Book of Revenge Read Online Free Page B

remembering that I’d ruined my ability to do so with my stupid idea of starting over.
    A soft chortling sound animated the otherwise silent fall air. Wes and I both looked up at once. I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.
    “What the—” Wes’s gruff voice was close to my ear.
    “ Shhh ,” I elbowed him in the stomach.
    He grunted, doubling over.
    Leaves slowly spiraled to the ground, covering the front yard in an organic blanket of oranges and red. Though that sight alone was gorgeous, it was the brown-white owl perched on Wes’s car that had taken our breaths away.
    “It’s not moving,” I commented.
    Wes was rubbing the spot where I’d elbowed him. “Well, that’s obvious.”
    I swallowed, glaring at Wes over my shoulder before inching forward. My pink Converse slid across the decking, making nothing but a dull shuffling sound. The owl remained perfectly still, unfazed by me, a statue among the falling leaves.
    The owl had yellow eyes, its feathers dappled and thick. It watched both of us, a spark of intrigue in its eye. I wanted to get closer to it. I wanted to hear its thoughts. I lowered my foot off the deck, inching onto the pathway. The owl’s feathers fluffed, as though annoyed that I’d tried to come closer. I shut my eyes, focusing my attention, trying to hear. At first it was just a whisper, but as I moved my other foot from the deck and stepped down, there was a sudden burst of sound.
    Stop!
    My eyes flew open, just in time to see the owl take flight, its talons scratching across Wes’s hood.
    “ Great.” Wes cursed under his breath. “Thanks a lot.”
    I spun. “Wes!” I scowled at him, making this his fault, not mine.
    “What?” He was genuinely confused, wondering what he’d done wrong.
    I tried to re-collect my thoughts. Was it me or the owl that I’d heard in my head? Did it tell me to stop? Or did I tell myself?
    I grumbled, “Thanks a lot, Mr. Smooth.”
    Wes’s shoulders hunched in his defense. “What did I do?”
    I twisted my backpack out of his hands as he continued to stand on the porch, holding me back and looking shell-shocked. “That thing’s been here like, everyday this week, Em. Chill out.” He jumped off the porch, both feet landing on the pathway with a loud slap.
    “What? It has?” I gaped.
    Wes walked to his car and I followed after him. He ran his hand over the hood, inspecting the new set of scratches, right next to a number of other, older ones, some already rusting.
    “Well…” I tried to make some sense of it. “What does it want?”
    I saw Wes’s jaw clench. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
    I shrugged. “I didn’t hear anything.” At least I didn’t think I had.
    He leaned casually against the car. “So, then who knows?”
     
     
     
    Jane:
     
    I ran my fingers down the frets, my hair draped over the neck of the cello. My eyes were shut, feeling the emotion in me swell. A cold hand touched my neck, tracing up to my ear. I opened my eyes, the song breaking as I gave in to a shiver.
    “Max,” I whispered, only mildly annoyed. “I thought you were going to leave me alone.”
    He pressed his forehead to mine, his deep blue eyes smiling. “I have something for you.”
    My lips curled. “You do?”
    He stood back, and I saw that one hand was hidden behind him.
    “Is it magickal?” I blurted. Max had yet to show me more tricks and objects, though he’d promised.
    “Not really.”
    I frowned.
    Max touched my knee, slowly drawing the cello from between my legs, replacing it with his body as he knelt on the ground before me. Max’s hand slid from behind his back, a small green bottle cradled in his palm. It was simple, made of a frosty glass that reminded me of the Caribbean ocean.
    “What is it?”
    I could see the pride in his eyes, a twinkle of life that I wished was his own. “It’s perfume.”
    My chest rose, filled with delight. I clutched the bottle delicately between my fingers, lifting it from his hand. Max reached for the