Read Online The Warrior Heir by Cinda Williams Chima - Free Book Online
Authors: Cinda Williams Chima
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no matter what he wore, he could never match Fitch's display. Fitch played by his own rules, and it never bothered him that the preps called him weird. "Weird is good, strange is bad," Fitch always said. Jack felt a little better.
Chapter Three
Digging Up Dead Relatives
Linda had a heavy foot. She seemed determined to make up at least part of the time they had wasted at school. Whenever Jack, who was riding shotgun, stole a look at the speedometer, it hovered around eighty-five. He had been hoping she might ask him to drive, but realized they would only lose time with him at the wheel.
They passed through a series of tired little towns: a traffic light, a gas station or two. As darkness fell, they began to see the debris of strip mining: heaps of slag and mine tailings. Iron oil rigs crouched like giant mosquitoes in the dusk, sucking the black blood out of the land.
"Have either of you ever been here before?" Will asked.
"My mom brought me down here a few years ago," Jack admitted. Dragged was more accurate. Becka had made him walk all over those hills, looking for the family homestead. They never did find it. "My great-great grandmother Susannah lived here. She was quite a character, I guess. She played banjo and fiddle and made killer black cherry wine."
Linda took up the tale without taking her eyes from the road. "Susannah is the one we're looking for. She had the Second Sight, they say. She communed with spirits, read the cards, and had prophetic dreams."
"She sounds like some kind of witch," Fitch remarked.
"Mom's always been into that kind of thing," Jack said, grinning. "It's been rumored that magic runs in our family, you know."
"I'd prefer that to allergies," Fitch said, sneezing.
"Susannah had quite a following around here, mostly women." Linda swerved to miss a groundhog. "In those days, it always seemed to be men who made the future, and women who needed to protect themselves against it."
Jack stared out the window. This home of his ancestors was on the way to nowhere; a place of graveyards, where they dug up the coal and buried the people.
It was fully dark when they reached Coal Grove, the county seat, a town without a traffic light. An ornate old courthouse anchored one end of the square. The stores were all closed, although several cars littered the parking lot next to the movie theatre; light and music spilled from a place called the Bluebird Cafe diagonally across from the courthouse. Friday night in Coal Grove, Jack thought. Even slower than Trinity.
Linda turned the Land Rover down one of the side streets off the square and parked along the curb under a huge maple tree. There were no streetlights, and it was pitch black in the shadow of the great tree.
"Where are we?" asked Will, puzzled. "Aren't we going to the motel?"
"I need to go to the courthouse first," Linda replied, climbing down out of the front seat. She slung a backpack over her shoulder and slammed the car door. It seemed unnaturally loud on the quiet street.
Jack unfolded himself out of the car, feeling a little unsteady on his legs after the long ride. The night air was cool and fragrant, and there was a soft sound of spring peepers from somewhere in the distance. A small dog began barking madly behind a screen door in a nearby house. The porch light went on, and they could see a figure silhouetted behind the screen.
Linda led them across the street and into the parking lot behind the courthouse. A modern brick building crouched on the other side of the parking lot, away from the square. Two police cars were parked next to the building. A mercury vapor light cast a sallow light over the scene.
"But isn't the courthouse closed?" Will persisted.
"Oh, I'm sure it's open late on Friday nights," Linda said. She led the trio along the back of the building, between army green trash Dumpsters and into the shadows of an alley on the far side. She followed the side of the building back until she found what she was looking for: a
Chapter Three
Digging Up Dead Relatives
Linda had a heavy foot. She seemed determined to make up at least part of the time they had wasted at school. Whenever Jack, who was riding shotgun, stole a look at the speedometer, it hovered around eighty-five. He had been hoping she might ask him to drive, but realized they would only lose time with him at the wheel.
They passed through a series of tired little towns: a traffic light, a gas station or two. As darkness fell, they began to see the debris of strip mining: heaps of slag and mine tailings. Iron oil rigs crouched like giant mosquitoes in the dusk, sucking the black blood out of the land.
"Have either of you ever been here before?" Will asked.
"My mom brought me down here a few years ago," Jack admitted. Dragged was more accurate. Becka had made him walk all over those hills, looking for the family homestead. They never did find it. "My great-great grandmother Susannah lived here. She was quite a character, I guess. She played banjo and fiddle and made killer black cherry wine."
Linda took up the tale without taking her eyes from the road. "Susannah is the one we're looking for. She had the Second Sight, they say. She communed with spirits, read the cards, and had prophetic dreams."
"She sounds like some kind of witch," Fitch remarked.
"Mom's always been into that kind of thing," Jack said, grinning. "It's been rumored that magic runs in our family, you know."
"I'd prefer that to allergies," Fitch said, sneezing.
"Susannah had quite a following around here, mostly women." Linda swerved to miss a groundhog. "In those days, it always seemed to be men who made the future, and women who needed to protect themselves against it."
Jack stared out the window. This home of his ancestors was on the way to nowhere; a place of graveyards, where they dug up the coal and buried the people.
It was fully dark when they reached Coal Grove, the county seat, a town without a traffic light. An ornate old courthouse anchored one end of the square. The stores were all closed, although several cars littered the parking lot next to the movie theatre; light and music spilled from a place called the Bluebird Cafe diagonally across from the courthouse. Friday night in Coal Grove, Jack thought. Even slower than Trinity.
Linda turned the Land Rover down one of the side streets off the square and parked along the curb under a huge maple tree. There were no streetlights, and it was pitch black in the shadow of the great tree.
"Where are we?" asked Will, puzzled. "Aren't we going to the motel?"
"I need to go to the courthouse first," Linda replied, climbing down out of the front seat. She slung a backpack over her shoulder and slammed the car door. It seemed unnaturally loud on the quiet street.
Jack unfolded himself out of the car, feeling a little unsteady on his legs after the long ride. The night air was cool and fragrant, and there was a soft sound of spring peepers from somewhere in the distance. A small dog began barking madly behind a screen door in a nearby house. The porch light went on, and they could see a figure silhouetted behind the screen.
Linda led them across the street and into the parking lot behind the courthouse. A modern brick building crouched on the other side of the parking lot, away from the square. Two police cars were parked next to the building. A mercury vapor light cast a sallow light over the scene.
"But isn't the courthouse closed?" Will persisted.
"Oh, I'm sure it's open late on Friday nights," Linda said. She led the trio along the back of the building, between army green trash Dumpsters and into the shadows of an alley on the far side. She followed the side of the building back until she found what she was looking for: a
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