The Lightning Key Read Free

among kings?” demanded the tiger in a deep rumble. “Do you think I’ll be at your beck and call like a beaten donkey every time you lose a toy or miss a train? I’d snap your neck and swallow youwhole, boy, if I could be bothered to spit out the boots.”
    Miles stared at the tiger in astonishment. He was shaking as much with fear as with the cold. Somewhere at the back of his mind it occurred to him that he was not wearing boots, but he did not think it was a good time to point this out. “I only . . .,” he began, but he got no further. The tiger reached out almost casually, like a cat playing with a small bird, and dealt Miles a blow with his mighty paw that sent him sprawling sideways into the freezing mud. Before Miles could regain his wind, the tiger pounced forward and planted a forepaw on his chest. The weight made stars swim in front of Miles’s eyes, and the tiger’s face appeared in the middle of the swirling pattern, his yellow teeth bared in menace.
    â€œIf you wanted a pet,” said the tiger, his hot breath smelling of blood and meat, “you should have gone for a goldfish.”
    Miles could not take a breath to speak, even if he could have thought of something to say. His head swam, but he held the tiger’s eye in the hope that it would somehow save him from being eaten. Just as he thought he would faint from the crushing weight on his rib cage he saw the tiger’s ears swivel and feltthe pressure ease. The tiger stood upright, and with another earsplitting roar he wheeled suddenly—as though he had just remembered something more urgent than snapping Miles’s neck—and disappeared into the night.

CHAPTER TWO
BORROWED WINGS
    M iles Wednesday, storm-soaked and tiger-winded, lay on his back in the pelting rain, gasping for breath. He had the dizzying sensation that he was looking down at himself from somewhere above the treetops, a bedraggled boy sprawled in the mud in an outsize overcoat. In his pocket lay the cruelly plundered Tangerine, the fragile life that Little had breathed into him dispersed like smoke on the breeze. The Tiger’s Egg was gone, taking with it the friendship and trust that Miles had built up with the tiger. He was wet and cold, alone, except for . . . 
    Little’s pale face swam into view, and all at once Miles was back inside his own body. His head sang from the tiger’s blow, and he could feel something warm and sticky on his neck. He struggled to sit up, his hands slithering in the cold mud.
    â€œWhat happened?” said Little, a worried frown on her pale features. “Your face is bleeding!” She reached out to wipe his cheek with her sleeve, and Miles flinched. The whole side of his face was burning, and he realized that the sticky feeling on his neck must be his own blood.
    â€œThe tiger!” gasped Miles. “The Tiger’s Egg . . .” He caught sight of Silverpoint standing over Little’s shoulder, and stopped uncertainly.
    â€œIt’s all right,” said Little. “You can speak.”
    â€œDoctor Tau-Tau has stolen the Tiger’s Egg,” said Miles, clambering to his feet. “He took it from . . . from its hiding place.”
    â€œDoctor Tau-Tau?” echoed Little. “But I thought—”
    â€œHe came back,” said Miles. “He must have figured out where the Egg was.”
    â€œDid Tau-Tau do that to you?” asked Little, her eyes widening.
    Miles shook his head. “It was the tiger,” he saidreluctantly. “It probably wasn’t a good time to call on him, but I didn’t think of that until too late.” He fought back the hollow feeling that threatened to overtake him.
    â€œThat will teach you to meddle with trapped souls,” said Silverpoint.
    Little rounded on the Storm Angel, and if she had been capable of producing lightning he would undoubtedly have said good-bye to