Infinity Lost Read Online Free PDF Page A

clouds of pungent cigar smoke. It stings my eyes and nose and I begin to cough. A man with a pencil-thin moustache, a blue-striped suit, and a deep-red tie leans forward, staring inquisitively. “Remarkable,” he says, and promptly blows a cloud of milky smoke right into my face. I cough again and try to wave it away. He smiles, takes a sip of his liquor, and then with raised eyebrows offers the glass to me. I’m only a little girl! I’m far too young for liquor! I frown and shake my head emphatically.
    Another man, an older looking one, bends forward, squinting. He’s leaning on an intricately carved, silver-handled cane. He steadies himself on the shoulder of the man beside him and with a quick jab, pokes me hard in the ribs with it.
    “Ow!” I yelp, rubbing my side, and all the men burst into hearty laughter. A fat man with a moustache like a walrus mimics me by clutching his ribs and puckering his hairy lips into an “ow” shape as the others chuckle along with him.
    I’m beginning to get scared. What am I doing here? I try to see through the gaps in the men’s legs, searching for Nanny, but she’s nowhere to be seen. She’s abandoned me, too.
    A skinny man with red cheeks and a gray suit leans down, his pasty, scarlet-patched face only inches from my nose. With breath that smells like cigars and burnt toffee, he asks me a question in the slowest manner I have ever heard.
    “Tell-me, what-is-your-name?”
    “M . . . my name is Finn Blackstone,” I say meekly. I hold out my tiny hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
    The entire group erupts in a round of raucous laughter. I stand there, bewildered. I slowly withdraw my hand. I don’t like this at all.
    “And how old are you, Finn?”
    I look around at the men in the circle. They all have the same wide-eyed, hungry look on their faces as they glare down at me from above.
    “I’m . . . six years old tomorrow.”
    They all grin at each other, nodding and murmuring like they’re sharing a secret.
    These men are horrible and scary. I want to go. “Excuse me, sirs,” I say, doing a clumsy little curtsy. I’ve seen Mariele do it a thousand times and it seems like the right thing to do. “I would like to go to my room, please.”
    “Oh no, no, no. That won’t do at all,” a gentle voice says from behind me. I’m about to turn my head to see who it came from when two big hands forcefully seize the back of my dress. The wads of material clenched in their fists tighten across my neck, choking me as I’m raised up onto my tiptoes. I lose my breath and gag as I’m yanked backward. My mind fills with panic. The hands jerk apart roughly. There’s a terrifying ripping noise as with one jarring stroke, my beautiful dress is torn apart at the seams. I feel hot cigar smoke breathed onto the bare skin of my back and I shriek in terror. The men crowd closer to see as I struggle in vain to get free. I feel hands reaching inside the gash in my dress. Fingers pinch at my skin. Fingernails scratch me as I’m tugged and pulled from side to side like a rag doll. I scream again but it’s completely ignored. The men vie for position to watch and grope, seemingly oblivious to my panic. One of them grabs my ankle, wrenching a shoe away from my foot. Another begins to tug at my underwear.
    This can’t be real. This must be a nightmare. My mind is white with fear.
    “Help! Don’t! Please! You’re hurting me!” I plead, but they don’t listen. Where is Jonah? I need Jonah!
    A gruff voice barks, “Put her on the table.”
    I screech in protest, “LET ME GO!” My futile demand, just like my cry for mercy, falls on deaf ears. “JONAH!”
    Four of the men band together and lift me into the air by my wrists and ankles.
    “You there! Maid! Clear some space!”
    Mariele looks on, frozen to the spot, her face a wide-eyed mask of shock and horror.
    “Are you deaf? Make some room!” The man with the walrus face is grabbing platters of food and shoving them into