The Pictish Child Read Online Free Page A

she had to get some fresh air.
    She found Peter and the dog standing on the front steps, staring out at the bucketing-down rain. They both looked miserable.
    â€œUmbrella full of holes?” she asked. “Or afraid of melting?”
    Peter gestured at the dog. “He refuses to move.”
    â€œI’m waiting for a drier day,” the dog said.
    â€œYou’ll be here till next summer, then,” said Peter ferociously, handing the leash to Jennifer. “You take charge of him. The two of you are quite a pair! I’m going off on my own.” And away he went, umbrella raised high.
    â€œPeter!” Jennifer called after him, but he didn’t even turn to look back. Once he was through the gate, the high stone walls hid him from view, though she did catch a glimpse of the umbrella as it moved along the road.
    â€œNow look what you’ve done,” said Jennifer, turning to the dog. “He’s as upset as I’ve ever seen him.”
    â€œDone? Done? I’ve done nothing but what I should. You’re the one who challenged him. I’m only guarding the wee lass.”
    â€œOut here?”
    â€œBetter than in there,” said the dog. “That place reeks of darkness.”
    â€œI sensed something, too,” Jennifer said, trying to salvage something with the dog. “And for a moment I thought the lights had gone out … Gran says you don’t have the kind of electricity we have in the States. So maybe the Eventide Home needs a better generator or something.”
    â€œHumans have nae noses,” said the dog. “It’s a shame, but there it is. The worst of the reek, though, surrounds those three auld carlines.”
    â€œIs it old age?” Jennifer asked.
    â€œOnly a bairn would ask that,” muttered the dog.
    â€œBut those are Gran’s friends,” Jennifer said, trying not to remember how uncomfortable their drugged sleep had made her just moments before. “And they must be good witches— white witches—because Gran is.”
    â€œWho kens yer weaknesses better than a friend?” the dog asked her, adding, “Or a twin. And as for good or bad, dark or light, the nose never lies.”
    Just then the door opened behind them, and Gran and Molly came out holding the umbrellas.
    â€œLook, Jen!” Molly said, traces of ice cream still on her lips. “Look, what Mrs. McGregor gave me before she fell asleep.”
    This time Jennifer looked closely. The little rock wasn’t painted at all, but rather engraved with a strange picture of a bird on top of a snake. The thing almost seemed to glow.
    â€œIt’s a tallyman. Isn’t it pretty?”
    â€œ Talisman” Jennifer corrected her. Pretty was not what she would have called the stone. Spooky, perhaps. Scary, maybe. Dangerous, definitely.

Five
    Lost Stone
    â€œWhere’s Peter?” asked Gran.
    â€œHe’s gone on home,” said Jennifer, careful not to mention their fight.
    â€œNae that way,” the dog said. “The gormless lad went left who should have gone right.”
    â€œIs Peter lost?” asked Molly, looking terribly worried.
    â€œNot so much lost as bothered,” Gran assured her. “It is very difficult to get lost for long in a town as small as Fairburn. He’ll get home soon enough. And so should we.” She looked up and smiled. “The rain is over for now.” Then, taking Molly by the hand, she headed determinedly toward the gate, the dog trotting by her side.
    Umbrella tightly furled, Jennifer hurried after them.
    They turned right on Burial Brae, onto the cobblestones, and Molly pulled her hand from Gran’s. She skipped ahead on the sidewalk, throwing her stone talisman straight up into the air and catching it two times out of the first three throws.
    â€œBe careful, child,” Gran called out as a car passed by on the cobbled road. Molly was scrabbling at the curb for her little stone