Supernatural 1 - Nevermore by Keith R.A. DeCandido

Author:Keith R.A. DeCandido
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2013-05-20T04:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

The Afiri house

The Bronx, New York

Saturday 18, November 2006

Dean wasn't used to being the first one up—he was even less used to it when he got up at noon. But Manfred's door was shut, his snoring clearly audible even through the closed door, and a peek into the other guest room showed that Sam was not only out like a light, but drooling on the pillow. Pausing to get a picture of that with his cell phone, he then took a shower, went downstairs, and—after throwing a load of their dirty clothes into the washer—plunked himself down on the couch, opened up Sam's laptop, and found that crazy guy's Poe website.

Among other things, "Arthur Gordon Pym" had archived a whole bunch of Poe's stories on his site, so Dean started reading them while drinking some of Manfred's killer coffee out of a mug that said, IBM: ITALIAN BY MARRIAGE, with the three letters in the red, white, and green of the Italian flag. That coffee also went a very long way toward reminding Dean as to what he liked about Manfred. So did the soundtrack for his reading, which was the dulcet tones of Rush's self-titled album. Both factors did a great deal to wash the taste of Scottso out of his brain.

By the time Sam stumbled downstairs wearing only a pair of pants, Dean put on his best mad scientist voice. "It's alive, I tell you, alive!"

"Yeah, yeah," Sam muttered, heading straight into the kitchen.

Grinning, Dean looked back at the laptop, taking his third shot at reading this particular paragraph, and finally giving up. When Sam came into the living room, clutching a mug that had a Dilbert cartoon on it, Dean said, "Dude, you told me that this Rue Morgue thing was the first detective story, right?"

"Yeah, why?" Sam said as he sat on the easy chair.

"'Cause I gotta tell ya, this is the worst piece of crap I ever read in my life. I mean, the other stories weren't bad. Soon's I started reading 'The Tell-Tale Heart,' I remembered it from that stupid class I took back at that crappy Catholic school in Illinois. But this Rue Morgue story..." He trailed off.

Sam shrugged as he sipped his coffee. "What can I tell you, Dean, it was revolutionary at the time. And hey, if it wasn't for that story, we probably wouldn't have CSI today."

"No loss," Dean said. "There's better things on Thursday nights anyhow."

"It gets better once you get past the opening," Sam said.

Dean agreed with his brother only insofar as the story couldn't possibly have gotten any worse. The opening was just stultifying, going on for pages and pages about nothing. Where were the murders? The detecting? The orangutan, for crying out loud?

Just as "Working Man" came to an end, Sam gulped down some more coffee and then asked, "So whadja think of Detective McBain?"

Setting the laptop aside, Dean blew out a breath. "I can't believe Dad didn't tell us about her."

"Really? 'Cause I have no trouble believing that Dad didn't tell us about her.

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