Golden Read Free Page A

thought he was dying . . . and he wanted to say,
don’t worry, I’m fine
, so that he could make her laugh again. Maybe kiss her again . . .
    Then the convulsions began, and he tasted blood, it was coming out of his nose, his mouth, his eyes, he was bleeding . . . and everything went black . . . Now what . . . what was that? That
hurt
. A hard hit to this chest. Another one.
    Ow.
    Shakes. Pounding on him.
    Ow.
    Was that really necessary?
    Tell him to stop,
thought Wes.
I should tell him to stop.
    He’d just slipped, he was fine, he’d been kissing Nat and been overwhelmed by happiness, and maybe he’d lost his footing and he’d hit his head on the deck or something . . . no big deal because
he was fine
 . . .
    He was fine!
    So why couldn’t he move his hands? Why couldn’t he speak? And for that matter, why couldn’t he open his eyes? And he was so cold . . . cold . . . and where was Nat? He couldn’t feel her anymore . . . he couldn’t feel anything . . . and he was cold and it was dark and
he couldn’t breathe! He really couldn’t breathe!
    What the freeze
 . . .
    Oh man . . . Shakes was right to be alarmed . . . he
was
dying.
    Godfreezeit . . . he was freezing dying . . . motherfreezer . . .
    Nat . . . Nat . . . where are you . . .
    Wes was in the dark for he didn’t know how long. Then he heard a soft voice in his ear. It sounded familiar, although he couldn’t place it. The voice tickled his consciousness, as soft as tendrils and as sweet as nectar, but imbued with a metallic cold.
    You remember me,
it said, replying to his thoughts as if it had heard him, and maybe it had.
    Wes couldn’t be certain, not of anything. Not now.
    We met once before when you were a child. I visited you and your sister.
    He stiffened.
    Yes, I see, you remember now.
    Wes would never forget that visit. He knew that voice. It was the same voice he’d heard the night he lost his twin.
    Wes often dreamed of the night of the fire, the night Eliza had been stolen from her home. He dreamed of the meal his mother had cooked, a rare treat—a few cuts of meat and lumps of carrots and potatoes, cooked so long that it all had fallen into soft, warm strings in their bowls. They had eaten together as a family for once, as if they’d known it was the last time. He remembered his father flicking through the nets with his handheld before shooing them off to bed. The twins had shared a room, and in his dreams of that night Wes could still feel the heat from the flames that had engulfed the small chamber, licking the ceiling, curtains, and bedcovers. He remembered his terror and his confusion, and he remembered Eliza smiling.
    He had never understood why.
    He hadn’t seen Eliza again until today. He had been searching for her his entire life, for only he understood the power that twisted inside her, and how easily it could be corrupted—as it was inside him as well.
    The two of them were opposite sides of the same coin: Eliza, with her ability to absorb magic, and Wes, with his ability to block it. Magic had devoured her soul and turned it dark, but Wes was immune to its workings. He was a repellant, an antidote. He remained unaffected when she could not help but be devoured. He felt sorry for her, and she for him—unlike almost every other brother and sister they knew, who lived in a state of endless rivalry.
    Not Eliza and Wes. Neither sibling wanted anything the other could do or have.
    â€œI am the one you are looking for,” the child Eliza had told the White Lady who stood in the middle of the fire that night, solemn and unafraid.
    â€œSo be it,” the lady had said, and took Eliza by the hand.
    I was wrong,
the lady said now. Her voice echoed through Wes’s frozen body and fallen