Read Online Unholy Rites by Kay Stewart, Chris Bullock - Free Book Online

roses in your cheeks.” Eric reached out with his free hand and pinched Stephen’s cheek, like his mum did sometimes, only with Eric it hurt.
    â€œStop it!” he screamed.
    From downstairs his dad bellowed, “Shut your traps or I’ll come sort you both out.”
    Eric shoved Happy into his jacket pocket and headed down the stairs. “It’s nothing, Dad, we’re just going out for a bit, okay?”
    â€œEric, remember what Mr. Clough said,” his mum called. “What if he comes back early?”
    Stephen stumbled after his brother, sick with worry. What if Happy fell out of Eric’s pocket, or jumped out and ran away? Mrs. Rosson would keep him in at recess for a month. Maybe she wouldn’t let him do the maypole dances for the well dressing.
    Eric, already halfway out the door, yelled over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, Mum, we’ll be back in a tick.”
    â€œThen put on your wellies,” their mum cried, but it was too late.
    When they reached the pavement, Eric turned to him. “See, nothing to it. What you have to remember is that parents don’t really want their kids around, they just pretend they do. If you just leave, you’ll make everybody happy.” He patted his jacket pocket. “No pun intended, rat face.”
    Stephen followed Eric around the station and down to the river, where they picked up the footpath used by the fishing club in season. The footpath was muddy, flooded in places by rain and melting snow, and Stephen wished he’d worn his wellies, it would take forever to clean his trainers. Not to mention the good trousers he’d worn to church and forgotten to change.
    â€œRemember now, we’re going west, towards Chee Tor,” Eric said. “As soon as we cross the footbridge, we’ll double back along the other side of the river.”
    All his life Stephen had been warned to stay away from the river in the spring, and now he understood why. The river raced along only inches below the footbridge. He kept close behind Eric so that he could grab hold if it suddenly washed away. When they were safely over Eric hurried ahead and then stopped. When Stephen caught up, Eric was leaning against a gnarled tree with an oddly broken limb.
    â€œWatch for this tree,” he said. “The rocks are just ahead.” He set off again.
    Stephen had to catch his breath. Something rustled in the bushes, and dark clouds blotted out the sun. What was he doing here? He wanted to go home. But Eric was somewhere ahead, and Eric had Happy. Stephen sped after him.
    Something leaped out of the bushes in front of him. He screamed before he realized it was Eric, hooting with laughter.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, baby brother, it isn’t even dark yet.”
    â€œWhere’s Happy?”
    Eric patted his jacket pocket. “Don’t you worry, he’s right here. C’mon, it’s just ahead.”
    Soon they came upon a rocky outcrop. “This is it,” Eric said.
    â€œI don’t see any cave,” Stephen said.
    â€œOf course not, dummy. You don’t think I’d take you where the Grand Master does his rituals. Only his acolyte is allowed to enter the cave, and that’s me,” Eric said.
    This was sounding more interesting. “What kind of rituals?”
    â€œOh, you know, like magic spells and stuff. Spells to protect him against his enemies. We light candles, and the light dances around the walls of the cave. Too scary for you, scaredy-cat. Now watch, and I’ll show you what to do.” Eric took out a plastic bag and began emptying his pockets into it: the folded paper, some loose cigarettes, one of their mum’s napkins wrapped around what looked to be roast beef and a bun. Stephen eyed the napkin hungrily, knowing better than to ask.
    Happy squeaked and Eric asked, “Shall I put rat face in too?” Stephen grabbed at Eric’s pocket. Eric batted his hand away.