Touching Darkness by Scott Westerfeld Read Free Book Online Page A

knowledge came through then: the way a darkling’s mind tasted when it was very old, as bitter as a rusty nail held under a dry tongue; the chaos of Bixby High just before the late bell rang, almost loud enough to break her mind; the terror that with one touch, one of the clamoring minds that harassed her every daylight moment would invade and trespass on hers; and finally the sweet onset of the blue hour, a silence so glorious, it was as if everyone in the world had been exterminated, their petty thoughts all finally extinguished.
    Then, suddenly, it was over.
    He looked down at his hand, empty and slick with sweat. Melissa had somehow managed to pull away. Rex stared dumbly at his palm, watching four red half-moons appear, the marks of his own fingernails digging in after she had slipped out of his grasp.
    But at least it was silent now. He was alone again inside his head.
    He turned away from her to look out the window, feeling as bleak as the charcoal desert stretched out before him. Strange. Rex had expected to feel full once it was over. This was new information, like the wisdom of his books or the surety of lore, things that always made some part of him feel larger. This was something he’d wanted from her as long as he could remember. But somehow the knowledge of Melissa, of what it was like to be her, had emptied him.
    “Maybe next time,” she said.
    He blinked at her. “What?”
    “Maybe it’ll be better next time.” She tore her eyes from his and turned over the engine, the car springing to life beneath them.
    Rex tried to offer reassurances and say something hopeful. Perhaps she would build up resistance. Or they would gain more control, sharing thoughts and ideas instead of raw sensations and blind fears. Maybe one day they could do more than touch for a few moments—maybe anything was possible. But Melissa shook her head at every thought that crossed Rex’s mind, never taking her gaze from the road. This wasn’t just her usual sensitivity, he realized. Melissa had been inside him every moment of the maelstrom and felt the desolation she had left in him.
    There was nothing he could say that she didn’t already know.
     
    He watched the signs of midnight pass. It was better than thinking about what had happened between him and his oldest friend.
    The midnight invasion had stopped, that much was for sure. When Jessica Day had first appeared in town, the marks had been everywhere, swaths of sharp Focus across the blur of Rex’s vision, revealing where darklings and their foot soldiers had disturbed the daylight world. They had pushed farther into town every night, despite the clean metal and thirteen-pointed stars that protected Bixby, emboldened by their hatred of Jessica.
    But now the marks were fading. Since she had discovered her talent, the darklings were powerless to attack Jessica directly. The town was softening again, losing the Focus. The darklings were in retreat.
    Melissa made a turn. Rex frowned, unsure of where they were headed but unwilling to disturb the silence that had fallen between them since they’d touched. The plan had been to drive around Jessica’s neighborhood and try to catch the thoughts of her human stalker. But they weren’t headed into town. The desert was still in view, a black horizon stretching away toward Rustle’s Bottom and the snake pit.
    “Didn’t you get my message?” Melissa said.
    “What message?”
    “About where we’re going.”
    Rex chewed his lip. For a moment he wondered why he should bother to speak since she could evidently read every thought in his mind now. “Message? You know my father—”
    “Not a telephone call. From my mind, moron.” She turned to glare at him. “All you got was crap?”
    “I wouldn’t call it crap.” The majesty of midnight’s tastes, her profound loneliness, her long-tended hatred of humanity—none of it was crap. All of it was…
    “Don’t get all depressing on me, Rex. I tried to send you a message,