Nightfall Read Online Free Page A

situated on a crescent-shaped beach hemmed in by the Desert Lands on one side and the ocean on the other.
    Marin stood up from the table and walked over to the chair where Francis was sitting. She eyed his book and recalled how Shiloh rode a two-humped horse across the dunes, befriended the desert nomads, and found wadis where treasures were buried. Most memorable of all was the story of Shiloh’s time at the Cloister—a forbidding stone tower rising from the sand—where she spent a year isolated with other girls her age. It was a rite of passage for natives of the Desert Lands and their daughters. During this time, the “women-to-become” meditated together and used scalpels and ink to etch markings across their bodies and faces.
    Francis looked up at Marin. “What’s it really like in the Desert Lands?” he asked. “Your mother lived there, didn’t she?”
    Marin nodded. “She did.”
    â€œAnd that’s why she has those marks on her wrists?”
    Marin nodded again. “The markings aren’t only on her wrists,” she explained. “They go all the way up her back, too.”
    â€œCan I touch them one day?”
    â€œFrancis—it’s late,” said Line, eager to change the subject. “You need to get to bed.”
    Francis shook his head. “I don’t want to go by myself. And I’m not tired.”
    â€œGo with him,” Marin told Line. She felt a sudden pang of sadness for Francis, this little boy with no parents to tuck him in. “I’ll clean up, and we can move the furniture when you come down. And don’t forget, we also have to deal with the key.”

CHAPTER 5
    Line walked Francis up the narrow, creaking stairs that led to the second floor, holding his hand so he wouldn’t trip in the dark stairwell. At the top of the stairs was a small landing and three doorways. One doorway led into Line’s room, another into Francis’s room, and a third into the room his parents had shared.
    â€œCan I sleep in your room tonight?” asked Francis.
    â€œOkay,” said Line. He was too tired to argue. Francis walked over to Line’s bed and climbed into it. Line crawled in next to him and pulled a huge comforter over them. It was used only in Twilight, when the weather became uncomfortably cold. Francis was quiet, and for a moment, Line wondered if he’d fallen asleep. That hope was dashed when Francis turned and asked, “Did Mother know about the spirits who live here at Night?”
    Line paused. Francis did not talk about their mother often.
    â€œNothing lives here at Night,” Line replied, patting his little brother on the shoulder. “It’s too cold. The island freezes.”
    â€œBut the spirits are dead,” persisted Francis. “So it doesn’t matter how cold it gets.”
    â€œThere’s no such thing as spirits,” said Line gently. “Adults think that telling kids to get ready before the spirits come will make them pack up quickly. But we live on our own, so we’re kind of adults already and don’t need to play. Understand?” He kissed his brother on the cheek. “Now close your eyes.”
    â€œBut I’m not tired.”
    Line sighed. “Do you want me to sing?”
    â€œYes,” said Francis with a yawn.
    Line cleared his throat and began to sing “Hand Over Hand,” one of the ballads that old men and women sang as they scaled the island’s cliffs. It was a slow, sad melody—perfect for chanting in rounds, with each climber on a rope singing in intervals. Line sang for a while, then hummed the tune.
    Some time later, Line woke with a start.
How long have I been asleep?
It could have been minutes or hours—he was too disoriented to tell. He stood and walked downstairs. Marin was gone, and the house was in tip-top shape. She had done a great deal of work—the dishes were cleaned, the toys put away,