Janey Falke Saint Killer: Blood Oath by M.M. Crumley

Author:M.M. Crumley [Crumley, M.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lone Ghost Publishing
Published: 2024-11-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Janey woke, knowing she could do it. She had seen herself do it. She just had to try harder. She had to push past the fear. She had to find all the parts of her that were frightened and scared and weak and kill them.

And Two Stones was right. She had to find all those voices in her head, all the ones telling her she was useless, and kill them too. Because she wasn't useless. She was here, she was alive, and she had more skill and ability than her pa had ever had.

And every time Pa reared his ugly head, she was going to tell him to shut the hell up. She had never been able to defend herself when he was alive, but there was no reason why he should still be haunting her.

Brings the Rain's voice infiltrated her thoughts, and she sat up to watch him. He was facing the east, his face bathed by the sun, and he was singing softly.

She wished she could understand him; but even though she couldn't, she thought it was the most beautiful song she had ever heard. His song was pure, like a lake of crystal water, and his voice was like a flowing brook. She couldn't stop listening.

She could still remember the stuffy Sunday mornings she had endured when Ma had dragged them to church. They had been nothing like this. The sun had filtered through a stain glass window of a tortured saint, casting everything in odd shades of reds and yellows. The air had been stale, the voices raised in song had been flat without any life at all, and the preacher man had always screamed about hell and how all the followers of Satan would burn forever in everlasting fire.

Janey hadn't believed him. He was full of lies, and here's how Janey knew. Granny had been branded a witch long ago, and she dared not show her face in town, but whenever someone was really, really sick, they would sneak off to Granny and she would heal them; and she never asked for anything in return.

Sometimes the preacher would get on a rant and call fire and brimstone down all over Granny. Not that Granny ever knew or cared for that matter. But once a month, the preacher man would come to Janey's house to eat, and he would praise Pa up and down, saying what a wonderful member of the community he was, what an upstanding example for the followers of God, and that's how Janey knew.

If there was a hell, her pa was in it right now. If there wasn't, she was glad she had kicked him so many times and she hoped his wicked spirit wasn't wandering around looking for her.

"He sings to our people," Wolf Heart said softly, interrupting her thoughts.

"It's beautiful."

"He asks them to remember us when we come, to welcome us."

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Because we will not die on our ancestral land."

Janey frowned. She didn't have ancestors. Or she did, because everyone did, but she didn't know who hers were.

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