Dark Companion Read Online Free PDF Page A

candles out here, maybe for a hook-up or nighttime barbecue.
    The sky above cleared for a moment and sunlight flickered through the moving branches. I thought I saw something, someone, but it was only the shadows of the branches dancing in the breeze.
    I stood and continued staring up, losing myself in the swaying branches that sounded shush shush shush like brushes against the sky. I walked slowly while gazing upward, almost hypnotized, when a loud crunching noise ripped me out of my daydream. I twirled around to see a bicycle hurtling straight at me.
    “Look out!” the rider shouted as he swerved to avoid hitting me. His tires skidded on leaves and loose soil and slid sideways, and he went flying off the bike, tumbling into the underbrush.
    I ran to him. “Are you all right?”
    The rider was sprawled on the ground. He lifted his head and I saw a tangle of long dark curls and a scruff of beard. He wore khaki shorts and a gray t-shirt. A silver chain around his neck dipped beneath the collar of his shirt.
    I studied him while he sat up. He glared at his bike and cursed it. His hair was the bittersweet chocolate shade between brown and black. He had strong features and thick straight eyebrows over wide green eyes with lush black eyelashes. His body was sturdy and muscled, from his broad shoulders to his sun-browned calves.
    “You came out of nowhere,” he said, grimacing as he stood. He was about a head taller than I was, more if I counted the wild curls, which had bits of twigs and leaves from his tumble. He leaned to one side, then swiped the dirt from the torn skin on his leg, exposing long, bloody scratches.
    “Are you hurt? I can get help.”
    “First you try to kill me, now you offer help.”
    “You were the one going too fast!”
    “Going too fast is the whole point. Get my bike for me.”
    I narrowed my eyes at the stranger. “You have a lot of attitude for someone who nearly ran me over.”
    He made a face and I couldn’t tell if he was sneering at me or wincing in pain, but he finally said, “ Please get my bike for me.”
    “Okay then.”
    As I picked up his mountain bike, he asked, “What the hell are you doing out here?”
    “What business is it of yours?” I held on to the bike, ready to push it down the slope. “I live here. You’re the one who doesn’t belong at a girls’ school.”
    “You’re awfully touchy for someone who tried to kill me. Birch Grove is a day school and it’s still on summer break.”
    “That shows how much you know. I moved into the cottage.”
    “So a pixie is living in the fairy-tale cottage.” When he tossed back his head, his curls bounced and his laugh boomed in the quiet grove. “Okay, you live in the cottage, but that still doesn’t explain why you’re up this way. Where were you going?”
    “You ax a lot of questions,” I snapped, and flushed with embarrassment. “I meant, you ask a lot of questions. I was exploring the grounds and thinking of walking up to Mrs. Radcliffe’s house. She’s the headmistress.”
    “Have you met the Radcliffe family yet?”
    “Why do you care?” I stared at him and he stared back. The contrast of his black lashes with his green eyes made them luminous. We stood motionless as the trees rustled and birds called out.
    He broke first. “We’re not going to get anywhere if you keep answering questions with questions.”
    “I don’t want to get anywhere with you!” I blushed again because it came out wrong, and he grinned lopsidedly. “I mean, I don’t have to answer any of your questions and I don’t know why you’re grilling me.”
    “I’m not grilling you. We’re having a conversation. That’s a friendly exchange of information, you know, saying things and asking and answering questions. ‘How are you doing?’ ‘Fine, I was enjoying my afternoon walk in the woods. How are you doing?’ Don’t you have friendly conversations where you come from?”
    I scowled, but he kept waiting for an answer, so