Read Online The Devil Dances by K.H. Koehler - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: K.H. Koehler
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Grace, no God to forgive him any longer.”
I tried not to shiver as my dad stood in the curb outside the Jeep, his elbow resting on the roof while he observed the serene building set far back amongst a number of quaint maples shivering in a rising gale.
“I suppose there’s some lesson in all that?” I said.
“No, I’m just making polite conversation.”
After a few moments, the rain started, with big, heavy drops that splunked against Daisy’s windshield but somehow managed to not touch him at all. He turned and rapped his knuckles on the roof. “I guess I’ll see you around, son. You take care of yourself and that pretty Vivian.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “I suppose you want her, too.”
“Ah, Vivian Summers.” He looked skyward. “
So he carried me away in the spirit into the wilderness: and I saw a woman sit upon a scarlet-colored beast, full of names of blasphemy, having seven heads and ten horns. And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet color, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication
.” He winked at me. “She’s hot, son, but no.
You
own her soul, so the Whore is yours to do with what you want. You look after her now.” He smiled in at me, a warm smile full of wisdom, time and patience that crinkled the corners of his shockingly blue eyes. “Take care, Nicky.”
“Fuck you, Dad.”
“There’s my boy.”
Note to self: The next time you see the Devil standing on the side of the highway, leave his sorry demonic ass out there and keep driving.
The fair grounds were closed when I reached the festival, but there were still buggies and long buckboard wagons parked in the spaces reserved for them. The rain had stopped by then, leaving everything wet and muddy, and the air humid, fecund, and clinging to my skin. A string of paper lanterns illuminated the parking lot where several horses clattered against the rain-slick gravel and about a hundred remaining Swartzcopf men and women were busy loading their unsold wares into the flatbeds, heads down, round black hats or bonnets slick with moisture as they handed wooden crates full of trinkets and produce down a long line, from one hand to another.
I parked Daisy about a hundred yards away and hoofed it over the puddles toward the small group. Almost like they had some internal radar attuned to just my kind, they picked up on my presence immediately and all looked up at once. The first Swartzcopf man I came upon squinted myopically up at me from behind his glasses, then immediately turned his back as he went back to stacking feed bags in his flatbed. I looked for other men with glasses, but every man here was older and bearded; the boy from the fair was nowhere to be found, and a part of me wondered if he even came from this colony.
“He’s not here,” a voice rang from behind me.
I turned around in the parking lot and found an old Plain woman in a black bonnet standing there in the light summer rain, watching me from behind her fogged up glasses. “The boy you’re seeking is not here.”
She looked to be in her mid-seventies, small and bent crookedly, but there was wisdom in the severe lines of her face and strength remaining in her body. She looked like a woman who had shouldered many burdens in her lifetime. Normally, I got an immediate gut feeling when new people approached me, a kind of psychic red light or green light that was never wrong. I decided I liked the old Plain woman. She had gumption and eyes that I trusted.
I put my hands in my pockets. “You know him?”
“No. But I know the colony. You been all the talk since you were here today, Daemon.”
I raised my eyebrows at that. “You have the Sight.”
“No, but my daughter-in-law does. She said you and your mate were here earlier, that you have come to poison our lands.”
“I assure you, Mrs. …?”
“Knapp.”
“I assure you, Mrs. Knapp, I have no
I tried not to shiver as my dad stood in the curb outside the Jeep, his elbow resting on the roof while he observed the serene building set far back amongst a number of quaint maples shivering in a rising gale.
“I suppose there’s some lesson in all that?” I said.
“No, I’m just making polite conversation.”
After a few moments, the rain started, with big, heavy drops that splunked against Daisy’s windshield but somehow managed to not touch him at all. He turned and rapped his knuckles on the roof. “I guess I’ll see you around, son. You take care of yourself and that pretty Vivian.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “I suppose you want her, too.”
“Ah, Vivian Summers.” He looked skyward. “
So he carried me away in the spirit into the wilderness: and I saw a woman sit upon a scarlet-colored beast, full of names of blasphemy, having seven heads and ten horns. And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet color, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication
.” He winked at me. “She’s hot, son, but no.
You
own her soul, so the Whore is yours to do with what you want. You look after her now.” He smiled in at me, a warm smile full of wisdom, time and patience that crinkled the corners of his shockingly blue eyes. “Take care, Nicky.”
“Fuck you, Dad.”
“There’s my boy.”
Note to self: The next time you see the Devil standing on the side of the highway, leave his sorry demonic ass out there and keep driving.
The fair grounds were closed when I reached the festival, but there were still buggies and long buckboard wagons parked in the spaces reserved for them. The rain had stopped by then, leaving everything wet and muddy, and the air humid, fecund, and clinging to my skin. A string of paper lanterns illuminated the parking lot where several horses clattered against the rain-slick gravel and about a hundred remaining Swartzcopf men and women were busy loading their unsold wares into the flatbeds, heads down, round black hats or bonnets slick with moisture as they handed wooden crates full of trinkets and produce down a long line, from one hand to another.
I parked Daisy about a hundred yards away and hoofed it over the puddles toward the small group. Almost like they had some internal radar attuned to just my kind, they picked up on my presence immediately and all looked up at once. The first Swartzcopf man I came upon squinted myopically up at me from behind his glasses, then immediately turned his back as he went back to stacking feed bags in his flatbed. I looked for other men with glasses, but every man here was older and bearded; the boy from the fair was nowhere to be found, and a part of me wondered if he even came from this colony.
“He’s not here,” a voice rang from behind me.
I turned around in the parking lot and found an old Plain woman in a black bonnet standing there in the light summer rain, watching me from behind her fogged up glasses. “The boy you’re seeking is not here.”
She looked to be in her mid-seventies, small and bent crookedly, but there was wisdom in the severe lines of her face and strength remaining in her body. She looked like a woman who had shouldered many burdens in her lifetime. Normally, I got an immediate gut feeling when new people approached me, a kind of psychic red light or green light that was never wrong. I decided I liked the old Plain woman. She had gumption and eyes that I trusted.
I put my hands in my pockets. “You know him?”
“No. But I know the colony. You been all the talk since you were here today, Daemon.”
I raised my eyebrows at that. “You have the Sight.”
“No, but my daughter-in-law does. She said you and your mate were here earlier, that you have come to poison our lands.”
“I assure you, Mrs. …?”
“Knapp.”
“I assure you, Mrs. Knapp, I have no
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