Fly by Midnight Read Online Free PDF Page B

out.
    “I’m headed to the council building for a quick chat with Harper. I’ll be back soon.” Honora zipped up her cherry-red flying jacket, matched with a pair of black pants, black aviator cap, and goggles. She popped the window latch and stepped out onto the ledge.
    “I’ll visit the archives to see what else I can dig up. Then I’ll head over to the public records,” Sawyer said as Honora stepped off the edge. “I’ll never get used to seeing you walk out of the window.” He grinned with wide-eyed appreciation.
    Her body floated on air. She lifted her chest and ascended to about fifty feet above the Silver Train track. She was only going a few blocks, so she stayed in a sight line of the traffic below her. Even though her office was in a building across the street from the council building, she still had to fly down the block to enter from the front.
    There were rules to flying, especially in Stargazer City. The council took midair collisions seriously. Within the city, the transportation system consisted of commuter walkways, hovercraft lanes, and the train system. A flyer couldn’t just take flight and zoom around wherever she liked. Flyers weren’t allowed to fly in or near traffic—they had to fly at least twenty feet above the Silver Train System, sticking to the upper skies. Most flyers liked it that way, preferring to stay high above the bustling streets below.
    The council building had always been a favorite place to visit when Honora was young. The arched stone room containing a bronze statue of Hazel Meriwether was awe-inspiring. The most famous witch in Everland, the mother to them all, she was immortalized, standing guard with one palm outstretched in welcome and the other hand held up flat, as if stopping those who would advance against her—a sign of both strength and protection.
    The origin story of Everland had been passed down for generations. Hazel had been born a young witch in the dark ages of man. A sinister tyrant had emerged in those troubled times, calling himself the Black Bishop, and he ruled over the land with an iron fist, ridding the countryside of unexplainable acts deemed witchcraft and the women who performed them. A powerful healer and midwife in her village, Hazel saved many lives, but when a young noblewoman died in childbirth, she was blamed. Men on horseback, accompanied by a pack of dogs, ruthlessly hunted the fleeing witch, captured her, and dragged her back to the village, only to put her on a quick one-sided trial.
    Not surprisingly, the Black Bishop found her guilty, and Hazel was burned at the stake while the villagers gawked and cheered. But the spectators were shocked when the brave witch didn’t scream or wail as the flames engulfed her body and licked at her tender skin. She held her head high, refusing to grovel or beg for mercy. And most importantly, she refused to go up in flames. The night lingered, and the fire died out. Quietly tied to the stake until the morning came, Hazel stood with eyes of quiet fury, completely unharmed in the wreckage of the charred ash heap.
    The Black Bishop flew into a rage. The devilish witch had obviously used her powers to outsmart him, for who else could survive the burning hellfire? Drowning, he determined, was the only way to deal with a fire-vanquishing devil girl. Under his orders, the villagers carted Hazel off to the river, bound her hands and feet, tied a rock to her back, and tossed her into the murky water. Submerged for hours, her hair swirled around her body like marsh weeds. Her skin turned gray and mottled. When they pulled her up, her clothes were sopping black rags. Surely she was dead. But suddenly she blinked her eyes, and the villagers erupted in screams.
    Hazel was still alive.
    And that was exactly how the frantic villagers buried her, upside down in a plain pine box, at a crossroad.
    But what the Black Bishop and the other villagers didn’t know was that Hazel’s reputation was spreading. She was much