fences and stone walls. They went right up to the barn. Like a thousand people converged on the barn while we were in there and were watching us. So we ran. When we got further away we could see the footprints up on the steep barn roof. We reckoned the devil was up there having a laugh at us." Tom threw a log onto the fire, sending a spray of sparks into the sky. Ben nodded in agreement. "Theres still plenty of women in these hills who can get a full pail of milk from an ax handle or an old rag. And Mary Lewis was one of them. I seen it done with my own eyes a hundred times." Tom passed around a jug of wine. My pap spit into the fire. Then he pulled the plug of tobacco out and threw it onto the coals. He motioned for the jug of wine, but didnt drink. He just held onto it while he talked. "When the magic starts you can smell them. Ill never forget that smell. Like... Cucumbers maybe?" He passed the jug along without drinking. As the silence wore on, he slipped his hand into his jacket and pulled out his whiskey.