When Demons Walk Read Online Free

jewelry, a palm-sized ball of glass the Old Man had used to keep his handslimber, and a pillow embroidered neatly with stars and moon—her last attempt at needlework.
    Under the pillow was another wooden box. This she took in her lap and unworked the magic that kept the lid closed. Inside were several items that she’d found while thieving. They weren’t hers or the Old Man’s, but like the flute they were better stored well out of the reach of fools: a gold and porcelain bowl that would gradually poison any who ate from it, a worn silver bracelet that kept the wearer from sleeping, and several like items. She started to put the flute with them, then stopped.
    The Old Man had nothing left from before—nothing but the flute she held in her hand. The farm would have to wait until she had the money, but the flute she would give to him now. She returned it to her hidden pocket. As she did so, she felt the surge of magic that preceded the return of the tide.
    She forced herself to set the seal on the larger chest carefully, but once that was done she rewrapped the oilcloth with haste and left the grotto at a dead run. Slipping and sliding she sped through the tunnels to the beach outside. Far out on the sands she could see the white line of the returning sea.
    The sand was soft with water and sucked at her fleeing feet, causing her to stumble and slow. The short distance to the ladder seemed to stretch forever and the sands began to vibrate. By the time she’d reached the cliff below the ladder she could hear the roar of the ocean.
    The cliffside was slick with moisture and without the thread of magic that kept her fingers from slipping off the rocks she would never have reached the ladder.
    â€œMagic,” she gasped as her fingers closed over the bottom rung of the ladder, “—and luck to make up for lack of wits—I hope.”
    But there was no time to waste, if the wall of water hit while she was still on the ladder she would be crushed against the rocks. The ladder shook with the force of the returning water and she increased her efforts, ignoring the burning in the muscles of her arms and thighs.
    The wind hit first, battering her against the hard rock cliff, and she spared a glance for the racing wall of water. As tall as the cliff she climbed, the foaming white mass covered the sands faster than a racing horse, the drumming of the surf echoing the beat of her heart. She couldn’t help the wide grin that twisted her mouth as she fought to climb beyond the waves reach. The exhilaration of her race for survival helped add speed to her ascent.
    Heart pounding, she threw herself on the top of the low cliff where her ladder attached, then turned to watch the tremendous waves that swept across the last few yards of sand. The noise was incredible, so strong that she could feel it thrumming in her chest, and she breathed in deeply to savor the feeling.
    She jumped back involuntarily as the ocean crashed into the cliff with a hollow boom that shook the ground and sent spray high into the air. Laughing, she ducked her head to protect her eyes, and the salt water showered harmlessly onto her hair and shoulders as the waves retreated and pounded back again.
    Magic poured over her, making her heart sing with the joy of it. It was shaped and called by the ocean itself, and no human mage could use its power to weave spells—but she could feel it and revel in its glory.
    She wasn’t certain what made her turn away from the waves, but she froze when she saw that someone else was watching the water hit the cliffs. He hadn’t seen her where she crouched on her hidden ledge below him. The crashing waves were deafening, drowning any sound she had made. If she stayed where she was she could probably keep him from noticing her at all. But the water’s magic made her reckless. She slid further toward the edge of her ledge, allowing herself to get a better look at the rider who dared