Nieve by Terry Griggs Read Free Book Online Page B

Inconsolable.”
    When she stepped outside into the dim, overcast morning, Nieve tried not to let it get to her, the unnatural light, dusky-dark with a faint yellowish tinge. It seemed to be neither day nor night, but some lost place in between. How long was it going to last? She did have a sense that the sun was trying to break through, which might only be wishful thinking. But then, if the sun weren’t trying there might be no light at all, only deep unrelieved darkness.
    Nieve ran down the lane to town, enjoying the running at least, the thrill of surging free through the morning (no school!), and the familiar feel of her hair whapping against her back. Her enjoyment didn’t last long. She came to an abrupt stop at the foot of Main Street, where someone had erected a new street sign, if you could call a sign new that was so weathered and bent. A prickly, purple-leaved vine twisted around its cast-iron shaft, and the sign affixed to the top of it read, Bonefyre Streete .
    What? Main Street wasn’t the most original name around, but it had always been called that. Looked like somebody
was trying to turn the place into a tourist town with fake, old-fashioned “streetes” and “shoppes.” Odd that Mayor Mary had allowed it. But then, maybe she didn’t know. The sign can’t have been up for very long, Nieve thought, despite looking as though it had been rooted on the spot for centuries. If so, she’d make sure Mary knew. Once she was finished at Exley’s, she’d find the mayor and tell her.

    Arriving at the pharmacy, Nieve saw another new-old sign. This one, a wooden signboard hanging above the door, was carved in the shape of a mortar and pestle. Except that the mortar was a skull with the top sheared off and the pestle a bone sticking out of it. The sign’s white paint was cracked and dirty and the black letters painted on it were faded to grey. Barely legible, Nieve read Wormius & Ashe the names that arched across the skull’s forehead. Below, the word Apothecaries formed a kind of grim smile that served for the skull’s mouth. The sign swung back and forth on its rusted bracket, squeaking and creaking, despite the stillness of the morning. This didn’t appear to disturb the chubby bat that was suspended upside-down from the tip of the pestle, wrapped up in itself like a round brown parcel. Greedy thing must have eaten a bagful of moths last night, Nieve thought. She even thought she could hear it snoring contentedly. But surely not.
    She wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to go in. Shielding her eyes, she tried peering through the door, but it was too dark within to make anything out except for some bulky, indefinable shapes. Dad was wrong, she decided, it’s not open . . . that is, she hoped it wasn’t, but when she tried the handle it turned easily and the door gave way.
    Nieve stepped cautiously over the threshold and into the store. Despite the weak light coming through the front window, it was very dark inside. No overhead lights were on, and yet as far as she knew there hadn’t been a power outage in town. Towards the far end, where the dispensary was, she did see a small light shining and she headed toward that, navigating between the counters more by touch than sight. Her fingers trailed over bottles and jars, and moving along, she touched something soft and thick that felt horribly like human hair. She pulled back her hand in alarm, but then remembered that Mr. Exley used to sell wigs for people who got sick and lost all their hair, so this was probably one leftover from when he must have so hastily cleaned off the shelves.
    Still, she felt uneasy. She told herself to turn around, to leave. It was dumb to be fumbling around in the dark, dangerous even. The new owners couldn’t be wanting business too badly. But she couldn’t stop moving toward that light – it seemed to draw her on. It flickered and wavered, beckoning.