Read Online Ross Lawhead by The Realms Thereunder - Free Book Online

nothing. But it’s important that we try to get back. I’ve been thinking, and I think something’s happening—something to do with what we did. I’ve been seeing, I don’t know, signs . If we went back, we could ask what they mean.” Daniel leaned in. In a low voice he said, “I killed a . . . a you-know-what two weeks ago. I think I’ve seen more of them around. I think I’m being followed. I’ve seen shapes on rooftops.”
    Daniel studied Freya’s face for a reaction. There wasn’t one— she was still frowning—but her face seemed harder somehow, stiffer. “That’s not funny.”
    â€œFreya . . . I think—I think there are things still left to do.
    We’re not done. Look,” he said, drawing his notebook out of his jacket pocket. “Remember what Modwyn said about evil invading the country? I’ve been keeping a log of the bad things that have happened in Oxford—just in Oxford—in the last eight weeks. See, look at this chart.”
    Freya closed her eyes. Her stomach was queasy. She felt like she was in a very small space with tall walls that were quickly deteriorating, and behind those walls, an ocean of fear that would come flooding through at any moment. She knew Daniel was still talking, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. He had to stop—he had to.
    â€œShut up,” she said, in a small voice.
    â€œâ€”where we came out. That wasn’t an enchanted site. We find Alexander Simpson again—”
    â€œShut up—shut up. I said SHUT UP!” Freya violently slapped the table several times with the palm of her hand. Then she leaned over the table, buried her face in her hands, and started sobbing.
    Daniel fell silent, as did the entire café. Eyes turned towards them, concerned.
    Daniel looked around and smiled. The manager scowled at him from behind the counter. His look said that although a homeless man was tolerated here, so long as he paid—homeless men who disturbed his customers most certainly were not. Palms outwards, Daniel slowly pushed his chair back and rose.
    â€œYou know,” Daniel said as he slid past Freya, “if you ever wanted anyone to talk to, you could have talked to me.”
    Daniel pushed through the door and headed out into the evening rain.
    Freya sat guiltily, fidgeting with one of her books. Then she abruptly stood and chased after Daniel.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to yell. It just all came back really quickly.” She stood there, shivering in the sleet without her jacket. Her arms were wrapped around her stomach, as she hunched her shoulders against the cold. The gentle shower fell on her face, making it slick, wet. She lifted a hand to brush a bead of water from her brow.
    â€œThat’s alright,” Daniel said. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
    â€œListen, I’ve got to do something tomorrow. Do you mind if we meet the day after? We can talk about whatever you want to then.”
    â€œI suppose that would be alright.”
    â€œThere’s a church in Summertown near where I live—St.
    Michael and All Angels. Can you be there at four? So we can miss the twilight?”
    â€œYes, okay. I’ll see you then.”
    â€œOkay, see you then.”
    Freya left and entered the coffee shop again, hardly aware that her compulsions seemed to leave her when she was around Daniel.
    2
    Robin Ploughwright, Lord of the Boggy Marshes and eighteenth Earl of Shotover Hill—a portly, rotund figure—pulled a pocket watch from his large purple waistcoat and marked the time. Even though the sky was overcast, light from the setting sun reflected upon the casing and threw a ray of golden-red upon his round face. He squinted one eye at it, then closed the antique up and deposited it back into his pocket.
    Not much longer now. The street that he stood on did not technically have a name but