The Bone Quill by Carole E. Barrowman, John Barrowman Read Free Book Online Page B

Luminous flecks of white, ochre and blue floated in the air near the easel like hundreds of fireflies.
    Simon spotted Zach’s laptop sitting on the couch. Setting his palm on it, he felt the warmth from its battery and the surge of his son’s conflicted emotions while he’d been working on the computer.
    At least he tried to stop them
, thought Simon.
    ‘Those weans are nowhere to be found,’ said Jeannie, following Simon into the sitting room. Taking off the reflective orange safety vest that she wore when she was near the water’s edge, she added, ‘I even checked the boathouse. Not a sign of them.’
    ‘They’ve not been gone long. Zach’s laptop’s still warm,’ said Simon. ‘And I’m afraid I know where they are.’
    He nodded towards the painting perched on the easel. Jeannie’s hand went up to her mouth. ‘No! They would’nae dare.’
    ‘No doubt about it, that painting’s been animated,’ said Simon. ‘I should’ve known better than to leave them alone. Matt’s been champing at the bit to get out of here for days.’
    ‘Aye,’ Jeannie sighed, ‘he’s been taking it hard that he and Em can’t go tearing around the country to search for their mother.’
    Simon picked up a copy of Em’s drawing of the peryton. ‘Em’s been doing some good work, hasn’t she? This sketch feels alive. Look at the depth in the beast’s wings.’ He set the drawing down again absently. ‘Wherever they are, Zach’s with them.’
    ‘Well, he would be, wouldn’t he,’ said Jeannie, a knowing smile loosening the worry in her expression for a moment. ‘Especially if Em went along, too. He never lets the lass out of his sight for long.’
    ‘They’ve gone into a painting.’ Renard Calder, the twin’s grandfather and one of the most powerful Guardians in the world, had entered the sitting room and instantly recoiled as if touched by an electric shock. Like Simon, Renard could see and feel the fireflies of colour and light, the residual energy of the twins’ animation.
    ‘Monet’s
Thames below Westminster
,’ said Simon, nodding as if at a question Renard had not asked.
    ‘Ah, one of Monet’s first London paintings,’ said Renard, recovering. ‘Claude himself gave it to my great-grandfather in return for a room near the Thames with lots of English sunlight.’
    ‘Was there ever such a thing?’ enquired Jeannie. ‘English sunlight, I mean.’
    ‘I’m not surprised they picked this one,’ said Simon. ‘Matt’s been more homesick than usual these past few days.’
    ‘Poor lad, he misses London terribly,’ said Jeannie, folding her safety vest over the back of a chair before dropping into it.
    ‘Well, he won’t be seeing the real city again for quite some time,’ said Renard. ‘It’s still too dangerous. The Council of Guardians will bind the children for sure once they’re sixteen if they keep animating into paintings. It breaks every rule in the book.’
    Jeannie looked terrified at the thought of the twins being bound.
    Simon watched the brilliant shards of colour twinkling like stars above Monet’s painting. A flash of foreboding blackened his thoughts. He couldn’t smother his dread that something big and bad was coming into their lives.
    The shards of light and colour surrounding the Monet suddenly began inflating to the size of balloons, almost blinding the three adults with their brilliance. For a brief moment, Simon saw a cresting wave. Worse than that, he could hear Em sobbing.
    Jeannie cried out. Renard struggled off the couch. As quickly as the energy from the animation had expanded, the colourful orbs shrank back to a million slivers of confetti.
    ‘After a burst of animation like that,’ said Renard sharply, ‘I’d have expected the children to have fallen out of the painting.’
    ‘Something’s wrong,’ burst out Simon. The children’s fear was still twisting behind his temples. ‘The strength of this animation doesn’t make sense. What can possibly be that bad