The Moonstone and Miss Jones Read Online Free PDF

she was lifted into the air and tossed into the coach. Her head hit the side of the cab as the door slammed shut. She hardly had time to blink before they lurched off.
    America tore at the sharp icicle fingers that gripped her throat, straining to see her attacker. She focused at the edges of her peripheral vision, just as Phaeton had taught her—where the shadow creatures lurked. It seemed a certainty that her attacker wasn’t human. “Let me go!” Her voice was a barely audible croak.
    And whatever held onto her had to be stick thin, as the inside of a hansom was a cramped space, and she felt as if she sat alone on the bench. The long, thin claws coiled around her neck and turned her scream into a rasp.
    She was being abducted—but why?
    America shook her head and the claws clenched, cutting off her wind again. Panicked for air, she yanked at the vice-like fingers with both hands. “What do you want?” she choked. “I have money, and I can get more—just tell me what you want.”
    From the corner of her eye, she could just make out a bulbous oval-shaped head and two very small, pale gray eyes that swiveled about oddly.
    “I ’ave mince pies for eyes, but no name. No need—got a dickie from the lath-n-plaster who tinkered me, and many more like Skeezicks.”
    A monster who dropped his h ’s and spoke in rhyming slang. America raised both brows. “From the East End, are you?”
    “Stop yer gob miss and give me no troubles.”
    America swallowed, not an easy task with claws wrapped around your neck. Once again she tried to loosen the creature’s hold. “I’m not sure what sort of creature you are—but humans need to breathe in order to live—you do want me alive don’t you? There could hardly be any point to an abduction if you just wanted to suffocate me.”
    She was beginning to wonder how clever this odd, skeletal creature was and thought to put it to the test. “Tell me . . . Mister. . . Skeezicks, this wouldn’t have anything to do with Mr. Black would it?” She continued to wrench and squirm away.
    “Skeezicks wouldn’t know, we ’ave our directives—” The creature halted mid-sentence. The carriage had stopped. Bit by bit, icicle fingers released her neck. Feet first, her abductor was swept up through the trapdoor in the ceiling. Something above pulled the rail-thin frame through the hole in the roof, all except for the bulbous head which got stuck and rasped out a warning. “Keep yer shoes on.”
    Whatever that meant. America wasted no time deciphering the creature’s speech, and tried lifting the latch of the cab door. Stuck or jammed or purposely blocked. Up above, the scratches and snarls of squalling alley cats caused the cab to rattle and shake. The hansom door flew open but before she could step out, it slammed in her face. What in heaven’s name was going on out there? Again the door flew open and she grabbed her travel bag and jumped out.
    Locked in combat, a blur of gray shapes rolled about on the cab roof, growling and snarling. The driver was nowhere to be seen. She was sure the smaller faster shape was Edvar. The valiant little scamp was fighting that nasty Skeezick creature.
    Edvar leaped away with a high-pitched yelp as the horrid creature crept after the gargoyle. America narrowed her eyes and recited an ages-old incantation of her mother’s. The Helping Hand—something one could never invoke for oneself but could use in the aid of another. As she conjured, something warm moved from her heart to her palm. A phosphorescent ball of energy swirled to life and grew to the size of a melon. Mentally, she gave the energy a push and it flew to the top of the cab. The glob of relic dust and champagne sprouted fingers and slapped the skeletal menace repeatedly—away from Edvar.
    The entity cringed at the edge of the cab roof. Beady Skeezick eyes swiveled from the gargoyle to her. With a harsh shriek, their attacker dissolved into small particles and slithered off into the