Comes the Night by Norah Wilson, Heather Doherty Read Free Book Online Page A

waking the house. Then she got a good look at Brooke’s face and realized she was holding back a scream with those fingers. Tough-talking Brooke was just as freaked out as Maryanne herself.
    Fascination warring with terror, Maryanne turned back to the window where the dark form still hovered, obscuring the stars. But a small, distressed noise from Brooke had her turning around again, seconds later.
    Brooke now knelt on the floor beside Alex. Her hand trembled as she touched her fingers to one pale wrist, moving them searchingly up and then down Alex’s arm. Her face knotted in anxiety.
    Maryanne’s stomach clenched with dread. “Is she... dead?”
    As if in answer to Maryanne’s question, Alex moaned. Her right foot kicked sideways. Okay, it was more of a sudden flop than a kick, as if flaccid muscles had jumped out of paralysis only long enough for that weak, spastic jerk.
    “Her pulse is... oh God, I don’t know!” Brooke said. “Where the hell do you even find it?”
    Maryanne blinked. She’d spent two summers as a junior counselor in a camp for disadvantaged kids and had been trained in basic first aid. It should be her, not Brooke, looking for a pulse.
    “Let me, Brooke.” She squatted down and drew a sharp breath before she grabbed Alex’s right wrist and sought her pulse. Oh, crap. “Her heart’s racing. I mean, it’s hammering . Like she’s run a hundred-yard dash.”
    Brooke was silent.
    Maryanne wet her dry lips. “Should we get Mrs. Betts? Should we... What the hell should we do?”
    Brooke didn’t answer.
    “Brooke, are you even listening to me?”
    As soon as Maryanne turned toward her it was obvious the other girl wasn’t listening. Maybe wasn’t even coherent as she stared out into the night. Out into the black form of Alex.
    “It’s... it’s still out there,” Brooke said.
    Maryanne dared another look out the window. The dark emptiness that was a piece of Alex was still there. It floated away from the window, shot close to the glass, then drifted far away once again. Only to repeat this dance several times until it settled near the window. Two black hands splayed close to the lower half of the glass, making it appear like a dark eternity in the shape of fingers and palms. From its posture—no, her posture; no matter how weird this was, that was part of Alex out there—she seemed to be peering in at them.
    “She wants back in!” Maryanne said.
    “Are you freakin’ nuts? Whatever that thing is—”
    “That thing is Alex!”
    Brooke shuddered. “And just how do you propose we get her back in? Break the glass?” No sooner had she said it and Brooke was moving toward the stained glass.
    “No!” Maryanne’s voice rose. “She went out through the window, through the glass—”
    Brooke stopped in her tracks. “So it might be her only way back in.”
    On the floor, Alex moaned. Again it was a deep-in-her-throat moan, as if forced with the greatest of effort.
    “The diary!” Maryanne said. “Let’s read it.”
    “God, Maryanne, don’t you think that can wait?” Brooke huffed out a sound of disbelief. “And you thought I was being such a bitch when—”
    “For answers , Brooke.” Maryanne knelt and retrieved the diary from Alex’s hoodie pocket. “The answers have got to be in here.” She sat back on her heels as she flipped through the pages. Her eyes moved quickly as she scanned the words, searching desperately for answers. “There’s got to be something about how Connie got back to her body. Wait! I think I’ve got it. Listen to this.”
     
    When I cast back in, it’s like I bring part of the night with me. The exhilaration I feel out there in the darkness, in that other state, stays with me. Not nearly long enough, but for a little while at least, it’s as if—
    There was a barely audible whoosh of sound, and Maryanne looked up to see Alex’s cast-out part streak toward them in a shocking blur of speed, slamming back into her body. Before Maryanne could