Read Ruined 2 - Dark Souls for Free Online Page B

turned into a very narrow alley, with high brick walls on either side and a low arch, where the lane passed under — or maybe through — a building, like a tunnel through a mountain.
    When she emerged from the snickelway into another street, nothing looked familiar. Miranda couldn’t see any street signs, and there was nobody around to point her in the right direction. In front of her were several modern redbrick town houses, the most recently built things Miranda had seen in York. They looked very ordinary, almost suburban. The street through them was pedestrian-only, traffic blocked by shiny black bollards. There was just one streetlight, and someone had twisted a skimpy string of Christmas lights up the trunk of the small lone tree. It was so quiet here — hard to believe she was just a short walk from busy streets and stores.
    Something tugged at the hem of her jacket. Once, twice, three times. Miranda reached down to brush whatever it was away and searing cold shot through her hand. She looked down, straight into the face of a child.
    “What?” Miranda heard herself gasp. Her heart was thudding. The little girl, her pinched face blue-white with cold, her eyes a cloudy gray, stared up at her. One small clenched hand still grasped the hem of Miranda’s wool jacket.
    “You startled me — I didn’t see you,” Miranda burbled. The child said nothing. She just stared up at Miranda. Her hollowed cheeks looked bruised almost.
    The little girl held Miranda’s gaze but shuffled away a little, still holding on to the jacket. Miranda could see her more clearly now. Her hair was a soft brown, dank and dirty and plastered against her head. Her eyes were wide and scared. She wore no shoes. Hanging loose on her thin frame was a blue dress, worn through in places, its long sleeves ragged. Miranda had never seen a begging child before. Is this what beggars looked like?
    “What?” Miranda whispered again, transfixed by the girl’s pale moon of a face.
    “I’ll show you,” said the girl, her high voice so faint that Miranda could barely hear her. “Come with me.”
    “Come where?” Miranda asked. When she’d tried to brush the girl off, she’d felt nothing. Nothing but cold. Nothing but that intense, piercing cold.
    “The place,” the girl said. “I’ll show you where he locked them up.”
    “No!” The word erupted from Miranda’s mouth. She was scared now — scared of this strange girl and her cold touch, scared of where she might be led. Miranda took a step back, and then another. She didn’t want the girl touching her anymore. She didn’t want to see where anyone was locked up. “Go … go away!”
    The girl’s arm was still outstretched, but Miranda was free of her. She took another step away, too afraid to turn her back. She shouldn’t have wandered down here by herself. Just a few more steps, and then she’d run. Run back down the alley or snickelway or whatever it was, to the safety of lights and cars and other people.
    “She won’t hurt you,” said a raspy voice behind her. A boy’s voice, with an English accent. Miranda spun around — her heart throbbing in her throat, practically choking her.
    The guy in the black leather coat stood there, blocking the path to the alley. The expression on his face was part incredulous, part amused. He pulled a single match from a pack in his pocket and chewed on it as though it were a toothpick. Miranda stood dead still, not daring to move.
    “How do you know?” she managed to say. He shrugged, throwing the gnawed match into the shadows.
    “Stands to reason,” he said, his voice softer now. “After all, she’s only a ghost.”
    “How do you know that?” Miranda asked him, trying to swallow down her nerves. A gust of wind blew a piece of litter along the ground. In the distance, there were car horns sounding and the Minster bell tolling the half hour. Even in the semidarkness, the eyes of the pale Goth seemed to bore right through her.
    “How do I