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Unravelled. Gena Showalter
Читать онлайн.Название Unravelled
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781408929193
Автор произведения Gena Showalter
Жанр Зарубежное фэнтези
Издательство HarperCollins
Surprisingly, she had. Better than he’d hoped.
“So tell me what you’ve learned so far,” he said, standing in front of her again.
“Screaming is good. And punching people in the throat is far more effective than punching them in the face or stomach. Plus, throat punching is something anyone can do, even fragile little girls, since it doesn’t take much force to do a lot of damage there.” This last was said in a mockingly deep voice, mimicking him. She tightened her borrowed jacket around her middle. The only time they’d stopped practicing was when he’d gone to fetch her that jacket from his closet. “I should use my fists as if they’re hammers, or even hit with my open palm.”
“Good. What else?”
“Anything can be used as a weapon. Rocks. Keys. A purse.”
He nodded. “What else?”
“I shouldn’t use my toes when I kick. There’s not enough power there. I should use the flat part of my foot. Oh, and kneeing my attacker in the groin is acceptable. Even encouraged. So is eye-poking. I shouldn’t be afraid to cause this person pain, since their main goal is to hurt me.” She spoke as if she were reciting gospel. “If my back is to them, I should try and elbow the guy—or girl—in the face. That causes a lot of pain and stuns them, allowing me to try and get away.”
“Good. Now let’s put some of that information to the test. I’m going for your neck this time,” he warned her. “My plan is to choke you. Do you remember what to do? ”
She nodded. “As quickly as possible, I’m to move both my arms between yours and hit your elbows with mine.”
“And?”
“And knee you in the groin.”
“Yeah, but let’s just pretend on that last one. And by the way, an attacker won’t usually give you a heads-up.”
Her lips quirked at the corners. “Much as I wish otherwise.”
Next time, he wouldn’t warn her what he was going to do. He’d just act, and she’d have to figure out what to do without forethought. “Ready?”
“Read—”
Leaves rattled a few yards away, and they both turned.
“Aden? Mary Ann?” Shannon had just stepped from the forest, a backpack dangling at his side.
“Hey,” they called in unison.
“I—I wondered where you’d gone after lunch,” Shannon said to Mary Ann.
Guilt danced in her eyes. “I should have told you I was leaving. I’m sorry. But if you’re home, that means school’s out, and I have to leave again now.” She closed the distance to Aden and kissed his cheek. “Will you be okay?” she whispered. “Because the fairy’s going to come back. The moment I’m gone, he’s going to come back.”
“I know. And yes, I’ll be fine,” he lied. He had no idea how to deal with Thomas, or how far Thomas could roam. Still. He gave Mary Ann a gentle push toward the forest. “Go home before you get into trouble with your dad.”
“I’m going to call him and tell him I’m heading to the library. Which is true. I want to dig around and see if I can find any books on spells, that sort of thing. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Thanks.”
“Welcome. And thank you for the lessons. Not that my gratitude will save you from my ferocious wrath during our next lesson.”
“Those are fighting words, girl,” he said with a laugh. “But maybe you should go home and change before you hit the library.” He gazed pointedly at her muddy jeans.
“Will do!” Laughing herself, Mary Ann took off, stopping only to kiss Shannon on the cheek. When she reached the line of trees, a pair of green eyes and bared white teeth flashed through a thick bush.
Animal…hiding. The realization jolted him, and Aden sprinted forward. But then Mary Ann uttered another laugh, the sound just as free and happy.
Riley, he realized, stopping. A pissed Riley, at that. That scowl had been for Aden’s benefit, he was sure. Had the wolf watched the defense lesson? Or had he witnessed the kiss Mary Ann had bestowed upon his cheek?
He’d find out. Later. First, he knew, Riley would walk Mary Ann home.
Thank God, Julian said. We’re back.
What happened while we were gone? Caleb asked. Why are we outside?
Were you…fighting? Elijah demanded.
“Guys,” he muttered. “I’ll have to explain later.”
Shannon reached him, clearly concerned. “W-where were you t-today? I told Dan you’d already l-left for school this morning, so you’re clear on that front.”
“Thank you.” Aden was still amazed that he and Shannon were friends. They hadn’t started off that way, but they were pretty tight now. And it was nice. Even so, he couldn’t tell Shannon the truth. Boy knew nothing about the real world and the creatures populating it, and that was for the best. “Come on. Let’s go in, and I’ll tell you everything.” Yet nothing.
They headed into the bunkhouse, where the others were already washed up and in dry clothes, watching TV in the living room as if they’d just finished up their schoolwork like good little boys.
Aden waved at them, and kept moving. He and Shannon needed to talk, but what he would say, he still didn’t know. After that, he needed some time alone to talk to the souls. Where he would go, though, he didn’t know.
“Well, well,” another familiar voice said when he entered his room. “Look who’s back. Me.”
Freaking fantastic, Caleb grumbled.
Not good, Elijah said with a sigh.
Aden didn’t have to look around to know that the ghost prince had indeed returned. His hands curled into fists as he wondered if he’d ever lead a normal
life.
“Aden?” Shannon said beside him. “You okay? The guys asked if y-you wanted to watch Sports Center with them.”
At the same time, Thomas said, “Tell me what you did to me. Tell me why I’m here, why my people can’t see or hear me. Why no one but you can. Tell me!”
The voices blended together, making the words intelligible. He knew then that he wouldn’t be having a conversation with Shannon anytime soon. Nor would he find that private moment with the souls.
Not knowing what else to do, Aden covered his ears and threw himself on his mattress to wait out the storm.
SEVEN
TUCKER HARBOR HUDDLED in the corner of a dim, damp crypt, surrounded by darkness and flat-out creepiness. A spider might have just crawled over his hand, and was that a mouse squeaking? He would have given anything to see.
He hadn’t wanted to come here. He’d been lying on a hospital gurney, hooked to all kinds of monitors, drugs pumping straight into his veins, chasing away the pain. Yet the voice had called to him, drifting through his head, and he’d found himself unhooking the tethers, rising, walking, finally running, desperate to be wherever the voice wanted him to be.
Unfortunately, getting here hadn’t been that difficult. No one had tried