Devil's Shore Read Online Free PDF Page A

in peace, to raise my children, take care of my husband. A simple, ordinary life. Was that too much to ask?
    When I got home, I stood beneath a punishing stream of hot water, willing the shower to burn away all the witchcraft within me. To cleanse me, make me normal. The way I used to be. But the buzzing in my head that had plagued me for two years hadn’t abated. If anything, it was stronger than before.
    I wrapped myself in a soft cotton robe, padded downstairs in my slippers to the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea. I must be my mother’s daughter: when in doubt, make tea.
    I sipped the tea, made with my last remaining Irish tea bag, and allowed the hot liquid to sooth my jangled nerves. I lit a cigarette. As I sat in my silent kitchen I willed the images of my dead Devlin predecessors to fade from my overwrought brain.
    The doorbell rang. I found Claire on my doorstep, my sweaty trainers in hand. She smiled. “You forgot these.”
    “How did you know where I lived?”
    Her smile didn’t waver. “Your power is strong. We felt a disturbance when you first moved in. We decided to give you a few weeks to settle in before we approached you.”
    “So you were stalking me?”
    “Stalking? You make it sound so sinister. We only wanted to meet you. To offer you the fellowship of your sister witches.”
    “I’m not a witch.”
    “No?”
    “No.”
    Claire stepped forward and touched my arm. A spark emanated from her slender fingers. “How do you explain that? Raw power courses through you. It calls to the power within me. Within all the Sayville witches.”
    “Nonsense. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    She answered me with that smile that blistered like the unending Indian summer sun. “Orla, you’re a witch. A powerful witch.”
    I felt a power surge through me, ripping out of my throat as I roared, “I. Am. Not.”
    The porch shook and knocked me sideways. A pane of glass in the front door burst and sprayed shards onto Claire’s arm. A thick piece of glass was wedged in her bicep. She didn’t cry out. Blood coursed down her arm, but her unending smile broadened. “Can you help me clean up?”
    “You’re not coming into my house.”
    Blood dripped onto the porch. “Please, after what just happened, you can’t possibly be afraid of me.”
    My next-door-neighbor’s front door squeaked open. I pulled at Claire’s uninjured arm. “Come in, then. Before the neighbors see.”
    I led Claire to the kitchen, leaving a trail of blood along the bleached oak floor in our wake. Dry-eyed, Claire muttered as I plucked the shards of glass out of her arm. No Band-Aids were necessary–the wounds closed up as soon as the glass was removed.
    I lacked the capacity to be shocked at that point. In a toneless voice I said, “Neat trick.”
    Claire picked glass out of her long hair. “It was no trick. It was the power of the Goddess. I could show you how to access it, if you’d let me.”
    “No, thanks. You seem to be better. Now, if you don’t mind...”
    Claire rubbed her forehead. “I’m still a bit dizzy. Could I have some water, or perhaps some coffee or tea?”
    “Fine. One cup. And then you’re out of here, no more messing.”
    Claire said not a word as I moved around the kitchen, but her thoughts, the stream of her unspoken will, assaulted me all the same. The buzzing, the infernal buzzing roared in my ears. I landed the mug of tea in front of her with a thud.
    Her face serene, she sipped her tea. “Orla, have you ever wondered what brought you here to Sayville?”
    I let my own tea grow cold as I loaded the dishwasher. “My husband’s job. No mystery there.”
    “There are hundreds of towns on Long Island. Why Sayville?”
    I banged the dishwasher shut. “I’ve no idea. Questronics’ relocation service suggested it.” I turned to face her. “What’s your point?”
    “My point is, Sayville has a long history of magic, of witches. Have you ever heard of Salem, Massachusetts?”
    “I