Read Some Kind of Magic for Free Online Page A

then looked around, as if unable to figure out how he’d gotten there, as if he'd already forgotten who she was.
    She tried not to let him see her fear. She didn’t want to scare him. He would need every ounce of strength to get to shelter. “Your head will feel better as soon as you get inside. As soon as we get you someplace warm. My house isn’t far,” she lied. If he knew how far away it was, he would never even try. Let him think it was just around the next tree. “It’s just a short walk. ” She grabbed his arm, trying to pull him to his feet.
    Impossible.
    “Get up, Trevor. Please.”
    “You talkin’ to me?”
    “Yes.”
    “Cal me Dylan.”
    “Okay, Dylan. Get up. You have to get up.”
    “Okay, okay. Quit your naggin' an' I will. Just quit your naggin’.”
    It hurt to watch him.
    Slowly, achingly, he rolled to his stomach. Then, inch-by-inch, he managed to get his knees under him. With her arms around his waist, she helped to pull him upright.
    Once there, he stood swaying, arms outstretched, trying to get his balance.
    When he regained some equilibrium, they began moving forward through the snow, in the direction of the Jeep and his jacket, and then hopefully home and a warm fire.

Chapter 7
    Snow.
    Everywhere.
    Cold.
    Dylan knew it was cold, but the temperature wasn’t bothering him anymore. That was good.
    The woman—Claire—was trying to make him stand, shoving him up against the Jeep, trying to hold him, her words breathless, like she’d been running or working hard.
    He frowned, trying to focus, trying to concentrate on what she was saying.
    He blinked, forcing his eyes to stay open. Everything was blurry. Little by little, Claire came into focus.
    Her nose was red. Her cheeks were red. Her mouth was red.
    Talking.
    She was talking, her voice coming to him from somewhere beyond the wasteland of his semi-oblivion.
    Stand up.
    Okay. For her, okay.
    He locked his knees, or at least he thought he did. He couldn't feel them. He couldn't feel anything. Ever since he'd stepped into the mothball woman's frozen world, he'd been numb.
    Something was bothering him. Nagging at the back of his mind. He'd done something he felt guilty about.
    Tied her up.
    Pointed a gun at her.
    “I—” He tried to talk, but his mouth, his lips felt weird as hell. Like he'd been Novocained.
    “Sowwy.”
    That's what he said. Sowwy. He almost laughed, it was that funny. Sorry. He'd meant to say sorry.
    “What?”
    “Didn't wanna ... ” hurt you . Didn't want to hurt you. But those were the rules. She'd been in the way. He'd simply taken control of the situation.
    He heard her exclamation of alarm.
    Was something wrong, he wondered, as his knees buckled and he slipped to the ground, to the snow.
    Snow.
    It was so ... cool . Not temperature cool, but cool. Like nothing he'd ever experienced.
    He's seen pictures of snow, but in his mind, whenever he'd thought about actually touching it, he’d imagined the outdoor temperature to be a comfortable seventy-two degrees.
    From the time he’d been a small child and could look out his bedroom window to see the snow-covered peaks of Kilimanjaro, he’d imagined snow feeling refreshing, like a cool dip on a sweltering day.
    Nothing had prepared for the way it deadened him.
    Nothing had prepared him for the way it welcomed him.
    He let himself sink into it, let it cushion his fall. So seductive .
    The perfection of the moment was rudely interrupted. “You have to get up. Otherwise you’ll die out here. Do you want to die? Do you?” the irritating voice demanded.
    Did he want to die?
    What kind of question was that? A tough one.
    He rolled to his back. He opened his eyes.
    Standing over him was an angel, her eyes glowing with religious fervor.
    Did he want to die?
    It took a while, but he was finally able to get his words lined up in a tidy row, finally able to get them to come out his mouth. “This a trick question?”
    The angel frowned at him.
    Irritation?
    Puzzlement?
    He