The Second Coming Read Online Free PDF Page B

Billy Chapman.
    Another Witch
Hunter stepped from behind the house — blonde, towering, and
swift.
    A female
voice.
    She raised her
crossbow and Paine didn't wait. He dug his heels into his mare's
flanks. And as he fled north he swore to himself that when the time
was right, that woman would pay with more than just her life. And
if she had orders from someone else, he didn’t care how many of
them there were or how high they ranked; he would find them.
    And they, too,
would pay. They would all pay.

Chapter
3

    The morning’s silence immersed Paine in his guilt and the
damned events of his life. Perhaps his desire for knowledge was to
blame. Maybe if he hadn’t gone snooping under his parents’ bed,
searching for some sense of who he was, he might not have come
across the grimoire under the floorboards. Perhaps he might not
have learned of the spells that lay within its hand-written pages.
And maybe his father would still be among the living and not left
to a bloodied fate, dealt by the hands of an overzealous minion of
the Confederation.
    Had he known
this might happen he might have choked his curiosity and buried it
deep within him, or he would have left ages ago. Now it was too
late. He had never wished ill upon the people that had raised him,
but now their blood was on his hands.
    His silent
mourning was interrupted by a thud and he untangled himself from
the thin blanket that cocooned him. Lya was already up. She flung
her knife at one of the trees, her aim sure.
    There was
something in her eyes — irritation, anger; he couldn’t tell. He
wished they shared the typical connection of other twins, but he
was never able to sense her thoughts. He only could feel her
presence. And the yearning for her nearness had worsened since that
shared night with Billy; like it had bound him to her further. He
knew it would be his undoing. It was unnatural. Yet her closeness
offered him comfort.
    “ You all right?” he asked.
    Lya hurled the
knife once more. It struck the same spot.
    “ I don’t understand,” she muttered.
    “ I can’t believe they’re dead either.“
    She flung it
again and the sugar maple bled, slow and thick. She retrieved it
and licked the knife.
    She avoided
his gaze. “We better go.”
    The two packed
their belongings in silence, all coated in beads of cold dampness.
Paine's stomach growled as he climbed upon Shadow's back. In their
haste to run, neither of them had considered rations. And he wasn’t
sure where they would go. He jangled the bag of coins and wondered
what it would get them. He possessed limited knowledge of things
beyond their village. Little was safe in this area of the Outlands.
And he couldn’t help but feel the road they traveled upon was
leading them towards the Westwood, a forest that no one entered if
they wanted to be seen again.
    The two rode
in silence along the deserted road, their only companions the
occasional jackdaws which Talon glared at while perched upon Lya’s
shoulder. The air was dead, not a breeze to be found, and with the
morning sun beaming relentlessly upon them, Paine started to sweat.
He wished for a flask of water and vowed to stop at the next
stream.
    They passed
remnants of the old world as they traveled — the occasional stone
foundation of what was likely someone’s home; larger stone
buildings for which Paine had no idea its use; the occasional
rusted pile of metal he knew to be cars; and even old bridges that
collapsed into mounds of rubble. Through it all, the forest was
ever present, trees and wild shrubs poking through the ruins. Paine
had a burning fascination with the old world, but Lya’s furious
pace prevented him from pausing to study the remains. He spurred
his horse to catch up to her.
    Eventually, as
the morning dragged on and the sun teetered past the brink of
midday, they came upon a man riding ahead of them. He kept a
leisurely pace, and would often pause to stare into the trees. As
they drew near, Paine recognized him as the