Jimmy shrugged. “I guess so. It’s kind of a blur. Funny thing is,” he giggled in a way that seemed uncharacteristic, “it didn’t really feel like me at all. It felt like something else. Like I got taken over. Maybe if she hadn’t pointed this gun. Maybe if I hadn’t been drinking. I don’t know. It happened fast. I was about to leave, but her mother saw me with the gun. She saw me and she was saying these things. And then I just wanted to shut her up and this thing was inside me. This feeling. Like something wanted me to point the gun at her mother. Just to scare her. And then: kabang.”
I can look at this past summer now and see that it was all Dagon. Dagon was there, I had brought Dagon into our world, and Dagon had gotten loose. There is no madness except the madness of the gods. There is no purity except the purity of love. Here is where he took me — down to the sailboat — and out to sea.
And then I just wanted to shut her up and this thing was inside me. Jimmy looked at him curiously for a moment, blinking. Then he opened his mouth and let the air in. Then, warmth returned to Jimmy McTeague’s eyes and he said: “Owen, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I should never have come this summer.”