Garden of Evil Read Online Free PDF Page B

waved his frayed straw hat. Santana was young and very handsome in a Mexican gardener kind of way, and Summer thought he was ‘durr-vine.’
    â€˜
Hola, Señor Rook
!’
    â€˜
Por que trabajo tan duro?
’ Jim called down. ‘Why are you working so hard?
Se volveran solamente!
They will only come back!’
    â€˜
No cuido!
I don’t care!
Todavia consigo pagado!
I still get paid!’
    Jim went back into the kitchen and opened his briefcase. At least he would have the chance to finish preparing his lesson on the poetry of Rachel X. Speed. He tipped the contents of his briefcase on to the counter, and along with all of his files and folders, the Paradise apple that Simon Silence had given him rolled out, too, and almost dropped off the edge of the counter.
    He caught it, and sniffed it again. Its pink and green colors were slightly striped, almost like candy, and it had the most enticing aroma. He took it across to the kitchen sink and washed it, and then he picked up his file on Rachel X. Speed and went back out on to the balcony, biting into the apple as he went.
    He sat down, opened the file, and spread out the poems in a fan shape. Rachel X. Speed was a very edgy, difficult poet, but he thought that her words would appeal to a class brought up on rap and dubstep and grime.
    He took another bite out of the apple. It was delicious, sweet and crisp, but with a sharpness that reminded him of something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. A person, more than a taste. A person and a place. How strange was that? An apple that brought back memories.
    He was still reading and eating when Tibbles came out on to the balcony. Tibbles mewed, and mewed again, and rubbed himself up against his ankles.
    â€˜Tibbles for Christ’s sake, you just had breakfast!’
    It was then that Tibbles jumped up into his lap, crumpling all of his papers.
    â€˜Tibs – what the hell are you doing?’
    He lifted Tibbles up so that he could drop him back on to the floor, but then he saw the figure standing at the far end of his balcony. The same dark shadowy figure that he had seen in the smog this morning, and had almost run down.
    It could have been made of black smoke, or black gauze. It seemed to float in tatters in the breeze. Tibbles crept slowly backward, his fur standing on end, and Jim himself felt a prickling sensation all the way down his back.
    â€˜
What
?’ Jim demanded. ‘What in hell are you?’ He tried to sound stern, although his voice came out much weaker than he had intended. ‘What are you doing here?’
    There was a moment’s pause, while the shadowy figure seemed to ebb and flow like a torn black cape caught on the tide.
    Then it said, in a deep, vibrant voice, ‘
I have come for you. I have come for all of you. This time, none will escape me.
’
    Jim wasn’t sure if he had actually heard the figure talking, or whether the sound of its voice had vibrated through his bones.
    The shadowy figure spiraled around, and then it seemed to flow off the balcony into the air, and vanish. Jim dropped what was left of his apple, which rolled across to the edge of the balcony and fell down into the garden.

FOUR
    H e leaned over the railing and called down to Santana, ‘
Usted vio eso
? Did you see that?’
    The gardener looked up from his gopher-digging again and took off his hat. ‘
Qué
?’
    â€˜
Esa sombra
– that shadow.’
    Santana stuck out his bottom lip and shook his head. ‘
Veo solamente la tierra
,
señor
. I see only the ground.’
    Then, however, he crossed the neatly cropped grass and picked up Jim’s half-eaten apple. ‘
Aqui – usted cayó su manzana
.’
    â€˜Here,’ said Jim, holding out his hands. ‘Throw it up to me, will you?’
    Santana frowned and said, ‘
Usted lo quiere realmente
? You really want it?’
    â€˜Here,’ Jim repeated. The gardener shrugged, and