Read Online Cogling by Jordan Elizabeth - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jordan Elizabeth
Ads: Link
about before they come back through an’ I hand you two over?”
“Ma’am,” Ike said without looking up, “they were trying to take Edna away and put her in one of the orphan workhouses.”
Edna burrowed deeper against him, rubbing her prayer beads. Rumors spread throughout Moser City how children around Edna’s age, too old for the orphanage yet too young for marriage, were locked into workhouses. Within the whitewashed walls, no one left once they entered. The woman clicked her tongue. “So many folks movin’ to the city from the countryside for factory work and still some folk forcin’ it off on others.”
“They think by pulling her away, I cheated them,” Ike added.
A shiver crept over Edna’s skin, but the evil held back. Ike lied too smoothly.
The door at the end of the car swung open and the men clamored back through. “Anyone seen the little thief and his brat?”
The woman with the baby pointed down the car. “That way.”
The men ran on.
“Thanks,” Ike said after they’d departed. “I wish there was something to give you…”
“Thanks are good enough.” The woman bounced her baby on her knee.
Edna whispered to Ike, “You cheated at cards. You could’ve ruined our mission.”
“We need money.”
She pressed her lips into a line to keep from gaping. “I thought you were penniless. How’d you get to gamble at all?”
He winked–winked–as if they played a game. “Don’t worry about it, luv. Didn’t I tell you to wait for me? Everything better still be in our bag.”
Edna bit back a retort. If she angered him, he might abandon her.
“At the next stop, we’d better get off. They’ll check the car and we’ve got a better chance of getting away if we blend in with the crowd.”
She straightened away from him. “Our tickets—”
“We gotta figure something else out before you’re whisked to a workhouse an’ I’m in a ditch with my skull cracked open.”
Edna grimaced. It couldn’t be as bad as that. “The police—”
“Don’t give a fig about us who don’t have money for bribes.”
Her pulse raced again. “So we get off at the next station. Then what?”
Ike shrugged. “Go to sleep. We have another hour, I reckon. I’ll watch over you for now.”
The baby quieted as the woman sang a lullaby, enfolding Edna in its melody. Her head bobbed, and she imagined her mother singing her and Harrison to sleep.
“Bloody rats all in a hat,
Upon which Victor Viper sat.
Little feet with little shoes,
Little people with little hues.
Flames and smoke all leaping high,
Upon which we all might die.”
Knitting needles burned Harrison’s hand. Magic sizzled along the metal, wearing away his fingertips. His skin shone with a silver sheen; no longer pale peach, he’d grayed.
Tears had dried on his cheeks, the sobs fading earlier when the numbness took hold. He glanced at the other children in the wide room around him. They hunched over stools with clacking knitting needles, scarves sprawling across their knees, growing from the balls of glittery yarn in their laps. When the materials ran out, the hag in the doorway removed the scarf and handed the child a new ball. As the scarves grew brighter, the children turned grayer. Shimmers slipped off their skin into their projects, and stray wisps floated upwards to catch in the nets hanging from the ceiling.
“Keep going.” A hag wandered through the room, leaning against a cane. “Keep dreaming of your freedom. Keep giving us your dreams.” Her cackle sent the hairs on his arms upright.
Beyond the hag in the doorway, he saw a larger room of children weaving at looms.
Harrison hadn’t known how to knit until the hag with the cane shoved needles and yarn into his hand. No one had listened when he’d begged to return home. None of the other children had spoken to him, although he’d screamed for help.
Words no longer came to his mouth no matter how much he desired to talk.
What did the hags want from him?
“Ma’am,” Ike said without looking up, “they were trying to take Edna away and put her in one of the orphan workhouses.”
Edna burrowed deeper against him, rubbing her prayer beads. Rumors spread throughout Moser City how children around Edna’s age, too old for the orphanage yet too young for marriage, were locked into workhouses. Within the whitewashed walls, no one left once they entered. The woman clicked her tongue. “So many folks movin’ to the city from the countryside for factory work and still some folk forcin’ it off on others.”
“They think by pulling her away, I cheated them,” Ike added.
A shiver crept over Edna’s skin, but the evil held back. Ike lied too smoothly.
The door at the end of the car swung open and the men clamored back through. “Anyone seen the little thief and his brat?”
The woman with the baby pointed down the car. “That way.”
The men ran on.
“Thanks,” Ike said after they’d departed. “I wish there was something to give you…”
“Thanks are good enough.” The woman bounced her baby on her knee.
Edna whispered to Ike, “You cheated at cards. You could’ve ruined our mission.”
“We need money.”
She pressed her lips into a line to keep from gaping. “I thought you were penniless. How’d you get to gamble at all?”
He winked–winked–as if they played a game. “Don’t worry about it, luv. Didn’t I tell you to wait for me? Everything better still be in our bag.”
Edna bit back a retort. If she angered him, he might abandon her.
“At the next stop, we’d better get off. They’ll check the car and we’ve got a better chance of getting away if we blend in with the crowd.”
She straightened away from him. “Our tickets—”
“We gotta figure something else out before you’re whisked to a workhouse an’ I’m in a ditch with my skull cracked open.”
Edna grimaced. It couldn’t be as bad as that. “The police—”
“Don’t give a fig about us who don’t have money for bribes.”
Her pulse raced again. “So we get off at the next station. Then what?”
Ike shrugged. “Go to sleep. We have another hour, I reckon. I’ll watch over you for now.”
The baby quieted as the woman sang a lullaby, enfolding Edna in its melody. Her head bobbed, and she imagined her mother singing her and Harrison to sleep.
“Bloody rats all in a hat,
Upon which Victor Viper sat.
Little feet with little shoes,
Little people with little hues.
Flames and smoke all leaping high,
Upon which we all might die.”
Knitting needles burned Harrison’s hand. Magic sizzled along the metal, wearing away his fingertips. His skin shone with a silver sheen; no longer pale peach, he’d grayed.
Tears had dried on his cheeks, the sobs fading earlier when the numbness took hold. He glanced at the other children in the wide room around him. They hunched over stools with clacking knitting needles, scarves sprawling across their knees, growing from the balls of glittery yarn in their laps. When the materials ran out, the hag in the doorway removed the scarf and handed the child a new ball. As the scarves grew brighter, the children turned grayer. Shimmers slipped off their skin into their projects, and stray wisps floated upwards to catch in the nets hanging from the ceiling.
“Keep going.” A hag wandered through the room, leaning against a cane. “Keep dreaming of your freedom. Keep giving us your dreams.” Her cackle sent the hairs on his arms upright.
Beyond the hag in the doorway, he saw a larger room of children weaving at looms.
Harrison hadn’t known how to knit until the hag with the cane shoved needles and yarn into his hand. No one had listened when he’d begged to return home. None of the other children had spoken to him, although he’d screamed for help.
Words no longer came to his mouth no matter how much he desired to talk.
What did the hags want from him?
Similar Books
