The Hidden Deep Read Online Free Page B

fell.
    Prissie watched like a hawk, occasionally offering advice that Ransom mostly ignored. Candy-smashing was hardly rocket science, so after a while, she bit her tongue and watched the steady reduction of red disks into pinkish sugar crystals. He certainly seemed to be enjoying the process, which didn’t really surprise her. Ransom’s hair was too long, his nose was too big, and he did weird things with his eyebrows … but deep down, he was no different than any of her brothers. Put simply, he was a
boy.
    As if to prove the point, Prissie’s dad strolled over to inspect their progress. “May I?”
    Ransom turned over his weapon, and Jayce gave the battered bag a gleeful thwack. Shaking her head, Prissie retreated to the other side of the kitchen to lend a hand to Auntie Lou.
    While the boys took turns making rubble, the ladies set up a long line of pie plates and rolled the top crusts. They tossed apples with flour and sugar, then dusted them with powdered cinnamon candies before mounding them in the tins. For a while, there was nothing but chaos, but before Prissie knew it, they were crimping the edges on the last of a dozen pies. Auntie Lou smiled in satisfaction before glancing at the clock. “Jayce, you’d better get those two over to the school. I’ll bake these off while you’re out.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Nodding to Prissie and Ransom, he said, “Pull yourselves together. The van leaves in five!”
    Prissie washed up, hung her apron, and rolled down her sleeves, rushing through a mental checklist — homework, lunch, library book, gym bag. She’d left everything but her purse in the van, so she thanked Auntie Lou and let herself out. In the alley behind the bakery, she found Ransom already waiting, leaning against the side of the van. Drawing herself up, she said, “You’d better not tell anyone about my recipe.”
    “It’s like your dad said. When I signed on, I swore to keep my yap shut about secret recipes and techniques and stuff. Your pretty, pink pies are safe with me.”
    His entire attitude was far too flippant. “I don’t think my dad should be trusting someone like you.”
    Ransom cocked a brow at her. “Relax, Miss Priss. I know how to keep a promise.”
    She almost believed him. But
almost
wasn’t enough. This was Ransom, after all.
    After school a couple days later, Prissie and Koji hurried across the wide lawn in front of town hall. Passing the post office and the
Herald
’s newspaper office, they turned into a small, secondhand bookstore called The Curiosity Shop. They’d skimped on their library time in order to stop in and talk to Harken.
    Soft chimes sounded as they slipped through the door, and Harken looked up with a ready smile. “Prissie Pomeroy!” he greeted in a booming voice. “What brings you to my humble establishment?”
    “You!” she blurted.
    The old gentleman chuckled and stepped out from behind the counter. “Well, now, that’s gratifying. It’s been too long since you visited.”
    “Sorry.”
    “No apologies, Prissie. We’ve all been busy lately.”
    She clasped her hands together, suddenly worried that her timing was bad. “That’s
true
,” she murmured uncertainly.
    Koji smiled encouragingly. “There is no one else here. It is safe to ask.”
    Prissie nodded and glanced back at Harken, who was at once strange and familiar. She’d known him all her life because he’d been a good friend to her father since Jayce was her age, and her mother loved to poke around his shop, looking for bookish treasures. It had been a big shock to learn that the old man wasn’t
really
old … or a man, for that matter. Harken was a Messenger like Milo.
    The elderly man gazed at her with a mixture of affection and amusement. “Do you have a question for me, Prissie?”
    “Could you deliver a message for me?”
    Harken’s smile widened. “That happens to be a specialty of mine. Who is it for?”
    “You and Milo and Baird and Kester,” she rattled off, talking