Abby the Witch Read Online Free PDF Page B

morning were giving way to an almost heady
knowledge that this was right . Yes, she should be
out here looking for someone. Charlie was wrong; this wouldn't lead
to adventure… all she was going to do was save someone….
    After a while
Abby found herself on the familiar wide boulevard of Esquire
Street. She hadn't planned on stopping for long, but had run along
half the street only to find a sodden figure standing propped
against the wall.
    Abby had
approached the figure warily, not wanting whoever it was to be
scared off by the black cat and broom, but within metres she'd
recognised Mrs Hunter. The old dame was standing against her own
stonewall, looking up into the swirling clouds, her clothes and
hair drenched.
    'Mrs Hunter?'
Water dribbled off Abby's lips as she spoke. 'What are you doing
out in the rain?' Abby had to shout against a sudden powerful blast
of wind.
    Mrs Hunter
lazily shifted her eyes to Abby. 'Pembrake,' she said softly, 'he's
in trouble… I can hear him.'
    Abby reeled
back on her feet as if she'd been burnt, and she could feel the
prickle of Charlie's fur as it stood completely on end. Magic was
crackling around Mrs Hunter and hissing as the rain slammed down
from above.
    Without
stopping to think, Abby guided Mrs Hunter back up her garden path
and through the swinging open door. She had to get off the street
before someone saw them, before someone raised the alarm and called
the Guards.
    It wasn't
until she'd locked the door behind them that Abby let the surprise
shake through to her bones. Her mouth was so dry from the shock
that it felt like her tongue was grating past sandpaper.
    Abby did not
know much about magical talismans, she had to admit. After all,
very few still existed, especially in Bridgestock of all
places. But Ms Crowthy had still taught the young Abby how to
identify the effects of a proper talisman – how to read the aura
that it gave its user, how to understand the signs and symbols that
would appear at their feet.
    So with her
head turgid from a strange tingle as if she had been struck hard on
the skull, Abby looked at Mrs Hunter square on. The old lady was
standing perfectly still, staring up at the ceiling as if she could
see straight through it and out at the rolling clouds above. Her
eyes were darting quickly from the left to the right, as if she
were watching a scene of theatre, or trying to keep a vast panorama
in her sights all at once.
    Abby looked
down at Mrs Hunter's hands and, sure enough, they were gripped over
some object with white knuckled pressure.
    'Abby,'
Charlie croaked, 'what's happening to her?'
    Abby moved
forward very carefully. There was nothing for it; she would just
have to do it. 'Get down, Charlie, 'she released him from her
grip.
    'Abby, you
can't just pull it out of her hands!'
    Abby ignored
his warning and within another second had closed her hands over Mrs
Hunter's. She pried them open to reveal a bracelet with stone
beads.
    She grabbed
it.
    A crack in the
mast so deep that is would surely break! And the winds, so terrible
and quick, so biting and powerful that the waves were thrashing
with murderous ferocity. They could never survive, they would
surely all die. The Captain, the crew – all of them were done
for.
    The wood
beneath his feet was cracking up around him like a giant clawed
hand clutching up from the depths. If he didn't impale on the
shards of wood, then the icy sea would drown him for sure-
    'Abby!'
Charlie had launched himself at her, clamping his mouth so fiercely
over her wrist that his teeth drew blood.
    Abby dropped
the bracelet and gasped, reeling backwards towards the wall till
she came up sharply against it.
    'Abby, what is
that thing?' Charlie was low to the ground and sniffing very
carefully at the stone bracelet in the middle of the hallway.
    She had been
in another person's mind, Abby realised with a terrible shiver. She
had seen through the eyes of man: watched the terrible and
unrelenting storm as he stood on the