Waterfall Read Online Free PDF

sighed and watched Solon pretend to forget that she existed. Then she crept upstairs to the entrance of the cave. On her way to work the sky had been a strange silvery color that reminded her of a wild foal she used to see frequently in the mountains. There had been a chill in the air that made her walk quickly, rubbing her arms. She’d felt nervous and alone.
    Now, as she stepped outside the cave, a great shadow fell over her. An immense storm cloud dominated the sky, like a giant black egg about to crack. Filiz felt her hair begin to frizz, and then—
    A raindrop fell onto the back of her hand. She studied it. She tasted it.
    Salty.
    It was true. All her life, her elders had warned her of this day. Her ancestors had lived in these mountain caves since the great floodwaters receded millennia ago. Her people possessed a murky collective memory of Atlantis—and a deep-rooted fear that another flood would one day come. Was it actually going to happen, now, before Filiz had climbed the Eiffel Tower or learned to drive a stick shift or fallen in anything resembling love?
    Her shoe smashed her reflection in a puddle, and she wished she were smashing the girl who’d made this rain.
    “What’s your problem, frizzball?” The middle gossipwitch’s voice was unmistakable. Her forked tongue flicked as the gossipwitches hovered in the air over Filiz.
    Filiz had never understood how the wingless witches flew. The three of them were suspended in the rain, arms slack at their sides, making no visible effort to stay aloft. Filiz watched droplets of salty water settle like diamonds on Esme’s lustrous black hair.
    Feliz ran her hand through her own hair, then regretted it. She didn’t want the witches to think she cared about how she looked. “This rain will kill us, won’t it? Poison our wells, destroy our crops—”
    “How would we know, child?” the oldest witch asked.
    “What will we drink?” Filiz asked. “Is it true what theysay, that you have an infinite supply of freshwater? I have heard it called—”
    “Our Glimmering is not for drinking, and it is certainly not for you,” Esme said.
    “Are the girl’s tears as powerful as they are said to be?” Filiz asked. “And … what did you mean when you mentioned Atlas and his Filling?”
    The witches’ beautiful bright caftans contrasted with the giant cloud above them. They looked at one another with amethyst-lined eyes.
    “She thinks we know everything,” the oldest witch said. “I wonder why.…”
    “Because,” Filiz said nervously, “you’re prophets.”
    “It is Solon’s task to ready her,” the eldest said. “Take up your fear of mortality with him. If he can’t prepare the girl, your boss will owe us his cave, his possessions, all of those pretty little butterflies—”
    “Solon will owe us his life.” Esme’s eyes darkened, and in a suddenly terrifying voice she said: “He will even owe us his death.”
    The witches’ laughter echoed over the mountains as they floated backward and disappeared into the strengthening rain.



4
NEW BLOOD
    R ain nailed Eureka to the precipice. She’d landed on the wrist broken in the accident that killed Diana. It was already swelling. The agony was familiar; she knew she’d broken it again. She struggled to her knees as the remnants of the wave flowed back over her.
    A shadow fell across her body. The rain seemed to taper.
    Ander was above her. One of his hands clasped the back of her head; the other caressed her cheek. His heat made it hard for Eureka to catch her breath. His chest touched hers. She felt his heartbeat. His eyes were so powerfully blue, she imagined them throwing turquoise light on her skin, making her look like sunken treasure. Their lips were centimeters apart.
    “Are you hurt?”
    “Yes,” she whispered, “but that’s nothing new.”
    With Ander’s body against hers, no rain fell on Eureka. Heavy drops of water gathered in the air above them, and she realized his cordon covered