Harsh Gods Read Online Free PDF Page A

things or taking them apart—common for kids like her who fall on the spectrum. The rosaries help give that a direction. She’s very proud of them.”
    I nodded, returning the plastic container to its carefully allotted space. The girl murmured in her sleep, her fingers worrying the beads twined round her hand. That rippling tension contracted again within the air. I still couldn’t tell what was causing it—there weren’t any obvious spirits or other entities lingering on the Shadowside.
    Father Frank watched me intently.
    “What was it asking her to do?”
    He sighed. “It might be easier to show you.” He crossed the room in a few quick steps, withdrawing a stack of papers from a shelf of the nightstand. They were covered in symbols. “The first time, she wrote all over the walls before anyone knew what was happening. Like with the rosaries, we helped her steer it toward something less destructive.”
    He shuffled through the papers, holding them out so I could see. Some were scribbled in magic marker, a few in crayon, others in what appeared to be finger paint.
    “Can you read them?” he asked.
    I took the papers, sorting slowly through the stack. The symbols crowding each page looked like a legitimate language—but it was gibberish to me.
    “No,” I said, a little shocked by the admission. I had a knack for languages, kind of a superpower, really.
    “No?” he responded, and his eyes widened. “But Zack, you read practically
everything
.”
    I studied him over the papers. “Is that why I’m here? Because I taught ancient languages at Case?”
    “Taught them?” Father Frank scoffed. “You learned Sumerian first-hand. I thought if anyone could make sense of these symbols, it would be you. Are you telling me they’re nonsense?”
    I stared at him, too gobsmacked to respond. He misinterpreted my shock for a look of alarm.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked.
    “How do you know that about me?” Fear stropped a wicked edge on my voice. This was the nightmare that plagued me every time I dropped into sleep—exposure, then judgment. My nature revealed for everyone to see.
    Father Frank shushed me, then grabbed my arm with a familiarity more shocking than his statement about Sumer. Hand firm on my elbow, he steered me to the farthest corner of the room, well away from the sleeping Halley. Fear glinted in the burnished depths of his eyes. Not fear of me—
    Fear
for
me.
    “Zaquiel, what’s the matter with you?” He kept his voice low, but quiet as he was, those first three syllables resounded to my core. This man knew my name. My True Name—a name older than the body I wore around me, older than the priest who uttered it, older even than the city in which we both stood.
    He knew
me.
    Questions jostled through my thoughts—too many to frame coherently. How long had he known me? When had I revealed myself to him? Did this man know anything about the events leading up to my attack on the lake?
    I didn’t get a chance to ask any of them.
    Behind us, Halley jolted upright in bed. She scrambled backward in a panic, kicking furiously at her blankets. Little mewling sounds erupted from her throat.
    “Shit,” the priest cursed.
    He reached to calm her. She clawed wildly at him.
    “Is this a seizure?” I asked, moving to assist.
    The air in the little room grew thick enough to choke on, and the pall of strange power roiled around the girl like a sentient cloud. Frail as she was, desperation rendered her incredibly strong. She shook off both of us, drawing her knees up and trying to press herself into the tiniest space possible. Her thin shoulders smacked against the wall and still she pushed backward, digging her heels into the mattress. All her hair fell across her features like a dark, tangled veil. She crushed her palms against her ears, whipping her head back and forth while crying out.
    “
Nononononononono!
”
    “Halley,” the padre said. He tried for her hands again, but she twisted away, nimble as a