CHAPTER 2Call of the Red Witch
I could not sleep. The suffocating breathlessness of late summer lay like a woollen blanket over me. Presently I went into the big room and restlessly searched for cigarettes. My uncle’s voice came through an open doorway.
“All right, Ed?”
“Yeah. I can’t sleep yet. Maybe I’ll read.”
I chose a book at random, sank into a relaxer chair, and switched on a lamp. It was utterly silent. I could not even hear the faint splashing of little waves on the lakeshore.
There was something I wanted—
A trained rifleman’s hand, at need, will itch for the familiar feeling of smooth wood and metal. Similarly, my hand was hungry for the feel of something—neither gun nor sword, I thought. A weapon that I had used before. I could not remember what it was. Once I glanced at t
