Good Curses Evil Read Online Free Page A

succeed, you will achieve the rank of Fiend.
    I was so excited; I could hardly make my fingers unfold the rest of the parchment. What would it be? Stealing jewels? Causing an earthquake? My eyes skimmed down the page.
    â€œWhat!” I shouted.
    â€œWhat is it, Rune?” Chad asked.
    â€œI don’t believe this. It’s not possible.”
    â€œWhat?” Chad was practically salivating.
    I read aloud, “ ‘Number one, kidnap a princess. Number two, steal a baby. Number three, find a henchman and commit him to your service …’ ”
    â€œThat’s not so bad,” Chad said, although he didn’t sound too sure.
    â€œI’ve saved the best for last,” I said, growing a little hysterical. “ ‘Number four, overthrow a kingdom and place a ruler of your choice on the throne.’ ”
    â€œWell … uh … that’s …”
    â€œImpossible!” I said. “I’m supposed to do all that in seven days ! I can’t do it.” My toes felt numb. My eye began to twitch. Slowly, I forced myself to calm down. To think.
    â€œMaybe I can combine some of this. You know? Maybe I can … uh … steal a baby princess and make her my henchman?”
    â€œUh … I guess that could work.” Chad didn’t look convinced.
    â€œI’m dead.” My eye twitched as I spoke.
    Chad just stared at me with pity.
    At the bottom of the note a few more words were written. I didn’t dare share them with Chad, knowing the consequences if I did. Still, I clung to that little sentence like a lifeline in a turbulent sea:
    You may choose two Conspirators to Plot with you.

 
    CHAPTER THREE
    Another Plot
    It’s funny how a lecture on the history of villainy can make the time go so slowly. Yet, imminent death just speeds the old clock right up.
    The night of the harvest moon arrived, and I was a mess. I still had no idea how to accomplish my Plot. I pulled on my boots only to realize they were on the wrong feet. I gave up and just stared blankly at my hands. From across the room, I dimly noticed Chad watching me with concern. He had finally stopped trying to cheer me up with his latest invention: cookies that bite back.
    When the Great Clock chimed the hour, I jumped and turned my head nervously from side to side before slumping over and staring at my hands once more.
    â€œUh, Rune,” Chad said. “We have to assemble with everyone outside. For the field trip. Remember?”
    â€œField trip?” I asked, unsure where I was.
    â€œTo Morgana’s? They’re drawing for the Plot tonight, and—”
    â€œPlot? Plot !” I shouted.
    At the sound of the P -word my eye twitched like crazy. I pressed both hands on it, coming back to my senses a little. I could see Chad had backed up to a wall and was eyeing the doorway nervously.
    â€œSorry,” I said. “Let’s go.”
    I followed Chad into the hallway, where students were already elbowing and jostling each other on their way to the school entrance. Everyone spilled out of the narrow hallway and into the darkness of the night.
    The entire school was located under the ruins of an old castle. It consisted of a series of underground tunnels, dungeons, and caves. The land—a blackened, nearly sunless waste—had been donated to the school by Jezebel’s dad, Dracula. She was always such a brat about how her dad had paid for this and that and he was oh-so-important.
    In the moonlight, I could see Master Dreadthorn and a handful of other teachers standing at the front of the mob. Master Stiltskin caught my eye and smiled his sunken, toothless old-man grin, waving one bony hand at me, but I hardly took notice. Instead, I stood stoically as a rumbling sound grew louder and louder, and a caravan of Gypsy wagons materialized from the darkness. The colorful wagons, adorned with brightly dyed cloth and fluttering flags, came to a crunching halt at the school