The Void of Mist and Thunder (The 13th Reality #4) by James Dashner Read Free Book Online Page B

The mystery stranger picked up its pace, heading for them. The time for caution was gone.
    “Run, Lisa!” she barked. “Run!”
    She turned and yanked on Lisa’s hand, pulling her along as she sprinted for the grassy hill outside the fringe of the woods.
    Their pursuer picked up its pace to catch them, but then the sound of footsteps abruptly ceased, replaced by that whooshing sound again. A wind rose up into the air and over their heads, the noise of it making Lorena scream and look skyward.
    When she saw what hovered above them, she cried out again and collapsed to the ground, pulling Lisa down with her. She rolled onto her back and stared at the thing that had come after them.
    It was a creature with slanted, burning yellow eyes, its body made of what looked like ropes of gray smoke, coiled together to make a long body with arms and legs. It flew through the air, darting back and forth above them like a hawk examining its prey. Another smoky creature flew out of the forest to join its haunted companion. They circled, their yellow eyes leaving streaks of light in the air.
    Lorena was frozen in place, squeezing her daughter’s hand and holding the Wand to her chest.
    The two wispy creatures abruptly flew down to the ground and grabbed Lorena and Lisa by their arms. Gripping them strongly, they lifted them to their feet with a painful jerk. And then they started marching the two terrified ladies back toward the slope of the hill.
    Back toward the castle.

Chapter 11

    A Pond in the Snow
     
    The stairs hadn’t broken when Paul walked up them, nor had the porch collapsed, potentially dropping them into a heap of spiders and snakes and rats. There’d been a lot of creaks and groans, but he and Sofia had made it to the front door and through it unscathed.
    The inside of Gretel’s home looked nothing like the outside. As soon as Paul stepped through the door, he knew that the dilapidated exterior of the shack was a disguise, something to make thieves and thugs figure they might as well not bother. He and Sofia stood in a lushly carpeted living room with fancy furniture—all leather and frilly carved wood—and portraits of grim-looking people on the walls. A fire crackled in a brick fireplace, and the air smelled of cinnamon.
    “Nice place you got here,” Paul said. “I’m glad you didn’t shoot us or stab us before we got a chance to check it out.”
    Sofia elbowed Paul in the ribs. “Thank you for inviting us in. That’s what my rude friend meant to say.”
    Gretel looked back and forth between her two visitors, her tongue cocked inside one of her cheeks as she examined them. “George and I’ve always had an arrangement. You kids understand? What I’m doing here is too important to let any jackawillie barge in here and mess with my stuff. He promised to never tell anyone that the password question was a test, and to never give it out unless it was serious business. Serious, serious business. I reckon we have things to talk about.”
    Sofia nodded. “Yes, we do.”
    “I don’t think we know what we’re supposed to talk about,” Paul said. “Could you help us out with that?”
    The old lady grinned again, showing her gnarly teeth. “George wouldn’t have sent ya with that question unless it was something particular. The whole reason I’m here in the first place. And let me guess— you’re here because of the earthquake I had.”
    “Yes!” Sofia answered.
    Paul suspected that the lady didn’t know the extent of the damage to all the Realities yet; she obviously wasn’t communicating with anyone on a regular basis. “How bad was it?” he asked her.
    “Shook me right out of my bed, I can tell you that. Ruined my dream about Clark Gable, too. I was half in a tizzy, grabbed my gun and shot a bullet straight through my roof. Thing still drips. Don’t listen to that nonsense about how duct tape can fix anything and everything.”
    Paul was really starting to like this woman. “Who’s Clark