Long Black Curl by Alex Bledsoe Read Free Book Online Page B

abandoned streambeds you refer to as ‘roads.’”
    â€œDon’t worry about anything. As long as you’re with me, nobody will bother you, even if you were plaid.”
    â€œYou’ll excuse me if I don’t want to bet my life on that.”
    Bo-Kate grinned. Nigel might be her executive assistant and occasional lover, but they bickered like siblings.
    â€œSo will people here believe I, too, am a Tufa?” Nigel added.
    â€œNot a chance.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œTwo reasons. One’s your hair. You have real black people’s hair. The curliest any Tufa’s hair gets is mine.” She pulled one strand down into her eyes, then let it go. It bounced back into place.
    â€œAnd the other?”
    â€œLike you said, subtle differences that I can’t explain to you.”
    â€œOh, more Good Folk magic, eh?”
    She glared at him, and the anger he saw sent chills down his spine. “That’s enough of that, Nigel. I don’t care what you think about it in the privacy of your own head, but you keep a civil tongue in that mouth of yours, or somebody might just snatch it out.”
    She turned away and looked out the window at the passing trees. Everything around her ached with familiarity. The Tufa connection to the physical reality of Cloud County was so tangible, it was almost like an umbilical cord. When the original exiles had landed here, back when the Appalachians were as high and rugged as the Rockies, they had bonded with the rock and soil and trees just as they’d once done in their original home. The songs they brought with them became tunes about the land they now inhabited, and the original songs they composed sealed that relationship like the first marital kiss at a wedding.
    Beneath this awareness, of course, was the memory of two strands of that cord being forcibly cut that day on Emania Knob. And beneath that, thumping along like the bass note in a techno remix, was the fury that drove her desire for revenge.
    Nigel pulled the SUV onto the paved road, grateful for the relative quiet. He turned west, toward the tiny town of Needsville. The road was still winding and treacherous, with patches of black ice where the sun never struck, but their progress was much faster.
    Bo-Kate gazed through the bare tree branches at the rolling mountains visible in the distance. Eventually the snow became too heavy, so Nigel turned on the windshield wipers. The rhythmic squeaking finally got to him, so he risked a question: “How long has it been since you’ve seen your family?”
    â€œLonger than you can imagine. When they chased me out, I didn’t plan to ever return. But … things change.”
    â€œThat sounds delightfully enigmatic.”
    They topped the rise and came down into Needsville itself. The entire town fronted on the highway, with no real side streets. A lone traffic light flashed yellow, cautioning people about the crossroads at the center of town. There was a new-looking convenience store and post office building, but all the other businesses seemed ancient, abandoned, or both.
    â€œThere,” Bo-Kate said. “That motel. The Catamount Corner. Stop there. I want to see somebody.”
    â€œWhat’s a ‘catamount,’ anyway?”
    â€œA bobcat.”
    â€œThat’s not any clearer, actually. Who is ‘Bob’?”
    â€œIt’s like a mountain lion, only smaller.”
    â€œDo they have those here, too, as well as giant flightless birds?”
    â€œThey have ’em.”
    Nigel parked in front of the steps leading to the porch. He saw the warm glow in the caf é windows and said, “May we eat here? It’s after lunchtime, and I’m a bit peckish.”
    â€œNo.” The way she said it left no room for debate.
    He took it in stride. “I’ll just wait in the car, then. Maintain the vital communications link, as Marlin Perkins would say.”
    â€œAnd I know