Radiant: Towers Trilogy Book One Read Online Free

shadow, charcoal and gray.
    She had done no more than gasp when the magic once more washed through her system, nausea hard on the heels of color. She looked at the ghost in shock. What had she done? For a moment, it had felt as if the bright magic had vanished—almost as if the ghost had disrupted it, or pulled it from Xhea through the tether. Yet ghosts were as devoid of magic as Xhea herself; while a few spells could affect ghosts, the dead couldn’t wield any true power. Not magic, then. But what else could have affected her payment?
    The ghost, trembling on the far end of her tether, clearly had no answers. She stared at Wen with wide eyes. “He can see me?” she whispered.
    “So it seems,” Xhea replied. The bright magic surged through her, and again she thought, Breathe. Breathe .
    Wen looked away from the calculator, shaking his head. He pulled the half-moon glasses from his face and wiped the lenses on the edge of his shirt, seemingly without thought. “Xhea,” he said at last, “you’re callous with the souls in your care.”
    “No.” She swallowed in an attempt to settle her stomach. “Just short on time.”
    “You mean impatient and disinclined to care.”
    Xhea shrugged and looked away, disguising her discomfort in a search for the kaleidoscope. She fished it from beneath the table and placed it before her eye. “Same thing.”
    Wen ignored her, turning to the ghost and showing her his empty hands. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.”
    The ghost stared, those wide blue eyes making her seem strangely young.
    “What’s her name?” Wen asked softly.
    “I don’t know.” At his look, she added, “She’s only been with me a couple of hours. And you know they don’t all remember.” Ghosts forgot much about their lives—whether through death or choice, she never quite knew. It turned some transactions into exercises in frustration.
    Wen sighed at the beginnings of their familiar argument. “You think that’s excuse enough? Must you be paid for kindness? You know—”
    “Shai,” the ghost said. They both turned to her in surprise. As if speaking had steadied her, she took a breath and pushed her hair from her face with a careful hand. “My name is Shai.”
    “Hello Shai,” Wen said, a gentle smile lighting his face. “Welcome.”
    Whatever Shai might have replied was lost at the sound of a heavy tread on the stairs from the upstairs office. “Sorry about that,” a younger man said, coming to stand by the table. “Still going through some of those old boxes.”
    “Hey, Brend,” Xhea muttered. She reluctantly slid the kaleidoscope back onto its shelf. “Break anything important?”
    Brend ignored her comment, instead walking around the table to look at the items she’d brought, careful not to touch Xhea as he passed. Side-by-side with Wen, it was easy to see the resemblance between them: same round face and dark hair, same wide flare to their noses, same hunched stance as they looked over Xhea’s offerings. Yet though he watched Brend, eyes riveted on the younger man’s face, Wen made no move to greet his son.
    When he’d inherited his father’s business, Brend seemed to have kept it open out of a sense of loyalty—or perhaps, Xhea thought none too kindly, he just didn’t know what to do with the masses of junk that his father had acquired and had not the heart to let it all crumble into ruin once more. Though he had skill as an antiques dealer and something of his father’s eye for hidden value, Brend had little love for the trade itself. Xhea had often wondered what Brend had given up to maintain his father’s business—and whether he resented his other finders as he seemed to resent her.
    He examined the pieces quickly, turning each with a practiced hand and exclaiming over the functioning calculator. He was quick to give her an offer on the lot, too—one so low it went beyond insult into comedy.
    “Brend, Brend,” Xhea