Read Online Billy: Messenger of Powers by Michaelbrent Collings - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michaelbrent Collings
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pleasure killing you, young man.”
Billy didn’t know what to say or do. He wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to hide in this hallway. And besides, he knew that running would be the wrong thing to do, a useless gesture.
On the other hand, this woman had just said she was going to kill him!
“Be careful, Eva,” said Mrs. Russet. “He did manage to hit your boy, remember. And with no training or tutelage. Perhaps Billy is himself a Black, and perhaps he’s even one whose good side you will want to be on some day.”
Mrs. Black snorted derisively. “I hardly think so—” she began, but then stopped as the floor shifted below them all.
Billy let out a little shout—he was coming to expect the unexpected, but still couldn’t contain the fear he felt as the leaves that had until now supported him suddenly parted, allowing him to drop downward through their suddenly flexible forms.
He screamed in earnest now, free falling through a mass of leaves, trying to grab them, to hold onto something—anything—that would stop him from falling. But his hands came up empty, cruelly cut by the edges of the leaves through which he was descending.
Then, quite suddenly, he landed in a pile of leaves as thick and soft as a king’s mattress. It was almost a pleasant feeling, and would have been fun if he hadn’t been so terrified.
Five matching thumps told him that Mrs. Russet, Vester the fireman, Tempus of the wind, Wade the water Power, and Mrs. Eva Black had also fallen with him into—what?
Billy stood up and looked around. It appeared as though he was in a great basket, woven of living vines, tight and secure. In the middle of the room stood a single table, long and thin, that reminded Billy uncomfortably of a table in an operating room. At one end of the table stood a lit candle, and at the other end sat a small bowl of water.
Behind the table stood a woman, a short, chubby woman whose age Billy couldn’t quite make out. She seemed somehow both old and young at the same time. Her body was covered in leaves and vines and greenery that grew out of the very floor of the living basket in which they all stood. And when she moved toward Billy, she didn’t have to walk: the living floor she stood on lifted her up and carried her close to him on shifting blades of grass that sprung up before her and then disappeared into the greenery as she passed.
“Good day, Billy,” she said. “I am Ivy.”
“Hi,” said Billy. It was a single syllable, but under the circumstances he was rather proud of managing to say anything coherent at all. In fact, the simple feat of uttering the word made him feel rather heroic. Then he caught sight of Mrs. Black looking at him and his heroism disappeared, leaving him feeling more like a lobster being held over a pot of boiling water.
“As you’ve no doubt guessed,” said Ivy, pulling Billy’s gaze back to her, “you are here for a specific reason, Billy.”
“Quite so,” added Tempus with a windy laugh.
“Do be quiet, Tempus,” said Wade. “We’ll never get through this if you blather.”
“Why am I here?” asked Billy.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Black. “I’d like to know that, too. It seems fairly clear to me that this boy…”—and the way she said “boy” made it clear to Billy that she really wanted to say something else, like “worm” or “dog-doo that I stepped in and am about to scrape off my shoe with a shovel”—“…is a no-Power nothing—a mere human who is nothing more than a waste of our time.”
Mrs. Black faced Mrs. Russet challengingly, and Tempus, Vester, Wade, and Ivy all joined her in staring at Billy’s teacher.
Billy felt that had he been stared at like that by these four frighteningly strange people—or Powers, he supposed he should call them—he would have just poofed instantly into a Billy-shaped smoke outline and disappeared. Mrs. Russet was made of sterner stuff, though. Not only did she not poof into a Mrs. Russet-shaped smoky
Billy didn’t know what to say or do. He wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to hide in this hallway. And besides, he knew that running would be the wrong thing to do, a useless gesture.
On the other hand, this woman had just said she was going to kill him!
“Be careful, Eva,” said Mrs. Russet. “He did manage to hit your boy, remember. And with no training or tutelage. Perhaps Billy is himself a Black, and perhaps he’s even one whose good side you will want to be on some day.”
Mrs. Black snorted derisively. “I hardly think so—” she began, but then stopped as the floor shifted below them all.
Billy let out a little shout—he was coming to expect the unexpected, but still couldn’t contain the fear he felt as the leaves that had until now supported him suddenly parted, allowing him to drop downward through their suddenly flexible forms.
He screamed in earnest now, free falling through a mass of leaves, trying to grab them, to hold onto something—anything—that would stop him from falling. But his hands came up empty, cruelly cut by the edges of the leaves through which he was descending.
Then, quite suddenly, he landed in a pile of leaves as thick and soft as a king’s mattress. It was almost a pleasant feeling, and would have been fun if he hadn’t been so terrified.
Five matching thumps told him that Mrs. Russet, Vester the fireman, Tempus of the wind, Wade the water Power, and Mrs. Eva Black had also fallen with him into—what?
Billy stood up and looked around. It appeared as though he was in a great basket, woven of living vines, tight and secure. In the middle of the room stood a single table, long and thin, that reminded Billy uncomfortably of a table in an operating room. At one end of the table stood a lit candle, and at the other end sat a small bowl of water.
Behind the table stood a woman, a short, chubby woman whose age Billy couldn’t quite make out. She seemed somehow both old and young at the same time. Her body was covered in leaves and vines and greenery that grew out of the very floor of the living basket in which they all stood. And when she moved toward Billy, she didn’t have to walk: the living floor she stood on lifted her up and carried her close to him on shifting blades of grass that sprung up before her and then disappeared into the greenery as she passed.
“Good day, Billy,” she said. “I am Ivy.”
“Hi,” said Billy. It was a single syllable, but under the circumstances he was rather proud of managing to say anything coherent at all. In fact, the simple feat of uttering the word made him feel rather heroic. Then he caught sight of Mrs. Black looking at him and his heroism disappeared, leaving him feeling more like a lobster being held over a pot of boiling water.
“As you’ve no doubt guessed,” said Ivy, pulling Billy’s gaze back to her, “you are here for a specific reason, Billy.”
“Quite so,” added Tempus with a windy laugh.
“Do be quiet, Tempus,” said Wade. “We’ll never get through this if you blather.”
“Why am I here?” asked Billy.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Black. “I’d like to know that, too. It seems fairly clear to me that this boy…”—and the way she said “boy” made it clear to Billy that she really wanted to say something else, like “worm” or “dog-doo that I stepped in and am about to scrape off my shoe with a shovel”—“…is a no-Power nothing—a mere human who is nothing more than a waste of our time.”
Mrs. Black faced Mrs. Russet challengingly, and Tempus, Vester, Wade, and Ivy all joined her in staring at Billy’s teacher.
Billy felt that had he been stared at like that by these four frighteningly strange people—or Powers, he supposed he should call them—he would have just poofed instantly into a Billy-shaped smoke outline and disappeared. Mrs. Russet was made of sterner stuff, though. Not only did she not poof into a Mrs. Russet-shaped smoky
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