The Wicked Day Read Online Free Page A

branch on the ground,” said Jute.
    “And blood,” said the ghost. It reappeared and crouched down on the ground. “Ooh. Look at that—though, not much, I’m afraid.”
    “Where?” said Declan. “Move! You’ll disturb the mark.”
    “I’m a ghost. I don’t disturb anything.”
    “Human blood,” said Declan after a while. His face looked pale beneath his tan. The hawk landed on the ground and settled his wings.
    “There’s a storm advancing from the east,” said the hawk. “Dark clouds over the mountains. It’ll be on us before the evening and you’ll lose the trail, yes?”
    “Perhaps,” said Declan.
    “Let’s hurry, then.”
    And so they went on, following the trail through thickets and brambles and through the shadows beneath the treetops. It grew darker as they went. The hawk settled back onto Jute’s shoulder and swayed there as the boy hurried after Declan.
    “Can’t we stop to eat?” said Jute. “It’s past lunchtime. At least, that’s what my stomach says. There must be plenty of rabbits about here. You can have a nice, fresh one yourself. My legs are tired. It’s no fun being the wind. I’d much rather just be a thief back in Hearne.”
    “Must you always be interested in your stomach? I doubt there’s a rabbit within a mile of us.” The hawk shut his beak with an angry click and then took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was measured and patient. “The presence of the Dark tends to drive animals mad. They lose their minds. The scent of whatever it was that passed this way probably sent the animals in the vicinity fleeing.”
    The ghost stuck its head out of Jute’s knapsack. “In my teaching days, I had the misfortune to teach some boys whose minds were perpetually lost. I remember one boy. He got hauled into the head professor’s study for various acts of skullduggery: transforming other boys’ pillows into piles of slugs while they slept, setting fire to the snow in the wintertime, convincing the tower mice that there were islands made out of cheese just over the horizon. The mice stole a fishing ketch one day and sailed away in great excitement. The cats were furious.”
    “You’re the most infuriating ghost I’ve ever met!” snapped the hawk.
    “Be quiet,” said Declan. “I don’t mind a snapped twig or a noise here and there, but we might as well give up now if you’re all going to continue bickering like this, do you understand?”
    The ghost vanished with an aggrieved snort, and the hawk took to his wings without a word. After a while, the trees thinned before them and Jute saw that they had reached the edge of the forest. The plain stretched away into a gathering gloom. The air was cold and Jute could smell the coming rain.
    Declan spat to one side and cursed.
    “Nearly back to where we started,” he said. “Not a half hour’s walk south of where we first entered the forest. I’d bet my life on it. Shadow take it. If we’d just come south instead of wasting time in the forest, we’d have cut hours off the chase. Still, there’s no use crying now.”
    And south they went, with the man intent on the trail. The path led them along the edge of the forest, and the trees seemed to lean forward as if they sought to watch what they did. It began to rain. This only spurred Declan on to greater speed. Jute hunched his shoulders in misery against the cold and wet and hurried after him.
    “Oh, how hungry I am,” he said out loud. “I wish I had a leg of roast chicken, or one of those dumplings stuffed with onions and cheese that the deaf lady in Mioja Square sold. How tasty they were.” He licked his lips at this thought and did some more groaning.
    “Stop that,” said the ghost from inside his knapsack. “You sound like a sick cow. Get a hold of yourself.”
    “I’m hungry.”
    “There seems to be something in here. Bread, I think. Why don’t you eat that? I take back anything nice I said about you. Did I say anything nice about you? I