The Warlock's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

about that. Now, Jack!” Hard on the yell, the first thug plunged into an attack.
    Carita gave the men only a small portion of her attention. Staring at the iron fence, she issued a mental order.
    Arrows of iron strained, snapped with the dry showering of paint and rust. They broke free, hurling themselves with hard purpose on a direct and driving course toward the pair of thugs.
    The thin and narrow blade in Renfrey's hand flashed with the moon's cool silver light. It struck twice, faster than the eye could follow, a meteor's explosion of fire in its trailing tail. The thugs howled as the knives flew from their hands to clank away into the darkness.
    Before the two could draw breath, the fence palings with their blunt arrow heads took them in belly and chest, thigh and groin. The two were flung back while the heavy bars of iron clanked and clattered around them. Hoarse screams tore from their throats as they wallowed on the ground, clutching their bruises.
    Renfrey advanced a step. Carita moved at his side.
    The thugs heaved away from them, clawing, scrambling to their feet. Staring wild-eyed back over their shoulders, they plunged away across the street and down an alley.
    Renfrey lowered his sword point until it touched the broken stone of the walk. His voice musing, he said, “Just think of the tales those two will tell.”
    “ Sotted ramblings,” Carita answered shortly as she knelt in a settling island of skirts to retrieve his cane cover before rising and handing it to him. “Who will listen?”
    He put out his hand to take the cover. Clasping it, he paused. His gaze sharpened, and he transferred his grip to her fingers. “You're trembling.”
    “My usual reaction to brutality, pay no mind,” she said in brittle tones. Dragging her hand away, she pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders.
    “You were afraid for me,” he corrected her with amazement in his voice.
    “I was enraged that you would risk so much.” She stopped while appalled consideration rose in her eyes. “But that's the same thing, isn't it? Never mind. I am not yours. And now it's over.”
    She backed away from him for several steps before she spun around and began to walk again. Her skirts and her hair reflected moonlight with pearl-like sheens that danced away, ghost-like, into the dimness. They had not quite vanished when Renfrey sheathed his sword with a sharp click.
    “Oh, no,” he said in grim resolution as he began to follow her once more. “It's just begun.”

~ CHAPTER 3 ~
     
    It was not far from the cemetery to her aunt's house. Carita walked the remaining distance with swift steps. Renfrey was behind her; she knew it with certainty. She was as attuned to his presence now as to her own conscience.
    She opened the gate before the plain, narrow, two-storied house, then paused. She had meant to go inside without looking back. Somehow, she could not bring herself to do it.
    She would just say good-bye. It was such a small thing; surely there could be no harm in it. It was perhaps natural to feel the urge for a final gesture, an end to all the things that might have been.
    Or perhaps it was merely an excuse; she couldn’t say. She didn't understand herself tonight. Her powers inherited from her father had never failed her before. The fault must lie within herself ; she had been unable to maintain her concentration back in the cemetery because she had been unclear in her mind as to what she wanted to accomplish. She had not, in fact, wanted to send Renfrey away. Still didn't.
    She closed her eyes, resting her head against the tall, arched top of the gate. Why did it have to be so hard? Why?
    He was coming. She could hear his quiet tread, the silken swish of his cape. She lifted her head and waited for him to emerge from the street shadows.
    The gray cat came first, stepping as light and proud as the most pampered of house pets, though he was an old tom and skittishly wild. It was odd that he had abandoned his cemetery haunt to