Read Online The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón - Free Book Online Page A

thousand duros? Money means nothing to me. You set the price.'
     
    'I've already told you: it's not for sale, and I don't have it,' I replied. 'You've made a mistake, you see.'
     
    The stranger remained silent and motionless, enveloped in the blue smoke of a cigarette that never seemed to go out. I realized he didn't smell of tobacco, but of burned paper. Good paper, the sort used for books.
     
    'Perhaps you're the one who's making a mistake now,' he suggested.
     
    'Are you threatening me?'
     
    'Probably.'
     
    I gulped. Despite my bravado, the man frightened me.
     
    'May I ask why you are so interested?'
     
    'That's my business.'
     
    'Mine too, if you are threatening me about a book I don't have.'
     
    'I like you, Daniel. You've got guts, and you seem bright. A thousand duros? With that you could buy a huge amount of books. Good books, not that rubbish you guard with such zeal. Come on, a thousand duros and we'll remain friends.'
     
    'You and I are not friends.'
     
    'Yes we are, you just haven't realized it yet. I don't blame you, with so much on your mind. Your friend Clara, for instance. A woman like that .. . anyone could lose his senses.'
     
    The mention of Clara's name froze the blood in my veins. 'What do you know about Clara?'
     
    'I dare say I know more than you, and that you'd do best to forget her, although I know you won't. I have been sixteen too.
     
    Suddenly a terribly certainty hit me. That man was the anonymous stranger who pestered Clara in the street. He was real. Clara had not lied. The man took a step forward. I moved back. I had never been so frightened in all my life.
     
    'Clara doesn't have the book; you should know that. Don't you ever dare touch her again.'
     
    'I'm not in the least bit interested in your friend, Daniel, and one day you'll share that feeling. What I want is the book. And I'd rather obtain it by fair means, without harming anyone. Do you understand?'
     
    Unable to come up with anything better, I decided to lie through my teeth. 'Someone called Adrian Neri has it. A musician. You may have heard of him.'
     
    'Doesn't ring a bell, and that's the worst thing one can say about a musician. Are you sure you haven't invented this Adrian Neri?'
     
    'I wish I had.'
     
    'In that case, since you seem to be so close, maybe you could persuade him to return it to you. These things are easily solved between friends. Or would you rather I asked Clara?'
     
    I shook my head. 'I'll speak to Neri, but I don't think he'll give it back to me. Perhaps he doesn't even have it anymore. Anyhow, what do you want the book for? Don't tell me it's to read it.'
     
    'No. I know it by heart.'
     
    'Are you a collector?'
     
    'Something like that.'
     
    'Do you have other books by Carax?'
     
    'I've had them at some point. Julian Carax is my specialty, Daniel. I travel the world in search of his books.'
     
    'And what do you do with them if you don't read them?'
     
    The stranger made a stifled, desperate sound. It took me a while to realize that he was laughing.
     
    'The only thing that should be done with them, Daniel,' he answered.
     
    He pulled a box of matches out of his pocket. He took one and struck it. The flame showed his face for the first time. My blood froze. He had no nose, lips or eyelids. His face was nothing but a mask of black scarred skin, consumed by fire. It was the same dead skin that Clara had touched.
     
    'Burn them,' he whispered, his voice and his eyes poisoned by hate.
     
    A gust of air blew out the match he held in his fingers, and his face was once again hidden in darkness.
     
    'We'll meet again, Daniel. I never forget a face, and I don't think you will either,' he said calmly. 'For your sake, and for the sake of your friend Clara, I hope you make the right decision. Sort this thing out with Neri - a rather pretentious name. I wouldn't trust him an inch.'
     
    With that, the stranger turned around and walked off toward the docks, a shape melting into the shadows,