Free Magic Rising by Jennifer Cloud

quick flash from the gun as he fired. Wood splintered down, raining with the echo of the bullet exploding from the chamber. He’d chosen buckshot.
    Debris landed in her hair, and she felt it pelt her body. The gun had been double barreled and it sounded like he unloaded one side, not the other. A smart man would reload one chamber while ready to fire the other. She also had no idea how much ammo he had with him. She pulled her nine millimeter from her side holster. She had to count on being faster.
    Smooth and quick, she rose, aiming without pausing as she squeezed the trigger. The first shot hit the barrel, turning it in his hand as it fired for the second time, blowing a hole in the far wall. Her next bullet hit his hand. Blood splattered in fine drops as the shotgun spun onto the floor.
    “Freeze.”
    She kept her tone low, watching the man glance over at his weapon. He didn’t look surprised, only beaten and on the verge of sulking over his poor shot. Someone trained at Stone House would have kept fighting, pulled another gun or knife. This man’s shoulders slumped, and he appeared unwilling to do anything more.
    “Okay. Go ahead and rob me. I don’t have much.”
    Deirdre eased to the steps, the wood groaning beneath her. She never broke eye contact with the man, feeling her way down while keeping her gun aimed. He didn’t move, only hung his head. As she came closer, she saw deep wrinkles in his skin and rosebuds on his nose and cheeks. This was no warrior, so she surveyed the room, half expecting a trap.
    The furniture in the house looked to be the same since the fire in the main building. The couch and chairs were stained and torn. In the corner was an assortment of bottles, mostly beer with a few larger liquor ones thrown in. A bag of cans sat next to them, beer labels appearing from beneath the thin white plastic.
    “How long have you been an alcoholic?”
    He looked at her a minute and scratched his ratty beard. “Guess my whole life. Does that mean you’re gonna rob me then kill me?” He shoved his hands into his pockets and closed his eyes, probably trying to figure if these would be his last moments.
    “Well you’re a great conversationalist. Do you ever get past the robbing and killing questions or do you just shoot at people for fun?”
    She reached the first floor, taking a dozen more steps toward the man. Age could change the looks of anyone but she was nearly certain this man was a stranger and not a demon from her past.
    “I’ve been around a while and most people don’t try to sneak up on you unless they want to hurt ya.” He eased against the couch, not quite sitting, but leaning against it for support.
    “What’s your name?”
    He glanced up, startled by the comment. His eyes looked old, seeing more than a man had the right to, or so she guessed. From his appearance, the guy hadn’t had things easy. He was probably a homeless man who happened upon an empty house to stay, without knowing the place’s history.
    “I’m Earl. I’m guessing you own this place ‘cause you shore don’t seem like no robber now.” He smiled, showing one empty space where a tooth should’ve been. “Why you here?”
    That was a good question but she didn’t know how to answer him. A guy down on his luck didn’t need to know what sort of place he’d chosen for a residence. It was enough that he had a roof over his head and a bed to sleep in.
    “Reliving my past.” She shrugged. “I used to stay on these grounds, but I don’t believe anyone one owns this place anymore. Have you seen anyone else around?”
    “Nope. There was a cop or someone official that stopped by two or three times. I hid from him. He was more concerned with the big building anyway. Haven’t seen him in a few days. Once in a while a ranger will pass through. He never comes near the buildings, just watches from the main road. He looks spooked when he stops, like maybe he believes this place is haunted.” The old guy laughed