The Borderkind Read Online Free PDF Page A

did to her, Oliver would stay away.
    Hear that, little brother?
she thought.
Stay away!
    The flannel pajamas were all she had to wear—not even panties beneath them—and they were far too hot during the day, though necessary to protect her from the sun. But at night, as now, they were vital. The chamber grew cold after dark, and colder still as night wore on.
    Collette shivered and crossed her arms over her breasts as she continued to walk, staggering a bit as a pile of sand gave way.
    “
Start spreading the news,
” the Vittora sang, knowing, mocking, and yet somehow sorry as well. “
I’m leaving today.
”
    “Shut up!” she snapped, twisting in the sand and glaring up at it.
    The light flickered and diminished, the sphere shrinking a bit, as it often did. It even disappeared from time to time, though she could sense its presence. When the time came that it was really gone, she was sure she would know that as well. But by then it would be too late. Her life would be slipping away like a fistful of sand.
    Heart hammering with frustration, skin prickling with the cold and with grief for her own fate, she began to walk again, determined to dedicate another fifteen minutes to staying alive.
    Then she heard his voice…the voice of the Sandman.
    “
You see. A Bascombe. Just as promised,
” it rasped, voice grating and cold, words clipped and alien.
    Collette halted and it took her a moment before she could glance upward in search of her captor. Her breath caught in her throat. The monster was little more than a shape framed by one of the windows high above, a deeper darkness silhouetted against the night sky beyond. Those hideous lemon-yellow eyes gleamed, reflecting back the light of the Vittora.
    For the first time, the Sandman was not alone.
    Beside him was a thing whose appearance made her gasp. It was crouched, like a gargoyle perched on a building’s ledge, and large, feathered wings jutted from its back. In the illumination cast by the spirit of her impending death, she thought the feathers looked green. It wore shapeless, dark garments that only partially covered its long, bony limbs. Yet what unnerved her most was that it had the head of a stag, with wickedly sharp antlers. Some ancient dread welled up within her at the sight, as though in the primitive part of her brain she knew that this thing was a predator. Beneath its gaze, she felt like a field mouse fleeing from a screech owl.
    And there were others.
    They shifted in the dark, moving to other windows with a rustle of feathers. There were at least three more that she could see, staring down at her as if she were an animal at the zoo.
    What did it mean,
A
Bascombe?
    And what were they, these things that the Sandman had brought to observe her?
    The Vittora, shrunken now to a size no larger than a baseball, descended in a gliding, drifting pattern until it hovered nearby, and she heard it whisper. Words. Answers to the questions in her mind.
    “
Perytons,
” it said. “
Hunters.
”
    A shudder went through her and for a time selfishness triumphed over her love for Oliver in her mind. She knew that if he came for her, it would mean his death, but now that she knew the Sandman was not alone, that he had allies, she felt certain they would eventually find him anyway.
    “Come on, Ollie. Find me,” she whispered, in a voice that was lost in the murmur of the shifting sands.
    If they were both going to die, she would rather face the end with her brother. Nothing terrified her more than the thought of dying alone.
             
    Oliver stared up through the trees as Blue Jay darted down toward them, an astonishingly small figure against the breadth of the sky. The bird opened his wings and glided between branches, not disturbing a single leaf. As he reached the ground, he beat his wings to pause in midair, but for a moment, to Oliver’s eyes, he seemed to continue descending. It was an optical illusion, however. The bird was not descending, but