The Daemon Device by Jeri Westerson

Author:Jeri Westerson [Westerson, Jeri]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dragua Press

Chapter Seventeen

AFTER LOCKING UP, he dug his hands into his coat pockets, and, collar up to his ears, trudged down the lane, not really caring where he ended up.

He walked a long time at a steady pace and was suddenly surprised to find himself on the outskirts of London and absent-mindedly heading toward the Romani camp.

The dogs raised their heads but did not bark. They recognized his scent, he supposed. No matter how he dressed, no matter what affectations he acquired, there was no disguising the Romani in him.

Even the men with clubs never moved from their spot around the fire. They simply raised their arms in greeting, and went back to their pipes, blowing lazy smoke rings above their heads into the quiet early morning.

Gray was giving way to rose along the horizon, though trees and caravans were still in silhouette. It wasn’t hard to find Uncle Yanko’s caravan. Leopold climbed the steps and didn’t bother knocking. He opened the door as quietly as he could. And there was the old man, sitting up in his chair, his pipe lying on his belly with ashes spilling out. It was a wonder the man never set himself on fire. His head lay back against the cushion, and his mouth hung open with a snore. Leopold remembered those snores that jerked him awake with their thundering grunts and growls.

He tenderly pulled the pipe from the old man’s mouth and set it aside. Staring down at his uncle, the man who had taken him in, fond remembrance welled up in his heart, nudging the emptiness aside. Leopold, with all his clothes still on, threw himself on the bed, gathered the musty knitted quilt around him, and curled up.

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