The Hollow Kingdom by Clare B. Dunkle Read Free Book Online Page A

trees beyond.
    "Now they can't say I'm a liar!" Emily declared triumphantly. "This is great! Shall I call Aunt Prim?"
    Level with the window but a dozen feet away, a cat crouched disconsolately on a dripping tree limb. It turned its golden eyes toward them, ears flat against its head, and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. It was very wet, very unhappy, and very, very large. It was the big black cat from the bonfire.
    "Poor Seylin! He's so miserable," Emily said sympathetically. "Kate, don't you think we could call him down and bring him inside?"
    "No!" yelped Kate more forcefully than she had meant to. "No, Em. We have to think this through. If that man who brought us home last night is a ghost, then his friends can't be much better, can they?"
    "But I petted Seylin!" Emily protested. "He's perfectly solid and not in the least terrifying. And he's out in the rain. You can see how much he hates it."
    Kate went to the window and pulled back the lace to get a better look. The huge cat stared at her steadily.
    "No, Em," she said at last. "I don't like it. He may be a normal cat, but I'm not willing to find out. Aunt Prim would never let a cat into the house, anyway, much less a wet one as big as that. And I don't think it'll do any good to tell the aunts he's the same one we saw last night. They don't want to hear about last night at all."
    Emily went grumbling off to bed. Kate spent another minute staring out at the cat. Then she dropped the sheer lace and pulled the long, thick curtains over the window. The rainy evening was fast becoming a rainy night. She lit the candle on her dressing table and changed hurriedly for bed.
    She fell into a restless slumber, but even in the confused shreds of dreams, she knew she wasn't safe. In her sleep, she was telling Emilyall about it. "Then I heard a click as the window opened," she said, and in that instant Kate was wide awake. The click hadn't been a dream. She craned her neck to see over the footboard. The heavy curtains still covered the window, but they were billowing gently outward as they caught the breeze.
    Kate crawled to the bedpost and ducked behind the thick, gathered curtains of the bed. The open window let in all the sounds of a drizzly night: the gentle dripping and tapping, the wind sighing. Another unmistakable sound joined them: slow, heavy footsteps by the window. They wandered in an unhurried fashion down the room as if the unseen caller were looking casually around. They came closer and closer. They were right beside her bed.
    Kate let out a scream. "Get out of my room!" Then she ducked down farther and held her breath. Nothing happened. The stillness was profound. She scrambled up and peered into the darkness, but she couldn't see anyone there. The window was closed now, and the curtains hung limp. No footsteps sounded in the room beyond, no movement, no breathing. Long seconds crawled by.
    "I'm not in your room," announced Marak's pleasant voice.
    Kate froze in horror. Her first instinct was to leap to the door and run away, but he was bound to follow her. If she ran to Emily's room, he might hurt her little sister, and if her great-aunts ever saw such a monster Kate was sure they wouldn't survive it. She stared feverishly into the blackness but saw nothing at all. Where could he be?
    She slipped out of bed and crept to her dressing table. Her hands shaking, she struck a match, but her candle blossomed into golden light before the match even caught. She whirled, examining her bedroom by its friendly glow. The room, lit by the single candle flame, seemed full of shadow and menacing beyond words.
    "You told me to get out of your room," noted Marak's voice behind her. "Look in the other room, the one you see in your mirror."
    Kate turned to face the tall mirror on her dressing table. What she saw could not possibly be. She put a hand on her bedpost to steady herself. The reflection reached out a hand and clutched its bedpost, too. A hand with six fingers. Marak