Shadowlands (Shadowlands (Hyperion)) by Kate Brian Read Free Book Online Page A

my hand went to my face. When I pulled it away, it was sticky with blood.
    “Rory Miller,” a sickly familiar voice called. “Where did you go?”
    The sound of footsteps thundered behind us, next to us, in front of us. They were everywhere and nowhere, bouncing off the trees with the same disembodied echo as the voice.
    “Rory,” Darcy panted, her eyes wide. “What if he catches us?”
    “He won’t!” I insisted.
    I thought of my first cross-country race in fifth grade. Of my mom’s smiling face, already thinned out from the treatments, as she waited for me at the finish line. I’d slowed my steps as the final marker came into view, letting the person a few paces behind me pass me and pull away. I didn’t want the spotlight, even then. I wanted the shadows. I didn’t run to win. I ran to free my mind.
    But now I had to win. We had to win. Because if we didn’t, if we didn’t get away, if we let fear take over, we would lose everything.
    A huge tree loomed ahead, and Darcy broke her grip on my hand so we could run on either side of it. I sprinted forward, but when I reached out to take her hand once more, all I grabbed was air.
    “Darcy!” I whispered, not slowing my pace as I looked around. “Where did you go?”
    “Rory?” a faint voice called.
    “Darcy!”
    “Rory?” the voice came again.
    I stopped and whirled around. The wooded area dividing the highway was much larger than I’d anticipated, and I was in a clearing about twenty feet wide. There was a break in the clouds, revealing a perfect half moon hanging overhead.
    “Darcy!” I shouted, suddenly not caring if it drew Mr. Nell to me. I had to find my sister. “Darcy! Where are you?”
    Birds took off from a tree overhead. A squirrel scampered past my feet. A soft moan sounded in the distance. Minutes felt like hours as I whirled around and around, looking for Darcy.
    Then I saw it.
    A long, pale finger peeked out from a tangle of low bushes and brush. The nail was painted a shimmery silver that glowed in the moonlight.
    “No,” I whispered, my blood flowing like ice through my veins. “No, no, no.”
    Slowly, so slowly, I cut through the clearing. Dead leaves crackled underfoot. A twig snapped. Fallen pine needles rustled like sandpaper on wood, and an owl hooted in the distance. Too soon I reached the hand. Heart in my throat, I pushed back the brush. A loud sob escaped my lips.
    My sister—my beautiful sister—was lying there. She was on her stomach, her arms over her head like she had been struck down mid-dive into a swimming pool. Her dark hair fanned out in all angles, hiding her face—but not the deep gash in the back of her skull.
    “Oh god, oh god.”
    Panic swelled within me as I grabbed her wrist. Her skin was still warm, but when I fumbled for her pulse, my heart shattered. There was nothing. Nothing. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the blood matting my sister’s hair. Darcy, the girl who wore a tutu for an entire year, who’d kicked Grant Sibley when he pulled my braid in fourth grade, who’d sometimes picked on me until I cried but who I loved desperately, was dead. And so was my dad.
    My family, everyone I loved, was gone.
    “Rory Miller…” a disembodied voice whispered behind me.
    I spun around. A figure was standing there, hooded and dark, a shadow come to life.
    Steven Nell.
    He wore the awful tan corduroy jacket over a dark blue shirt. His wire-rimmed glasses glinted in the moonlight, and he held a long knife in one hand and a bloody rock in the other. His nose was flat where I’d broken it, his cheekbones sharp, and his ice-blue eyes were narrowed at me.
    “Miss me?” he simpered.
    Bile rose in my throat. “You killed my sister,” I hissed, rage and grief battling in me. “You killed my dad.”
    Mr. Nell smirked. “I wouldn’t have had to if you’d just come with me. But you didn’t play by the rules.” The silver knife at his side gleamed. “Are you going to be a good girl now and