If I Should Die Read Online Free PDF

under your right arm,” I instructed, and picking up my end, I winced and adjusted my hold as the heavy object sent a shockwave of pain through my collarbone. “We’re going to slam the lock battering-ram style from the side. I don’t think we can break the padlock, but the ring it’s attached to looks pretty rusty. Let’s aim for that.”
    As we backed up a few steps, my eyes met Bran’s, and I saw a look of regret as he stared at the candelabra. “This is a really expensive piece, isn’t it?” I asked, unable to repress a nervous smile.
    He nodded sadly and then shrugged. “Go!” I yelled, and Georgia and I ran toward the lock, smashing it with the sharp end of our improvised bludgeon. The lock didn’t budge, but a decorative bronze leaf snapped off the candelabra. Bran winced.
    â€œLet’s try it again,” I said, adjusting my Ace bandage under my shirt and gingerly pressing my sore shoulder. Then backing up, we ran full force toward the lock, this time smashing the old ring to bits. The padlock hit the ground with a metallic clink and the door swung open. I rushed into the space, and even though it was Bran—odd, scarecrow-looking Bran—I stooped to hug him quickly before inspecting his bonds.
    His attackers had used black duct tape across his mouth, as well as around his wrists, chest, and ankles. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I said, pausing.
    He rolled his eyes and nodded as if to say, Just get on with it .
    I picked at the tape with a fingernail, loosening a corner on his cheek, and then gritting my teeth, yanked it off with one quick motion. Bran’s mouth dropped open and he gasped in a few choking gulps of air as tears of pain and relief coursed down his cheeks. He struggled against the bonds attaching him to the chair, but they held fast. “You must hurry, child,” he urged me. “They’ve been gone for hours. They could come back at any moment.”
    â€œWho’s ‘they’?” I asked, leaning in to hear him since his voice came out in a breathless wheeze.
    â€œNuma. They’re holding me until the small ancient one arrives to question me.”
    The small ancient one? I thought, and then shouted, “Wait, Violette is coming here?”
    â€œYes.” Bran was trying not to panic, but the urgency in his voice gave his fear away. “Do you think you might . . .” He held up his taped wrists.
    â€œQuick, Georgia. Find something sharp,” I yelled.
    â€œAlready did,” she said from just behind me. I turned to see her wielding a plastic box cutter. She flicked the blade out and handed it to me.
    Within minutes Bran was standing up, feebly shaking his legs and windmilling his thin arms to get the circulation back. “My glasses,” he croaked. “They fell.”
    I found his bottle-thick glasses a few feet away from the chair, twisted and cracked. I did my best to bend them back into place and handed them to him. Even though he barely had a slit of an eye to see through, once he had slipped them on, he seemed to transform from a beaten pulp back into his weird, magnified self. He took one step toward me and then collapsed back into the chair.
    I rushed to help him. “Are you going to be able to walk?”
    â€œI’m afraid my attackers beat me badly,” he responded. “I might need your assistance.”
    â€œWe should get you to La Maison,” I said, draping his arm over my shoulder and pulling him up to a standing position. Georgia held the cage door open for us, and I hobbled with him into the room. “You’d be safe there, at least . . . ,” I began. But before I could finish the thought, the sound of the shop’s front door opening and closing and the creaking of footsteps on the wooden floor came from above our heads.
    â€œYou aren’t expecting any customers, are you?” Georgia squeaked, eyes