by Rob DeBorde
“Ain’t the man you used to be, are you? The Scourge of the West? Not you, not anymore. The sooner you figure that out, the better off we’ll be.”
That was a lie. The body was more vulnerable, but the man was every bit as dangerous as he had been in life, perhaps more so. Henry knew this. Perhaps the Hanged Man did not.
“You’re no good to me all busted up. Keep fighting and you’ll break something that can’t be healed, not with words or a strap of leather.” Henry hesitated, considering his words carefully despite the lack of an audience to hear them. “Still, there might be ways to make you strong again, more resilient.”
(alive)
Henry shuddered. “Possibly. It’s complicated.”
(you can’t read them)
Henry shook his head. “No, I can read the words, I just don’t understand all of ’em.” Henry dug the book from his pocket and began flipping through the pages. “Everything else makes sense, but this passage … it’s only a few pages, but I can’t unwind it. I know the answer must be here, it has to be, but—”
“She doesn’t want you to understand.”
Henry looked up from the book. The Hanged Man remained on his back, neither alive nor dead but definitely unconscious. He had not spoken the words, though Henry was sure he’d heard them aloud—a voice so close, it could have been his own.
Henry turned his gaze to the sky. The air was cool, but the clouds had departed, allowing the sun to shine unmolested. A crow circled overhead, content to observe from afar. It let loose a single caw, then turned southeast and disappeared beyond the trees.
This was the direction they would travel. Henry was sure of it, although he couldn’t say why.
(home)
“Time to get on your feet again,” he said, flipping pages until he came to a passage he knew quite well. “Got a long ride ahead of us. I’ll be damned if I’m going to drag you around by the collar.”
Henry ran his hand across the pages, feeling the ink beneath his fingertips. Warmth coursed through his body, igniting a cold fire in his heart that reminded Henry of who he now was.
“Listen up, partner,” he said and started to read.
Also by Rob DeBorde
Fish on a First-Name Basis
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rob DeBorde’s first book, Fish on a First-Name Basis (St. Martin’s Press), reads suspiciously like an indispensible seafood guide with nary a zombie in sight. Fortunately, his forays into film, television, animation, and video games have been chock-full of supernatural beasties (particularly Deep Fried, Live!). DeBorde lives downriver form Portland, Oregon. Portlandtown is his first novel. Visit his Web site at www.reobdeborde.com.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
PORTLANDTOWN. Copyright © 2012 by Rob DeBorde. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Ervin Serrano
Cover illustration by Torstein Nordstrand
ISBN 978-1-250-00664-6 (paperback)
ISBN 9781250018601 (e-book)
First Edition: October 2012
