Rough Magicke by John William Houghton

Author:John William Houghton
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-9993065-2-9
Publisher: Marmont Press
Published: 2022-03-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6: Saturday, July 9.

I would have preferred to sleep late on Saturday morning. Not that staying up itself bothers me. My natural day, I think, would probably run until about one-thirty or two in the morning, but I wouldn’t get up until nine or ten. It was in fact getting on for two by the time we all cleaned up the last of the pizzas and Coke and made our good-byes, and I got home and was ready for bed. But I had my appointment to go out to the old Homestead with Jeff, and I wanted to call Danny. And, before leaving, I’d taken Brandon aside and arranged to see him early Saturday afternoon for an explanation of his secretive note. So I got up early—relatively early, anyway—to call down to my baby brother.

“I hope you don’t mind my cooking breakfast while we talk,” he said, after the usual greetings.

“No, not at all. I just wish I could have some.”

“You’re always welcome to come down. Maybe you need a break.”

“That or a hideout. Things aren’t getting any easier up here. The Bishop’s dead and I’m fairly sure the Abbot killed him—a sentence I never imagined saying!—and I’m in charge of the diocese in some vague and general sort of a way. Meanwhile, it turns out one of Rhys’s classmates is a Native American witch who’s personally offended by the Prior. And I almost got caught in some kind of psychic thing with Jefferson Mills and his cousin, but my cross of nails blew up and got me out of it. That’s the part you all saw last night.”

“You have been busy. Do you really want to come down here? Or we can still come up.”

“No, thanks. Aside from work, I have to be around to cover my new diocesan duties. It looks like I am going to have to face off with the Abbot on his own turf, but you can be as much help to me from down there as you would by actually being here.”

“If that’s how you want to play it, we’ll be ready to help. What’s the plan?”

I described the arrangements we’d made the previous night, and Dan promised that he and the kids would be waiting when I went to the Abbey on Sunday afternoon.

“First thing this morning, though, I’m going to go back out to the Homestead with Jeff Mills and look for some more nails to replace my cross.”

“That sounds like a wise precaution: it may not be easy, though. We cleaned up a lot of that stuff for Rhys’s baptism.”

“Right. But we’re bound to find something. I imagine even a bit of melted glass would work.”

“I would think so. Well, be careful anyway. I don’t want you to follow your Bishop into oblivion.”

“Bad theology, Danny—at least, I hope he’s not in oblivion. But I appreciate the sentiment. Give the kids my love.”

“Will do. Bye.”

After I got off the phone, I said my prayers, toasted myself an English muffin, and sat down at the dining room table to read the funnies with my breakfast.

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