Free The Specter Key by Kaleb Nation Page A

Nim?” he tried, and at that she nodded again quickly, leaping away from his nose and hovering an inch from his face. Her features were green and blue in places, a mottled color against the paleness of her skin. She didn’t have to flap her wings more then once every few seconds, as if her body was lighter than air. Neither Bran nor Astara really knew what to say. Nim wasn’t something they had expected to find at all in ten.
    Bran heard a scrape from down the hall.
    “He’s coming!” Astara hissed, and both of them dove to the floor, jumping behind one of the couches. Nim moved as well, and as Bran fell she flew up next to him, clinging to the back of the upholstery. All three were very still. Bran held his breath as the door pushed open slightly, the soft creak like a scream. Bran could hear Nim’s breathing. He held his hand up quickly, and she closed her mouth, biting her lip as she did. The door creaked open another inch.
    “Ten, hm,” a voice said. Bran recognized it: the old man at the counter. He closed his eyes and let his breath out softly.
    “What a mess they’ve made of the place,” the old man said grumpily, and Bran heard the key rattling. “Hucksters. Hucksters, the lot of them…” He went on cursing as he struggled with the lock, then he slammed the door closed behind him. Bran let his head fall against the back of the couch when they were alone again, and they heard the man continue down the hall.
    “That was close,” Astara said.
    Nim began to breathe quickly. Bran got to his feet.
    “He probably came to and went looking for the key to eleven,” he said. “We’ve got to get out of here before he comes back.”
    “But we haven’t even come close to finding out who lives here,” Astara said. “You saw it: he’s been following you for months, maybe more.”
    “I know,” Bran said. “But if we’re caught in here it’s over. I’ve seen enough.”
    Nim slid up around the back of him and stepped on his shoulder. He stopped.
    “But we can’t leave her here,” Astara said strongly.
    “He’ll notice she’s gone,” Bran replied, looking at Nim up and down and thinking hard.
    “She was trapped in a box,” Astara pointed out. “He couldn’t have cared much.”
    Bran took a deep breath. He knew Astara was right. Nim looked back at him imploringly.
    “Nim?” she said softly.
    Bran nodded. “We’ve got to hurry, and you’ve got to stay out of sight.”
    In that instant, understanding his words, Nim popped her arms to her sides and they seemed to mesh back inward, her head melting back to the blossom it had been in the box. In less than a second she was a withered flower again, and Bran had to bring his hand up to catch her before she fell off his shoulder. He gently put her into his pocket, trying to be as careful as he could.
    “Be very still,” he whispered. “Remember, you’re illegal here.”
    They hurried to the door. Taking her out of the room might set the person who had been taking photos hot on his trail. But she was so small, so seemingly helpless.
    They slipped out into the hall and crept down the stairs. The old man was back in his chair, still at the crossword puzzles with the record playing as if nothing had happened.
    “Visit the Nigels sometime again,” the old man said as they passed.
    Bran nodded back at him as he pushed the door, but just as he was stepping outside, Bran’s shoulder collided with another man coming in.
    “Oh sorry!” Bran apologized. “I wasn’t watching where—”
    But the man didn’t even turn to look back at him, trudging ahead. It had happened so fast Bran hadn’t even seen the man’s face, but he caught the back of his head: he had messy, dark hair and a black coat. Bran rubbed his shoulder where they had hit.
    “You all right?” Astara asked.
    “Yes, I’m fine,” he said, stepping outside.
    “Anything wrong?” she pressed.
    “No, nothing,” Bran replied, but something within him kept saying otherwise. He tried to