Read Online The Star Child (The Star Child Series) by Stephanie Keyes - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephanie Keyes
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dogs? I couldn’t recall. Odd, but it looked exactly like the dog that Gran had until last year. I pulled the curtains back into place and headed for Gran’s room, which would be my new bedroom. It was the larger of the two rooms, so logically it made sense; personally I’d chosen it because it allowed me to feel closer to Gran.
***
Opening the closet, I looked around for a place to put some of my clothes. It was overflowing with Gran’s things. When I pushed one of her robes aside, I noticed a small storage box, filled with black journals. Now where had I seen those before?
My eyes flashed to the journal on the nightstand and back again. Crouching down, I looked more closely into the organizer; the journals were labeled by year. I couldn’t believe that Gran kept these. Though Gran was gone, it somehow seemed like an invasion of privacy. I hadn’t even opened them up and I felt ashamed, as if looking at the journal bindings was akin to reading the contents. Yet there was a part of me that realized the books could tell me more about my mother.
Without thinking, I skimmed the bindings of each book until I found the one marked 2000. That was the year my mother had died and the year that I met Calienta. Heart thudding, I sat down on the bed and began to read.
I can’t believe they got to him. I wonder if he’s been touched, talking about the Star Child. I had Katie from the village come over and perform a protection rite on the house the next morning, before anyone was about. Maybe I was imagining it, but I thought I saw Cabhan when I stood with Kellen on the porch.
It was the last statement that bothered me the most. Hadn’t I recalled that same moment on the way to Stephen’s? I thought I saw someone that night too, and I was sure that I’d seen him before and since. Who this Cabhan was or what it meant, I had no idea. I’d have to read more of the journals and try to find some other clues. When I finally managed to close my eyes, I slept fitfully, despite my exhaustion, and I dreamed of my mother, imagining her as the one on the perimeter of my eyesight last night.
CHAPTER FIVE
ADDISON
I woke up groggily at seven-thirty a.m. So this was what a hangover felt like. After sucking down some coffee, I added some of the scones that were left for me onto a plate. On the table was the package that Alistair had given me. There were things inside that I should read, but—as an exercise in avoidance—I headed up to Gran's bedroom and started immediately organizing things instead. The envelope could wait.
By about ten o'clock, I had everything sorted into “keep”, “throw out”, or “give away” piles, and further organized them by “clothing”, “personal items”, and “household items”. The room was fairly clean, but the smell reminded me too much of Gran. Opening the windows to clear the air, I stripped the bedding and bundled up the towels, taking everything with me to the laundry room.
Doing the laundry was an experience. Gran had a modern washer and dryer, along with an adequate supply of detergent, so at least I had everything there that I needed. The mechanics behind the laundry process were basic, but I wasn’t necessarily skilled in the execution. Sorting the laundry didn’t work out exactly as I planned. Somehow, Gran’s red apron ended up in the load with the bedding.
Regardless, when the load was run, the room had a chance to air out, and the fresh pink linens were placed on the bed, the room seemed more my own, though that revelation didn’t bring me any measure of happiness. The pink sheets weren’t helping, either.
Shutting the windows, I placed the remainder of Gran’s things into garbage bags and headed downstairs. There was more to do, certainly, but completing these tasks made me feel less edgy. It also increased my appetite. Hungry, I went off in search of lunch. As I headed into the kitchen, I finally grabbed the large manila envelope that had
***
Opening the closet, I looked around for a place to put some of my clothes. It was overflowing with Gran’s things. When I pushed one of her robes aside, I noticed a small storage box, filled with black journals. Now where had I seen those before?
My eyes flashed to the journal on the nightstand and back again. Crouching down, I looked more closely into the organizer; the journals were labeled by year. I couldn’t believe that Gran kept these. Though Gran was gone, it somehow seemed like an invasion of privacy. I hadn’t even opened them up and I felt ashamed, as if looking at the journal bindings was akin to reading the contents. Yet there was a part of me that realized the books could tell me more about my mother.
Without thinking, I skimmed the bindings of each book until I found the one marked 2000. That was the year my mother had died and the year that I met Calienta. Heart thudding, I sat down on the bed and began to read.
I can’t believe they got to him. I wonder if he’s been touched, talking about the Star Child. I had Katie from the village come over and perform a protection rite on the house the next morning, before anyone was about. Maybe I was imagining it, but I thought I saw Cabhan when I stood with Kellen on the porch.
It was the last statement that bothered me the most. Hadn’t I recalled that same moment on the way to Stephen’s? I thought I saw someone that night too, and I was sure that I’d seen him before and since. Who this Cabhan was or what it meant, I had no idea. I’d have to read more of the journals and try to find some other clues. When I finally managed to close my eyes, I slept fitfully, despite my exhaustion, and I dreamed of my mother, imagining her as the one on the perimeter of my eyesight last night.
CHAPTER FIVE
ADDISON
I woke up groggily at seven-thirty a.m. So this was what a hangover felt like. After sucking down some coffee, I added some of the scones that were left for me onto a plate. On the table was the package that Alistair had given me. There were things inside that I should read, but—as an exercise in avoidance—I headed up to Gran's bedroom and started immediately organizing things instead. The envelope could wait.
By about ten o'clock, I had everything sorted into “keep”, “throw out”, or “give away” piles, and further organized them by “clothing”, “personal items”, and “household items”. The room was fairly clean, but the smell reminded me too much of Gran. Opening the windows to clear the air, I stripped the bedding and bundled up the towels, taking everything with me to the laundry room.
Doing the laundry was an experience. Gran had a modern washer and dryer, along with an adequate supply of detergent, so at least I had everything there that I needed. The mechanics behind the laundry process were basic, but I wasn’t necessarily skilled in the execution. Sorting the laundry didn’t work out exactly as I planned. Somehow, Gran’s red apron ended up in the load with the bedding.
Regardless, when the load was run, the room had a chance to air out, and the fresh pink linens were placed on the bed, the room seemed more my own, though that revelation didn’t bring me any measure of happiness. The pink sheets weren’t helping, either.
Shutting the windows, I placed the remainder of Gran’s things into garbage bags and headed downstairs. There was more to do, certainly, but completing these tasks made me feel less edgy. It also increased my appetite. Hungry, I went off in search of lunch. As I headed into the kitchen, I finally grabbed the large manila envelope that had
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