Wild Hunt by Margaret Ronald

Author:Margaret Ronald [Ronald, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction - Science Fiction, American Science Fiction And Fantasy, Fantasy, Contemporary, Fiction, Science Fiction, Science Fiction - General, General, Science fiction and fantasy, Fantasy - Contemporary
ISBN: 9780061662423
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2010-01-12T00:00:00+00:00

I walked the rest of the way home and arrived sore and dusty, and not even the warble of the fountain could cheer me up. A drift of mail, mostly bil s, lay on the floor in front of the mail slot, and I kicked it out of the way.

I pul ed off my shoes and sank onto the futon. Bike gone, leads gone, a ghost latched on to me, and something weirder fol owing me. And worse, there was Abigail, now in the hospital. At least I hoped she stil was; that would mean she was stil alive. I sighed in guilty frustration. I’d known she was worried, I knew she’d been scared of something, and yet I’d let her walk out. I hadn’t wanted to deal with her problems, not in the midst of my own, not when she was the cause of some of mine. The downside of doing something big enough to change a city is that people expect it again. And the downside of that is that when you turn them down, what comes after is pretty irrevocably your fault. I put my head in my hands. My cel phone burred against my hip, and I didn’t answer it til I’d locked Woodfin’s clip in my desk drawer. “This is Scelan.”

“Evie?” Katie, speaking faster than she usual y did and with a high, nervous edge to her voice.

“Can you come over? Like, right now?”

Fourteen

Fourteen

It took took me far too long to get over to Nate’s apartment on foot, long enough that the stars had already come out and the street was quiet. I couldn’t tel if the lights in their apartment were on; hel , had she even been cal ing from home?

I rang at the main door to their apartment, but either the speaker was broken or Nate didn’t bother to ask who I was before buzzing me in. The hal way was darker than it had been the night before; a bulb on the second floor had burned out and no one had replaced it yet. I knocked at Nate’s door, then tried the knob and found it unlocked.

The apartment was dark, save for a light in the kitchen. I closed the door behind me and edged around the dining table, trying not to knock anything over.

The scene in the kitchen was one I knew wel , although from a different perspective. For a moment the remembered greasy smel of our old oven rose up in my mind, along with the taste of the dinners Mom had left for me on the nights that she’d worked late. But I’d been at least ten when that had started, and a lot bigger than Katie.

She’d pul ed the stepstool up to the stove and was using it to stand on as she worked. Bubbling away on the front burner was a ful pasta pot that must have weighed ten pounds. A smal er saucepan lying empty by the sink explained how she’d managed to fil it, and the starchy smel of cooking pasta thickened the air to the point of stifling.

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