Cloud Riders Read Online Free PDF Page B

found himself turned onto his back and plopped to the ground, one of Harry's hands pushing on his chest to hold him down, Paul again the defeated wrestler. The ritual always ended in the same way, his dad's move quick and almost embarrassingly easy for him to accomplish.
    "One is never defeated when one keeps trying,” Harry said.
    Sure, like Paul would ever be the one to do the pinning. Maybe if he could get the unicorn cloud of his dad's to come down and help him. Use his horn to pin him to the ground while Paul's horse on steroids came to sit on his legs.
    "There will come a day when you will understand just how important the cloud shapes are, Son.” He allowed Paul to sit back up and gave his shoulder a friendly slap, but his expression implied seriousness beyond their banter. “But we have to leave that for another day."
    Paul and Harry returned home late in the afternoon and met his mother at the entrance, white-faced and distressed.
    "Paul, could you please leave your father and me alone for a few minutes?” Betty asked in an urgent voice. “I need to talk to your father.” Her lips flashed a smile which didn't quite work.
    Harry's nod toward Paul made it an order.
    "Okay. I'll go up and talk to Vicki."
    "She's not there,” Betty said.
    Paul climbed the stairs and checked Vicki's room. The late afternoon sunlight lit up her bedroom, a floodlight illuminating her absence. Her computer screen was blank, television turned off, and her cell phone abandoned next to it. He closed the door quietly, as if not wanting anyone to hear.
    In his room, his stomach squeezed; a scared feeling taking over his day. Vicki and his parents smiled down from the photograph above his desk.
    "Son, I'm coming in.” Harry Winsome knocked once, opened the door and strode in. The expression on his face almost matched the one his mother wore earlier. He pushed a folded piece of paper toward Paul. Its yellow tinge made it look quite old.
    Paul almost ripped it in his rush to unfold it. The note was handwritten with script as precise as the writing examples posted in his English class.
    Paul Winsome.
    Come at once.
    Yours in wisdom,
    Maken Fairchild.
    "The guy in the haunted house?” Paul's voice and eyes pleaded. “Dad?"
    "Vicki is missing, Son,” Harry said, lines of worry creasing his brow and the skin around his eyes.
    "Does this Maken Fairchild have her?” Paul jumped to his feet. “Does he?” He felt ready to tackle a bear. “Shouldn't you call the police, Dad? Do you think she went into the forest?” His voice vibrated with panic. “How come this note is so old?” He stared at it, then back to Harry, then back at the writing. The words remained the same.
    "Paul, listen carefully.” Harry placed a hand on his shoulder. “You asked this afternoon, if there was more. The time has arrived to teach you about entering a period in your life which will test everything you accept as reality."
    "Is that why you don't call the police?” Paul looked into his dad's eyes. “If the guy in that haunted old house has her, the police have guns and stuff.” He stared directly into Harry's eyes. “Dad, it's Vicki."
    "You need to go to the mansion at once and make yourself available to Maken Fairchild. It is the only way, Son. Trust me.” Harry's gaze held Paul with an intenseness he had seldom seen before. “It's a test I went through when I was fifteen. It is a calling which cannot be ignored. I made a mistake, Son. I assumed your lesson would come—"
    "But, I'm only fourteen,” Paul said and immediately regretted his words. What did it matter? “Does Mother know where Vicki is?"
    "Son, if she did, your sister would be here with us. You will go to the Fairchild mansion and follow Maken Fairchild's directions.” He squeezed Paul's shoulder. “For your sister's sake, trust me. Knowledge comes to those who seek it out.” He lifted his hands, palms up, indicating helplessness Paul never saw before. “I wish I could help. Everything