The Last Fallen Star by Graci Kim (ebook reader with highlighter .txt) 📕

power-hungry Horangi had been keeping it for themselves. Then the council discovered their secret….

I shake my head again, too confused to articulate my thoughts. “I’m not sure yet, Em. But something tells me we’ve stumbled across something big. Something much bigger than us.” I fold the letter and put it in my pocket. “And we’re gonna have to get to the bottom of it if we want to save Hattie.”

I hear a weird clonk, as if something small and hard has fallen on the ground. I look down to see a cloud of smoky purples and midnight blues mushrooming from a tiny round stone.

“What the…?”

Fear creeps into my bones. Did the new guard figure out we were in here?

The weird fog keeps growing until it has swallowed me up to my chest. I try to cover my mouth and nose, but my head is starting to feel a bit woozy.

“Em!” I manage to cry out. “Don’t breathe the—”

Emmett drops to the ground like a rag doll.

My body suddenly feels so heavy, like it’s tied to an anchor. And the next thing I know, everything goes dark.

ONCE CONSCIOUSNESS RETURNS to me, I realize I’m lying on a cold stone floor. I turn my head to the left and right, looking for Emmett. Where is he? Is he okay?

Groaning loudly, I try to get up, but I can only manage a sitting position. My head feels like it was removed and then surgically reattached by Mong’s fluffy paws. What was in that weird blue-and-purple fog?

I blink a few times. I seem to be back in the basement laundromat, but some of the lights are flickering and others are completely out, making it hard to see. There’s a dark figure standing in front of me with his hands behind his back.

“Who…Who are you?” I instinctively scoot away a little.

A man steps out of the shadow. He’s tall and statuesque with wide-set shoulders. I estimate he’s about Appa’s age, but he’s less well-groomed—he has a mop of thick, unruly hair and an impressively bushy beard falling from his chin. He’s dressed in a full three-piece suit, and he’s even holding one of those old-school pocket watches attached to his vest by a chain.

As he slips the watch back into his front pocket, I steal a glance behind him. The winged horse isn’t on the washing machine anymore. This must be the Miru guard who took over the cheollima’s shift. I knew we were wasting too much time with those owls!

The man narrows his eyes as he takes me in. “I’m the one who should be asking you that question.”

I look for Emmett again, but he’s nowhere to be seen. The image of him falling to the ground like a rag doll plays back in my mind, and panic rises in my throat. “Where’s…Where’s my friend? What have you done to him?”

“He is unhurt. But I will not release him or you until you answer my question. You must be well aware that the gifted library is prohibited, and yet you ignored the rules and broke in. How did you get through security? And what reason do you have for this indiscretion?”

My heart is racing and, though I don’t want the council to put another X next to my name, I don’t respond. No way am I going to rat out the cheollima. It would be too hard to explain everything anyway, and I don’t trust this man’s word that Emmett is unhurt. The guy gassed us, for crying out loud.

The man frowns and continues. “For over ten years the sacred texts have been inaccessible without the Horangi. And yet somehow you were able to activate the library.” He holds up the copy of The Loyal Tales of the Haetae we’d found. “Are you working with the cursed clan?”

“No,” I quickly say, wincing at the allegation. “I’m not working with them. I was just—”

A glint of glass in his other hand catches my eye and the blood drains from my face. I grab at my neck—no cord necklace. “Hey, that’s mine—give it back!”

He opens his palm to reveal the vial containing Hattie’s bloody shrunken heart. “Tell me what this is.”

A sudden feeling of desperation washes over me. Emmett once told me that baking is the art of balance and restraint. Unlike cooking, baking is an exact science that requires the perfect mix of ingredients. If you use too little baking soda, your cake won’t rise. But add too much and you get a bitter, inedible result. The key is to always stay in control—never let the ingredients get out of balance.

Now I realize what he meant. I’ve always been a cautious person, never one to attract attention to myself or stick my nose where it’s not wanted. I knew my place, even if things weren’t fair. It was only after we found out about the gift-sharing spell that the balance started tipping. I started wanting more. Needing more.

Even when that spell went wrong, I told myself it was okay, because we had a plan. And then, when the summoning spell went wrong too, I told myself there was still hope, because we had a way of saving Hattie. But now, with my parents’ gifts at risk, Emmett’s life in danger, and Hattie’s heart dangling in a stranger’s hand, I realize I have lost all control. I let the imbalance of ingredients get the best of me. And I wonder if this is how the Horangi started on their path to self-destruction. By being too greedy, and losing the things most dear to them as a result.

I really am cursed like them.

“I will not ask you again,” the man threatens, dangling the glass vial by the black cord. “Tell me what this is.”

I grit my teeth. I have done my loved ones enough harm. It’s time to take control, even if it scares the Mago out of me. I have to do whatever it takes.

The task in front of me