Free Sam Harlan (Book 3): Damned Cold by Kevin Lee Swaim Page B

slow.
    Jodie and Gene’s eyes widened, and they rocked back in their chairs. Jodie started to speak, but I held the Kimber pointed at her chest.
    “Don’t,” I said quietly.
    I expected Callie to admonish me, but she stared at the figurines in shock, then said, “Sam will do it. He can shoot before you finish.”
    There was anger in Jodie’s face, along with a haughty pride, but Gene placed his hand on Jodie’s shoulder. “Dear? Please don’t.”
    “Yeah,” I said. “Don’t, or whatever you’re about to do will be the last thing you do on this earth. How about we talk, instead, and avoid any unnecessary complications?”
    “You brandish a weapon in my house,” Jodie said through gritted teeth, “and you think there won’t be complications?”
    “Please,” Gene urged. “Tell him. He might be able to help.”
    The muscles in Jodie’s jaw were clenched tight, but she blinked hard and sat back in her chair.
    I didn’t holster the Kimber.
    “Sam can help,” Callie said. “If you are in trouble, he will help.”
    I would?
    I didn’t come to Bement to fight witches. I came for a vampire, but maybe the two were linked. There was only one way to find out. “The stick man,” I said. “Tell me about it. Then tell me what really happened to your sister.”
    Jodie slumped forward in her chair. When she did, the little boys and girls on the wall assumed their original position, becoming inanimate ceramic figurines once again.
    Now that’s creepy.
    Jodie hung her head, deflated. “What do you want to know?”
    “The stick man,” I said. “Did you send it?”
    “Goddess, no,” Jodie said, glancing up in shock. “I would never do such a thing.”
    “So,” I said. “You are a witch.” I could actually feel it, now that I knew what I was looking for. She exuded something akin to a scent. The disturbing thing was that I didn’t smell it, but sensed it with that part of me where the vampire essence coiled and slithered about.
    And, it wasn’t just Jodie. Gene Rexford exuded the same thing, but to a lesser degree. He appeared to be a bland middle-aged man, but I held no illusions. Neither of them were people. They were something a lot more dangerous.
    Witches.
     

Chapter Five
    Jodie bit her lip, but her eyes never left mine. “We are not evil, Mr. Harlan. We worship the Goddess—”
    “Save it,” I said. “You’re witches. You use magic. I know. I’ve seen it before. I’ve felt it before.”
    Jodie leaned forward and Gene put his hand on her shoulder to pull her back, but she shrugged it off. “I’m sure you have.”
    Her eyes shifted, becoming swirling pools of amber that threatened to suck me in. There was something in those eyes that scared the hell out of me. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
    Jodie continued to watch me with those creepy eyes. “I don’t know what you are, Mr. Harlan, but you’re not human. Not anymore.”
    “Don’t forget who has a forty-five full of silver bullets pointed at your chest,” I said. “Tell me about the stick man.”
    “It wasn’t us,” Gene said. Jodie turned her glare upon him, but he shook his head. “Just tell him.”
    “You were attacked by a creature made of sticks?” Jodie finally asked, her eyes returning to normal. “Was there anything else?”
    “Like what?” I asked.
    Jodie shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Harlan. It’s too dangerous. Leave this place. Go back to wherever you came from.” She turned to Callie. “It’s safer for the both of you.”
    “We can take care of ourselves,” Callie said. “You practice witchcraft. It gives you the sight. Look upon us and behold the truth.”
    I had no idea what Callie was talking about, and I was about to demand an explanation when Jodie closed her eyes.
    When she opened them, they were a rheumy white, like they were covered in a thin layer of cream. She stared at me for a moment, then her face went pale. “So much death. Dear Goddess, so much death.”
    I turned to