Read Online Curse of the Midions by Brad Strickland - Free Book Online

after you.”
    â€œHunts runaways for sport, Nibs does,” Charley said with a brown-toothed grin. “In the palace—that’s Bywater House, where he lives—they do say he has a room with their heads hangin’ up on the walls.”
    â€œJust talk, but we’ll try to keep well out of the Wild,” Bets said. “Charley, spread the word. Tomorrow noon we have a meeting with the other bands.”
    â€œWhy?” Charley asked, sounding surprised.
    â€œNibs thinks something’s here as shouldn’t be here. That’s Jarvey, innit? Sooner we help him find his parents and get out of Lunnon, sooner the tippers will ease off.”
    Charley just grunted. Jarvey tried to say “Thanks,” but the word wouldn’t come out. He wasn’t sure that Bets could really help him. Or that she planned to.
    Â 
    Another sleepless, fearful night, another morning under a pale, milky sky, and Jarvey began to despair of ever seeing his mother or father again. After a hasty breakfast, he took the Grimoire off into a corner and tried to open it.
    The latch refused to give. Maybe you had to have that circle around it, he thought. Or give the book a command. “Open,” he said.
    Nothing happened.
    â€œI command you to open!” he growled, feeling foolish.
    He reached for the latch, and with a crackle an angry red spark burned his fingers. He jerked his hand away, yelping. His thumb and two of his fingers showed white blisters the size of pencil erasers. Jarvey felt a flare of frustration and anger inside. He grabbed the book and made a hasty retreat to the Den.
    By noon, thirty or more ragged, dirty kids had gathered in the basement. Most of them clustered in a loose group, with only Charley apart, standing beside the door with his arms crossed and a resigned smile on his thin face. Betsy stood on one of the rusted machines and had them all take a good look at Jarvey. “He’s a new one, but he’s game to join the Free Folk,” she announced. “Spread the word. He’s Jarvey Green to everyone, right? And he’s to have help from any of the Free Folk, on my say.”
    â€œGot a mum or dad lookin’ for him, has he?” asked an older boy, dressed in a shabby old coat and a battered felt hat.
    â€œHe’s lost his parents,” Betsy said shortly.
    â€œLumme,” little Puddler squeaked. “Becomin’ a orphan without permission? That’s an automatic life sentence in the mills, that is!”
    â€œHalf of us are guilty of it, though, so what’s the difference?” a plain-faced, red-haired girl said, to a general murmur of agreement.
    â€œAll right,” Betsy said. “That’s one thing I want you all to do: Keep your ears and eyes open for strange new folk in Lunnon, a man and a woman, Jarvey’s parents. If they’re here, someone will notice them. They’ll stand out. You’ll know if you get word of them, and if you do, you come to me, understand?”
    There was a general murmur of agreement, and then Bets continued, “Now, Jarvey’s not used to life outside, so he’s got to lay low until he gets the hang of things. So me and some of my Dodgers are goin’ on the sly with him to give him a bit of training. Can’t stay here, because it’s too close to the tippers’ den over in Dead Street, so we’ll be moving on.”
    â€œWhere will you den, then?” someone asked.
    Betsy hardly spared him a glance. “New place. Never you mind where it is. We don’t want any of you lot gettin’ nipped and bargaining for your freedom with our secrets, right?”
    â€œOi!” shouted the oldest boy. “None of that, Bets. We’re Free Folk, we are. Death before dishonor.” Jarvey saw the black-haired Charley, in the background, shake his head as if in disbelief.
    â€œBets?” another kid, a fourteen- or a fifteen-year-old boy, asked in a hesitant,