Memoranda by Jeffrey Ford

minutes, but then I heard a sound in the distance, and my head turned sharply to the right. It was the merest echo of a footstep. This was followed by another and another, each growing more distinct as did the beating of my heart. Then a voice shouted something. I moved closer to the opening in order to hear more clearly. “Perhaps, it is Misrix,” I thought.
    â€œCley,” the voice called, but I knew it wasn’t the demon.
    A shadowy figure strode in front of the opening where I hid, and I moved back farther into the dark. From his outline, I could tell he was wearing a broad-brimmed hat. He turned in a way that told me he knew I was in the tunnel.
    â€œCley, I know you are in there. Come out and say hello to an old friend.”
    Though I could not place it, the voice was familiar to me. I walked forward and stepped clear of the opening.
    â€œCome here, Cley. It’s good to see you,” he said.
    â€œWho are you?” I asked, trying to catch a glimpse of the face.
    â€œIt’s me, Bataldo,” he said.
    It was Bataldo’s voice, and I remembered that he would sometimes wear a broad-brimmed hat. “Is it really you?” I asked.
    He took a step forward, and now I could see that it was the rotund mayor of Anamasobia, himself, smiling fruitlessly as always. I walked cautiously toward him, and he laughed and put his hand out to shake.
    â€œHow have you been, Cley?” he asked.
    â€œI’m well,” I said.
    â€œI heard you would be coming, so I crawled out of my hole and came by to visit.”
    â€œAre you dead?” I asked him.
    â€œYour delicacy is appreciated,” he said.
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    He laughed. “I was devoured by a demon in the Beyond, do you remember?” he asked. “Calloo shot me, but I was still alive when the creature sank his teeth into my flesh.”
    I shook my head, unwilling to picture what he described.
    â€œThis demon of yours, Misrix, was the one who took me. He was later captured by Below and brought to the Well-Built City. When you are devoured by demons, they steal your energy, and you live on as long as they do somewhere in their memory.”
    â€œSo you are always here in this memory of the Palishize?” I asked.
    â€œI wander here among the mounds always at night. Sometimes I go down to the side of the ocean in hopes of seeing a ship I could hail to rescue me. There’s some regularity to it.”
    â€œWhat do you eat?” I asked.
    â€œNothing,” he said.”
    We began to walk, and he asked me about Arla. “She’s married and has two children,” I told him.
    He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and blew his nose. Then he stopped suddenly and turned. “What was that?” he said.
    I, too, turned and listened.
    He pointed at me and started laughing.
    â€œYou have a good memory,” I told him.
    â€œThat’s what I do while I wander through the tunnels here, I remember everything,” he said. “We have to move a little faster; I have an appointment I can’t miss.”
    We quickened our pace. “With the exception of you, Cley, the visits have been limited. But I can tell you about an interesting one before I have to leave you.”
    â€œWhere are you going?” I asked.
    â€œI bet you didn’t know that your demon’s first female was that wolf-girl.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œGreta Sykes,” he said. “I’m talking about love.”
    â€œHarrow’s hindquarters,” I said.
    â€œAnd then some … I heard he was flapping his wings so hard, he had her rump three feet off the ground. His member is barbed for the give and take.”
    â€œPlease,” I said.
    â€œWell, when the two of them came together, I got to see my wife. It was Greta Sykes who devoured my wife. Lilith’s energy is captured in the memory of the wolf-girl. But during sex, a merging of memories takes