Read Online Harsh Gods by Michelle Belanger - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michelle Belanger
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hospital,” he said. “Keep me in the loop this time.”
I couldn’t meet the accusation in his eyes, so I focused my attention on the papers.
“And Zack,” he added, a quirk of his lips softening the sting of his words. “Answer your damned phone for once.”
They headed down the hall while I puzzled over the three recurring symbols. The answers to Whisper Man were right in front of me, scribbled in fingerpaint and crayon—I just had to figure out how to read them.
I got so fixated on the problem, I forgot to even mention—they were calling the wrong cell.
9
As I finished jotting down some notes on Halley’s papers, I realized the other thing that had slipped my mind while I’d pondered the issue of unreadable words.
Sanjeet had the car.
I stepped quietly from Halley’s room, listening to the unexpected stillness of the Davis household. After all the fighting and chaos, the silence hung like a weight upon the air. The living room was empty, more toys than I remembered scattered across the floor. A mop and pail leaned in one corner where Tammy had apparently tried to clean up all the slush and dirt tracked into the house by the emergency workers. From the look of it, she’d given up.
Tammy and Tyson were upstairs, probably asleep. I closed my eyes, unfurled my senses, and could just barely feel them over the residual echoes of the fight.
A nagging thought wormed its way into my head. I couldn’t shake a guilty suspicion that the situation with Whisper Man had escalated because I’d come into their lives. Trouble seemed to follow behind me as surely as my wings.
Folding Halley’s papers, I tucked them into the front of my leather jacket. Then I tightened the buckle at the bottom and quietly slipped out the front door, pausing on the porch to make sure the door latched behind me. Not that locks made much difference when the bad guys just knocked out the windows when they wanted to get in.
I hesitated, wondering whether or not it was safe for Tammy and little Tyson to be left alone in the home. I might be good at attracting danger, but I also did a bang-up job of kicking its teeth in when it threatened people in my care. The Davises were on that list now—at least until this business got resolved.
The sound of a car door drew my attention to the street. A tall, slender black man in a knee-length coat of heavy gray wool slipped into a sedan parked across from the home. He gripped two steaming cups of diner coffee in his hands, and made a point of not looking in my direction. The door shut quietly behind him. He and his companion were barely visible through the glare of the streetlight on the windshield.
The guy passed a cup of coffee over to the woman behind the wheel. She took it gratefully, wrapping gloved fingers around it for warmth. It didn’t take a psychic to see they were cops.
The police were taking the break-in seriously, and I wondered what they knew that I didn’t. This kind of response wasn’t typical for a first-time home invasion. Maybe the officers expected the remaining vagrants to return to the house. Personally, I figured they were long gone.
Whatever the case, as I stepped off the front porch and cut across the yard, I didn’t envy the officers their chilly vigil. The temperature had dropped in the middle of the night, falling somewhere between arctic and the cold of deep space. The snow on the ground was frozen so thoroughly that it squeaked under my boots. As I walked, bitter gusts picked up wicked shards from the surrounding drifts, flinging them against my face. Only the whiskers saved me from the brunt of it.
The night had stilled to that point where the streets were so empty, the city felt abandoned. No one was out in this sub-arctic chill. The windows of all the houses along the street were dark, their residents dreaming safe until morning.
I stuffed my fists into the pockets of my leather jacket and headed toward Mayfield Road. The white-and-red sign for Mama
I couldn’t meet the accusation in his eyes, so I focused my attention on the papers.
“And Zack,” he added, a quirk of his lips softening the sting of his words. “Answer your damned phone for once.”
They headed down the hall while I puzzled over the three recurring symbols. The answers to Whisper Man were right in front of me, scribbled in fingerpaint and crayon—I just had to figure out how to read them.
I got so fixated on the problem, I forgot to even mention—they were calling the wrong cell.
9
As I finished jotting down some notes on Halley’s papers, I realized the other thing that had slipped my mind while I’d pondered the issue of unreadable words.
Sanjeet had the car.
I stepped quietly from Halley’s room, listening to the unexpected stillness of the Davis household. After all the fighting and chaos, the silence hung like a weight upon the air. The living room was empty, more toys than I remembered scattered across the floor. A mop and pail leaned in one corner where Tammy had apparently tried to clean up all the slush and dirt tracked into the house by the emergency workers. From the look of it, she’d given up.
Tammy and Tyson were upstairs, probably asleep. I closed my eyes, unfurled my senses, and could just barely feel them over the residual echoes of the fight.
A nagging thought wormed its way into my head. I couldn’t shake a guilty suspicion that the situation with Whisper Man had escalated because I’d come into their lives. Trouble seemed to follow behind me as surely as my wings.
Folding Halley’s papers, I tucked them into the front of my leather jacket. Then I tightened the buckle at the bottom and quietly slipped out the front door, pausing on the porch to make sure the door latched behind me. Not that locks made much difference when the bad guys just knocked out the windows when they wanted to get in.
I hesitated, wondering whether or not it was safe for Tammy and little Tyson to be left alone in the home. I might be good at attracting danger, but I also did a bang-up job of kicking its teeth in when it threatened people in my care. The Davises were on that list now—at least until this business got resolved.
The sound of a car door drew my attention to the street. A tall, slender black man in a knee-length coat of heavy gray wool slipped into a sedan parked across from the home. He gripped two steaming cups of diner coffee in his hands, and made a point of not looking in my direction. The door shut quietly behind him. He and his companion were barely visible through the glare of the streetlight on the windshield.
The guy passed a cup of coffee over to the woman behind the wheel. She took it gratefully, wrapping gloved fingers around it for warmth. It didn’t take a psychic to see they were cops.
The police were taking the break-in seriously, and I wondered what they knew that I didn’t. This kind of response wasn’t typical for a first-time home invasion. Maybe the officers expected the remaining vagrants to return to the house. Personally, I figured they were long gone.
Whatever the case, as I stepped off the front porch and cut across the yard, I didn’t envy the officers their chilly vigil. The temperature had dropped in the middle of the night, falling somewhere between arctic and the cold of deep space. The snow on the ground was frozen so thoroughly that it squeaked under my boots. As I walked, bitter gusts picked up wicked shards from the surrounding drifts, flinging them against my face. Only the whiskers saved me from the brunt of it.
The night had stilled to that point where the streets were so empty, the city felt abandoned. No one was out in this sub-arctic chill. The windows of all the houses along the street were dark, their residents dreaming safe until morning.
I stuffed my fists into the pockets of my leather jacket and headed toward Mayfield Road. The white-and-red sign for Mama
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