The Altar Girl Read Online Free PDF

successively into the fire. Its yellow flames still reached two feet high.
    Awesome. She and her fire had both survived. That was key because they were both dependent on each other.
    The sound of human feet bounding through the brush toward her broke her concentration. They didn’t sound like her brother’s and father’s long strides. They were short, crisp, and purposeful. They echoed through the forest.
    Mrs. Chimchak.
    Nadia pushed herself up and burst out of her lean-to, a smile already etched on her face. It would be good to see a familiar face, even if that person was there to remind her she was the only hope for one person or another, or some such painful thing.
    She saw the strangers and realized there had been no echo of footsteps. She’d assumed one person was approaching, but there were actually two of them. A man and a woman.
    They were both young. The woman reminded Nadia of a giraffe, a towering beauty with outrageously long legs, an elongated neck, and golden hair with streaks of caramel halfway down her back. She’d probably been popular in school, like the girls that terrorized Nadia on a daily basis. The man looked more like a kangaroo, much shorter with smaller features than the woman. He fidgeted beside the woman, wired with nervous energy. Both of them wore knapsacks on their backs and frowns on their faces.
    Nadia’s survival instincts sent a wave of fear through her body. There was something wrong about these two. They looked scared and out of place. More than that, they looked desperate.
    Either something bad had happened, or was about to happen. And Nadia didn’t come to this conclusion based on the strangers’ faces.
    It was the gun the man pulled from behind his back that told her this.

CHAPTER 5

    B LOOD DRAINED FROM my face. I realized my breathing had turned shallow.
    I focused on extending my exhalations. Cursed at my self-delusion. I’d fooled myself into thinking I was managing a man who could not be managed. Then I cursed at myself for cursing at myself. I needed to relax. There was still a way out of this van with my life and body intact.
    There is almost always a way out of trouble. The woman who keeps her emotions at bay can find the way.
    Donnie looked down at me with a concerned look. I had no idea if it was mock or real. It was time to give up trying to read him, and buy time until a means of escape occurred to me.
    “You okay?” he said.
    “Yeah, I’m all right,” I said.
    I closed my eyes and pictured myself walking through the local park, my brother at my side, both of us in our teens. Nothing could touch us. We were young, resilient, and most of all, a pair. We could rely on each other.
    “You want a glass of water?” Donnie said.
    “No. I don’t want any water. I don’t need anything. You want to ask me more questions? Let’s get on with it.”
    He pointed a finger at me. “Hey. You don’t know how lucky you are. Be nice. I’ll get you some water.”
    The biggest joke of all was that his first name wasn’t Donnie. It was Bohdan. Most Ukrainian-American kids were tolerant of their given Ukrainian names. Most grew to be proud of them over time. But those who couldn’t handle childhood abuse often adopted other English translations to assimilate into American society more easily. For instance, a Pavlo might become a Paul. But how a Bohdan became a Donnie was beyond my comprehension.
    His last name wasn’t Angel, either. It was Angelovich. I liked shortening it. For obvious reasons.
    “I don’t want any water, Donnie.”
    He stopped near the refrigerator. Sighed as though I were being an uncooperative guest.
    “Suit yourself.” He returned to the contraption. The stool was two feet off the ground. He towered over me. “So answer the question. What do you know about your godfather’s business?”
    “He was known for his expertise in antiques all over the East Coast and beyond. Everyone in the Uke community knew who he was. And he had a good reputation.