The Firehills Read Online Free PDF Page A

what he went through.”
    “There is something about him,” mused Amergin. He
glanced at Megan. “Something lingers . . .”
    “I know what you mean. We’ll see how he is
tomorrow.”
    Megan stood up. “Come on. We’d better turn in too.”

    ‡

    In his room, Sam sat on the single bed and stared out the
window. The moon, close to full, rode high in a sky of patchy clouds, and its
silver light danced on the sea far below. Looking along the coast, he could
make out the silhouette of the pier, a dark stripe cutting through the moon’s
reflected path. Hearing an unearthly screech, he glanced up and saw a lone
seagull returning to its roost on some high rooftop. Suddenly, he was suspended
far above the town, riding the sea wind with the tang of salt in his nostrils.
And with a shake of his head, he was back in his room, a slump-shouldered
figure in a pool of moonlight. With a sigh, he fell back onto the threadbare
quilt and closed his eyes.

chapter 2

    The screaming of seagulls awoke Sam from an uneasy sleep.
Hundreds of them appeared to be roosting outside his window. The day had dawned
bright and clear, with the promise of sunshine. Sam washed and dressed quickly,
eager for breakfast. Taking the stairs two at a time, he burst into the dining
room to be met by Mrs. Powell, who was setting the tables. A couple Sam had not
seen before were seated in the corner, chatting quietly.
    “Merry meet, my dear,” said Mrs. P., smiling up at
him. Even at this early hour, her piercing eyes were rimmed with heavy purple
eye shadow and thick mascara. “Sit down, do! The full works?”
    Sam looked puzzled for a moment.
    “Eggs, bacon, fried bread, mushrooms?”
    “Oh, right. Yes please, Mrs. Powell.”
    “Call me Mrs. P., my dear—everybody does.” And she
wandered back into the kitchen. Sam gazed around the dining room, taking in the
nicotine-stained ceiling and the threadbare carpet. The door behind him opened,
and Sam turned around quickly, expecting Charly. He found himself staring into
the cold, glassy eyes of a gentleman in a black suit. After a moment’s confusion, Sam managed a
weak smile, and the man grunted in return before taking himself off to a table
in the corner.
    After a minute or two, the dining room door opened once
more and Charly came in, followed soon after by Megan and Amergin. Over tea and
toast, they discussed the day ahead.
    “I thought we could have a look at the museum out on
Bohemia Road,” began Megan. “It’s supposed to have a very good display of
Native American artifacts.”
    It slowly dawned on Amergin that Megan was waiting for a
response.
    “Ahh, yes,” he began tentatively. “That sounds very
. . . very . . . interesting. And I hear that on
the seafront there is a miniature railway.” He gave Megan a hopeful look.
    “Amergin,” she sighed. “A miniature railway? Really?
    You used to be so interested in folklore.”
    “I am, my dear, I am.” He paused. “But I’ve never
been on a miniature railway.”
    “What about our guest?” Megan turned her attention to
Sam.
    “Uh, sorry.” Sam looked uncomfortable. “Not really
into museums.”
    “Sam gets all twitchy if he has to learn anything,”
    explained Charly.
    Sam was about to protest, but Megan said with forced
cheerfulness, “Fair enough. We’re here to enjoy ourselves, after all.”
    “Why don’t I show you around the town?” suggested
Charly. “The old wrinklies can amuse themselves.”
    Sam began, “Well—”
    “Good idea,” Megan interrupted. “You two go off and
have fun. I’ll take Amergin for a donkey ride and some cotton candy.” She
favored the wizard with a particularly sour look. Sam didn’t relish being in
Amergin’s shoes. Mercifully, the silence was broken at that point by Mrs. P.,
who bustled in with Sam’s breakfast and began to take orders from the others.
Sam listened with interest as she greeted the sinister figure at the corner
table. Pretending to take an interest in the decor of the