The Specter Key by Kaleb Nation Read Free Book Online Page B

him but smiled anyway.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked. “How’d you escape?”
    “Mabel wanted some more medicine,” Bran said. “Who better to send than me? But I really came here because I wanted to show you this.”
    He reached into his pocket and drew out the tattered pieces of the burned paper. He had carefully folded what was left so that it didn’t break anymore, but it was still brittle, and he held it out so Astara could look.
    “See any writing or words on those?” Bran asked her. She looked closer, taking the pieces and laying them on the table.
    “Been playing with matches?” she asked, turning them over. Bran shook his head.
    “No, this paper was all in one piece last night,” he said. “It burned up all by itself.”
    He told her what had happened the previous night. Unfortunately he couldn’t remember all the words that had been typed, except for his mother’s name and what they had called themselves: the Specters.
    “What do you think it means?” Astara asked, looking closer.
    “Either I’m losing my mind,” Bran said, “or there’s something in that box that’s trying to talk to me.”
    “And we already tried getting it open,” Astara said. She stared at him, both of them thinking hard.
    “You didn’t tell Adi, did you?” Astara asked. Bran shook his head.
    “No, she’d take it away for sure,” he said. “She didn’t even want me keeping it. But there’s no way I’m letting this out of my sight. Not now.”
    He let a deep breath out. “There’s just something not right about all this.”
    “What’s not right, now?” a voice broke in, and Bran spun. Astara swept her hand across the table and hid the pieces of paper in her hand just as Mr. Cringan stepped up to them.
    “Can’t be anything wrong with this week, can there now?” Mr. Cringan said, a smile across his face. “Fridd’s Day’s coming up, and it’ll be the best one ever!”
    Mr. Cringan had yellow hair on his head and through his cleanly cut beard, and white teeth shone when he grinned at them. He held two big boxes of books in his muscular, tanned arms. Bran jumped forward to grab the one off the top and set it on the desk.
    “There we are now,” Mr. Cringan said. “Nothing better than the smell of all these pages. And seeing an extra helping hand!”
    Mr. Cringan chuckled merrily. He was much happier these days it seemed, and Bran knew it was because his bookstore was finally about to open again. Fortunately, Mr. Cringan had gotten a generous insurance policy, or else he might not be so jolly.
    “We’ve got everything planned to perfection,” Mr. Cringan boasted. “Hardly a detail left out. Yellow streamers and balloons and five yellow cakes, all laid out on a yellow table with corn tortilla chips and cheese sauce. Gigantic bowls of cheddar popcorn and caramels, and everyone dressed up in yellow like no one’s seen!”
    “Sounds like a real party,” Bran said, and Mr. Cringan looked up.
    “Well, you are coming, aren’t you?” he asked with a smile. “You’ve got to come.”
    “You have to,” Astara insisted. “We’re going to have the biggest party in town. And you know how hard it is to get Duncelanders near any place with books.”
    “I wish I could,” Bran said. “But Sewey has already drafted me into dancing with Madame Mobicci at their company party. I’m pretty much stuck.”
    “Oh well,” Mr. Cringan said. He was clearly disappointed, though he tried to cover it up as best he could with a laugh. He started to walk away, stepping behind some crates. The moment he was out of view Bran spun back to Astara.
    “That was close,” he breathed, and she quickly slid the burnt scraps back to him.
    “We’ve got to figure this out,” she whispered. “There’s something big going on. Last time this happened, this store burned down.”
    “That’s not going to happen again,” Bran vowed, shoving the pieces down in his pocket. There was something else in there, and he