The New Magic - The Revelation of Jonah McAllister Landon Wark (free e books to read .txt) 📖

the motorists, the scene made all the more ridiculous by his sweat stained 'The Best Thesis Defence is a Good Thesis Offence' XKCD shirt.

The old man would do exactly what Clay had told him to and when he came trudging in later in the evening he would be harangued for being 'pissy'. It had happened twice before and it was getting old. Real old. It might even be preferable to spend the night under a damned bridge somewhere.

After several minutes of performing a half-contained rant on the side of the street Clay managed a breath and pulled out his phone. He was mostly considering looking for a cheap hotel room for the night. He couldn't really afford... well, anything, but imagining the look on the old man's face when he woke up in front of the TV in the morning without his junior aide was entertaining.

He pursed his lips at the email notification. He really didn't want to deal with the old man's customers, but if he could save up just a little money he could maybe get a tiny place of his own. Flicking his thumb over the phone he found the address was way out in the boondocks somewhere. Upon rechecking the notification he scratched his head.

Something struck him as familiar about the address. A glimmer from within the local gossip mill maybe?

"Come talk to us," he read out loud.

Most likely it was what he had thought, but really, it could be anything. The username was a series of underscores and then a forward slash, asterisk, question mark.

___/*?

Clay frowned and started flicking around for whatever ride sharing app was cheaper these days.

A new thought dawned on him. With a username like that it was more than likely he was going to get stabbed and robbed just by going out to this place. Was a studio apartment worth both his money and his life?

"Joke's on you," he muttered, confirming the ride order. "Neither one is very valuable right now."

His first impression was that the yard of the acreage the old... mansion(?) was sitting on was enormous. Even in the early dark he could tell it would take at least three hours to cut the whole damn thing. His second impression was that he was far too deep into his old man's life if that was his first impression. He was about to tell the driver, a kid of no more than twenty to take him home when a second vehicle came up the road behind them, a beat up land-dreadnought whose molecular integrity was little more than faith-based at that point.

Clay swung himself out of the tiny car, an insect next to the behemoth of a Buick that was pulling in beside him.

A woman's face was pressed up against the passenger's window, her eyes shut tightly, but even with the jostling of the car on its shaking suspension he could make out the eye movement beneath the dark lids. She must be having one hell of a dream.

Beside her a larger woman was jerking the wheel this way and that, trying to keep the monster straight on the rows burrowed into the dirt driveway.

The old car rolled to a stop and the passenger's head lolled to one side. The driver's side door opened and the car shook as the larger woman emerged.

"Can I help you with something?" she asked suspiciously as Clay approached.

"Um." Clay lapsed as the passenger looked up at him with unfocused eyes. "Clean Space Landscaping?"

"What?"

"Sorry," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's pretty late. I'm not sure why I bothered coming out here."

"It's fine," the woman said, circling around to the passenger door. "I don't know who you are, though."

"Someone gave me this address. I should have called. You know what, this whole thing was likely a prank." He felt suddenly exhausted. Between all the sun and work and his old man he wasn't thinking clearly. "Fuck it, I'm just gonna go home."

The door opened and the woman nearly fell out. As the porch light came on, casting an ancient incandescent pallor over the scene, Clay could make out a small spoon and what looked like a pin lying on the floor of the vehicle, but the significance of them was lost on him. The passenger's dark hand clutched at the car door handle and turned her face up to meet Clay. She looked drunk.

"Hallo, handsome," she laughed.

"Oh, yeah," the large woman said. "I remember now. You know Paul. Or, Paul knows your father. Right? I'm Sandy. I sort of run things around here."

"Who?"

"Junior reverend down at... Christ, what's that church called?"

"Christ-a-palooza," the drunk woman slurred.

"Can you help me with her?" Sandy motioned.

"Um, I should really be getting home," Clay replied.

"We've got a few spare rooms if you want to stay the night," she continued as she tried to keep the other from falling out of the car.

"No, I—" Clay instinctively reached out and caught the woman under her arm.

"Ugh," she grunted. "Ground, they're always conspiring to keep us apart."

Clay frowned. She wasn't slurring her speech all that much. He had to heave with a significant amount of force to keep her upright as her legs seemed intent on following her torso out of the car.

"I'm fine!" she shouted as she struggled upright. "Just... A little bit much is all. I'm fine."

"Yo!" the driver yelled to Clay. "I got another fare. You wanna go back to town or what?"

"Gimme a minute!" Clay shouted back.

He gingerly tried releasing the woman's arm but she kept dropping to one side or the other, her eyelids drooping as if she was half asleep.

"He's gonna stay!" Sandy shouted at the driver.

"No! No, I'm not!"

Before he could object the large figure was walking through the light from the porch over