Dark Arts Read Online Free Page A

Freddy said.
    “It’s all right, go and do that for me,”
Angelo reassured.
    Max put the ledger down and folded the stack
of bills before putting them in the inside pocket of his jacket.
His finger brushed the shard that he’d found in the book. “Oh, and
I’ve found something else inside this book. Maybe you’d like to
take a look.” He held the thing up. It was the first time he’d seen
it in raw daylight, and he was immediately sure it was petrified
wood.
    Angelo’s eyes went wide. “No, I don’t know
what that is,” he said. “Can’t be important.”
    “Are you sure?” Max said, aware that the
appearance of the thing made Angelo nervous. “Looks like you
swallowed a bug.”
    “Your father was right, you’re a thug,”
Angelo said. “No more business from me, there are other people who
can do your work.”
    “You sure?” Max said, happy to be out of the
man’s address book, but eager to taunt him one more time. “Bernie’s
not going to go running for you, his father would never have it,
and no one from the Circle will talk to you.”
    “I’ll make do without hiring thugs,” Angelo
said, slamming his lockbox shut. “Take that with you.” He pointed
at the book on the edge of the desk.
    Max took it and slipped it inside his
jacket. “I’ll go get my guitar now, you can have the Airliner in
trade, overprice that too.”
    The teens were gone when he arrived
downstairs, and the black Les Paul Custom was in its velvet lined
case on the counter. Miranda was standing beside it, a little smile
on her lips.
    “Here you go, Max,” Freddie said, gesturing
dismissively and retreating upstairs.
    “Never heard anyone give someone shit like
that, and I’ve lived in Italy,” Miranda said as she watched Freddie
disappear upstairs. “Owed you a lot of money, huh?”
    Max closed the guitar case and slapped all
the latches shut, trying to cool down at the same time. “Sorry,
luv, I’d have a sweeter first meeting after not seeing you for so
long.”
    “Hi, yourself,” Miranda said. “Always loved
your accent, it’s better now though.”
    “So are you,” Max said, pushing through the
nervousness that was replacing his anger. “You need anything?”
    She stared at him for a moment before
comprehension dawned on her. “Oh, here? No, I left my gear at the
farm. I’m staying with the Webbs for the Gathering.”
    Max’s heart sunk a little at the thought of
Miranda believing in the occult. Some of his nervousness at seeing
her subsided. “We’d best be off, don’t know if they’ll change their
mind on this,” he said, hefting the guitar case a little for
emphasis. He grabbed a handful of picks, stuffed them into his
pocket, leaned over the counter, grabbed a pair of harmonicas, then
helped himself to a few sets of strings and finished filling his
pockets. It lacked class, but made him feel better.
    Miranda’s smirk didn’t subside as she
watched him take a few things. He could feel her eyes on him, and
the only thing that bothered him was that he couldn’t tell what she
was thinking, but he was pretty sure she was amused at least.
“Well, it’s not five grand, but I’ll be good on supplies for a
bit.”
    “Right,” she led the way out of the
shop.
    “My bike’s just here,” Max said. “I have to
get to the farm, meeting the band there later.” He walked past her,
immediately regretting it, feeling rude. He turned back towards her
after walking into the alley, and she bumped into him. “I’m a
prat,” he told her.
    Miranda didn’t step back much, but settled
against him and looked him in the eye, that expression of mild
amusement still on her face. “Just bad timing,” she said.
    “We could start over, yeah?” Max asked,
trying desperately to be calm and cool as her nose was two inches
from his.
    “No,” she whispered. “I heard everything,
won’t pretend I didn’t. I think this is the side I was meant to see
of you first. You notice I’m not shying away?” Her smile