Exile (The Oneness Cycle) Read Online Free Page A

Hammer-man landed a blow to the back of her head.

Chapter 3
    Diane hadn’t slept much since her visit to the boys’ cottage on Wednesday night. She’d found herself pacing the dark rooms of her house in the wee hours that night, unhappily contemplating memories and things she knew, things she had seen. Reese’s face hung in the midst of all her thoughts, the misery in her eyes. Was it true? Could the Oneness be broken?
    And if it could, what other disaster might follow?
    Thursday passed in a blur of the same thoughts, the same worries. She didn’t call the boys and they didn’t call her. A brightish morning gave way to rain again at night, another night like the one when Reese had come, and drove Diane’s mood deep into clouds and recollections she didn’t want.
    It stopped raining just half an hour or so before dawn, and Diane fell asleep at about the same time. When the sun rose she woke just enough to pull the curtains tight shut against it, and so it was nearly noon before she found herself in the kitchen, frying bacon, wondering how the boys were getting on and what their visitor meant and was going to mean.
    It was always possible Reese would turn out to belong somewhere, to be heading somewhere, and she would just thank her rescuers and leave. But Diane knew it wasn’t going to happen that way. Chris wouldn’t allow it; he was too protective—he would insist on seeing her home, making sure she wasn’t really just going off to try to harm herself again. And Tyler was too perceptive; he would see through her if she lied.
    Besides, she didn’t belong anywhere. Nowhere except with the Oneness, and if she was telling the truth, she could not go back to them.
    And if she had somewhere to go, she would have gone yesterday already.
    Diane sighed and leaned against the stove. She didn’t really want to think about all this. She wanted the world to go on turning like it had for so many years, with nothing wrong, nothing calamitous about to come down on their heads.
    But she knew better. Calamity is always hanging over our heads—all of us, every day. Something is always wrong. And she of all people knew that.
    “Maybe it’s all a mistake,” she said out loud.
    A knock on the back door startled her so badly she nearly knocked the frying pan off the stove. She switched the gas off and took the three steps across the tiny kitchen to the door.
    “Yes?”
    She didn’t know the man standing on her doorstep, though she’d seen him around the village. He was tall, dark-skinned, trim. But she knew the woman standing beside him. Short, wiry, Diane’s own age. Piercing grey eyes and white strands of hair highlighting darker locks. Diane closed her eyes for the barest of instants and saw the kitchen again, the family, Douglas hiding them, keeping them away from the mob hunting them down. A man and his wife, four children, and this woman, the man’s sister.
    “Hello, Mary,” Diane said.
    “I’m sorry to come without any warning,” Mary answered. “This is Richard.” She hesitated. “May we come in?”
    Diane opened the door all the way and stood against it without a word. Mary nodded and led the way into the kitchen. The three of them took up the whole room. Their presence was oppressive—bigger than the people who created it. But Diane did not ask them to come further into the house.
    “We need your help,” Mary said.
    Diane cleared her throat. “I thought you had eyes?”
    “We do.” It was Richard who answered. “That’s why we’ve come. Her name is April. She went missing yesterday morning.”
    “Missing?” Diane choked.
    Mary’s expression was earnest and direct. “She went out on a job, one she said would only take her a couple of hours. She was supposed to be back in time for breakfast. She didn’t come. We got worried and started looking for her yesterday evening.”
    “Seems a little rash to say she’s missing,” Diane said, knowing full well that Mary was never rash—that the Oneness