Long Black Curl Read Online Free Page B

won’t coddle those damn First Daughters. They’re led by a twelve-year-old, for God’s sake, and you never put ’em in their place. You’re too soft, Rockhouse, and I don’t mean that little withered pecker of yours.”
    She pulled his right hand away from his body. The six fingers on it twitched from the shock’s aftereffects.
    â€œThat’s all about to change. I’m going to clean house around here. We’ve had these two groups tiptoeing around each other long enough. It’s time for one person to be in charge of all the Tufa, one person with some damn ideas to move this place into the modern world. And that one person is me. ”
    She nestled his extra pinky finger into the crotch between the clippers’ blades.
    â€œEverything special about you is gone,” she said. “You can’t sing no more. And now—”
    His eyes cleared enough for him to focus on what she was doing. He tried to pull back his hand.
    She squeezed the handles and snipped off his finger.
    He tried to scream, but the only sound was a loud, pitiful exhalation.
    She did the same with his other hand. Then she wiped the clipper blades on his shirt, put them back in her purse, and gathered up the two severed fingers into a sandwich bag.
    â€œI need these to prove you’re out of the picture,” she said, still crouched over him. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy doing that. Remember when I was fourteen, and you slid your hand inside the back of my bathing suit bottom up at Sinks Creek? Six fingers, just like some damn bug crawling on my ass, and you old enough to be … goddamn, old enough to be fucking God. I swore right then I’d get you back for it one day.”
    He held his trembling, mutilated hands up so he could see them. He still made no sound, but tears filled his eyes.
    Bo-Kate stood, brushed off her knees, and looked around. She spotted what she wanted in a dark corner on a warped, ragged shelf.
    It looked like a toy axe, no more than three inches long, but she knew the edge was razor sharp and would cut through anything. She held it up to the light. “You won’t be needing this anymore, either.”
    She opened the door and looked down at him trembling on the floor. It had begun to snow again, and flakes blew in past her. His injured hands lay on his chest, blood soaking into his shirt.
    â€œYou can stay here in your hole. I won’t be needing this dump. I’m going to be living in a real house. Maybe the old Overbay mansion. I need something they’ve got there, too. I always liked the looks of that place, and it can’t be too hard to chase that stupid Bliss out of it.”
    He rose to a seated position, his hands still cradled against his chest. The hatred blazing from his eyes would once have terrified her.
    â€œI’ll give you one warning,” she said, and pushed him flat again with one boot. “You move against me, old man, and it’s the last move you’ll make. I’m paying you the respect of letting you live. Don’t make me regret it.”
    Rockhouse raised one bloodied hand and tried to make a symbol with it, but it shook too much. Blood dribbled from the stump of his finger onto the floor.
    Bo-Kate laughed. Then she slammed the door behind her.
    Rockhouse got to his knees. He could hardly breathe, and it took all his energy to crawl up into one of the chairs and rest his mutilated hands on the table. He sat over them, mutely sobbing. A gust of wind came down the chimney and caused his fire to blaze, as if expressing the rage he could not.
    *   *   *
    The flurry ended almost at once, and the faded winter sun reemerged from the clouds. As she started the long walk down the mountain, Bo-Kate Wisby sang “Silent All These Years.” She had Tori Amos’s range, so the words echoed back to her with a purity that almost made her cry.
    She loved the woods in