Messenger of Fear Novella #1 Read online

  “It is true,” Messenger said.

  The day would come when I would see Isthil myself. The day would come when I knew the truth of it all.

  The day would never come when I would forget what I had seen, or forgive myself.

  “Now I have a question,” Messenger said, surprising me. “For deliberate, calculated murder, what is the usual penalty?”

  That caught me off guard. I frowned. “In some states it’s the death penalty. Otherwise it’s life in prison.”

  “Yes,” Messenger said. “Death. And yet Barton Jones lives. Or life in prison. For a teenage boy with no great physical strength, no gang to protect him. Decades in a cage, being beaten, raped, degraded, possibly killed or driven to suicide. If Isthil’s justice is savage, what of human justice?”

  I had no answer to that. Had I ever given a thought to those we throw into our medieval prisons? No. And given the choice for myself, would I endure what the Master of the Game and Messenger had inflicted on Barton rather than spend thirty or forty or fifty years in a cage?

  Yes. Which still did not entirely put to rest my moral doubts.

  I hoped Barton would find a way to move on with his life. He was a cold-blooded killer. He had been a victim, as well, of his teacher’s predation. But that had not been his motive for murder.

  He had murdered over homework.

  He had murdered out of laziness.

  We wield a great and terrible power, we Messengers of Fear and apprentices. That power is not a gift but a curse. And my duty, the unknown years of it that stretched before me, are a punishment for my own terrible deeds.

  Messenger left then.

  I don’t know how long I stood and just stared blankly at my bare walls. Time has lost much of its meaning for me. Was it an hour? Was it a day?

  But like Barton Jones, I now had to find within myself the will to go on. The Shoals could welcome me, too, if I let myself be destroyed by my duty.

  I vowed never to let that happen. There was no snake, just as there had been no fire that consumed Derek Grady. All of it was illusion. I knew that. And for all I knew, the Master of the Game was illusion as well.

  But terror is terror, whatever the source.

  I knew that Lisa Bayless’s terror had been as great, and though she deserved punishment, she had not deserved to die choking in her bathroom. Barton still had a life, however traumatized he was, but Lisa would be dead forever.

  For me at that moment, no terror was greater than the knowledge that this wouldn’t be the last of it for me. I was still only an apprentice. In time, all the weight of my despicable obligation would be on my shoulders alone.

  Then two paths would be open to me. In time, I would cease to be Mara the apprentice. I would be the Messenger of Fear. And in that role I would either find a way to harden myself, and thus lose myself, or I would suffer unspeakable agonies in the pursuit of brutal justice, in service to a god that was not my God.

  No third way was possible.

  There was no escape. . . .

  There was no way out for me. . . .

  At least, none that I knew then.

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  About the Author

  MICHAEL GRANT, author of the Gone series and the Magnificent Twelve series, has spent much of his life on the move. Raised in a military family, he attended ten schools in five states, as well as three schools in France. Even as an adult he kept moving, and in fact he became a writer in part because it was one of the few jobs that wouldn’t tie him down. His fondest dream is to spend a year circumnavigating the globe and visiting every continent. Yes, even Antarctica. He lives in California with his wife, Katherine Applegate, and their two children.

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  Copyright

  Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

  THE SNAKE: A MESSENGER OF FEAR STORY. Copyright © 2014 by Michael Grant. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  EPub Edition © October 2014 ISBN 9780062207494

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