Nightrise Read Online Free PDF

"What's it a picture of?"
    And then Scott cried out. He raised a hand and touched his fingers against his forehead as if in pain. "His name is Daniel," he said. "And he's gone. It's your fault. You're still blaming yourself for letting them take him."
    It was Scott's voice but it didn't sound like him. Nothing like this had ever happened before.
    And then the woman stepped forward and snatched the photograph back, and when Jamie looked up at her he saw real anger, flaring in her eyes. "Where is he?" she demanded. "What do you know?"
    "I don't know anything!" The whole theatre seemed to be spinning. The lights were burning into him.
    Jamie just wanted to get off the stage.
    "Tell me what you know!"
    "I've told you…"
    "Ladies and gentlemen…Scott and Jamie Tyler, the telepathic twins!" Frank Kirby had been watching from the wings, still in the costume of Mr. Marvano, master illusionist. He had decided to come to the rescue, walking on and clapping his hands at the same time. About half the audience joined in. They had seen something but they weren't sure what. Certainly the trick with the newspapers had been quite effective. But the trick with the photograph had failed. Or had it? The woman in the white shirt certainly looked shaken. Had the twins correctly identified the boy in the photograph…and if so, where was he?

    The show was over. Jamie took hold of Scott and dragged him into the wings, at the same time pulling off the blindfold. Frank showed the woman off the stage and went into the final speech that always brought down the curtain.
    "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight you have traveled with us to some of the farthest corners of the human mind…"
    But nobody was listening. The woman was back in her seat, deep in thought. Banes and Hovey were a few rows behind her, unmoving, detached. Quite a few people in the audience were already gathering up their jackets and bags, on their way out. The music was playing again, drowning out Frank's words.
    Even when the show went well, it was disappointing. Tonight it had been a complete failure.
    Don White was waiting offstage.
    As Jamie walked out of the spotlights, the scowling face of "Uncle Don" was the first thing he saw. He realized that Don must have been there throughout the entire act and flinched, waiting for the backhand across his face or perhaps the fat fingers grabbing at his throat. Don certainly didn't look pleased. "What happened out there?" he demanded. His thick lips were turned down in an angry scowl.
    "I don't know," Jamie answered. "It went wrong."
    "It was your brother. He screwed it up."
    'Yeah. That's right. It was me." Scott took a step forward. Instinctively, he had put himself between Don White and his brother: Like he always did.
    Jamie waited to see what was going to happen. But tonight there was to be no violence. Don shrugged, his huge shoulders and arms rising and falling, his palms facing out. "All right. Let's just forget it," he said. "I'll see you two later. Go and wait for me in your room." He turned to the other performers, who had gathered around, wondering what had gone wrong. "The rest of you, I want you out of here. Let's close up for the night."
    Jamie followed his brother back to the dressing room. It looked as if there wasn't going to be any trouble after all. If Don was going to hit them, he'd have done it then and there. Together, they went into the room, not even bothering to close the door. They took their time getting changed. The house where they were living — with Don and Marcie — was a twenty-minute drive away, and most nights they went there with Don. It was only when he decided to stay for a drink, or to throw away some money in one of the casinos, that they took the number 11 bus to Victorian Square and walked the rest of the way.
    Frank Kirby passed the door on his way out. They had worked with him for two years but they hardly knew anything about him. He didn't speak much and he never smiled. He smoked too