Stoneskin's Revenge (43 page)

“You didn't tell her, did you? Not the
whole
thing?”

Don shook his head. “I let the coroner take care of that. But she knows you're not guilty. She believed that bag lady stuff, I think.”

“What about Mike's dad?”

“He believes the same thing, don't wanta know more.”

“Probably just as well.”

“Yeah.”

“What about you?”

“I'm fine.”

“Tough?”

“Yeah, tough.”

Calvin gave him a brotherly hug around the shoulders.

“Know something, Don-o?”

“What?”

“I know somebody I bet was just like you at your age—somebody just like you're gonna grow up to be.”

“Who?”

“Name's David.”

“What about me?” Brock interrupted, rejoining them.

“You know anybody like me?”

“Yeah.” Calvin grinned. “And
his
name's David too!”

“Brock!” Robyn yelled. “You 'bout ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Brock called back. “Just a sec.”

“Go?”
Don cried in horror. “Go where?”

“To town,” Calvin told him. “They've gotta stick around here a couple more days.”

“You too?”

Calvin shook his head. “Leavin' tonight, comin' back late Sunday—but I'm gonna be hangin' 'round Whidden till then.”

“Want some company?”

“If you do.”

“Sure.”

“You know,” Calvin mused, when he and Don had rejoined Robyn and Brock, “I really
could
get into showin' all you folks around the mountains.”

“That's real interesting,” Robyn laughed. “'Cause I bet all three of us could sure get into being shown!”

Calvin's reply was to whistle, very softly, the “Werepossum Blues.”

Epilogue II: Roadkill

(Enotah County, Georgia—Friday, June 20—late afternoon)

“Hey, Alec, come here—I wanta show you something!” David Sullivan cried with wide-eyed urgency, snagging his best friend by the collar and steering him around the corner of the rambling wooden farmhouse he shared with his parents and brother. It was still an hour before suppertime, but the mountains that rose close behind the Sullivan homestead were already darkening ever so slightly, though the rounded ridges across the hollow still shone luminous green. In a little while David and his buddy would be leaving to attend Gary Hudson's rehearsal dinner. A bachelor party would follow, and tomorrow the first of their high school chums would be married.
They
were to have their first go at being groomsmen, another taste of impending adulthood.

That was scary to think about, too, but for now there was still time for hanging out, time for just being kids.

David had just returned from lugging a bag of particularly odorous garbage to the family burning pit—a chore Alec had understandably elected not to accompany him on, preferring a second helping of Mama Sullivan's Red Velvet Cake.

“What is it
now,
oh Mad One?” Alec chided as he trotted dutifully along behind his friend. “We've gotta get
goin'
in a minute.”

“Something strange,” David replied ominously. “
Real
strange.”

“
How
strange—David, you're not gettin' mixed up with magic again, are you?”

David shrugged. “I
hope
not. But see for yourself.”

They were behind the barn now, right at the edge of the forest. A rock outcrop rose up there, one they'd played cavemen on when they were little. A thousand imaginary dinosaurs had been hurled to their death from the top of that slab of granite.

But it was different now, and when David stepped aside, Alec saw how much it had changed.

For, emerging from the rockface exactly at David's
eye
level, with its back still imprisoned in solid stone and its face contorted with fear and shock, was the frozen figure of a young man wrought from thousands of pebbles. And it looked exactly like David.

“Weird,” Alec ventured.

“Yeah,” David agreed. “You could say that.”

“All we
need's
another mystery.”

David rolled his eyes. “No kiddin'! Hey, maybe—”

But he was not allowed to finish, because his younger brother, Little Billy, came charging up all out of breath. “You've got a call, Davy! It's from Calvin. Says it's urgent.”

David and Alec exchanged wary glances. “Wonder when he's gonna be gettin' here,” Alec mused as they started back at a jog. “I figured he'd have checked in by now.

“Search me,” David yelled over his shoulder as he poured on a burst of speed and raced ahead. “Wonder what he'll say when we tell him we've got
another
blessed magical mystery.”

“What indeed?” Alec said to the silence of the mountains.

But if the mountains could answer, they chose not to.

About the Author

Tom Deitz grew up in Young Harris, Georgia, a small town not far from the fictitious Enotah County of the David Sullivan series. When he was a teen he discovered J.R.R. Tolkien, a writer who awakened his interest in fantasy and myth. He pursued his fascination by earning two degrees, a Bachelor of Arts and a Master of Arts, from the University of Georgia. His major in medieval English literature led Mr. Deitz to the Society for Creative Anachronism, which in turn generated a particular interest in heraldry, historic costuming, castle architecture, British folk music, and all things Celtic. Readers will also quickly realized that Tom was—as he said—a car nut who loved automotive details.

In
Windmaster's Bane
, his first published novel, Tom Deitz used his interests and background as he began the story of David Sullivan and his friends, a tale continued in
Fireshaper's Doom
and more books in the series. He won a Georgia Author of the Year award and a Lifetime Phoenix Award from Southern fans for his work. In addition to his writing, Tom was also a popular professor of English at Gainesville State College (today the Gainesville campus of the University of North Georgia), where he was awarded the Faculty Member of the Year award for 2008.

On the day after his birthday in 2009, Tom suffered a massive heart attack from which he never fully recovered, and in April of that year he passed away at the age of 57. Though he was never able to realize his dream of owning a small castle in Ireland, Tom had visited that country, which he loved, and at the time when he was stricken with the heart attack he was in the planning stages for a Study Abroad trip to Ireland that he would have led. The trip took place, and to a dirge played by an Irish musician on the uilleann pipes, some of Tom's teaching colleagues scattered his ashes in a faery circle.