Relics by Mary Anna Evans Read Free Book Online

Montrose’s. Could he have made it any plainer that he didn’t give a damn about the woman who’s dying in the chair right next to him? Can you believe—”
    “Who else has eyes that color?”
    “Well, even in the Sujosa, it’s not all that common. You see a lot more of those scalp birthmarks that make light streaks in their hair. Every generation or so, the oldest Sujosa families produce one or two kids with those eyes. And they’ve been doing it for a very long time. The earliest recorded description of the Sujosa comes from an eighteenth-century traveler who described a people with ‘nutt-browne Skynn and Eyes of blew-greene that put one in minde of Witchery.’”
    “That description applies to DeWayne Montrose perfectly, although I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t like his brand of witchery.” Faye glanced back to the house. “Do you know anyone else with those eyes, maybe a high school kid?”
    “Amanda-Lynne Lavelle’s boy, Jimmie. Is he in his teens?” Carmen asked herself. After a second, she answered herself, “Yes. He’s in his last year of high school. Amanda-Lynne’s raised him by herself on just about no money since his daddy died of AIDS five or six years ago. She and DeWayne are related somehow. They’re cousins, I think, but his parents raised her after her parents died. She’s a little, well, eccentric, but what do you expect of a woman born to bluegrass musicians goofy enough to name her after her mother’s mandolin? Amanda-Lynne’s got those spooky eyes and a head full of dark hair just like DeWayne’s to go with them. And she’s passed her good looks down to Jimmie. If you want to see someone with classic Sujosa features, Amanda-Lynne’s the one. Or her son.”
    “A boy with dark skin and turquoise eyes—I guess you’re telling me that those are classic Sujosa looks—nearly killed me and Joe yesterday. He rigged up a life-sized dummy and dropped it out of a tree right in front of my windshield with a sign on it saying ‘Devils go home.’ A nice welcome that was—I damn near ran my car off the road and down into a canyon.”
    “Those roads are very dangerous, don’t you think?”
    Faye didn’t think Carmen quite grasped the magnitude of Jimmie’s crime. “He could have killed us.”
    “It must have been an accident. Jimmie is the sweetest boy you could ever hope to know. And so good to his mama. Jimmie wouldn’t have set out to hurt anybody.”
    Carmen glanced at Faye, and she must have correctly read Faye’s stormy expression, because she quickly added, “I’ll talk to him. We’re pretty good friends, considering that I’m nearly twice his age. I’ll make sure he apologizes to you and Joe.”
    “Thanks.”
    “You want to talk about beautiful eyes that ‘put one in minde of witchery’?” continued Carmen, who was apparently the president of Jimmie Lavelle’s fan club. “Good Lord. When Jimmie looks you right in the face with those eyes, you’ll be glad you’re not a sixteen-year-old girl. That boy—”
    Carmen was silenced by the sound of something large crashing through the underbrush behind them. A low growl told Faye that whatever was barreling in their direction was not friendly. Two more growling creatures topped the hill. The knowledge that she and Carmen were now outnumbered tripped something primitive in Faye. Grabbing Carmen by the hand, she dragged her down the path, looking for a safe harbor.
    On her left, an army of ramrod-straight pines mocked her with branches that began thirty feet above her head. The pines sheltered spindly cedars that couldn’t support the weight of a housecat. On her right, an eroded gully was shrouded in brittle stems left behind by kudzu vines that had shed their summer leaves. Venturing into that thicket would be like throwing herself into a vegetative net where she would wait, entangled, for her pursuers to descend.
    Faye knew that the path’s downward slope put them at a strategic disadvantage. With gravity on their