Read Online A Well-Timed Enchantment by Vivian Vande Velde - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vivian Vande Velde
Tags: Ages 10 & Up
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weather by wooden shutters.
"This must be the wrong room," Deanna mused, though there was only one tower, and they were in it, and all the long spiraling flight up, there had been no other doors.
When Oliver didn't answer, she glanced at him. He had taken a step away, so that his back was against the wall opposite the landing from the door. He had his teeth bared.
"Oliver?" she said, remembering what had happened the last time she had ignored his instincts. He looked at her.
Scared,
she realized. "What's the matter?"
"Don't you feel it? The same as by the well. The same as in the courtyard when you acted so strangely with the wizard."
Magic. That was what he was saying. He felt magic in the air. She glanced at the room but there was nothing there. Just an empty room. A clean, well-lighted, empty room.
In a slightly dingy, dark, crowded castle.
And where was all that light coming from, with the sun setting and no candles?
That thought set cold fingers dancing on her back and arms.
But she had come here for a purpose: to retrieve her watch. She had been expecting something wizardly. Just because it manifested itself in the form of an empty white room was no reason to get all goosebumpy.
She stepped inside. Was it cooler this side of the doorway, or was that just her imagination? She took another step. Something brushed her leg. She jumped with a startled squeak. Nothing there. She yanked her gown up to her knees and brushed at her right calf, where she had felt the spidery touch. She shook the skirt in case anything had gotten up in there.
Oliver hadn't moved away from the far wall. But he had his head tipped as though listening, and he was sniffing the air.
Deanna paused to listen and heard nothing. She sniffed, too. Incense, maybe. A slight mustiness. She took another step toward the window, and her foot came down on something she couldn't see.
Something that jerked out from under her with a shrill cry like a peacock's.
She jumped backward, hitting her hip. Glass crashed as though she had upset a table. The unseen creature she had stepped on cried out again while some bodiless thing in the corner gibbered and hooted and screeched. Perhaps she was safe from that one, for there was a rattling sound also, as though whatever it was shook the bars of a cage.
Cold fingers, or at least they felt like cold fingers, wrapped themselves around her ankle. Deanna screamed. She tried to pull away, kicking with her other foot at whatever it was that held her. The room was still white and well lit and empty, but great flapping wings swooped near her face, tangling in her hair just long enough to make her lose her balance. She fell, still kicking at the thing which gurgled and licked at her ankle.
Her flailing hands knocked over more glass. A smell like chlorine bleach tickled her nostrils. Spilled liquid dripped audibly near her head, sizzling ominously, though there was no visible damage to the white floor. She swung her leg around toward that sound, and whatever had hold of her ankle hissed and let go.
Hands grabbed her wrists. She tensed to break away, then realized it was Oliver. He dragged her to her feet.
Her hands came close to something hot, but she ignored that, as she ignored the invisible glass crunching underfoot while Oliver pulled her toward the door.
Suddenly he pitched forward, letting go of her so as not to yank her down with him. He fell to one knee, brushing away at something which—judging from his expression—must be disgustingly sticky.
This time she pulled him to his feet She got him through the doorway and pulled the door closed behind them.
They both dropped to their knees in exhaustion on the landing. They had their arms around each other and this time she wasn't embarrassed at all.
"Do you think he'll notice someone's been in there?" she asked once she caught her breath.
Oliver gave her a look which indicated cats—
even former cats—didn't recognize sarcasm when they heard it.
She
"This must be the wrong room," Deanna mused, though there was only one tower, and they were in it, and all the long spiraling flight up, there had been no other doors.
When Oliver didn't answer, she glanced at him. He had taken a step away, so that his back was against the wall opposite the landing from the door. He had his teeth bared.
"Oliver?" she said, remembering what had happened the last time she had ignored his instincts. He looked at her.
Scared,
she realized. "What's the matter?"
"Don't you feel it? The same as by the well. The same as in the courtyard when you acted so strangely with the wizard."
Magic. That was what he was saying. He felt magic in the air. She glanced at the room but there was nothing there. Just an empty room. A clean, well-lighted, empty room.
In a slightly dingy, dark, crowded castle.
And where was all that light coming from, with the sun setting and no candles?
That thought set cold fingers dancing on her back and arms.
But she had come here for a purpose: to retrieve her watch. She had been expecting something wizardly. Just because it manifested itself in the form of an empty white room was no reason to get all goosebumpy.
She stepped inside. Was it cooler this side of the doorway, or was that just her imagination? She took another step. Something brushed her leg. She jumped with a startled squeak. Nothing there. She yanked her gown up to her knees and brushed at her right calf, where she had felt the spidery touch. She shook the skirt in case anything had gotten up in there.
Oliver hadn't moved away from the far wall. But he had his head tipped as though listening, and he was sniffing the air.
Deanna paused to listen and heard nothing. She sniffed, too. Incense, maybe. A slight mustiness. She took another step toward the window, and her foot came down on something she couldn't see.
Something that jerked out from under her with a shrill cry like a peacock's.
She jumped backward, hitting her hip. Glass crashed as though she had upset a table. The unseen creature she had stepped on cried out again while some bodiless thing in the corner gibbered and hooted and screeched. Perhaps she was safe from that one, for there was a rattling sound also, as though whatever it was shook the bars of a cage.
Cold fingers, or at least they felt like cold fingers, wrapped themselves around her ankle. Deanna screamed. She tried to pull away, kicking with her other foot at whatever it was that held her. The room was still white and well lit and empty, but great flapping wings swooped near her face, tangling in her hair just long enough to make her lose her balance. She fell, still kicking at the thing which gurgled and licked at her ankle.
Her flailing hands knocked over more glass. A smell like chlorine bleach tickled her nostrils. Spilled liquid dripped audibly near her head, sizzling ominously, though there was no visible damage to the white floor. She swung her leg around toward that sound, and whatever had hold of her ankle hissed and let go.
Hands grabbed her wrists. She tensed to break away, then realized it was Oliver. He dragged her to her feet.
Her hands came close to something hot, but she ignored that, as she ignored the invisible glass crunching underfoot while Oliver pulled her toward the door.
Suddenly he pitched forward, letting go of her so as not to yank her down with him. He fell to one knee, brushing away at something which—judging from his expression—must be disgustingly sticky.
This time she pulled him to his feet She got him through the doorway and pulled the door closed behind them.
They both dropped to their knees in exhaustion on the landing. They had their arms around each other and this time she wasn't embarrassed at all.
"Do you think he'll notice someone's been in there?" she asked once she caught her breath.
Oliver gave her a look which indicated cats—
even former cats—didn't recognize sarcasm when they heard it.
She
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