Read The Paladin Prophecy for Free Online Page A

heard—but in his head— outside the diner that morning.
    Will threw himself onto the backseat as the driver gunned the Prowler down the road. Will looked back and saw the burning creatures flail off the edge of the cliff, pinwheeling fiery spirals falling away into a void.
    The car roared through the open gate at the base of the road and reached the flats in moments. Will crouched down as they weaved through sharp turns at what seemed like impossible speeds. With the driver hunched over the wheel, in the light of passing streetlamps, Will noticed a large round patch on the back of the man’s leather jacket. Inside it were three images and words he couldn’t make out.
    Then, in a strip of darkness, the Prowler skidded to a stop.
    “Out,” said the driver.
    Will leaped out of the car and backed away. The driver remained in shadow, motionless, staring at him from behind black aviator shades. The man’s taut presence and unsettling stillness held a promise of violence.
    “What were those things?” asked Will.
    “You don’t want to know,” the driver said.
    “But—”
    “Stow it. You may think you’re dux, mate, but unless you want to kark it early days, next time don’t be such a nong.”
    Will couldn’t place the driver’s accent, which was harsh as a blade. “I’m sorry,” Will said. “I have no idea what you just said.”
    The driver leaned forward into the light and lowered his shades. He had fierce black brows above a raptor’s piercing eyes. And scars. Lots of scars.
    He held up his right index finger. “That’s one ,” said the man. Then he stomped on the gas. The Prowler sped off around a corner, the sound of its engine fading quickly into the night.
    Will looked around. He was standing fifty feet from the back door of his house. Music drifted through an open window, a woman’s voice backed by a big band with old-fashioned orchestration:
“If you go out in the woods tonight
You’re in for a big surprise …
If you go out in the woods tonight
You’d better go in disguise …”

DAD’S HOME
    Will peered around the side of his house: The black cars were gone.
    He hurried to the back door and entered silently. Someone was in their kitchen. He caught a whiff of his mom’s perfume and cookies baking. Will edged down the hallway and peeked into the kitchen.
    “Belinda” was pacing back and forth, holding a cell phone to her ear. As he watched, she raised a hand to the back of her neck and flinched, as if in pain.
    Then she spoke into the phone in a monotone voice he hardly recognized: “He’s not back … I don’t know where he went … yes, I’ll let you know if he …”
    Will backed away down the hall. He landed on a creaky floorboard, then bumped into the wall trying to avoid it.
    “Will-bear?” she called. “Is that you? Are you home?”
    Damn .
    “Hi,” he said, reopening the back door as if he’d just come inside.
    “Come in the kitchen! I made cookies!”
    “One sec. I’ve got mud on my shoes.” He wanted to run again, but Dad would be home soon. But he couldn’t face her yet, either, and with that loopy song blaring away, he couldn’t think straight. Will closed the door loudly and followed the music to the living room.
    The antique turntable sat next to Dad’s precious vinyl collection: LPs and stacks of old 45s, still in their paper sleeves. The soundtrack of his parents’ lives. Will knew this music better than his own generation’s.

#78: THERE’S A REASON THE CLASSICS ARE CLASSICS: THEY’RE CLASSIC .
“At six o’clock their mommies and daddies
Will take them home to bed
Because they’re tired little teddy bears—”
    Will jerked the needle off the record. A scratch popped in the speakers. “Belinda” came in behind him.
    “You always loved that song,” she said.
    “I haven’t heard it for a hundred years,” he said. “It’s kind of creepy.”
    “You played it all the time when you were little—”
    “I’m not really in the mood right