Languish Read Online Free PDF Page A

edge of the window and yank the door shut. It latched and the sudden quieting of the rifle-shot banging was deafening.
    I pulled myself up, hooking one foot under the seat and leaning out slowly. The wind tore my hair out of its pins and stung my eyes. The horses were running full out, their manes streaming and tangling in the wind. Pedestrians leaped out of the way. Shopkeepers rushed to their windows to see what the fuss was about. A dog barked, straining on a leash, dragging some poor girl behind him.
    But at least Colin was safe on the seat, legs spread wide as he used his entire body to pull down on the reins. It wasn’t enough. The horses just kept running.
    I leaned farther out, judging the distance between the door and the roof.
    â€œViolet, don’t you dare!” Colin shouted, knowing what I intended to do.
    As if proving his point, the back wheel slammed into a rut and shattered. The carriage jerked to the side. I was thrown back inside. I nearly bit off my tongue when I landed. Pain exploded in my elbow and my knee. I could hear Colin shouting in Gaelic and the grinding of the remaining wheels. The tilted view out the window went from shops to the stately oak trees leading out of the village.
    And then the carriage came to a slow, sliding, sickening stop.
    It took an eternity, the momentum pressing us painfully against the side. We could only hold on tight and pray. Wood paneling splintered, grinding against a tree. Branches dragged angry fingers across the carriage until it teetered like a top and finally fell with a resounding crash against a giant oak.
    Tabitha opened her eyes. I released a long, jagged breath. A leafy branch jabbed the space between us.
    But we were unharmed.
    â€œYou can see spirits,” Tabitha said, her voice squeaky. “Are we dead?”
    I laughed, startled. I’d had no idea she had a sense of humor. Especially not while trapped in her own torn gown and hanging awkwardly off a seat. “No, I don’t think we are.”
    I scrabbled to the door, now broken right off its hinges. My legs hung over the side and I had to drop down carefully. The carriage creaked. Tabitha flew out behind me, considerably less careful.
    I darted to the front. “Colin!”
    He looked down at me, breathing hard. His arm muscles strained against his shirt. His hair was a wild mess, like a thundercloud over the summer–sky blue of his eyes. The horses tossed their heads, sweat steaming off their heaving sides.
    He dropped the reins, which were coated in ice. His fingers were white with cold.
    â€œWhat the bleedin’ hell was that?”
    I wasn’t sure what woke me that night, but when I opened my eyes I yelped so loudly I hurt my throat.
    I wasn’t alone.
    Moonlight fell through the transparent bodies of a crowd of spirits, all standing around my bed. They ranged in age and clothing from a little boy in an old-fashioned cravat to an oldwoman in a pearl-encrusted gown dating back at least two centuries. They floated there, painted in all the blues, grays, and whites of a winter storm. There were a lot of them.
    And they were all staring at me.
    A woman finally stepped forward, breaking the frozen tableau. She crowded so close to the bed that my breath frosted. Her smile was sad and gentle. Her silhouette was ragged, as if whatever mist and ectoplasm that made her visible was weakening. I smelled lavender water and earth, the way it smelled when it was dark and moist with spring. It was familiar, but I couldn’t think why.
    â€œWho are you?” I asked through chattering teeth. “Are you the one trying to hurt Jasper?”
    Ice fell from the woman as if she were an iceberg crumbling in an arctic sea. The spirits behind her opened their mouths, dark yawning caves of silence as they struggled to speak. Rage and fury and fear rippled through the air.
    I was in no mood to be terrorized.
    I swung my legs out of bed, my bare toes curling when they came in