Serpent Daughter by D.J. Butler

Author:D.J. Butler [Butler, D.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, fantasy, Historical, Epic, Alternative History
ISBN: 9781982124977
Publisher: Baen Books
Published: 2020-11-02T07:00:00+00:00

“There is always a risk I might eat the boy.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

As a boy, Calvin had never realized that Broken Finger Clearing was the Temple of the Calhoun Mountain Lodge; he had known it as a clearing with great rocks for sitting on and a spectacular view of the valley below. He had also known it as a clearing that was haunted—Granny Clay had warned him repeatedly, cackling her most witchlike laugh, about the many haints that were to be encountered around Broken Finger after dark.

At the turn of his manhood, on a dare, he’d crept up late one night. He would prove his courage by recovering a notched stick Red Charlie had left in the clearing for the purpose; approaching, he’d heard songs he didn’t recognize, and through the trees he’d seen what looked like people wearing white sheets, but he’d figured, Lord hates a man who can’t stand up to some old ghost, so he’d been about to run into the clearing to grab the stick, anyway.

Instead, his uncle David had stepped from behind a tree and grabbed him by the arm.

David had chased him back down the mountain with a stern warning to listen to Granny Clay. Only later had Cal put Broken Finger Clearing and Freemasonry together.

He walked up the mountain now by little-used paths. They were little used because they were steep and had bad footing, mere deer paths, so his going was slow.

He chose the bad path on purpose, because he was going to sneak into the Temple. If David had directed men not to invite him, likely he had also directed the Tyler and his lookouts to keep Calvin out. He carried a big handful of pebbles in his pocket; to keep them from rattling, he pressed them against his hip with one hand.

He carried no other weapon.

Cal’s path turned up steeply, and he had to scramble on all fours to make it to the top of the rise. There he remained in a crouch, scanning the trees. He was close enough to see the light in Broken Finger now, so he was in the area watched by the Tyler, who was Jeffrey Simmons Calhoun, a distant cousin from down in Nashville.

After a couple of minutes of patient watching, he spotted the lookout on this side of the hill. The man was good; he stood in the shadow of a pitted boulder to avoid being struck by moonlight or making a silhouette, but when he shifted his posture to keep his legs from falling asleep, Cal heard him. From that sound, he had an approximate direction, and then it was a matter of peering deeply into all the shadows until he found the one that wasn’t empty.

The mosquitoes were swarming, which meant that the bats were out as well. This was to Cal’s advantage; a man who had been seeing tiny bats swoop through his field of vision all evening would take a thrown pebble for just one more bat. Cal gauged his throw to get the pebble onto the other side of the boulder.

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