Demon Thief by Darren Shan Read Free Book Online Page A

in. It slides down to the first knuckle, the second, the beginning of my palm. I push my hand in up to my wrist without touching anything solid. Stare at my hand, then my feet. I
could
be standing on a platform. Except I know —the same way I knew about the trees — that I’m not.
    I’m standing on the surface of the water!
    I rise quickly, fear setting in again, certain I’m about to drop and drown. But although water splashes when I move my feet, I don’t sink. I explore with my right foot, angling it downwards. It dips into the water. But when I bring it back up, level my foot and plant my sole down, the surface supports me.
    I take one step. Two. A third. It’s not the same as walking on land. More like walking across the floor of an inflatable castle. But somehow, impossibly, the water keeps me up.
    I smile at the craziness of it, then gasp as pain flares in my right arm. I’d completely forgotten about my broken limb. The sudden surge of pain reminds me that I’m walking wounded. I’ve never broken an arm before. It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would, but it’s certainly no picnic.
    I continue walking, trying to keep my arm from jolting. Easier said than done — the watery floor is uneven, hard to balance on. I don’t feel as if I’m going to fall, but I tilt left and right quite often. I have to use my arms to maintain my balance, which sets off the pain again.
    I deliberately don’t think about where I am or the impossibility of walking on water. I can’t care about stuff like that. I’m here to find Art. Nothing else matters. I can marvel at the rest of it once we’re both back home, safe.
    Yeah, like that’s gonna happen,
an inner voice snickers.
    I ignore it. Try not to let the howls of the trees unsettle me. Stagger on in search of my kidnapped brother.
    The water has seeped through my shoes and socks, and is climbing up the legs of my trousers. I take no notice. I have bigger things to worry about.
    There’s no sign of the four humans, the demon or Art. And no way of tracking them. If we were in a normal forest, perhaps there would be footprints. But apart from ripples as I move across the water, the surface is smooth, unmarked.
    I haven’t seen any animals or birds. Only the trees. And there aren’t even leaves on those. I’d think they were dead if not for the howls, which echo relentlessly. The noise is like needles poking away at my eardrums.
    What now?
the voice inside my head asks.
    “Keep walking,” I answer aloud, trying to drown out the howls of the trees. “They have to be here somewhere. I’ll find them.”
    Not necessarily. They might have gone through another window. Or maybe they didn’t come out the same place you did.
    “I’ll find them,” I insist.
    What if you don’t? There’s nothing to eat. Nowhere to aim for — every bit of this forest looks the same. And how will you sleep? The water might not hold you if you lie down. Even if it does, it’ll drench you to the bone.
    “I can sleep on the branches of a tree.”
    Maybe they eat humans,
the voice suggests.
    “Don’t be stupid,” I mutter unconvincingly. “And there are probably fish in the water. I can catch one to eat.”
    Or
it
might catch you
, the voice notes.
There could be sharks. Underwater monsters. Waiting. Moving in for the kill. Underneath you right this min —
    “Shut up,” I growl.
    “Art!” I yell. “Art!”
    No answer. The screech of the trees would probably muf-fle his cry even if he was here and trying to call back. It’s hopeless. I’ll never find him. He’s probably dead anyway, ripped to pieces by the demon. I should try to find a way home. Worry about myself, not my doomed brother.
    But I can’t think that way. I won’t. I’ve got to believe he’s alive. The thought of returning home without Art (even if I knew how) is too awful to consider.
    I’ve no idea how long I’ve been here. My watch isn’t working — it stopped when I came through the grey window.