The Fire King Read Free Page B

“The Phantom Queen.”
    As he spoke her name, a cold wind gusted through the deserted sheds, whipping dry earth and dust into the air. The wind formed tiny tornados that danced and skittered across the ground. One of the whirlwinds passed in front of them, and from inside it, Emily thought she could hear a high-pitched howling and shrieking. The white ravens cawed their displeasure, ruffling their feathers and gripping the roofs tight with their claws to prevent being blown into the sky. One of the shacks started to creak, then collapsed in on itself with the rumble and crack of splintering wood. The Three Riders moved to the side of the lane. They waited, silent, as the wind grew stronger. Another shack collapsed. The hounds strained against their chains, howling and snarling, but the Crimson Knight effortlessly held them in check.
    Then the wind suddenly stopped, debris pattering to the ground in the sudden silence.
    A tall figure emerged from the lane. She wore a dark red cloak, the hood drawn up over her face. She walked forward until she had passed the Riders, then paused and looked slowly around, taking in the scene before her.
    â€œChildren,” she said in a quiet and menacing voice, “should be boiled alive at birth and fed to the crows. You are like little fleas, always biting, always there, an itch that never goes away.”
    She reached up and lowered her hood. Emily stifled a gasp as her face was revealed. It was as though someone had taken every storybook witch, every terrifying painting created to scare a child, and combined them to form the woman who stood before them. Her nose was long and curved, covered in red veins, the nostrils flared in a way that reminded Emily of Ravenhill. At the same time, her chin was long and misshapen, curving upward so that the tips of her nose and chin almost touched. Her skin was wrinkled and creamy white, giving her the coloring of a week-old corpse. Her eyes were black and set against her anemic skin, they burned with feverish light.
    â€œWe should leave,” said Corrigan firmly. “Now. This is going to be a slaughter.”
    â€œThey’ve still got their weapons,” said Emily. “They’re made of iron, aren’t they?”
    â€œDoesn’t matter. The hounds can only be killed by witchbane. Their knives won’t make a lick of difference.”
    Katerina and her gang were still standing defiantly, their weapons held defensively before them. They obviously had no idea that their knives and swords wouldn’t work against the hounds. Without another thought, Emily stepped out of concealment and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Run!” she shouted. She was vaguely aware of Black Annis turning sharply in her direction. “Your knives won’t—” she started to shout, but at a sharp signal from Black Annis, every single white raven cried out at once, cawing and flapping their wings, creating such a racket that Emily’s words were swallowed by the din.
    Black Annis was now staring directly at Emily. The old hag smirked at her and waggled her finger in a no-no gesture.
    Emily ground her teeth in frustration. There was nothing else for it. She wasn’t about to let Black Annis and her stupid birds get the better of her.
    She ran straight for Katerina.
    â€œSnow!” shouted Jack, but Emily ignored him and kept going. She sprinted forward and grabbed hold of Katerina’s arm. The girl whirled around, knife raised to strike. Emily held her hands up to show they were empty.
    â€œYou have to run!” she gasped. “Iron doesn’t work against the hounds. Only witchbane can kill them.”
    Katerina narrowed her eyes, then turned back to face the creatures. Their heads jerked and twitched, lips pulling back in snarls and growls. They were terrifying to look at, but it was the eyes that got to Emily. They were frenzied, insane, hungry for death.
    Katerina hesitated, then stared hard at