Jane and the Raven King Read Online Free PDF

hurried after Michael, Jane heard Gaius mutter to his dog. As she caught up to Michael, she said to him, “You are so stubborn sometimes.”
    Their house came into view at the end of the next block. All the lights were on.

J ane stopped on the front lawn and grabbed her brother’s shoulder. “Wait.”
    “Make me.”
    It’s late and still raining, Jane thought. Mom and Dad must be worried. That’s why all the lights are on. But what if something else is going on? Should we walk in the front door?
    “Michael, stop.”
    He stepped onto the porch and said, “You stop.”
    “Don’t—”
    He rang the doorbell.
    Jane went to stand beside him on the floral doormat. At least the front porch was out of the rain. When no one answered, Michael pressed the button again, and they heard the doorbell chime in the entry hall. Still no answer. Something is wrong, Jane thought. Even in the upstairs bathroom with the shower running, they should be able to hear the doorbell.
    “Let’s go,” she said.
    Michael frowned and jabbed the button again.
    “Michael, let’s go.”
    “The lights are on,” he said.
    “That doesn’t mean—” Jane shivered as she noticed thesurrounding houses. They looked like ships made out of brick and glass in the midnight rain. All the windows glowed through blinds and drapes—the porches bathed in fuzzy white light. All the lights are on, Jane thought. In every house on the block. In the middle of the night.
    “Come on,” she said.
    “No. You can go stand in the rain if you want.”
    “Don’t ring the doorbell again.”
    After he did anyway, Michael shrugged. “Maybe it’s broken.”
    “It’s not broken—we can hear it.”
    “Let go of my arm,” he said. “I’ll climb back in the window.”
    “Michael, listen to me—”
    “Shut up.”
    When he tried to push past her, Jane blocked him, and Michael grabbed the doorknob. It turned, and the door opened. As it creaked wide, Michael hesitated. The hall light, the lamps—even the upright flashlights on the plant table were lit. Men talked seriously in the living room—it was the television—and Jane heard at least one radio voice deeper inside the house, along with the background rhythm of reggae music.
    “This isn’t right,” she said.
    “Don’t be stupid.” Michael stepped inside. “Are you coming?”
    No, Jane thought. Every part of her—especially the jittery hollow in her belly—told her to walk away. Don’t go in. But Michael was already in the main hall, calling, “Mom? Dad—we’re back!”
    Jane came in and shut the front door behind her. “Michael…”
    He disappeared around the corner, heading for the kitchen. Jane’s pulse quickened as she crept into the entry hall. As she edged closer to the main hall, she checked the living room; the lamps were on, and the ceiling fan whipped like a helicopter blade, shaking the yellow overhead lights. Grandma Diana was gone. Cowboys from a grainy Western murmured solemnly on the television, and the shot panned across a desert vista of cacti and sunset rock mesas. She heard one of the cowboys say, “Round ’em up.”
    “All of them? Ain’t time for that.”
    “Keep the women inside and round ’em up…”
    From the kitchen, Michael shouted, “Mom! Where are you?”
    Jane went into the main hall, and Michael returned, his face pale. “Did you see Mom and Dad?” he asked.
    “No,” Jane said. “We have to get out of here.”
    Michael stepped past her, heading for the stairs. “Mom? Dad?”
    “Michael, stop it.”
    He started upstairs, and she ran after him. “Michael—”
    They froze near the top. From the end of the second-floor hall, they heard the click of a keyboard and the staccato drone of a radio reporter’s voice. All the lights were on here too: the hall lights, the lights in her father’s office—in the bathroom, even the electric-socket night-lights were lit. Michael opened his mouth and shut it again.
    Jane whispered, “Come on.”
    He ignored