The Bone Flute Read Free Page B

it, everyone I loved was destroyed. But I hadn’t lost the heirloom. I hid it—hid it so well, in fact, that you may have some trouble recovering it. Here is how you must go about it. At twilight, go to the … ”
    She paused to shuffle the first page to the back. As she raised the letter again to the light, Mark raised a hand. “Wait.”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œThought I heard something in the yard.”
    They listened. For half a minute there was nothing. No cricket song, no bird cry, no leaf stir, no sound except the distant purr of traffic on Highway 17.
    That in itself was strange. Usually you could hear lots of noise at night. A radio, a dog barking, people barbecuing in their backyards, somebody yelling at her kids to get in here right now!
    Nothing. For a moment, not even traffic.
    The chestnut tree broke the spell. It stirred, then swayed with a long, inhaling sound. Camrose relaxed.
    â€œCan’t be too careful. I’ve heard there are some strange people in town these da—”
    Quick as that, the wind swooped out of the dark and slapped the letter out of her hand. The pages blew up over their heads, skimmed the roof of the house and were gone.

4
Terence Castle
    â€œG ilda’s letter!” Camrose was slithering from the shed roof to the lean-to almost before the words were out. Mark was right behind her. They raced around the house, across the lawn and onto the sidewalk.
    Two scraps of white lay flat in the middle of Stone Road. The wind gusted again, skipping the pages along. Camrose galloped after them, nearly cartwheeled off the curb, caught herself and sprinted on. She nabbed one page in midair.
    Another page was fluttering against a tree trunk across the street. “Quick!” Camrose screamed. Mark was within arm’s length and reaching. It grazed his fingertips and flirted away.
    Next moment a man walked briskly around the curve of the street. His hand shot up and snagged the page from the air above his head. Camrose ran up to him, panting.
    â€œTh is what you’re chasing?” He glanced at it in the light from the street lamp, then held it out.
    â€œYes, thanks.” She took the page and stuff ed it into her shorts pocket with the other. Mark came up and stood beside her.
    The man grinned down at them. He was young, she saw now. His teeth were very white, his skin very tan. He wore a gleaming red leather jacket and had a backpack slung over one shoulder.
    â€œAnother page flew by me back there.” He waved back at the curve of the street. “I don’t think you’ll catch it tonight.”
    Doors were opening left and right along the street. Mark glanced back over his shoulder. “Oh-oh, there’s my mother. I better go back in.”
    â€œCamrose!” Bronwyn snarled behind them. “What’s all the yelling? What are you doing out here?”
    â€œLooking for something.”
    â€œWe’ll never find it tonight.” Mark backed toward the crisp footsteps clipping down his front walk. “We’ll look tomorrow, first thing, okay?” He turned and jogged away.
    â€œI’ll help look,” said the stranger.
    â€œAnd who’re you?” Bronwyn demanded.
    â€œYou really don’t remember? Well, it’s been a while. Years. I’m your cousin Terence. One R.”
    â€œUm … It rings a bell, but … ”
    â€œTerence Castle? Your Aunt Alicia’s boy?”
    â€œOh, that Terence! From New York!”
    He laughed. “Yes, that Terence. And you’re Bronwyn, and you must be little Camrose. Only not so little anymore.”
    Camrose didn’t think she’d ever met him. It occurred to her that it was odd that she couldn’t remember if she had or not because he looked like the kind of person you wouldn’t forget. She did recall her father talking to Aunt Alicia on the phone one day after dinner, about a year ago. “Um, Terence?”
    He tilted