Nevermore: A Novel of Love, Loss, & Edgar Allan Poe by David Niall Wilson Page A

father won't mind equipping me properly, I would be grateful," he said.   "I have no desire to perish of foolishness, and I have the feeling wandering into a place as wild as this unprepared would be exactly that.   Would ten dollars suffice?"
    Tome's eyes widened.   "He'd sell you a set of clothes for that," the boy grinned.   "You leave it to me.   I'll be back here at by dawn."
    "You can make it a little later, if you don't mind," Edgar said.   "It's been a long day, and I suspect I'm going to need extra rest."
    "I have to be back anyway," Tom said.   "I'll have to show Will what to do.   Should I bring more corn?"
    Wings beat powerfully above them, and a dark speck dropped from the sky, spreading its wings and slowing to land on the ground a few feet away with a heavy thump.
    Edgar turned and studied the raven.   If it had been a robin, or a goldfinch, he knew that he'd recognize his old companion.   He did not know how, but he was grateful for the knowing, and for the bird's presence.
    "What say you, Grimm?" he asked.   "More corn, or will you hunt The Great Dismal Swamp?"
    The bird waddled over to them, lifting one foot at a time in an awkward shuffle.   He turned his head first to Edgar, and then to Tom, then, with a quick squawk, pecked suddenly at the ground, kicking up dust.
    "Corn it is," Edgar said.
    "It's really him, isn't it?" Tom said.   His eyes were wide.   "I mean, the crow."
    "None other," Edgar said.
    Tom glanced up at him.
    "You're not like anyone around here," he said.   "We farm, fish, and hunt.   We know secrets, and usually keep them.   My pa told me about the old witch in the swamp, and about how important the festivals are – how they keep the land fertile – help us grow.  
    "But it's different.   We live here by the swamp, and there are a lot of strange things in there – old things we don't understand.   I don't know how to say it – not bein' good with words – but you seem to walk in a different world.   I'm just tryin' to say, thank you for taking me along.   Thank you for trusting me.   If you'd not paid me a nickel, but asked me to go – I'd've done it.   I just wouldn't be able to come here every day, sweep the floors, and see those trees out back without wondering what I'd missed."
    Edgar ruffled the boy's hair.
    "I hope you are still of such a positive mind about it when all is said and done," he said.   "I have no idea what we will find out there.   Grimm knows, or at least, I believe he does, but our link is tenuous at best. We share visions from time to time.   If I need him, he always seems to be there.   I'm not sure that I have ever really returned the favor."
    "He was there for me, too," Tom said. "With that snake."
    "So he was.   Either you have a bit of the connection yourself, or you have a part to play in all of this – something he knows, that we do not.   We are bound to the earth by fate, and by gravity, so we will have to plod along and follow what clues are available.   I suspect, since we've been drawn into all of this without any concern for whether we wanted to be – there is no reason to believe we'll be able to get out of whatever has hold of us until it's over."
    "You think we're… meant to find her?" Tom said.   "Like…"
    "Destiny." Edgar said. "Exactly like that, I'm afraid.   In for a penny…"
    "In for a pound," Tom said.  
    He frowned, shook his head, and when he looked back up at Edgar, he was grinning.
    "That works for me, Mr. Poe.   I'll see you in the morning."
    "Until then.   And Tom?"
    "Yes sir?"
    "Call me Edgar.   I think we're well past the Mr. Poe stage."
    Tom nodded, turned, and hurried back toward the bar.   Edgar opened the door to his room and stood aside.   Grimm hopped up and glided through the entrance.   Edgar followed, closing and locking it behind him.
     
    L enore left the tavern shortly after Edgar.   As it turned out, when she'd asked the bartender, Barnes, about the tree, the man had