Lightbringer Read Free Page A

dunno, more castle-like, you know? With a moat or somethin’. Def…dev…dependable.”
    “Defensible?” Much as he hated to admit it, Dora had a point. “Specs?”
    “Staying with Miss Elle does indeed appear to be the best course of action.” Specs took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt. Like Dora, Specs was too thin and gangly, caught in an early growth spurt by a death that had come too soon. Eternally eleven. “No offense.”
    Sighing, Piotr rubbed his hand along the wall, feeling the spots spongy with decay crumble away under his fingertips. Elle was not going to like this. “Net , there is none taken. Fine. Go pack up then and we'll go in the morning. Pandora, please pack for Tubs?”
    “Gotcha.” Dora and Specs drifted towards their quarters, leaving Piotr alone by the window. Lost in thought, he stared down at the empty courtyard and watched the swirling fog drift in from the bay. With a Walker down there somewhere, he knew there'd be no more sleep for him tonight. None at all.
    Dawn came, lightening the sky to a pale grey, and Piotr carried Tubs piggyback as they made their way through the shriveled remains of the world. Picking a path through crumbling brick streets, they followed the whisper of surf breaking against the piers in the bay, leaving the mill behind. At first the going was slow; Piotr's turf was around fifteen miles from where Elle and her own Lost squatted dangerously near the tourist zone, amid the life and heat of Pier 39 and North Beach, wading through the press of humanity that eddied like the tides.
    A steady pace brought them just inside Elle's territory by midmorning. The idea of leaving the kids so close to the haunts of the living bothered Piotr deeply, but Elle was particular about her space, and likely wouldn't stand for another Rider on her turf for long—especially if that Rider were Piotr.
    As if sensing his thoughts, an arrow speared the road inches from his toes, shooting shards of brick shrapnel in every direction. Piotr raised his hands high as the arrow quivered in the street, testament to Elle's skill. Raising his voice, Piotr glanced left and right, trying to determine from which direction the missile had flown. “ Dobraye utro , Elle!” he called, striving to keep his tone light, cheerful. “Good morning!”
    “How many times have I told you to stop with that foreign jibber-jabber?” echoed a reply, sounding both close and far all at once. Elle had picked her hiding spot well. “A simple ‘Hi, Elle’ will do me just fine.”
    Piotr bowed at the waist, struggling to keep his senses attuned to their surroundings, attempting to assess which direction the arrow had come from. “My apologies! Good morning, Elle. I see that you've gotten better at hiding.”
    “You haven't.” There was a light tread behind him and Elle's hand firmly cupped the back of his neck, the strength in her fingers daring him to try something. Knowing the power of those hands and the muscles behind them, Piotr held still.
    “Elle!” cried Dora, dropping her bags and flinging her arms around the slight girl holding him hostage. “I missed you!”
    The hand squeezed sharply once, pinching, before dropping away. Elle turned to embrace the child. Freed, Piotr swiveled and dropped his hands cautiously to his pockets, hooking his thumbs just inside.
    Dora had always adored Elle and the feeling was mutual. Watching them hug was like watching a rainbow appear from the mist—all the darkness fell away and they were momentarily awash in happiness and light. Where the two of them touched, crackles of blue essence hummed, the years traveling from Dora into Elle and back to Dora in a circuit of joy. Dora was so pleased Piotr could taste her energy on the air itself.
    Keeping her tone easy, Elle glanced up from rubbing her cheek along the top of Dora's head, and said, “I never'a thought a palooka like you'd show your mug around here. Didn't I give you the bum's rush last