Free Magic Rising by Jennifer Cloud Page A

heartily then coughed, sounding diseased under his breath. “Fine by me,” he gasped. “I don’t like visitors so good anyway.”
    She smiled, loving his mountain accent, even if he spoke of a building he knew nothing about. If any place on earth had a right to be haunted, it was this patch of ground in the middle of nowhere. Satan himself might’ve lived there at one time, letting his evil soak into the soil.
    “I could sort of figure that you didn’t like visitors.” She glanced up at the second floor where holes went straight through, reminding her of Swiss cheese.
    “Sorry, ma’am. Glad I didn’t hit you.” He rubbed one hand through his oily hair. “Sometimes I react before I think.”
    His speech was southern but laced with that Georgian gentleman’s cadence that she adored. She lowered her weapon, put at ease by his speech, although his grooming could use some serious work. She could smell him from where she stood, the scent of alcohol mixed with old sweat. It wasn’t his fault. Those buildings had well water and she doubted anyone had the electricity turned on since the fire.
    “How’s your hand?”
    He withdrew his injured hand from his pocket and held it up for her to see. “Just a scratch.” It had stopped bleeding. She tried to aim carefully but there was always a risk. A bullet could do a lot of damage to a moving target.
    “How did you end up here?” Deirdre felt awkward standing, but from the look of the furniture, she didn’t really want to sit down either.
    “Walked mostly. Teenagers got hard on the homeless men living near the interstate. One day I decided to give it all up and head for the hills. I hitched a ride and walked from the main road until I came here. Thought it was some kind of kids’ camp at first. After checking it out, I knew better.” He shook his head slowly and she wondered if he’d been in the main house, seen the basement. “Hey, miss, what was this place?”
    “Something like camp, but one you could never go home from.” She glanced around the room trying to shake the eerie feeling, then noticed a recent grocery bag near the wall. “How do you get supplies?”
    “I got a brother that knows where I’m at. It’s one hell of a walk to the store, but most times I can get a lift once I get out of the woods. There’s also this preacher from a nearby church that takes care of me. ’Bout three times a week, he drives out to bring me supper. I don’t get fat from it but I ain’t dead yet either.”
    A chill ran up her spine, and the hairs on her arms stood on end. The room was cool but not the reason for her discomfort. The way Earl spoke about the preacher terrified her. She didn’t know the specific identity but the sensation meant evil. Even her dulled senses knew it.
    “What preacher?”
    “One from Walnut. Guy calls himself Reverend Brogens. Tells me to call him Niam.” He spoke with pride and his yellowed eyes twinkled at the statement. “Niam makes some great spaghetti.”
    “Niam?” she whispered. She knew Niam Brogens and he was no preacher. A few times she thought he was the devil. No doubt Niam would meet him in hell when he was judged for all the evil he committed. “When do you expect to see your reverend again?”
    “Probably tonight. Didn’t see him at all yesterday, so he’ll be by.” Earl sat down, grinning. “Guy is a blessing. I tell you what, I don’t think I could’ve survived here if it hadn’t been for him. Oh sure, I thought I’d live in the woods like Daniel Boone but damn, I’m just not cut out for it.”
    “Thank you for your time. Sorry about spooking you. I was afraid that you were someone else. Won’t happen again.” Deirdre started toward the front door, wanting out of here before Niam arrived.
    “Hey, what’s your name?”
    “Sally,” she lied, despite her distaste for it. “Nice meeting you. Sorry again about startling you earlier.”
    Earl nodded. “Sorry about shooting at you.” He grinned at her