The Witches Of Denmark by Aiden James

Author:Aiden James [James, Aiden]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Manor House Books
Published: 2014-08-13T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

For those wondering if Harry Turner accomplished anything of note before he left at four-thirty that Thursday afternoon, well… Grandpa claims he did.

I beg to differ.

As far as I could tell, Harry managed to remove two short rows of faux marble, ceramic tiles. That’s it. Nothing more.

And, true to his lazy-assed approach that had forever endeared him to the neighborhood, Harry failed to promptly secure plastic tarps around the upstairs gallery. A thin layer of black grout dust covered everything from the brass chandelier to the paintings lining the walls, including the draperies and wainscoting. Mom was completely thrilled, to say the least. Based on her heated aura that was clearly evident to us all, I was willing to bet this could become the deciding moment for lifting the ban on spells inside the house—either to fix Harry’s shit or permanently alter his DNA. If comparing his shabby efforts against the excellent work turned in by Harris Martin in half the time, who in their right mind would keep this carpenter-wanna-be on the job past the first day?

Georghe Radu.

From all appearances, my grandfather had discarded his sound business acumen—a trait that had kept our family straight for centuries—in favor of his desire for dangerous entertainment. Despite Harry’s obvious lack of professionalism and verifiable carpentry skills, Grandpa found this numbskull ‘refreshing’. In fact, he asked Harry to come back the next day with only a friendly “Let’s see if you make a bigger dent in the project tomorrow,” as an admonishment.

Thankfully, Manuel volunteered to hang out at the house and help supervise Harry on Friday, when Mom and Grandma were all too eager to accept an invitation from Sadee Dean and Jennifer Crawford to join them for an antiquing trip to Paducah, Kentucky. In turn, Alisia volunteered to keep our uncle company, which freed up Grandpa, Dad, and me to make a trip to Fort Donelson to show Adrian the battlegrounds.

And, no… we didn’t get to use our broomsticks. But driving with the top down in the Mustang made up for some of it.

“Now, this is something!” Adrian enthused, standing on a small bluff overlooking the Cumberland River. “There are some older fortresses and ramparts scattered throughout Europe, but many have been destroyed over time. Fortunately, America’s fascination with the bloodshed of brother against brother has yet to go out of style. And, now whenever I come for a visit, we can come out here and spend a day or two!”

“Apparently, another skirmish took place not too far from here that is locally famous, where Nathan Bedford Forrest defeated a small Union naval force, ambushing them unexpectedly,” I said, relying on Dad’s advisement that Adrian had become a huge American Civil War buff before he and Manuel returned to Europe after spending nearly two centuries in America. Even though I had spent prior decades having my uncles around, I obviously didn’t know them nearly as well as my parents and grandparents did. I hoped to impress Adrian with what I knew about the war—especially in this area.

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