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

expel the sharp breath she’d inhaled, Alex threw an arm out and seized her around the waist. The two of them flew across the attic like they’d been flung by some unseen hand. When they came to a stop, Alex leapt atop Maryanne, straddling her chest, her hands closing around Maryanne’s throat.
    “That’s Connie’s diary!” Alex snarled. “You stay the hell out of it!”
    Maryanne felt the squeezing pressure around her throat as Alex’s hands tightened. She clawed at Alex, trying to pry her off. Stunned, she looked up into Alex’s wild eyes. In that fiery intensity, Maryanne sensed a struggle for control. It was almost as if Alex was trying to hold back the ferociousness that had flown them across the room when the cast-out piece had fused with her again. She hadn’t meant to knock them flying, Maryanne realized. She wasn’t trying to hurt her now. And yet Alex could so easily strangle her...
    Do it!
    The thought—sprung straight from the darkest reaches of her mind—shocked Maryanne. More shocking still, she found herself mentally repeating the words like a mantra. Like a prayer. Do it! Do it!
    Her mind flashed back home, to poor little Jason, that horrible night.
    Her hands fell away from Alex’s.
    Do it! Dammit, just do it!
    Brooke’s face appeared above them. “Geez, you guys, could you possibly make any more noise? Do you want to wake the whole—” Her low, urgent rant broke off as she saw what was happening. “Alex!” Brooke seized Alex’s arm and tried to pull her off Maryanne, to no effect. Then she braced her feet flat on the floor as she hauled for all she was worth, but it was as if Alex were a supercharged magnet that couldn’t be budged.
    “Alex!” Brooke’s voice was low but urgent. “Let go!” she gritted. “You have to let her go!”
    All at once, Alex’s grip loosened on Maryanne’s throat. Her arms went slack, and she succumbed to Brooke’s pull. The two of them tumbled to the floor.
    Alex sat there panting, her back curved, and her shoulders shaking. Yet she leaned forward and picked Connie’s diary off the floor where it lay beside Maryanne.
    Maryanne raised herself up slowly on her elbows, then sat up beside Alex.
    “Did I hurt you?” Alex asked, thickly.
    “No,” Maryanne lied. But she held a hand to her throat, which was probably already bruising, as she looked toward the window. Night sky. Stars and moon. No empty black silhouettes. She turned her head slowly back to Alex. She took a breath, and within the dark of the attic looked as deeply as she could into her eyes.
    “Can you see it in me?” Alex whispered. “Can you see... ?”
    “The cast-out part?” Maryanne finished.
    “Cast,” Alex murmured. “That’s what Connie calls it in her diary.”
    It was Brooke who fetched the candle. She handed it to Maryanne, then sat down. Maryanne lifted the candle close to Alex to examine her face. Alex stared back. Eagerly, Brooke watched.
    “Your eyes... ” Maryanne moved the candle slowly left then right, and she watched as Alex’s pupils followed the flickering fire. She bit down on her lip as she settled the candle on the floor. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with your focus. But your pupils... ”
    “My God, they’re huge!” Brooke said. “It’s like the iris is completely gone. You look like some kind of deranged junkie axe murderer. Like you just escaped from a home for the criminally insane. Like you’re some alien—”
    Maryanne tensed, expecting Alex to go off on Brooke as she rambled on, but Alex just rubbed her forehead.
    “Gee, Brooke. Don’t hold back.”
    Phew! Whatever surge of emotion had come in with the cast-out Alex... er, Alex’s cast ... seemed to have dissipated now. Maryanne sagged. Realizing she still held the candle, she put it down on the floor between them.
    It occurred to her then that she should be feeling more. More anxiety, more terror. For God’s sake, she’d just watched a piece of Alex leave her body! Leave it and