Shaman's Blood Read Online Free Page A

hadn’t been used in years.
    “I’m sorry,” the man said, coming into the bedroom. “I shouldn’t have surprised you like that. My name is Cecil Rider, pastor of Saint Christopher’s African Methodist Episcopal Church. It was two of our church members who found you and brought you here. If the Lord hadn’t brought you to us, you likely would have died out there in the woods.”
    Woods! Ned saw in a flash the burning house, his crashing escape through the underbrush, the snakebite ... He shut his eyes and convulsed.
    “Easy, now, have a drink of water.” The Reverend Cecil Rider picked up a glass from a nightstand near the bed and held it to Ned’s mouth as he helped the boy sit up.
    “Thanks, mister,” Ned said, swallowing the water in a single long gulp.
    “More?”
    “Naw, it’s just ... my mouth is so dry.” He ran his tongue over cracked lips. “How long I been layin’ here?”
    Cecil settled himself onto the faded gunnysack cushion of a cane rocker, crossing one leg over the other and folding his small brown hands over his knee. “Three days. It was day before yesterday when Thaddeus and his son pulled up in the yard with you in the back of their truck. Said they found you on a dirt road inside the National Forest, soaked to the skin from that big rainstorm that passed over. You were out of your head, but alive, so I sent them to fetch the Doc, and he came yesterday. Dressed your foot up and said he didn’t think he’d need to amputate—”
    “What?” Ned sat up straighter. “Nobody’s cutting my foot off!”
    “Easy, that’s what I’m telling you. The swelling’s gone down a lot, so looks like you’ll survive. The Lord’s doing, like I said.”
    “I don’t know about that, but yeah, I’m still here.”
    The man nodded and smiled. “You want to tell me your name and how can we contact your ma and pa? They must be worried sick, wondering what’s gone with you.”
    “I’m just Ned. No parents. My dad died when I was five … hunting accident.” He sat still for a moment, wondering how to explain what had happened to his mother. It occurred to him that he shouldn’t give his full name, in case the police might accuse him of murdering his mother by burning her up, which was exactly what he had done.
    “I ... lightning hit the house. It burned up in a flash. I tried to get my mother out, but couldn’t do it. So, I’m an orphan.” He closed his eyes and chewed on that notion for a moment. An orphan. That meant he was now free and had no family at all and could do whatever he wanted, for the first time in his life.
    Cecil rose from the rocker, a look of anguish on his smooth features. “You lost your mamma in a house fire?”
    Ned looked up at him. “Yeah, I did.”
    He touched the boy gently on the shoulder. “That’s a terrible thing, but I’m sure the Lord spared you for a reason. You should be grateful to be alive and ask Him to help you through this terrible time. Maybe there was some reason He brought you to me.” He folded his hands in a prayerful gesture. “You’re sure there’s nobody we can contact? No aunts, no uncles?”
    Ned shook his head. “There was just my mother and me. No relatives.”
    Cecil sat down on the edge of the bed. “Do you still go to school?”
    Ned’s defenses went up. “Naw, I quit goin’ to school when I turned thirteen,” he lied. “Mamma needed me at home. It was hard, but we had some charity help.” He shut up. The fact that he’d never been to school wasn’t anything this old colored guy needed to know.
    Cecil sat there and just looked at him. Ned fidgeted under the gaze of those soft brown eyes that were kind enough, but a little cagy, like the eyes of a vole he’d once kept in a homemade cage. Ned didn’t think this was some dumb old darkie you could fool in a heartbeat. He’d better be more careful.
    The Reverend Rider got up. “Well, don’t you worry yourself, son. You can stay here a bit. This was my grandmother’s