Feral Curse Read Online Free PDF Page B

grounds ahead and the tall woodsy hill behind me. Checking my digital watch, I see that no real time has passed since I left Grams’s antiques mall. Whatever happened, it was instantaneous. Or my watch is malfunctioning.
    Where am I? With pained steps, I take another look at the carousel. I pull the tarp partially back up again and am struck by the sheer strangeness that the ride has been turned into a sort of giant picture frame featuring huge images — taller than me — all of the same guy.
    He’s young . . . I’m guessing about my age . . . dressed for football, for baseball, in a crown of thorns and a saintly white robe, and, finally, in a graduation cap and gown.
    I draw my phone from my back jeans pocket and confirm the time reading on my watch. Then, using GPS, I locate myself, spitting distance from Main Street in Pine Ridge, Texas, which apparently is about an hour southeast of Austin.
    Damn. Glancing around, I spot the lights at the top of the ridge and a long concrete staircase leading up. The ringing in my ears has faded. Now I can hear not only the music but also voices talking from above as well as flowing water and the honking of a goose down here.
    Geese? And wood ducks. Yeah, there’s a river over there, reduced to a stream by the drought. And a highway beyond that.
    Lacking any better ideas, I call my best friend, Aimee, also known as She Who Cracked My Heart — not that best-friendship is a bad consolation prize. I know she’s working tonight, but it’s either her or Ruby, who’s out with my grandmother. I’ll be in enough trouble when Grams finds out I left Austin Antiques unlocked and unattended. No need to rush that.
    When Aimee answers, I say, “You know our pact to give a shout out if we ever find ourselves kidnapped, beaten up, or somehow targeted by the mysterious supernatural?”
    “As opposed to the regular, run-of-the-mill supernatural?” Over the clangs and shouts of the restaurant kitchen, I hear her say, “Clyde, cover for me. It’s Yoshi.”
    I’m sure he’s thrilled to hear it. Clyde is her boyfriend. They have part-time jobs as dishwashers at Sanguini’s on South Congress. He and I aren’t best pals, but we play nice for her sake. Usually.
    “Start talking,” she tells me. “Start with you. Do you still have a pulse?”
    I can imagine her bustling out of the commercial kitchen, fielding the call in the rear parking lot. “I think I’m all right,” I reply. “Nothing’s bleeding or broken.” My nose is still spotting, but it’s not bad.
    I catch sight of a middle-aged lady. She’s jogging this way on the river walk, wearing earbuds, and, under her breath, singing along to an early Carrie Underwood song.
    Hiding behind one of the enormous mounted photographs, I whisper what I know so far.
    Aimee exclaims, “You beamed an hour away?”
    “‘Beamed’?” I reply.
    “Teleported,” she clarifies. “Like with a transporter from
Star Trek.
Only since this isn’t the twenty-third century, we’re definitely talking magic.”
    I laugh. “Yeah, I already figured that much out.”
    After a pause to digest the situation, she adds, “I can cut out of here if I have to. Do you want me to come and pick you up?”
    “Isn’t your dad in town this weekend?” Aimee’s been going on about his visit for weeks.
    “No.” Her voice sounds tight. “He canceled again. Something about media training at work. On the upside, he’s finally sending child support and he’s caught up on all of his back payments.” She sighs. “Really, Yoshi, it’s no big deal. I can tell my manager I’m leaving now.”
    Aimee’s only a sophomore. She doesn’t have a car, but she could borrow one or pick up mine at Grams’s antiques-mall parking lot. Months ago I gave Aimee my extra set of keys in case of an emergency. This more than qualifies, except . . . “Have you ever driven on a highway?”
    “Technically, no, but I have tons of experience asking for rides.”
    Right then, a tiny