Illyria by Elizabeth Hand Read Free Book Online Page A

the while the tapping continued, and that soft insistent whistle, like a steady indrawn breath.
    Without thinking, I lifted my hand and extended it through the gap in the wall. I stretched it toward the stage just beyond the apron, until my fingers gleamed silver-blue in the footlights. I felt no cold, no heat. Just a faint tingling like a mild electrical shock, as though hair-sized needles stabbed my fingertips. I waited to see if anything changed, if something noticed my intrusion.
    Nothing did. The fake snow fell and drifted and whirled. The weird noises didn't stop.
    Finally I withdrew my hand. It was unmarked, and felt no different when I rubbed it against my cheek.
    But suddenly I felt scared--that I didn't feel anything. That something so strange and inexplicable could leave no lasting mark, no trace that I had encountered it at all: not a scratch, not a shift in body temperature, nothing but a fleeting memory of sound and light and motion.
    I shoved the board back into place, then scrambled in the dark for the flashlight. I stumbled back into the outer attic, knocked over a
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    carton, and sat, heart hammering, as I listened for a shout of discovery from below.
    But the house remained empty. I lurched from the attic into Rogan's room and blinked, shocked to see that it was still daylight.
    The alarm clock read 1:05. I tore off his flannel shirt and flung it onto the floor, pulled my own shirt back on, and grabbed my jacket and fled downstairs. I ran into no one in the house, no one outside, and no one when I got back to my house.
    ***
    "YOUR AUNT KATE WANTS TO TAKE YOU TO SEE A
    show," my mother announced at dinner that night. I feigned surprise. "A show?"
    She nodded. "A Broadway show. Something by Shakespeare. The Merchant of Venice, I think."
    I caught myself before I corrected her. "Can I go?"
    "I don't see why not. It's for your birthday. And it's Friday, so it's not a school night. She wanted to take Rogan, too, I think. Hal? Is it all right with you?"
    She looked at my father. He swallowed his mouthful of baked potato, then said, "Yes, Kate mentioned it. She said she'd take you to dinner at Rosoff's beforehand."
    I said, "That'll be fun."
    "Make sure you wear something nice," said my mother.
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    I didn't get a chance to talk to Rogan until the following afternoon. It was our fifteenth birthday, but we'd already decided not to make a big deal out of it. Nobody else was, except for Aunt Kate. He was waiting for me in the school parking yard.
    "Wait'll you see what I got," he said as we walked down the hill toward Arden Terrace. "Un-fucking-believable. In-fucking-credible."
    "What?"
    "John gave me his old sound system. He has a new roommate this year, this guy Jeff. He's got an amazing stereo so John said I could have his."
    "For your birthday?"
    "Nah, he didn't even remember that till I told him. But isn't that cool?"
    I smiled. "It's great."
    "And dig this--this guy Jeff, he gave me a bunch of albums. I listened to some last night. It's wild stuff, Maddy."
    He swayed back and forth, singing snatches of a song I didn't recognize. He laughed. "Man, I am so psyched."
    We reached the bottom of the hill and turned down the road that led to Arden Terrace. Acorns rolled underfoot, hidden by the yellow leaves banked against the curb. Rogan grabbed a handful and tossed them across the road.
    "Did Aunt Kate talk to your parents?" I said.
    "Not yet."
    "Maybe she did today."
    "Maybe," he said, unconcerned.
    We reached Fairview. I still hadn't told him about sneaking
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    into the attic the day before. Upstairs, Rogan kicked at the door to Michael's room, to make sure no one was inside.
    "Come here," said Rogan, and pulled me to him. We kissed in the hallway, then went into Rogan's room and closed the door. "Check this out, Maddy."
    The turntable sat on the floor by the wall. Rogan began sorting through a small pile of records beside it.
    "Here," he said.
    He put the record on the turntable and handed me the sleeve. It