The Gossamer Crown: Book One of The Gossamer Sphere Read Online Free

she was having, how many cute guys she’d met – not topics Lizbeth was feeling charitable about at the moment.  Especially when her hair and skin stank of greasy, inedible pizza.
    She opened the cabin door to see Granma sitting on the armchair across from the couch.  A woman sat facing her, a thin, black, strangely familiar woman.  As soon as Granma turned to look at her, Lizbeth knew with a strong sense of dread that something had happened.
    “Is it Mom?” she asked.
    “No, baby.  Your mother’s fine.  Everything’s fine,” Granma said.  She hadn’t called Lizbeth “baby” since Lizbeth had been a baby.  No lit candles meant this woman was not a client.  Besides, she didn’t have that wide-eyed look about her that screamed, “Believer.”
    “Caitlin, this is my granddaughter Lizbeth.”
    Lizbeth moved forward and shook the older woman’s hand, murmuring an apology about her own cold hand.  She looked at her grandmother for permission to leave the room, go hide in her bedroom and sulk some more about not being able to afford college, but Granma said, “Have a cup of tea, dear.  Sit with us for a few minutes, please.”
    Her earlier dread resurfaced, but she sat on the couch next to her grandmother’s guest.  Granma handed her a cup of tea in the antique china that was only used for special occasions.  Lizbeth’s face had begun to thaw in the heat of the room, but the cold outside must have affected her vision.  When she looked directly at this Caitlin woman, everything was fine, but every time she sipped the tea, her peripheral vision wavered, giving Caitlin a strange glow.
    “Caitlin worked with your father,” Granma said.
    “Really?”  Lizbeth’s interest went from zero to sixty.
    “You look very much like him,” Caitlin said.
    “I would if I were a little whiter.”
    “Lizbeth!” Granma said.
    Lizbeth shrugged.  “It’s true.”
    “Trust me when I say that you are more like him than you know,” Caitlin said.
    Oh-kay.   Lizbeth reevaluated Caitlin.  Formal speech, formal manner.  Definitely a believer.
    “I’ll have to trust you, since you knew him and I didn’t.”
    She looked on as Caitlin exchanged a look with Granma, both of their faces impassive.
    Granma said, “How was work today, Lizbee?”
    “Horrible.  Sucky.  Same as ever, why?”
    “I’m here to offer you a job,” Caitlin said.
    “How much does it pay?” Lizbeth asked.
    “If we’re successful, the reward will be great.”
    Lizbeth absorbed the statement without scoffing, but it was difficult.
    “Successful at what?”
    “Preventing the destruction of earth,” Caitlin said.
    Lizbeth laughed.  She stood and said, “I’d love to save the world, but I need to change out of my uniform and get a shower, so I’ll take a rain check on that ‘job’ of yours.  Good luck.”
    She started out of the room, but Caitlin spoke again, and it wasn’t what she said, “Luck has nothing to do with it,” but how she said it.  The words had been spoken calmly, quietly, but Lizbeth felt them reverberating in her skull as if she were in a cavernous, echoing chamber instead of the tiny cabin.  She put her hands to her head and turned to Caitlin, who’d completely changed appearance.  Black hair pulled back in a bun had been replaced with red curls; milk chocolate skin was now plain milk.
    Lizbeth looked around the room.  The performer in her knew the trick was possible, but the realist wondered why Caitlin and this new woman, probably her assistant, would go to so much trouble.
    “What are you trying to pull?” she asked.
    “I told you she was a tough nut,” Granma said to the assistant.
    “I’m a shapeshifter, Lizbeth,” the assistant said in Caitlin’s voice.  “Like your father.”
    Lizbeth rolled her eyes.  “My father was a magician.  I’ve read every article and seen every bit of footage on him.  He never once changed shape.  They call it a magic trick because the trick is what’s