Read Online Secret of the Giants' Staircase by Amy Lynn Green - Free Book Online Page A

figure running down the hill toward the swamps. Now Jesse began to worry. What if they made camp on the other side of the city? My voice can’t carry that far. But they’ll come looking for me when they realize I’m missing…won’t they?
    The fear of being left in the swamp all night made Jesse struggle against the tar pit again, stopping his thrashing and kicking to shout for help every now and then.
    I should never have left, he repeated over and over . Should never have gone off on my own. Why do I always try to be the hero?
    â€œHello down there,” a cheerful voice behind him called. It wasn’t Silas, Parvel or Rae. Jesse was sure of it. He craned his head around, which was easier than trying to move his whole body.
    The person on the bank was little more than a boy, with flaming red hair that looked like someone had set it on fire. He knelt on the ground, reaching his arm toward Jesse. “You’re just out of reach,” he said. “That’s too bad. I was hoping this would be easy.”
    â€œWho are you?” Jesse demanded. He doubted someone so young would be an enemy, but he had learned from Silas that it never hurt to be cautious.
    â€œMy name’s Owen,” the boy said.
    Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jesse knew that name sounded familiar. The Book. He’s one of the members of the missing squad! But where are the others?
    As exciting as the realization was, there was a more important question to ask. “Can you get me out of here?”
    â€œDon’t know,” Owen said, cocking his head slightly. “But I can sure try.” He frowned, reaching down and sticking his finger in the tar. “Your clothes are going to be ruined, though.”
    â€œMy mother always told me not to play in the swamp tar pits in my good clothes,” Jesse said dryly.
    Owen laughed out loud. “You’re funny.”
    At the moment, Jesse didn’t feel funny—more like hot, tired, and sticky—but he didn’t argue.
    â€œNow, if I can just find a rope or a stick…” Owen said, looking around.
    â€œI have a stick!” Jesse said. It took a mighty yank, but he managed to pull his staff out of the tar and wave it in the air.
    Owen paused. “That’s nice. You practically rescue yourself.” He lay down on the ground near the pit. “So you don’t pull me in,” he explained. “That would be a little messy. All right, I’m going to pull you over to the bank, then up and out.”
    Jesse made sure to hold the end with the knob, to give himself a better grip. Owen took the other end and gave it a good yank. For such a small fellow, he had a strong pull. Still, Jesse barely moved forward. The tar didn’t want to give up its prisoner.
    â€œAwful sticky, this stuff,” Owen said, almost apologetically. “The muck of doom, I call it.” He gave the staff another yank. This time Jesse barely managed to hang on to his staff, and still he was too far away from the edge.
    â€œOwen!” a distant voice called. A girl’s voice.
    Owen closed his eyes and muttered something to himself. “They’re coming,” he said to Jesse, a look of dread on his face.
    â€œI’m in a tar pit,” Jesse pointed out. “How much worse could it be?” Even his voice sounded squeezed and forced after the exertion of fighting the tar.
    â€œYou haven’t met Nero and Talia,” Owen said in a low tone. “Sure you don’t want to duck under that tar for a bit?”
    Jesse shook his head, one part of his body he could still move easily.
    Owen shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He raised his voice. “Nero! Talia! Give me a hand, will you?”
    Jesse had a suspicion that he was going to meet the other missing squad members. But there are only three. Don’t all squads have four members?
    Two sets of footsteps, soft against the moss. The newcomers came from behind Jesse,