Mythical (The Mystical Series Book 2) by Michael Weekly Read Free Book Online Page B

in the woods.”
    He clears his throat, holding my hand, walking me through the hallway. I catch another pair of light green eyes scurrying off into a room with their tattoos glowing. The storm outside is picking back up.
    “Where are we going? What does this have to do with the rose?”
    He chuckles. We approach a thick door deep in the depths of this elven castle. He glances at me.
    He presses his palms on the wood, and the tiny cracks on the door light up green. He pushes against the entrance, wind blowing in our faces. I don’t think we’ll make it to wherever he’s taking me without getting drenched. The same fresh mint smell enters through my nostrils. Christian grabs my hand again, and we run across a field of short grass this time, thunder roaring above us.
    Wetness sprays on top of my head; I glance up at the clouds crying. Our touch freezes. He’s holding my left hand. His markings on his wrist burst with light, followed by mine too; we’ve made a connection. Followed by this burst is the freezing sensation. I don’t know if Christian feels the same. I glance at the castle fading away.
    Christian tugs on my arm. “We’re close.” We end up in front of another forest, only this time the green and light blue leaves sparkle, blowing in the wind.
    “Where are you taking me?”
    “To my treehouse.”
    “Are you kidding me?”
    The rain picks up, and a slim line of wetness trickles down the side of his nose. He glances behind me. I’m afraid perhaps Donovan has followed us out here. “Do you dare follow an elf into the woods?” He splays his fingers in the air at me, making fun of what witches say.
    “I did it before, didn’t I?” I press on his chest, pushing him back on a tree, and step by him into the forest, walking backward. My markings are lighting up. My boots are wet from the rain, and the leaves droop in sadness from the weight of the water. My elf shirt soaks up the water, and I touch the fabric only to find that it isn’t wet. I look up at Christian.
    “It’s a special material we use since we’re always in the forest,” he explains.
    “Pretty smart.”
    He lifts his eyebrows, walking ahead of me.
    “So where’s this tree house of yours?”
    He whirls around, placing his index finger on his lips and showing his sharp teeth.
    I walk through the forest silently, feeling the light rain on the back of my neck trickling down my spine. I move the ferns and large plants out of my face. Golden and green lights beam in front of me; there is nothing but a flat field of four-leaf clovers. The lights are coming off of them; there’re colors on top of their tiny green heads. I wonder if Christian sees the same. He’s hanging from a branch like a bat now.
    “You’re always in a tree,” I say.
    He drops down, grinning at me. “Isn’t it beautiful?” He walks me over to the cottage that’s in a tree across the field. This tree is alone in this field; it’s wide and looks intimidating to climb. I scan the markings on his calves as he runs over to the tree, and I follow him. Digging his fingers into the thick bark, he climbs effortlessly up and into his woody home.
    “Hey, I’d like to get out of this rain too, ya’ know.” He stands in his doorway, dropping a rope for me to cling on. “I didn’t ace the rope climbing test in gym.”
    “I’ve got you. It’s either that or stay out in the rain.” Thunder claps from behind me; I walk over to the window missing a glimpse of the lightning. He crosses his arms and waits, holding the rope. I wrap my soaked fingers around its spiral.
    “It’s wet. What if I drop, Christian?”
    “Why do I have to always tell you, I’ve got you?”
    “But you’re a mystical elf and can’t be trusted!”
    “I’m not going to take that as an insult, because it’s true we are tricky beings. It’s in our nature.” He flicks the rope, and it slaps the side of my cheek.
    I glare up at him. “What was that for?”
    “I don’t want you to get sick, so