Dark Arts Read Online Free Page B

stretched
into something a little more interesting, as though she’d just
given him a dare, or taken and fulfilled one herself. She glanced
over his shoulder after holding his eye for a long moment. “That
yours?”
    “My favorite thing in this world,” Max
replied as smoothly as he could, but his quiet response was
gravelly, not gentle.
    “Give me a lift to the farm?” she asked.
    There was nothing he wanted more in that
moment than to ride back to the farm with Miranda on his bike
behind him, but there was one detail he couldn’t forget. He raised
the guitar case a little. “Don’t know if I have room.”
    “Me, or that guitar?” she asked, arching an
eyebrow.
    “Wait, I have straps, if you’ll wear ‘em,”
he said.
    “Straps?”
    Max stepped back and pulled the homemade
straps and loops he used to ride with a guitar on his back off the
seat and wrapped them around the guitar case.
    “Yeah, I’ll wear that,” Miranda said,
walking down the alley to his bike and zipping her black leather
jacket closed. She turned around and let him put the arm loops
around her, then tied them tighter. “Not bad,” she said. “Now kick
that thing so we can get down the road.”
    “As my Lady wishes,” he said, straddling his
bike and giving it a hard kick-start. It turned over and roared
right away, not something that happened every time.
    Miranda climbed on behind him, wrapped her
arms around his waist. “My life’s in your hands, Max” she whispered
against his good ear.
    He revved down the alley and onto the
street, breaking out between two cars and roaring towards Elm
Street.

II
    Even though Maxwell’s motorcycle rushed
through the air down the highway, he could still smell her: sweet
vanilla and rose. He’d taken women for rides before, but she fit.
Her feet landed where they were supposed to, her hands were around
his waist, but holding, not gripping or locked tight.
    When they took a turn, they leaned together,
and when they were on a long straight stretch, she wasn’t afraid to
rest against his back. He paid close attention to the road, taking
no risks, giving her no reason to doubt her trust in him as a
passenger. The highway to Azilda was far from perfect, and he made
sure that they didn’t hit anything that would interrupt their
smooth ride.
    The girl he knew was fading away, and the
reality of the woman Miranda had become was replacing it. He didn’t
know this lady he’d met, but she still felt so familiar that it was
mind-boggling. He felt as though they had found a completely
different place to exist separate from the rest of the world, a
space that was easy and comfortable. Maxwell had never experienced
anything like it, but he still reminded himself of one simple fact
– they had just met.
    The barren stone landscape started to become
green again; they had passed through town and made it to Azilda.
Forty minutes of their ride had passed, and it felt like fleeting
moments. The last stretch of highway passed even faster, then they
turned onto a dirt road. In minutes they were rolling on a two
lane, kicking up dust behind them, surrounded by tall, green trees.
The rising heat and humidity of the early afternoon made the air
smell rich, alive.
    Maxwell liked thinking he was a creature
made for the city, but when he returned to the Webb Farm it really
was home. The woods made him feel like he was surrounded by life.
The smell of the damp soil, the underbrush, and thick trees were a
warm embrace he’d learned to miss.
    They took the last turn onto a well-tarred
dirt road and he slowed down. There were a few twists that could
make trouble for them. She moved with him as they made the turns
and then they came to the top of a hill. Miranda gave his waist a
squeeze and he throttled up in response, sending them down the hill
at an alarming speed. She laughed against his good ear as they went
down, the slightly smaller hill ahead rising up, blocking the
sun.
    They made it up the other side, mostly on
the