A Shadow Bright and Burning Read Free Page B

magicians killed, too?”
    This conversation was doing nothing for my nerves. Brushing the whole topic aside, I stood and walked around the rock, clutching my shawl. Rook joined me.
    “I don’t want to worry about magic any longer,” I said, standing in the road. All around us was silence, except the wind sighing through the heather. Awful as Brimthorn was, one could never match Yorkshire for moments of grand solitude. Rook and I were alone, save for a traveler on horseback in the distance. “I want to think about the shop we’re going to open.”
    “It’ll be in Manchester, or maybe Canterbury,” Rook said, going along with the old game. “We should open a bookshop, with all the books bound in old leather.”
    “I think that’s the most glorious smell, a library of old books,” I said. Apart from Rook, my only good memories of Brimthorn consisted of hours reading in a favored window seat. Colegrind, bad as he was, had at least been generous with his personal library. One summer, I’d gone through
Le Morte d’Arthur
three times. My favorite moment had to be when Arthur pulled the sword from the stone, transforming from commoner to king in one instant.
    Rook shook his head. “Granted, we can’t move to Canterbury. The Vulture Lady lives on the cathedral.” He was right. On-Tez, one of the Ancients, had ruled the city for the past three years. She was a large, hideous beast with the body of a filthy carrion bird and the head of an insane old woman. The name Vulture Lady suited her rather well.
    “One day she’ll be gone, and we’ll sell books and anything else we want. Now, what shall we call our shop?” I asked. Rook didn’t respond. I nudged him. “Don’t say you can’t think of anything.” Rook moved away from me down the road, hands in his pockets. Surprised, I walked beside him. “What’s wrong?”
    “The shop is a story we told ourselves when we were younger,” he said, looking at me. “You could have been a governess in a good house by now, with better food and pay. Why haven’t you tried for a position yet?”
    Lord, not this argument again. “I’ll apply when I want to, but I don’t want to right now.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because I might set fire to the master’s drapes,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Besides, I can’t just…” I bit my tongue, but Rook caught on.
    “Can’t what?” His jaw was set, his eyes hard.
    “Leave you,” I said, wincing as I waited for his reaction.
    He stopped us in the road. “Nettie, I don’t want you to ever keep yourself low because of me.”
    “You’re being silly,” I snapped, wrapping my shawl tight around my shoulders. “I’m going home.” With that, I turned and walked off the road at a brisk pace, tramping across the moor. I waited to hear Rook’s footsteps, but he didn’t follow me. I stopped, exasperated. “Are you planning to live out here?”
    Rook remained on the road. He faced the traveler on horseback, who was only about a half mile away now. Something about Rook’s stillness was unsettling. I hurried back to him.
    “Are you all right? Do the scars still hurt?” I asked, gripping his shoulder. Instantly, he crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain. When I touched him, he shuddered. Panicking, I hooked my arm with his and tried once, twice to get him back on his feet. I pulled so hard I lost my balance and fell beside him in the dirt.
    Had the paste I’d given him been bad? There was no response when I shook him.
    “Rook?” I whispered. The sound of hooves brought up my head. The traveler had arrived. Relieved, I started to ask for help.
    When I glimpsed what had found us, the words died in my mouth. Terror made me mute.
    The traveler didn’t ride a horse at all. The creature was a black stag with thick, gnarled antlers and glowing red eyes. As it snorted, sparks flew from its snout. The stag opened its mouth in a hideous cry. Its teeth were jagged, designed for tearing flesh.
    The rider wore a hooded, mistlike