Plague Cult Read Online Free PDF Page A

breakfast, either. I just liked the house. I saw it for sale online…” She shrugged as she reached for the door handle. “I bought it on impulse. As a kid, the story was that it was haunted.” She jumped down from the truck.
    Shawn got out, too. “Is it haunted?” He stretched the muscles of his shoulders and back.
    “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
    That brought his attention back from the house to Ruth.
    “When we die, we die,” she said bluntly, and reached into the back of the truck to lift out her bag.
     
     
    Ruth fought her usual fight with Rose House. Whenever she visited the place, she felt an overwhelming sense of welcome, and the lure of that scared her. She didn’t want to admit that she’d fallen in love with a house, or admit to the even less comfortable knowledge that no other place in the world felt like home as Bideer did. The people—her family—mightn’t make her welcome, but she belonged.
    “I like it,” Shawn said, staring at the house.
    “It’s a ridiculous house,” she said.
    “It has charm.”
    She looked at the quirky, steep roofline, the turret to her right, the front steps to the deep porch, the stained glass inset to the door. “Yes.” She dug her keys out of her pocket and started up the steps.
    Shawn grabbed his pack out of the truck and followed her. “It’s on River Road, but I haven’t seen the river.”
    “Bideer River snakes around. You can see it from the back and side of the house.” The front door lock opened smoothly. She turned the handle and gave the door a solid push. It opened to release a gust of stale air. She frowned. “Sorry about the dust.”
    “Doesn’t bother me. I don’t have allergies,” he answered absently, crowding in behind her. He was obviously curious to see inside.
    The hall had a faded grandeur with a black and white tiled floor, wood paneling halfway up the walls, and the space dominated by the staircase.
    Shawn touched the newel post approvingly. “Nice work.”
    “It needs polishing. With curtains and blinds drawn, you can’t see how worn everything is.” She walked into the front parlor, following her usual routine to open the house.
    “It’s furnished?”
    “Partly. The last owners never lived here. They inherited it from a distant uncle. The family was from back East. The house sat empty as long as I can remember. When I bought Rose House, they’d left the heavier furniture.”
    “Their loss,” he said as she drew back the curtains and the late afternoon light showed the old-fashioned, sturdy armchairs, loveseat, cabinets and bookcases. “Here, let me.” The second window had stuck. He thumped it with the heel of his hand, then slid it open. “You do the curtains and blinds. I’ll open the windows.”
    They worked their way around the ground floor.
    “Everything’s in pretty good shape,” he said as they climbed the stairs. The roses in the stained glass window on the landing glowed with vibrant pinks and reds.
    “The kitchen needs renovating.”
    “You mean you don’t like its 1950s look?”
    “It’s horrible,” she said flatly. “And the bathrooms got the same hideous cheap makeover about the same time. They’re functional, but when I get the money together, they’re top of my list for renovating.” They reached the top of the stairs. “My room’s the one on the left.”
    “With the turret.”
    She felt herself blush faintly. “Yes. The other front room has a bed.” She led the way to it. “So you’re probably best in here, unless you want to buy an air mattress in town?”
    “This looks fine.”
    “The mattress is new.” She stripped the faded but clean cover off the bed. “And it won’t take a minute to make up the bed. Fortunately, a house witch friend visited and bespelled the linen cupboard, so I know the sheets and pillows will be fresh.” She bundled up the cover.
    Shawn gently tugged it from her and set it aside on the window seat. “I can make up the bed if you show me where