Page 2 of Marked By the Dark Lord
“Why not?” Sarabeth asked. “It’s a beautiful day!”
She was right. The sun was up, the birds were singing, not a cloud in the sky. It was a lovely summer day.
For everyone except me.
They hauled me out behind the store and started kicking me and pulling at my clothing. I tried to evade as best I could, but they tore at my shirt, laughing the entire time.
“Hey!” a voice shouted. “What are you doing?”
The second the bullies paused, I took off across the street. They came after me, though, their longer legs meaning catching up to me. I ducked behind some of the buildings into a parking lot, looking for a way out.
Book Shop.
The brightly lit sign on the back of an old converted house called to me. I didn’t know there was a bookstore there, or else I would have gone in before. I ran for the entrance, making it inside just before they reached me, but the lock was up high. I jumped for it, trying to slide it shut to stop them. They’d already stolen my library book, but I didn’t want them to do anything more.
“Here,” a gentle voice said, reaching up and sliding the latch closed just as Sarabeth yanked on the handle. “Let me help you with that.”
The door shook as Sarabeth pulled on it in frustration.
“Go away!” the lady who’d locked the door shouted, her face against the door as she slapped her hands against it with abang.
Sarabeth and Margo screamed, and the four of them ran away, leaving me alone in my favorite type of place. A bookstore. Not just that—ausedbookstore.
“Now, how can I help you, little girl?” the woman asked, looking down at me.
She was old, with thin white hair and watery brown eyes that made it look like she was going to cry at any second. Her skin was lumpy and filled with all sorts of big freckles and things I didn’t know the name of.
But she had a kind smile, which put me at ease.
“You did by locking them out,” I said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. What brings you in?”
I frowned. Hadn’t I just told her? Wasn’t it obvious?
“I was running from those girls.” I sighed. Maybe she was too old to notice.
“I saw that. What can I help you with?” she asked again.
“I don’t think you can. Unless you have any books on dealing with bullies?”
The woman looked me up and down. “I just might. Come, come along!” she said, stumping urgently toward the interior of her shop and then down a set of stairs. I followed as the hairs on my neck lifted, sending a shiver down my spine with each squeaky step.
What was that place? How had I never seen it before? And why did it seem so …old?
“Come in, come in,” the lady laughed as I hesitated outside a thick wooden door with weird symbols carved into it.
I did as I was told. The feeling intensified.
“Wow, these books are so old,” I whispered, staring around the room.
“My special collection,” she said, watching me closely.
The tingle grew stronger as my eyes landed on one particular book.
“Ah, very good,” the old woman whispered. “You feel it, don’t you? It calls to you?”
I nodded slowly.
