The Way Home by Seanan McGuire

Author:Seanan McGuire [McGuire, Seanan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-06-08T04:00:00+00:00

The woman—whose name was Shelly—was still waiting when Thomas returned for his bag. That was a small mercy, quickly eroded as she latched onto his arm and began telling him all about Buckley, which she swore was a bustling metropolis masquerading as a sleepy Michigan township. She worked at the beauty parlor, and baked a mean cherry pie, which she would be happy to share with him if he ever wanted to drop by. In the end, he escaped with his suitcase and his skin, although he was dimly afraid that he had agreed to come over for dinner sometime after he was settled.

Ah, well. It wasn’t like he was equipped to cook much of anything that didn’t involve a campfire. He’d buy kitchen equipment eventually, and until then, a few meals with friendly townspeople wouldn’t go amiss. It would make him seem more like he was fitting in.

According to the map he’d received at the bank, his new house was located at the outskirts of town. To get there, he would walk down Main Street to Woodview Drive, and from there to Old Logger’s Road. His new home was, naturally, the last house on the map. Anything closer would have been too convenient for someone who was, after all, in disgrace.

“Charming,” muttered Thomas, and began to walk.

It was quickly apparent that while the streets on the map were correct, the distances were approximate at best. His suit had been chosen to look respectable, not to remain comfortable after walking more than a mile. His shoes were much the same. And all the while the sun was dipping lower, until he was walking past endless fields of corn and grain in the gloaming, with the forest looming ever closer on the horizon.

“Charming,” he muttered again, this time with more venom, and hoped that the Covenant—while not inclined to do him any favors at the moment—had at least seen to having the power turned on when they purchased the house. They wanted him to understand that he was in disgrace. They didn’t want him dead…or if they did, they had certainly chosen a roundabout way of accomplishing it.

He reached his new home almost two hours after his bus had pulled into Buckley, and for a moment he simply stood and stared at the ramshackle, almost asymmetrical structure. It was difficult to tell whether it was three or four stories high; the windows seemed to move when he looked away from them, the shadows and the lines of the house conspiring to make them impossible to count. The porch listed at one end, and the chains that had once held a swing still dangled, rusty and abandoned. Someone had taken the time to freshen up the paint when they heard the place was to be sold. The end result was that the house appeared to have contracted a bad case of leprosy.

“Charming,” he said, for the third and hopefully final time.

The porch steps creaked under his weight, but they didn’t break, and his key fit the lock.

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