This Broken Wondrous World Read Online Free PDF Page B

dwarves? Trust me, I’ve been hiking these mountains my whole life, and I have never seen a single little magical man. I promise you, nothing weird is going to happen.”

    HENRI WAS IN good shape, but he was still only a human. A halfhour into our hike up through the mountain trail, he noticed I was holding back.
    â€œGo on,” he said. “Stretch your legs. We can catch up at the next plateau.”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œOf course. I want you to enjoy yourself.”
    So I stepped up the pace until I actually felt like I was exerting myself, and the next time I glanced back, he was too far behind to see.
    It was nice in the mountains alone. The wind was harder and colder up there, so I never got too overheated. I used my hands as well as my feet to move up the steep, rocky path. Having big, clunky hands was a good thing for once. They were perfect for gripping ledges and crevices.
    I stopped at a small outcropping to catch my breath. The lake stretched out below, shining almost silver in the sun. Far on the other side, I could just make out Villa Diodati. I wondered if my father had stood at this bare, windswept spot and looked down at the house of his creator. The unfairness of it must have burned.
    I looked up the mountain. There was still a long way to go. Soon I’d be hitting the snow line. That’s where my father would have been. He always liked cold climates. After all the terrible things that he and Victor did to each other, Victor had chased him up to the Arctic. Then, once Victor had finally died, my father stayed up there for decades. Eventually, Ruthven found him and convinced him to rejoin the world. I wondered what Ruthven had said to sell him on the idea. I could see how Dad would have preferred to stay up there. He was suited for a landscape like this. Hard, strong, elemental.
    Suddenly, I heard a small, raspy voice say something in whatsounded like German. I turned around and saw a little man on top of a nearby rock.
    â€œA dwarf!” I said.
    He was only about two feet tall, which seemed short for a dwarf, but all I knew about them was from movies, and those were almost never accurate. He did have the long, gray beard at least, a gray that was the color of the rocks around him. He had a long cloak the same color, and a brown leather cap on his head.
    He raised a shaggy white eyebrow.
    â€œEnglish?” he asked in a thick German accent.
    â€œAmerican,” I said.
    â€œWhat I said was, I have not seen your kind here in over a century.”
    â€œMy kind?”
    â€œJa. A giant man made from dead men.”
    â€œThe technical term is ‘flesh golem.’” Golems were people made from inanimate objects. The material could be anything—clay, stone, metal. As far as I knew, my parents and I were the only ones made from body parts. And given the location, there was probably only one guy he was talking about.
    â€œYou know my father?”
    â€œIt was I who taught him how to survive in these mountains,” he said. “So he still lives?”
    â€œYeah. In New York City with a bunch of other monsters.”
    â€œI have heard of that city,” he said. “Is he happy in this New York?”
    â€œUh, yeah, I guess. I mean, as happy as my dad can ever be, I think.”
    â€œGood.” The dwarf nodded. “I hope he has savored this brief respite. Because it will soon be over.”
    â€œI’m . . . not really sure I understand what you mean.”
    â€œMy kind rarely come out of the mountain in these times. The world does not welcome us as it once did.”
    â€œSorry about that,” I said. “Some humans are assholes.”
    â€œWe do not mind. The rock is our home. It is the human’s loss that we are not here to help them any longer.”
    â€œSo what are you doing out of the mountain now?”
    â€œLooking for you.”
    â€œFor me? How did you know I would be here? I didn’t