The Stringer Read Online Free PDF Page B

ears, howling and squirming. The black kid moved his hands and appeared to be making an attempt to jam his fingers deep enough in his ears to burst an eardrum.
    I looked at Fallon, and he glanced at me. “Always prepared, yes?” he said, the hint of a smile kinking the deep lines of his face. “With preparation, Mr. Vonnegan, one does not need to bleed quite so often. This is a lesson your gasam can learn as well. Also, not to steal every fucking thing he lays eyes on.”
    I wasn’t used to bleeding and not casting, my wound left to sizzle and ooze, but I let it go. You never knew when a little gas would come in handy.
    â€œThank you for the lesson, my lord,” Hiram groused. “See what happens when you leave your fortress and enter the world?”
    Fallon clucked his tongue. “My peers have made it clear they prefer me in my fortress , making trinkets.”
    The note made their voices sound beautiful, even angelic. Our prisoners, however, continued to screech and writhe on the floor. Without warning, the kid leaped up and launched himself forward, screaming. Mags moved immediately, leaping up to intercept him as I spoke the first spell that came to mind, three Words. The kid froze, his limbs going stiff in a comical pose in midair—and so did Mags, caught in the spell along with him. As Mags crashed into the far wall, the kid’s forward momentum carried him crashing into Fallon, and the box hit the floor hard, smashing into pieces, the note cutting off immediately.
    The silence was drab and disappointing, and, I realized, always would be from that moment forward.
    I turned just in time to see Mr. Landry, his yellowed skin loose and slack, charging toward me, shouting his one and only Word. Landry appeared to be made of balsa wood and tissue paper, but he smacked into me like a cannonball, knocking me backward. I landed on my back and slid a few inches while Landry grabbed hold of my shoulders, climbing on top of me and pinning me down with terrible, unexpected strength. If I could be so easily overpowered by an elderly man who was also recently dead, I figured it might be time to invest in a gym membership.
    My freeze mu wore off, and the black kid leaped to his feet, blood running from each ear, and rounded on Hiram just as he spat out a neat spell that sent the kid hurtling away as if an invisible missile had slammed into him.
    The kid, though, being demon-powered, bounced off the wall with a crack of shattered bone and came right back at Hiram, knocking the round man to the floor. Which was the last thing I saw before Mr. Landry, drooling cold, jellied spittle onto my face as he shouted his secret name, raised one fist and brought it down at my head.

II.

4.
    â€œHEY, BURRO , HEY!”
    Way above me there was a pocket of acidic boiling water, waiting to sear and singe me, to rake itself across my nerves. But down deep in the black water, it was cool and I was safe. Someone was trying to wake me, to drag me up. A sweet young voice, and I hated it. I hated anyone who wanted to pull me up through the acid and burn me.
    I tried to sink deeper, to swim away, to grow heavy.
    â€œAh, fucking . . . Come on, burro , hey! Come on, not much time!”
    Whoever it was began shaking me. It was strange; I was aware of being shaken, aware that someone was trying to rouse me, but I was able to ignore them and remain unconscious, in a sense. If I could just ignore them long enough, they would go away.
    â€œThey are coming!” she hissed, and my perfect cold black sea began to agitate and brighten. “Soon!”
    Something in her voice sank down like fishhooks and grabbed on to me, pulling me inexorably upward.
    â€œAh, fuck,” I hissed, refusing to open my eyes. “Stop that.”
    The feeling of her hands disappeared, and a second later she slapped me across the face, hard enough to make stars pop up behind my eyelids. I sat up, opening my eyes and fighting the