unkempt cornrows. He had on a Hawaiian shirt and denim shorts, brown sandals.
There was something about the look on his face, though. Something slightly twisted to it. And an unpleasant gleam in his tiny, deeply set brown eyes, like he had some kind of beef with the entire world.
“None at all. I live here, that’s all – that’s my house.” And, despite my misgivings, I extended a hand. “Ross Devries. Most people just call me Ross.”
He reached out warily and shook.
“Jason Goad.”
There were large calluses on his palm.
“And what brings you here, Jason?”
I was still looking him up and down, and wondering how he’d even got here.
“That an official question?”
He didn’t smile, asking me that. He was entirely serious.
“No. Free country. It’s your business, I guess.”
But my throat was getting tight by this time. What the Hell exactly was going on? I’d lived here my entire thirty-three years, and had never even heard of any visitor, except for Willets. And Willets was exceptional. Jason here didn’t look as if he answered that description.
“Okay.” He’d decided to lighten up a little. “I’ve rented a room, right here.”
And he pointed to our neighbor’s house.
I tried not to look dumbstruck as I squinted across at it. In all the time we’d been on Kenveigh Street, Mrs. McGaffrey, right next door, had inhabited the place alone. She’d had a husband once, but he had di ed in an accident at the lumber yard, a year before we’d turned up. And since then, she’d not so much as had a relative drop round for coffee.
But we could barely communicate with the outside world at all, so how’d he managed to arrange that? Did he have some kind of special gift? If so, it struck me as bizarre.
I was still doing my level best to hide my astonishment. I wasn’t sure how, exactly. But somehow, this guy had managed to worm his way in here.
I was trying to think what to say next. There had to be a way of finding out more without making it sound like an interrogation.
“All the way from Nevada, huh?” I tried.
“Right. Vegas. Ever been?”
When I shook my head, his pudgy features creased into a knowing smirk. So … how much did he know about us ? What had he found out?
It suddenly occurred to me. Could this be somebody who practiced magic too?
“No, didn’t think you had,” he was continuing. His tone had become slightly superior. “I understand a few things about this place.”
I stared at him again, less friendly this time.
“That a fact?”
“Sure. A few little rumors on the Internet, if you know where to look. A bit of research, historical stuff. Late Seventeenth Century stuff, if you really want to know.”
Which was the period when Farrow had put all of us under her spell.
His gaze was studying my own, hunting for any kind of reaction. We’re a closed community round here – to put it mildly – so I gave him none. Which didn’t mean there weren’t reactions galloping around inside my head.
“Population censuses,” he told me. “Who lived where, and when. And where they came from. That and … how can I put this? I seem to have a special instinct.”
I was waiting for him to go on. But, without any warning, his attention went elsewhere.
He looked past me, down the sidewalk. And I followed where his eyes had gone.
There was the faintest of mirages in the middle distance, caused by the day’s growing heat. And from it were emerging Pete and Tammy and Alicia. They were coming back from the direction of the park. Pete was walking up ahead of them, growing confident at five years old. And Alicia had our daughter, two years younger, in her arms.
My boy spotted me and yelled out “Daddy!” Tammy and my wife both waved. I should have returned the gesture. But a prickling of the hairs on the nape of my neck made me look back around.
Jason Goad was staring at the three of them like they were ice-cream in the middle of a desert. Must have realized I’d noticed
There was something about the look on his face, though. Something slightly twisted to it. And an unpleasant gleam in his tiny, deeply set brown eyes, like he had some kind of beef with the entire world.
“None at all. I live here, that’s all – that’s my house.” And, despite my misgivings, I extended a hand. “Ross Devries. Most people just call me Ross.”
He reached out warily and shook.
“Jason Goad.”
There were large calluses on his palm.
“And what brings you here, Jason?”
I was still looking him up and down, and wondering how he’d even got here.
“That an official question?”
He didn’t smile, asking me that. He was entirely serious.
“No. Free country. It’s your business, I guess.”
But my throat was getting tight by this time. What the Hell exactly was going on? I’d lived here my entire thirty-three years, and had never even heard of any visitor, except for Willets. And Willets was exceptional. Jason here didn’t look as if he answered that description.
“Okay.” He’d decided to lighten up a little. “I’ve rented a room, right here.”
And he pointed to our neighbor’s house.
I tried not to look dumbstruck as I squinted across at it. In all the time we’d been on Kenveigh Street, Mrs. McGaffrey, right next door, had inhabited the place alone. She’d had a husband once, but he had di ed in an accident at the lumber yard, a year before we’d turned up. And since then, she’d not so much as had a relative drop round for coffee.
But we could barely communicate with the outside world at all, so how’d he managed to arrange that? Did he have some kind of special gift? If so, it struck me as bizarre.
I was still doing my level best to hide my astonishment. I wasn’t sure how, exactly. But somehow, this guy had managed to worm his way in here.
I was trying to think what to say next. There had to be a way of finding out more without making it sound like an interrogation.
“All the way from Nevada, huh?” I tried.
“Right. Vegas. Ever been?”
When I shook my head, his pudgy features creased into a knowing smirk. So … how much did he know about us ? What had he found out?
It suddenly occurred to me. Could this be somebody who practiced magic too?
“No, didn’t think you had,” he was continuing. His tone had become slightly superior. “I understand a few things about this place.”
I stared at him again, less friendly this time.
“That a fact?”
“Sure. A few little rumors on the Internet, if you know where to look. A bit of research, historical stuff. Late Seventeenth Century stuff, if you really want to know.”
Which was the period when Farrow had put all of us under her spell.
His gaze was studying my own, hunting for any kind of reaction. We’re a closed community round here – to put it mildly – so I gave him none. Which didn’t mean there weren’t reactions galloping around inside my head.
“Population censuses,” he told me. “Who lived where, and when. And where they came from. That and … how can I put this? I seem to have a special instinct.”
I was waiting for him to go on. But, without any warning, his attention went elsewhere.
He looked past me, down the sidewalk. And I followed where his eyes had gone.
There was the faintest of mirages in the middle distance, caused by the day’s growing heat. And from it were emerging Pete and Tammy and Alicia. They were coming back from the direction of the park. Pete was walking up ahead of them, growing confident at five years old. And Alicia had our daughter, two years younger, in her arms.
My boy spotted me and yelled out “Daddy!” Tammy and my wife both waved. I should have returned the gesture. But a prickling of the hairs on the nape of my neck made me look back around.
Jason Goad was staring at the three of them like they were ice-cream in the middle of a desert. Must have realized I’d noticed
Similar Books
