Read The Shadowed Manse for Free Online

his hand, and then back at the shades. Grimacing, she picked up her pace. “I’ll manage.”
    It was a good thing the house was so close.
    Arthur would have sworn that he’d actually seen this cottage before. But then, there were loads of little houses like it in travel brochures for European villages. Grandma Nelson was a travel agent; she kept old brochures stacked everywhere. That had to be why it seemed so familiar.
    Together, they splashed across the knee-deep stream and trudged up onto the opposite bank.
    “You know,” Morgan said, “I did ask you if you wanted to chat at lunch one day.”
    At first he thought she was insane, trying to talk while they were fleeing the shades. But maybe it was better to talk than think about the demonic shadow men chasing him. Or maybe she was crazy enough to think that this was a good time to talk.
    “Oh, I remember that,” he replied. “I said that I’d like to chat, but you didn’t say anything. After several minutes of you staring at your screen, I asked you if you liked Ms. Casey's class, and you shot me a look and never said anything else.”
    “I meant chatting online , doofus. But when you didn't pull out a phone or a computer, I figured you were just dumb … or you weren’t interested.” She sighed. “I hate small talk, especially in person. Can’t do it. Messaging, on the other hand, is the perfect form of communication.
    Arthur filed that one away in the Morgan-sure-is-strange folder. No one likes small talk, but who couldn’t do it? Especially with someone they consider a friend? On the other hand, this was the most he’d ever heard Morgan speak.
    He glanced back at the shades and nervously kept talking. “Well, I can’t chat online anyway. I don't own a computer.”
    She stopped. “Wait — you what?!”
    He waved her on, and she started jogging forward again. “All I've got is a drug-dealer phone that's out of minutes … again. So I can’t really text, either.”
    “A drug-dealer phone?”
    “Yeah, that's what my cousin Derek calls it. You know, a cheap pay-as-you-go phone? You pick one up at Wal-Mart, and it already has minutes on it, and the number’s not attached to your name, so if you’re a criminal you can be anonymous and —”
    “Yes, I know what the term means … it’s just … well, you’re not a drug dealer.”
    “Obviously. Not everyone that uses one is.”
    Morgan eyed him suspiciously.
    “I live with my grandma,” he said, panting. It was hard to run and talk at the same time. “We don’t have a lot of money, and she's cheap. She thinks computers and mobile phones are a fad, that people will go back to typewriters and landlines.”
    Morgan’s eyes went wide and her brow furrowed. “That’s — that’s —”
    “Insane?”
    “Criminally. How can she believe something that ridiculous?”
    “Because she’s old-fashioned, and she wants to believe it.”
    “Well, your technological status is unacceptable.”
    “Um … okay … thanks.”
    “When we get back, you're getting some of my hand-me-down tech. I’ve got an aging MacBook Air you can have.” Slowing for a few awkward, limping steps, she gasped for breath. “I upgraded to a Pro. And you can have this iPhone after I get the screen repaired.”
    A MacBook and an iPhone?! Holy crap, that was generous. “Morgan … that's really super nice of you. Seriously. It’s awesome.”
    “Nice has nothing to do with it — it just ain't right. And I’ve got four laptops. Besides, we’re friends. That’s what friends do, right?”
    “Yeah.” Sure. Whatever. Actually … no, not really. Geez, Morgan was without a doubt the weirdest person he knew.
    They reached the house. He looked back at the shades. They were already crossing the stream, and it wasn’t slowing them down at all.
    Morgan heaved the door open and ducked inside.
    Arthur was right behind her, but when he neared the doorway, a new shade leapt up out of the ground and reached for him. He tried to spin