Free The Color of Darkness by Ruth Hatfield

have imagined up the dog himself, wouldn’t he?”
    â€œHe can’t!” said Barshin. “Tell Danny he can’t! Sammael isn’t mortal—he doesn’t have dreams, like we do. He can’t use Chromos for his own benefit—he can only put its colors into earthly creatures and watch their dreams fly free. He does know his dog is dead—but Danny’s imagination could certainly bring a vision of her to life in Chromos. It’s a great idea. Tell Danny he should definitely try it.”
    Cath did.
    â€œNo,” said Danny. “I said, no weird places. No and no and no.”
    Cath shrugged to Barshin. “Told you.”
    Barshin, having given in and nibbled a bit of a fry only to find it not to his taste at all, gave five tiny sneezes and hopped a step closer to Danny.
    â€œAll right,” the hare said. “If he won’t try that, then how about this: Sammael gave Tom a book. If Tom doesn’t finish reading this book, Sammael will have no power over him. But if he does read the entire book and learn all its contents, then the moment he comes to the end of the last page, he is lost, and there will be no going back. Tom will be free for only as long as the book is unfinished. Danny must persuade him to stop reading this book.”
    Cath repeated this. Danny sighed and ran his greasy hand through the spikes of his wet hair.
    â€œA book,” he said. “It’s not called the Book of Storms, is it? No, it wouldn’t be that. There’s no Book of Storms anymore. But there’re other books. Of course there are.”
    He was silent for a long time, staring out of the end of the pipe at the wet parking lot with all the shiny cars trundling around puddles, their engines spitting out raindrops. At last he nodded to himself, and seemed to square his shoulders a little.
    â€œOkay,” he said. “If it’ll get you off my back, I’ll try.”
    â€œAnd if it don’t work,” said Cath, “then we can go to Chromos and get the dog.”
    If Danny went into Chromos to help Tom, Barshin would have to let her come too. And once she was there, she would imagine herself up another Zadoc, and get on his back and never leave.
    Danny didn’t answer her. He just shrugged and said, “We’ll have to go to the farm. Tom’s hardly ever at school. The farm’s miles away. And I don’t have any more money for the bus or anything.”
    â€œYou ever get anywhere on your own?” said Cath, curling her lip.
    â€œNo. I don’t need to. My parents look after me.”
    Barshin hopped quickly between them, knocking against Cath’s hand.
    â€œOkay, okay.” Cath scrambled to her feet to stop herself from punching Danny O’Neill’s skinny runt of a face. “We’ll get a lift.”
    *   *   *
    Cath walked up to the road. She didn’t try to stop any of the clean, new cars that zoomed past, spraying up blades of brown water. Instead, she waited till a greenish-gray car came along that looked to be made more out of rust than actual metal, and stuck her thumb out.
    â€œHe’ll never stop,” said Danny.
    The car stopped.
    â€œNow what?” Danny hissed.
    The driver rolled down the passenger window, all thick neck and shaved scalp. “Cath Carrera,” he said. “Someone’s looking for you.”
    â€œHi, Stan,” said Cath. “Yeah, I know. I don’t want him to find me. Can you take us someplace?”
    â€œMaybe. Where?”
    Cath looked back at Danny. “Where is it?”
    Danny swallowed, his voice barely audible above the engine, and croaked out a few words.
    Cath repeated them to Stan. “Sopper’s Edge. Out on—”
    â€œI know where it is,” said Stan. “Who’s yer friend?”
    â€œKid from school. Go on. My dad’ll kill me if he gets me.”
    Stan considered it for a minute and said eventually,