Tracked by Terror by Brad Strickland Read Free Book Online

If only they wouldn’t look up, Jarvey thought, he might be safe. However, from this point he couldn’t see much of the garden at all, except for the tops of the trees, and so he was out of sight of the searchers.
    The sinking sun beat down, so fierce that its heat felt almost like a physical pressure on his skin. After what seemed like an hour, he heard voices, first just the murmurous sound, and then the actual words. Junius Midion seemed angry. “You have interrupted our precious rehearsal time for this, my son. Well, here we are, and there is no boy. Augustus, are you satisfied at last that you were mistaken?”
    Augustus sounded dogged and upset when he replied, “I know I saw him, Father. A little ragamuffin of twelve or thirteen, a lot like Bates in Life on the Streets, or, The Beggars’ Tragedy.”
    â€œBut we haven’t done that play in thirty or forty seasons now, and we haven’t had a Bates in ages,” Junius shot back. “Nor a boy of twelve or thirteen in any of our plays of late date.”
    Jarvey lay on his stomach and inched forward. He peeked over the edge of the terrace and saw Junius and Augustus nearly below him, under the shade of the trees. Beyond them, the phantom army of searchers wavered in the sunlight, looking transparent and insubstantial. None of them thought to look up.
    From twenty feet below Jarvey, Junius Midion chuckled, a rich, self-satisfied sound. “Son, I think I know what is happening. You have a wonderful imagination, the great Midion gift of invention, and it is acting up a bit just at present. Like your father, you are destined to be a great playwright as well as a talented and successful actor. Perhaps your first effort might be titled The Ghost Boy, or, The Intruder in the Garden, eh?”
    Augustus nearly snarled, “Don’t make fun of me, Father! I know what I saw.”
    â€œMy boy, those of us who have become celebrated on the stages of the world—”
    This time Augustus sounded positively angry with his father: “Celebrated? Father, they used to laugh at your tragedies and boo at your comedies! Until you used the Grimoire to create the World Theater, no one appreciated your plays or our acting!”
    â€œThey were fools,” Junius said coldly. “Fools and philistines, who had no true understanding of the muses of comedy and tragedy! The greater their loss when we left them behind forever. I’m surprised you think of them at all, boy, after so much time has passed, after their idiotic disapproval has been swamped with the love and adoration our audiences here have shown us for our efforts. This is much better. Now we have audiences who understand us, who always applaud! Don’t you agree, all of you?”
    Even though the hot sun was wringing sweat from him, Jarvey felt a chill pass down his spine as a chorus of low, whispery voices began to rustle like wind in the trees: “Astonishing performance, sir!” “Excellently well written!” “Very moving!” “I’ve never laughed so much!” The voices died down gradually to a distant hum and then to silence. Though the words were enthusiastic, the tone of the voices sounded infinitely sad and dreary to Jarvey.
    â€œCould there be anyone in the trees?” Augustus demanded in a peevish sort of way. “If he got this far, surely he’d think to climb.”
    Jarvey ducked back.
    â€œLook up,” Junius ordered. “Look carefully. Is there a boy concealed in the trees, my friends?”
    Again came the chorus of weirdly identical voices: “No, sir.” “Nothing, sir.” “I see no one, sir.”
    Augustus was not satisfied. “Maybe I should climb up in one of them just to make sure. If he got this far, he might have—”
    Then Junius sighed. “Come on, son. We really have no time for this just at present. I want to finish with Act Four today, so tomorrow we can