Read Online Out of the Dark (The Brethren Series) by Sara Reinke - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sara Reinke
Ads: Link
wouldn’t he go by the Davenant name ? she wondered. And why a New York license? An Upper East Side address was listed. Was it Aaron’s? Was that why Augustus hadn’t recognized him—because he’d lived in Manhattan?
Although she’d not-so-secretly enjoyed the fact that this clearly baffled—and aggravated— Augustus, she still found herself puzzled. I thought Eleanor told me once that the Brethren in Kentucky weren’t allowed to leave the farms.
In the center compartment, she found an iPhone, but the touchscreen was locked with a four-digit pin number required for access. A pair of wired earbuds lay in a tangled heap alongside of it, with a thicker cable, a recharger, beneath these. There was also a leather pouch with a zippered seam: a shaving kit. Inside, she found a slim electric razor and charging cable, a toothbrush in a plastic traveling case, a travel-sized tube of Colgate toothpaste, dental floss, Q-tips, and curiously, what looked like an old necklace.
Her heart stopped as she lifted this last and watched the glove box’s dim light reflect off the tarnished silver pendant, which featured the figure of a man carrying a child on his shoulder, a walking stick in his free hand. Engraved in the silver, encircling the figures, were the words: Behold St. Christopher and Go Your Way in Safety.
“Take this.”
She remembered Aaron gasping those words to her in a rush as he’d pressed the necklace between her hands. It had been October 12, 1815, the night Lamar Davenant had tried to murder her entire family.
She’d been beyond hysterical, naked, shuddering, aching and bloody as Aaron had rushed with her from Lamar’s library. She’d heard music from the second floor of the house, and heavy footsteps stomping rhythmically on the floorboards; a party of some sort had been underway, and indeed, Aaron had been dressed for such an occasion, in a ruffled linen shirt and velvet jacket. He paused long enough to duck into one of the first floor bedrooms and out again with something in his hand, a dress from one of his sisters’ wardrobes. Then, catching her hand, he’d pulled her again in stumbling tow, this time to a small doorway hidden behind the staircase that led down into a secret cellar, and from there, a network of tunnels known as the Beneath that had been originally designed as escape routes in the event of Indian attacks.
A s she stood before him at the top of those stairs, trembling, he’d pulled his sister’s clothes over her head, dressing her as he might have a helpless child. When he gave her the silver chain and Saint Christopher’s medal, she’d simply blinked at it, tearful, terrfied and confused.
“You’ll need it,” he told her, buttoning the front of the dress closed across her breasts, his fingers clumsy, as she blinked, bewildered, down at the pendant. “It’s silver. You can trade it for money, for passage, or food. Here…”
He’d left her for a moment, turning and running back the way they’d come. She shied back, frightened, against the wall, listening to the deceptive good cheer going on only a few feet above her head, the sounds of singing, laughter and dancing. She was so distracted by it, her heart hammering, she didn’t hear Aaron return, and she uttered a frightened cry when he ran around the corner.
“Here…” He had a kerchief cradled between his hands. In it, he’d put a small round loaf of bread, a pair of apples. “I brought a lantern, too. You can light your way through the tunnels. Just keep going to your left, even if the path forks. Julien says that’s the way out.”
"Come with me," she whispered as he handed her the little bundle, and leaned over to tie the kerchief tails snugly together.
H is expression grew agonized. "I can't."
"He'll kill you," she pleaded, meaning Lamar. " Please, Aaron. If he finds out what you've done, he'll..."
Her voice cut short as he stroked his hand down the side of her face, sweetly. "Hush now," he whispered.
Although she’d not-so-secretly enjoyed the fact that this clearly baffled—and aggravated— Augustus, she still found herself puzzled. I thought Eleanor told me once that the Brethren in Kentucky weren’t allowed to leave the farms.
In the center compartment, she found an iPhone, but the touchscreen was locked with a four-digit pin number required for access. A pair of wired earbuds lay in a tangled heap alongside of it, with a thicker cable, a recharger, beneath these. There was also a leather pouch with a zippered seam: a shaving kit. Inside, she found a slim electric razor and charging cable, a toothbrush in a plastic traveling case, a travel-sized tube of Colgate toothpaste, dental floss, Q-tips, and curiously, what looked like an old necklace.
Her heart stopped as she lifted this last and watched the glove box’s dim light reflect off the tarnished silver pendant, which featured the figure of a man carrying a child on his shoulder, a walking stick in his free hand. Engraved in the silver, encircling the figures, were the words: Behold St. Christopher and Go Your Way in Safety.
“Take this.”
She remembered Aaron gasping those words to her in a rush as he’d pressed the necklace between her hands. It had been October 12, 1815, the night Lamar Davenant had tried to murder her entire family.
She’d been beyond hysterical, naked, shuddering, aching and bloody as Aaron had rushed with her from Lamar’s library. She’d heard music from the second floor of the house, and heavy footsteps stomping rhythmically on the floorboards; a party of some sort had been underway, and indeed, Aaron had been dressed for such an occasion, in a ruffled linen shirt and velvet jacket. He paused long enough to duck into one of the first floor bedrooms and out again with something in his hand, a dress from one of his sisters’ wardrobes. Then, catching her hand, he’d pulled her again in stumbling tow, this time to a small doorway hidden behind the staircase that led down into a secret cellar, and from there, a network of tunnels known as the Beneath that had been originally designed as escape routes in the event of Indian attacks.
A s she stood before him at the top of those stairs, trembling, he’d pulled his sister’s clothes over her head, dressing her as he might have a helpless child. When he gave her the silver chain and Saint Christopher’s medal, she’d simply blinked at it, tearful, terrfied and confused.
“You’ll need it,” he told her, buttoning the front of the dress closed across her breasts, his fingers clumsy, as she blinked, bewildered, down at the pendant. “It’s silver. You can trade it for money, for passage, or food. Here…”
He’d left her for a moment, turning and running back the way they’d come. She shied back, frightened, against the wall, listening to the deceptive good cheer going on only a few feet above her head, the sounds of singing, laughter and dancing. She was so distracted by it, her heart hammering, she didn’t hear Aaron return, and she uttered a frightened cry when he ran around the corner.
“Here…” He had a kerchief cradled between his hands. In it, he’d put a small round loaf of bread, a pair of apples. “I brought a lantern, too. You can light your way through the tunnels. Just keep going to your left, even if the path forks. Julien says that’s the way out.”
"Come with me," she whispered as he handed her the little bundle, and leaned over to tie the kerchief tails snugly together.
H is expression grew agonized. "I can't."
"He'll kill you," she pleaded, meaning Lamar. " Please, Aaron. If he finds out what you've done, he'll..."
Her voice cut short as he stroked his hand down the side of her face, sweetly. "Hush now," he whispered.
Similar Books
