Rebel Angels (41 page)
“Let go of me at once!” I growl. I struggle to break free, but his grip is strong. His palms are rough, his fingernails more like filthy yellow claws. I can scarcely bear it.
“I said let me go!” With my other hand, I strike his face. He releases me, but instead of crying out at the blow, he sighs as if in rapture. I wipe my hands quickly on my dress to rid myself of the feel of his skin.
“You will not touch me again.”
“Forgive me, mistress. I wanted only to feel your magic.” The creature coughs several times. When the spasm subsides, he gives us that unsettling yellow smile.
"The magic has left the realms. Without it, we cannot survive.”
“But all is well . . .”
I interrupt Ann before she can say too much. “You mean without it, the Winterlands creatures cannot survive.”
His eyes widen, but then the crafty thing remembers himself. “We are all connected to one another, mortal girl. In the realms, there is no light without the dark.”
Miss Moore once said the same to us during our studies of art. Chiaroscuro, she called it—a necessary balance of light and dark. But Miss Moore was not to be trusted, nor is this hideous man.
Ann circles him cautiously. If she had a stick, she would no doubt poke him with it as if he were a specimen. “Are you from the Winterlands?”
He nods. “I am a Borderlands creature, bound to both the realms and the Winterlands.”
“Where are the other Winterlands creatures? The trackers and assassins?”
“Dead. Or dying. They return to the soil of the realms.” He seems genuinely sad about this. “Soon I shall do the same. Unless you gift me with but a small trinket of magic? Enough to live?”
Felicity breaks in. "Have you seen a girl, like us? With black shining hair? Very pretty?”
The creature eyes her warily. "I might have.”
“Where did you see her? Is she well?” Felicity presses.
The nasty creature turns to me. “I could tell you their secrets. I see much, mortal girl. Gift me with a token of magic, and I will be your spy and your slave.”
I step back and away from him. “I’m afraid we must be going.”
He lowers his feet and hands in that spiderlike fashion and scoots toward us. “Would you like to see the Winterlands? I could show you their hard beauty.”
Felicity, Ann, and I turn toward the brambles. I search for the hole, my heart pounding. Suddenly, he is before us, cutting us off completely.
“What about my gift?” he says, rising on his legs like a man.
“Yes,” I say, trying to move around him. "I shall consider it.”
This does not please him. He pushes us backward with his sinister advance.
“Consider it?” He screeches. His voice makes my skin crawl.
“Stop shouting,” I say, though it takes all my courage to say it.
Immediately, he drops down and looks up at us like a doting courtier. “A thousand pardons, mistress. I only meant to suggest. It is for the mistress to decide.”
“We r-r-really m-must go,” Ann says, her voice tight.
"We’ll be late for tea.”
The creature gives us another of his unsettling smiles. “Wouldn’t want to be late for tea.”
He steps aside to let us pass. We move quickly, watching our breath push out in frosty wisps. We’re nearly to the bramble wall when he calls after us. “Enjoy your magic . . . while you can.”
We don’t dare utter a word until we are back safely in the familiar garden of the realms.
“What a horrid creature,” Ann says with a mixture of dread and delight.
"Do you think what he told us is true?”
Felicity takes off one boot and empties it of a wayward pebble.
"That would explain why we’ve not seen them.”
“Don’t you see?” I say. “If I can hold the magic just a bit longer, the creatures of the Winterlands will die out. They’ll be gone. Then we can safely bring the magic back into the realms again.”
“But what about the other tribes in the realms?” Ann counters. “We promised them a share of the magic. Won’t they be cross?”
Felicity wrinkles her nose. “Why should they have it? They’ve done nothing for it. We’re doing quite well on our own.”
“We’ll share it,” I explain. “When the time is right. First, we’ll secure the realms.”
“How lovely it will be when there are none of those wicked creatures left,” Ann says dreamily.
I think of the ghastly skeletal trackers unleashed by the Winterlands, the ones who hunted down my mother and tried to take her soul, who terrorized my friend Nell Hawkins. I should like to see them punished. They deserve to die out for their sins. Yes, I shall keep the magic bound to myself just a bit longer, until those horrid Winterlands creatures are gone at last, and the realms will be safe forevermore.
Felicity’s gone solemn. "And what of Pip?”
Pip. If she truly has gone to the Winterlands, she could be sick right now. She could be dying.
Ann lays her hand on Felicity’s arm. “Perhaps she’s crossed over already, and that’s why we’ve not seen her.”
Felicity’s eyes fill with tears, though I’m not sure whether it’s at the thought of her dearest friend falling ill in the Winterlands or that of Pippa’s crossing over the river without bothering to say goodbye. Felicity blinks hard and pulls on her boot with fierce determination. “I’ve had enough for tonight. Let’s go home.”
Excerpt copyright © 2007 by Martha E. Bray.
Published by Delacorte Press,
an imprint of Random House Children’s Books,
a division of Random House, Inc.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LIBBA BRAY’s two novels,
A Great and Terrible Beauty
and
Rebel Angels,
both became
New York Times
bestsellers. She likes saying that, especially on bad hair days. She lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband, their son, and their cat. When she’s not writing, she’s often thinking about writing, which can be a problem on the subway stairs. She’d love it if you drop by her Web site:
www.libbabray.com
. But she understands if you’re busy.
Published by Delacorte Press
an imprint of Random House Children’s Books
a division of Random House, Inc.
New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2005 by Martha E. Bray
All rights reserved.
Delacorte Press and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
www.randomhouse.com/teens
Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at
www.randomhouse.com/teachers
eISBN: 978-0-307-43367-1
v3.0
