Silver is for Secrets Read Online Free PDF

decide to just let the bottle swim along with the incoming tide. Maybe instead of relying so heavily upon my spells, I should trust my instincts more. Right now my instincts are telling me that I need to find Clara.

six
    I distinctly remember Clara mentioning that her place is a few houses down from ours—to the left, I think.
    There‟s a cottage to the left that looks pretty tame—beach chairs stacked neatly on the porch, a portable grill tucked away in the corner, seashell-shaped wind chimes hanging down over the stairs. I‟m thinking this is the place since I also remember her saying that she‟s here with her parents and not a flock of beerguzzling fraternity boys. It appears as though the frat guys have taken up at least three or four of the houses to the right of us.
    I climb the stairs and knock on the door. It creaks open slightly from the impact, like it wasn‟t quite closed. I hold it shut and try knocking again.
    Still no response.
    “Hel o?” I cal into the door crack. The seashel wind chimes jingle just behind me, forcing me to remember that I heard the same sound in my nightmare. “Clara?” I call, edging the door open a bit wider.
    I close my eyes a moment and concentrate on the jingling. But then I hear something else. It‟s coming from inside—a high-pitched, beeping sound. I push the door open farther. “Clara? Are you in here?”
    It‟s dark in the living room; al the shades are pul ed down. There‟s a clamoring noise coming from one of the rooms, like someone‟s struggling with something. I open the door even wider and take a step inside, noticing that the layout of this cottage is exactly like ours. The living room and kitchen are connected, like one big open area. I move toward the short, narrow hallway and the bedrooms that branch off it.
    But now it‟s just quiet. And dark—the only light available is what‟s coming in through the door I entered, and the farther I get away from it, the darker it gets. I peer over my shoulder at the door, thinking how maybe I should go and get help, but all I can focus on are those stupid wind chimes—and the thought that Clara might be in trouble. I call her name yet again.
    Still no response.
    I move toward the bedroom to the right and place my ear up to the door. But it‟s just quiet, al except for my heart; it‟s pounding hard inside my chest. I place my hand over the doorknob, half thinking that it‟s going to be locked, but instead it turns. And I go in.
    It‟s even darker in here—too dark to see. I feel over the walls for a light switch, but can‟t seem to find one. I move toward the center of the room, my arms outstretched, and end up tripping over something hard, a footstool maybe.
    A loud cracking sound comes from out in the living room, like the front door has been shut. But maybe it‟s just the wind. I bite the inside of my cheek and tel myself this is so, that the breezy ocean air drew the door closed, that no one‟s here, that in a few seconds I can just sneak back out.
    But then I hear footsteps, the sound of floorboards creaking in this direction. I stand behind the door and hold my breath to keep from gasping out.
    “Hel o?” whispers a male voice, one I don‟t recognize.
    I close my eyes and try to picture myself someplace else.
    “Come on out,” he sings. “I don‟t bite.”
    I clench my teeth and ball myself up in the corner just as the light in the room flicks on, making everything red. I look up toward the ceiling at the red light bulb that shines down over what is obviously a darkroom. There‟s a clothesline hung at the back of the room with pictures attached to it, a large workstation set up with bins for solutions, and racks lining the walls.
    I can hear him breathing from the other side of the door. Clutching the crystal and wil ing Jacob‟s strength to assist me, I close my eyes and silently count to twenty, praying that he won‟t come al the way in, that he‟l close the door back up and go. I peer around