Goddess of Gotham Read Online Free PDF Page A

way, straight through the procession. Racing for the giant dog, towards the people
beneath it. Their eyes were wide with surprise, their mouths open, calling. Ignoring them, she kept going, head down in determination.
    Once again, a roar filled her ears but this was the roar of a hundred thousand voices.
    And then a more familiar sound, the clip clop of horses’ hooves. Rows and rows of splendid beasts, ridden by men in uniforms. The horses were drawing to a halt, standing in formation.
Beyond them, a magnificent coach on which an old man sat in state. This had to be the king; his robes were red, trimmed with white fur, his throne ornate. Piled around his feet were brightly
wrapped packages, offerings perhaps from his subjects. A splendid beard sprung luxuriantly from his smiling face, crowned as it was with a scarlet cap.
    Brushing through the horses’ flanks, Kumari ran towards the king, arms outstretched in supplication.
    ‘Oh, please,’ she gasped. ‘Please. You have to help me. I, too, am of royal blood! I have to get home! I have to get back to my father’s kingdom!’
    The old man peered at her from his throne. Alongside, his handmaidens twittered.
    Kumari tried once again. ‘Your majesty, I have been snatched from my homeland!’
    From beneath his white whiskers the old man spoke. His words were unfamiliar. From his reaction to her desperate pleas, it seemed he found her equally incomprehensible. She felt the anger rise
up. This was ridiculous. How hard could it be? Anyone could see she was a goddess.
    ‘Look, your majesty, I realise I’m interrupting here. But really, you have to help me out! You know, one royal person to another!’
    Hands on hips she stood, chin jutting in determination. And still the old guy gawped at her. To Kumari’s astonishment, he was beginning to look nervous. The handmaidens started to back
away, the bells on their hats jangling nervously. Exasperated, Kumari stared them out. What was with the weird outfits?
    Tears of frustration began to well. Any minute now her captors would be upon her. She threw her head back and howled in despair. Suddenly, a strong arm grabbed her. She felt herself being
hoisted up, lifted from the ground. Kicking and screaming she tried to break free. The arm held her firm as it flung her down across a saddle in front of him. As hard as Kumari struggled, there was
no fighting this new assailant.
    Twisting round on the saddle, Kumari stared at her attacker. She caught a glimpse of a shield-shaped badge gleaming against a thick, blue jacket. Across one shoulder, a leather strap; on one
hip, a holster. As the man kicked his horse into a trot, she felt the cold clutch of fear. The guy had a gun. Kumari hated guns, had only ever seen the ornate replicas kept in the museum. They were
banned from the kingdom, although the occasional shot rang out from the borderlands. Hunters and warlords liked to perpetrate the evil of these weapons. And now she was inches from one, being
carried off she knew not where.
    ‘Let me go,’ she snarled. ‘My father will have you for this!’
    The man stared ahead.
    ‘How dare you!’ she snapped. ‘I am a goddess!’
    No reaction. Not a blink. Clearly he had no respect for anyone, let alone an immortal.
    ‘Very well,’ she announced in the haughtiest voice she could muster. ‘I shall now banish you to the fires of hell!’
    Easier said than done, especially when it was yet another feat she had never managed. She tried first one incantation then another, finally combining a bit of both:
    ‘BY THE CRIMSON ROBES I WEAR
    BY BASILISK AND BLOODSTONE
    BY THE GARLIC IN THE FIELDS
    BY THE POPPIES AND WHAT THEY YIELD
    I BANISH THEE FOREVER!’
    Pausing for breath, Kumari glanced at the man. Not so much as a twitch from him. Really, he must be made of stone. That or her magic was way off . . .
    Eventually, she gave in, slumping across the saddle in exhaustion. When at last the horse drew to a halt, she scarcely bothered to lift