Read Online Burnt Offerings (Valancourt 20th Century Classics) by Stephen Graham Jones, Robert Marasco - Free Book Online

He spun around, skirted a boulle writing desk with some old leather-bound books on it, their spines broken and curling, and came to a stop just inside the open terrace doors. He squinted down at the beach.
    Some distance to the left of the wooden pier was a small rock jetty which rose, jagged, about five feet above the strip of beach. David was climbing the rocks. Brother narrowed his eyes and the boy’s figure became clearer. He grabbed on to a rock, started to pull himself up, and then drew his hand away suddenly. He fell, and by squinting even more, Brother could see him slide down the surface of the jetty, his arms flying out for support. Brother’s face remained impassive. David was in the dark sand, one knee clasped to his chest; he was rocking back and forth, his head thrown back in pain, soundlessly. Brother watched a few seconds longer, with Ben and Marian silent behind him in the middle of the room.
    “Cute little feller,” he said. “What is he – six, seven?”
    “Eight,” Ben said.
    “And full of the devil, I expect.” Brother chuckled appreciatively, and then aware of Ben approaching the window, he wheeled around quickly to face him.
    “He shouldn’t be wandering around like that – ” Ben started to say, but Brother raised his hand limply and said, “He’ll be fine, just fine.” He wheeled himself through the narrow passage between the desk and a wingchair, forcing Ben back to the center of the room and blocking his view of David on the beach.
    “He’s very good, really,” Marian said. “All I have to do is tell him what’s out of bounds.” She caught Ben’s eye. “ If, ”she said to him hopefully.
    “There’ve been kids here before,” Brother said. “Never any problem with them.”
    “Part of what I was saying about choosing the right people,” Miss Allardyce added. “We’ve never been wrong yet, have we, Brother?”
    “Nope.” He reached into the pocket of his robe (heavy flannel over pajamas buttoned to the neck) and pulled out a ragged tissue.
    “Do you rent every summer?” Marian asked.
    Brother was blowing his nose and turning paler. “It depends,” Miss Allardyce said. “Last time was when, Brother?”
    Brother held up two fingers weakly, his nose grinding into the tissue.
    “Every other year’s the way it usually works out,” Miss Allardyce said, watching Brother with some annoyance. “Like I said, it depends. Some years it works out better than other years.”
    Brother lowered his hand. His eyes were wet and redder. “Our Rest-and-Recreation’s what Roz here is talking about,” he hastened to say. When he smiled, his dentures clicked. “I’m coming apart, as you can see – ”
    “Oh, Brother!” Miss Allardyce said.
    “Oh, brother is right.” He shook his head tragically, then summoned the strength to say to Ben, “Roz has given you all the details, I expect.”
    “Yes,” Ben said.
    “Including price?”
    “Seven hundred for the summer.” He said it flatly, without the enthusiasm Marian would have put into it, so she quickly added a spirited “Yes!”
    Brother brought his hand down on the arm of the wheelchair; he glared at Miss Allardyce. “ ’Scuse us a minute,” he said, and pushed the chair against his sister, nudging her away from them.
    “I told you to ask for nine, ” he whispered hoarsely.
    Miss Allardyce looked uneasily at Ben and Marian who were watching them. She leaned closer to Brother. “It was seven before.”
    “That was two years ago.”
    “Brother, we’ll lose them.”
    Brother smiled at Marian. “Her? Not a chance. Nine .”
    “Why, for God’s sake? We don’t need the money.”
    He was looking at Ben now. “Seven’s too low. He’s a suspicious type, can’t you see that, you old fool?”
    “All right.” She moved away from him and, not at all convinced, said, “If you say nine, then it’s nine.”
    She came back to them smiling guiltily and looking mortified. “Have I messed it up, have I ever messed it