The Dickens Mirror Read Online Free Page A

fair
.
    The woman’s back at the door. “Don’t do anything stupid, Emma.” Then,
BLAM!
The door lets out a huge bawl, and Emma discovers the sound of an ax biting wood really
isn’t
a chop but a detonation.
    “Don’t run, Emma,” the woman says. “Trust me, you’ll only make this worse.”
    Running
will make this worse? What could be worse than an
ax
?
What am I going to do, what am I going to do?
Her thoughts spin like gerbils racing on a wheel of pure panic. Another
BLAM!
Now, the wood actually cracks. She hears the clatter as pieces rain to the steps. A third
BLAM!
She’s got to do something, try to hide—but where?
    Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Emma sees a streak of orange shoot from behind the washer and dart into the second room.
Follow the cat
. Jack has the right idea. Lots of boxes in the second room, books, the desk. Maybe she can block off the entrance. Springing from her crouch, Emma races past the washer and dryer. As she passes the shelves, she thinks,
Why not?
With a great sweep of her arms, she sends jars and cans crashing to the floor. The air fills with a scent of vinegar that is strong enough to make her throat try to close and her eyes water. If her aim was any good, she might lob a couple jars, but while Lara Croft would peg that crazy lady, no sweat, Emma’s truly hopeless at softball. Mainly, she’s only trying to make as much of a mess as she can.
    Above and behind, the tenor of the ax hacking wood changes as the door caves.
    Go!
Emma dashes into the back room just as boots clatter down wood steps. There’s enough grainy yellow light seeping from the kitchen door the lady just killed for Emma to make out a dim jumble of boxes and books and Jasper’s old rolltop, but not much else. Of course, the gloom cuts both ways; she’ll be just as hard to see, especially if she holds herself real, real still. On the other hand, now she’s out of running room. So maybe this was a really terrible idea after all. Where to hide? Terrified, she tosses a wild look. Duck behind boxes? The old secretary?
    There’s a slight crunch and pop as the woman’s boots grind broken glass.
Wonder how come she hasn’t turned on the light?
Maybe she can’t find it, but that’s dumb. The switch is right … Then Emma thinks,
What are you doing, you nut? Don’t jinx
—
    There’s a distinctive
snap
. Flat yellow light flows into the gloom.
    Stupid, Emma, you’re so stupid
. Emma’s insides go all loose, like she might fall down in the next second. She’s
always
jinxing herself.
You think too much
.
    Another
snap
. The light goes out. “This is fascinating.” The woman
snicks
the light on a second time, and then a third. “Worthy of study.”
    Worthy of study?
What, she’s never seen a light before? Still, the woman’s done her a favor. To the left, Jasper’s hulking old secretary looms, and she can see a larger, long wedge of shadow where the desk isn’t completely snugged to the wall. The opening’s just wide enough for a thin and wiry twelve-year-old kid. So she’s got a choice. She could hide behind the Victorian, quiet quiet quiet as a mouse—maybe even do a Lara or somethingand jam herself into the crack, tuck and plant her feet like a rock climber so that crazy lady won’t be able to see her feet. If Emma’s
really
lucky (hah!), the crazy lady will look around and kind of scratch her head—
Huh, where’s Waldo?
—and go back upstairs. Or Emma could do the same move and shove the desk really hard until it falls over. The desk isn’t wide enough to completely block the way, but it would certainly slow this woman down.
    Emma doesn’t have that kind of time, though, and knows it. There’s only one way out of here.
Should’ve bolted out the front door, taken my chances outside
. At least there would be room to run. But the fog was so thick, she’d get lost. She
even
might have—and this is a weird thought—run to another place and time.
    Yet there is also Jack, who could