Before the Devil Fell by Neil Olson

Author:Neil Olson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hanover Square Press
Published: 2019-07-26T14:02:44+00:00

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The town’s contact with the sea was primarily via a large inlet, surrounded by streams, marshes and dunes. All low ground north to Plum Island, except for the dark green hump of Hog Island. Heading south there was higher ground. Rocky bluffs right on the water, and forested hills behind them. The roads were poor, so it was sparsely populated. Will was surprised to find that Evelyn Price lived in a brown-shingled shack in this part of town, but perhaps she coveted privacy. He was getting out of the car when Samantha grabbed his arm.

“Don’t touch the doorknob,” she said firmly.

“You’re right. Those things are filthy.”

“Listen to me. Don’t touch anything you don’t need to. Don’t step into the house unless she invites you.”

“Sam, the woman is ninety years old.”

“She’s a powerful witch.”

“You don’t use that word,” he objected.

“I’m using it for your convenience.”

“Ah, thanks. I thought she liked you.”

“I haven’t spoken to her in a while,” Sam replied, gazing at the little house in trepidation. “Anyway, I’m not saying she’s hostile. I’m just saying be careful.”

The sun was waning, but the day remained bright. There was a salty breeze off the ocean and drying clothes snapped and shuddered on lines staked up in the yard. Sam rang the doorbell once, then again a minute later. They were crowded together on the small stoop, waiting.

“I guess she’s not home.”

“No, she’s here,” said Sam, turning in place with her face up. Like a dog on a scent.

She stepped down and headed straight for the laundry, vanishing behind a billowing white sheet. Will wondered why she didn’t go around. Maybe her homing device didn’t work like that. He followed, fresh-smelling pillowcases and blouses slapping his face as he ducked and bobbed through waves of material. Sam appeared and disappeared ahead. Until he cleared the last flapping sock to stand on a green shelf of land, falling abruptly to the sea. It was windy, and white crests tipped the waves to the horizon. In a weather-beaten Adirondack chair sat the old woman from the Cask & Flagon, her back to the stirring view. She smoked a cigarette and drank what looked like a generous glass of whiskey. Watching her clothes dry.

“Hello dear,” Evelyn Price croaked at Samantha. That damp voice. Spotted, deeply lined flesh and the palest of blue eyes. She gave Will the full up-and-down before speaking again. “I guess you were bound to show up sooner or later.”

There was no kindness in her tone, but no malice either. She was past caring what anyone thought.

“I think your laundry is dry,” he said.

“Yeah.” She gazed at it. “Problem is, once I get into this damn chair, it’s impossible to get out again.”

“My grandma used to dry it on the line like that,” Sam said. “I love that smell.”

“Salt and mildew?” the old woman snorted. “It’s only there because the dryer is broken. Haven’t gotten around to fixing it.”

“How long has it been broken?” Will asked.

She took a long squinting drag on the cigarette, considering.

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