The Demon's Lexicon by Sarah Rees Brennan Read Free Book Online

hesitated, then set his thin shoulders. “I wanted to impress her, but I wanted to help them too. The talisman will protect her. If I wanted her to—to like me as well, what does it matter?”
    Alan looked tired in the remorseless yellow light of the kitchen. He should be asleep, not up frying eggs and worrying.
    â€œI don’t see why it matters if she likes you or not.”
    Girls were an old subject of argument between them. Alan sighed, and Nick stared out the window, where the shadows of night were paling slightly, preparing for dawn.
    â€œDon’t—I know you’re worried,” Alan said. “Don’t be. How many people with first marks have we seen? How many first marks have you removed? How is this different?”
    Nick turned his gaze from the window to Alan.
    â€œThis is different,” he said. “This is you.”
    Alan looked terribly pleased for a moment, and Nick realized that his brother had taken this as one of the ridiculous, sappy things Alan was used to saying all the time. Nickhad only meant what he’d said. It had never been his brother before.
    Thankfully Alan did not make a fuss about it. He could believe Nick had said any stupid thing he wanted, so long as there were no scenes.
    All he said was, “Here, have your dinfast. Then we can start packing.”
    â€œDinfast,” Nick repeated.
    â€œDinner and breakfast!” Alan said triumphantly. “Like brunch.”
    Nick subjected him to a long, judgmental stare. “There’s something very wrong with you,” he said at last. “I thought you should know.”
    Undaunted or perhaps just unsurprised by this news, Alan began to do the dishes. He pushed Nick’s sword away with sudsy fingers to make room for a wet frying pan.
    â€œWhere do you fancy living next?”
    â€œLondon,” said Nick, because he thought that Alan would like it.
    Alan looked pleased, and he saw he’d guessed right.
    â€œLondon, then. We’ll find a better house, one with a kitchen window that’s not all smashed, and we’ll go to the museums. Then come May we can go to the Goblin Market and find someone to dance—”
    â€œI’ll dance,” Nick said.
    The comfortable clink and splash of the washing-up stopped. Alan had gone rather still.
    â€œYou don’t have to. Someone else can do it. You told me you never wanted to dance again.”
    For all that Alan was so fond of talking, for all that he could bang on endlessly about nothing for hours, he didn’tactually seem to understand words. Nick had said everything quite clearly. He had never intended to go into the circle again, never intended to dance for the demons again. As far as he was concerned, the marked ones could go to someone else for help.
    Only this time the marked one was Alan, and it was different.
    â€œI’ll dance,” he repeated. Alan smiled his embarrassing touched smile, and Nick rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to any museums, though.”
    Â 
    It was late when Nick woke, full sunlight pressing against the restraining curtains. He only woke when he did because of a noise below that sounded ominously like someone dropping every one of their pots and pans.
    Nick found a clean shirt with all due haste, and came down the stairs still buttoning his jeans.
    â€œGive me that,” he ordered.
    â€œOh, but young sir, the doctor said I could go back to heavy lifting if I was real careful of my poor old heart,” Alan croaked.
    Nick forcibly removed the box of cooking equipment from his brother’s thin arms. “Go pack up your books.”
    It was a luxury to have time to move out of a house. Whenever Alan had to leave his books behind he got wistful, and when they moved in a hurry they always had to spend their first paycheck on plates and blankets instead of the heating bill. Nick liked the peace of physical exertion, being useful and not having to think; liked the