The Keepers Read Online Free PDF Page B

asked, “Who is he? What is he? And will he still be out there?”
    â€œHe roams. Try not to roam in the same direction.”
    â€œWhat about the bus? You got off first, but I didn’t see you. How did you do that?”
    Her face softened into clear-eyed innocence. “I definitely don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and turned her back on him. Several yards down the alley she stopped, glanced one last time at Horace, and then disappeared through another doorway he couldn’t quite make out. Clearly she knew her way around.
    Once she was gone, Horace tried to get his bearings—physically and otherwise. He had no idea what to make of the girl. She obviously knew more about the thin man than he did, but she hadn’t given him any new information at all. Except to suggest that there were more thin men out there, a thought that made Horace shudder.
    He followed the alleyway to his left and was surprised to discover that it opened out onto Wexler Street. Maybe he could still make it to the House of Answers, after all. But if it was true that the thin man roamed, he seemed to do a lot of roaming in this neighborhood. Horace would have to be very careful. After a cautious look up and down the sidewalk, he headed north. Before long, Horace spotted theLaundromat—and just beyond, and the alley that led to the House of Answers. He quickened his pace, still scanning ahead and behind.
    And then just as he was about to round the corner, the thin man stepped out of the alley, directly into his path.

CHAPTER FIVE

Mr. Meister
    H ORACE FELL BACK , PRESSING HIMSELF AGAINST THE WINDOW of the Laundromat. Remembering what Mrs. Hapsteade had said, he fixed his eyes ahead, not daring to look in the thin man’s direction. Horace hoped beyond hope that the thin man hadn’t noticed him, that the scrawny green awning above was helping to hide him even now. He gripped the leestone tightly in his pocket, willing the thin man to go away.
    â€œCome out, come out,” the thin man sang, his notes cruel and lilting. Goose bumps prickled up and down Horace’s body, tugging his skin so hard it hurt. The man gave a long, thoughtful hum, like a greedy man contemplating a table full of delicious food.
    And then, almost without thinking, Horace pulled the leestone from his pocket. He stepped out from under the awning and, in the same motion, threw the leestone underhand,hurling it high into the air, far out over the street. Even as it left his hand, Horace thought, Why am I doing this? The leestone rose into the sunlight, shimmering violet. It fell into the far lane of the road and shattered, releasing a shrill, almost animal cry that Horace could hear over the sound of the cars. A plume of purple smoke spiraled into the air.
    The thin man leapt after the leestone like a predator after prey. Horns blared as traffic jolted to a stop around him, but he paid the cars no mind. He began to circle the remains of the leestone.
    Waiting to see no more, Horace darted into the alley. He took the stairs at the end in a single leap, landing hard. He fumbled for the handle of the small blue door, muttering his name. “Horace Andrews, Horace F. Andrews, please let me in. I need to get in. Need, need, need.” He tugged once, twice, and the door swung open. He ducked inside, so full of fear already that he scarcely felt the cramped tunnel’s chokehold as the door closed firmly behind him. He ran through the passageway and down the stairs, through the thick tunnel of birdsong, bursting into the House of Answers.
    The room seemed even more vast and deserted than it had the day before. “Hello?” he called. His voice echoed. He approached the podium. The quill and the ink were still there, and the guest book was open. But the page was blank—his entry from yesterday was nowhere to be seen. “Hello? Mrs. Hapsteade?” No reply.
    He slumped to the floor at the foot of the