Free Nevermore: A Novel of Love, Loss, & Edgar Allan Poe by David Niall Wilson Page B

but no one must know that strange things happened here.   They would not understand, and it could go badly for us all."
    Tom nodded.   "You can count on me sir.   I'd best be going.   They'll already wonder where I got off to.   If you don't mind, though, I'd sure like to hear the story of the princess, if there really is one."
    Edgar leaned forward and rumpled the boy's hair.
    "You can count on it," he said.   "Anyone who knows me will tell you that there is nothing I like better than to share a good story."
    Tom shook his head, and ran for the door.   He was out and gone seconds later, and they heard the heavy pounding of his feet as he tore up the porch toward the tavern.
    "I will be missed, as well," Anita said. "I told them I was going to take my lunch and go for a walk."
    "I am willing to bet," Lenore said softly, "you have traveled farther than you intended, even if it was just a story for idle ears.   Run on.   You can return tonight if you want.   We may all have more to talk about – assuming the story has yet to reach its end."
    "I sense that it has not," Edgar said.   "I believe rest is in order.   I could do with a nap, and I am sensing my friend here feels the same.   I have no idea how to proceed from this point, but I am now convinced that the proper path will stretch itself out before us.   Despite my intentions of coming here to finish up some writing, and yours – whatever they originally entailed – we have been anything but in control of our fates since meeting."
    Lenore glanced at her drawing kit, and the drawing of Grimm and at the scattered utensils that had fallen from the table.   She nodded.
    "You are right, of course." she said.   "But you must take this."
    She carefully lifted the portrait of the crow from the table.   She wrapped it deftly around two fingers and rolled with her thumbs until the portrait was a tube.   She reached into her open drawing kit and produced a bit of ribbon, which she wound around the paper and tied in a quick bow.   She held it out.
    Edgar hesitated, and then took it with a nod.
    "Perhaps it is safer this way," he said. "There is power in your art, and no way to truly know how much of it remains in the lines of this image.   I will cherish it."
    Grimm let out a soft caw and, once again, bowed.
    Edgar turned and studied him a moment, then shook his head.
    "New roads await," he said.   "Another reminder for the weary of heart."
    Lenore laughed.
    "Will you dine with me this evening?" she said.   "I'd like to tell you a story.   I want you to know why I'm here, and what it is I hope to do.   It's been a long time since I had anyone I could confide in without being considered a witch or a crazy woman."
    "I'd be delighted," Edgar said. Then, with a quick flourish, he matched Grimm's bow, nearly unseating the bird in the process.   "Until this evening."
    A moment later, he was gone.   Lenore stared at the closed door, and turned her head at a quizzical angle for just a moment, as if trying to figure something out.   Then she turned and gathered up her things, packing them carefully away.   Whatever might come of the evening, she'd not be drawing again this day.
    When her room was straightened she lay back across her bed and put her arm over her eyes to block the late afternoon sun trickling in around the curtains.
    As she drifted off to sleep, Anita's words returned to her.
    "The princess – if that's who was trapped – where did she go?"
    Darkness found her before any answers, and she dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter S ix
     
    E dgar woke to the sound of men shouting.   He sat up quickly and tried to orient himself.   The sun had nearly disappeared from the sky, tipping the trees beyond his window in deep gold, but supplying little light.   The voices sounded again, and he heard a commotion out in back of the building.   He rose quickly, straightened his clothing and hair as best he could, and turned toward the door.   Then