Guardian of the Dead by Karen Healey

Author:Karen Healey
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2010-03-31T16:00:00+00:00

Part Two

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Pink Frost

There were four males and one female and they were all naked and pale and inexpressibly gorgeous. If Mark, with his human ancestry, was just incredibly good-looking, and Reka, with hers, edged into the territory usually occupied by supermodels and movie stars, then no human blood had dimmed the radiant, painful presence of these five. The red and yellow hair of the males was tied up in fat knots. The female’s hair fell in shining platinum waves across her breasts and back, and reached down to her waist. She might have looked grandmotherly, if any wrinkles had appeared on that ageless face.

I was momentarily so stunned by their beauty that I didn’t notice the weapons until they lifted them. Each of the men carried a taiaha, the long wooden staffs with their flat-bladed ends and sharp thrusting points fitting easily to their hands. The woman had a bone mere dangling from her wrist, the polished surface of the curved club marred with ugly brown stains.

I took it in, the beauty and the terror, as they turned their pupil-less eyes on me. There was a humming thrill in the air, and I thought that perhaps I could speak with these beautiful people and be loved by them.

Then I broke free of the impulse that told me to stay, as stupid as any bird in a trap, and pelted back toward the others.

Iris was running beside the gravel, flying ahead toward the river, but Mark was waiting for me.

His outstretched hand circled my wrist. “Run!” he shouted. Answering shouts rose behind us, and were abruptly replaced by unnerving silence.

I wasn’t slow, even in my stiff black school shoes, but Mark was ahead, and yanking me off-balance. I twisted my wrist free through the gap in his fingers, and sped up to run beside him. We caught up with Iris in the half a minute it took to cover the distance, and skidded down the bank together, ungainly and undignified on the wet grass. I hadn’t forgotten what was in the river, but at least we’d been introduced.

Mark caught my hand again and tucked his arm securely about Iris, propelling us into the icy-cold water. My skirt floated up, twisting in the strong current; I spared one hand to shove it back down again and felt an algae-covered rock turn slickly under my shoe. After that, I abandoned the skirt and used my free arm for balance. Iris was swearing like a sailor as we waded forward, almost absentmindedly. English curses apparently exhausted, she switched to Chinese.

I was chest-deep in the center of the river, Iris clinging to Mark to keep her head above the water, when the patupaiarehe appeared and ran smoothly down the bank.

“Mark,” I said, hating the way it came out in a squeak.

“Don’t let go,” he said, something humming through his voice. I stopped twisting the hand he held, and tried to think as the patupaiarehe stepped into the water.

I could slow them down while he and Iris escaped.

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