Night School: Legacy

His shrug told her he didn’t know. Maybe didn’t care either.

‘Don’t you dare tell Isabelle. I won’t let them kidnap my brother and use him as some sort of bargaining chip in their crazy war.’ Rising panic made it hard for her to breathe. ‘I’ll go by myself, Sylvain, I swear to God. I’ll warn him. I’ll run away with him,’ she threatened wildly. ‘Nobody is kidnapping him.’

‘Allie, no!’ Her reaction had clearly taken him by surprise and his words tumbled out in a rush. ‘Don’t – you could be hurt.’

‘Christopher wouldn’t hurt me.’

His eyes darkened. ‘Christopher nearly burned this school down with seventy-five people inside. Including you.’

‘You can’t …’ All of a sudden, her lungs felt compressed, as if the air had disappeared. It was hard to speak. The room swayed sickeningly. ‘… tell.’

She could see the puzzled alarm in his eyes. ‘Allie? Are you OK?’

The walls moved closer; her breath came in short gasps. A clammy sweat coated her skin. She struggled to get air.

It’s happening again.

‘I can’t …’ For a long minute she struggled to breathe, her heart thudding so loudly in her ears she couldn’t hear what Sylvain was saying to her. Then, leaping to her feet, she fled from the room. Without looking back, she clattered down the stairs to the back door (thirty-seven steps), and out into the cold rain.

Then she just ran.

The icy air was like a slap in the face as she hurtled through the darkness as fast as her feet would move, with rain lashing at her skin, fighting off the panic attack that threatened to overwhelm her.

As she ran, the cold and the movement seemed to make her lungs work again and she could feel the tension in her chest loosen. But still she didn’t stop. Her wet hair stuck to her scalp and face. Rain blinded her. Mud splashed up her bare ankles to her knees.

She was nearly to the treeline when hands grabbed her shoulders, yanking her back.

Flailing, she spun around, punching blindly. Her fist connected with Sylvain’s flesh and she was glad. For a moment she slithered free, her wet skin sliding through unwanted fingers, but she hadn’t gone three steps when she was wrapped in arms as strong as bands of iron. Only when she realised she couldn’t run any more did a sob finally shake her body.

‘Let me go!’ The words burst out of her in a scream.

‘Allie. Stop fighting!’ Sylvain was panting from exertion. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’

‘I’m going to go and wait for Christopher,’ she sobbed irrationally. ‘If you’re going to Isabelle, I’ve got to warn him.’

Muttering something in French – she didn’t know the words but she was pretty sure he was swearing – he held her so close she could feel his breath against her ear.

‘I won’t tell, OK?’ he said. ‘I won’t tell Isabelle. Now please. Stop this.’

Instantly, she stopped fighting, and after a second he loosened his hold on her. Pushing wet hair out of her eyes, she searched his face for signs of deception.

‘Promise me,’ she said, raising her voice to be heard above the rain. ‘Swear you won’t tell anybody.’

‘You have my word.’ His eyes never wavered. ‘Now please.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come back inside.’

She believed him.

Suddenly exhausted, she allowed him to take her hand; his skin wet and cold against hers. In silence, they walked back towards the building. The adrenaline that had stopped her from feeling the cold flooded away as quickly as it had arrived and she trembled violently. Casting a sideways glance at Sylvain, she saw that he was shivering, too. His jaw was set as he led her to a small door in the east wing.

When he opened it, though, she balked. ‘Where are we going?’

‘If we go in through the main entrances looking like this, people will ask questions you don’t want to answer,’ he said. ‘This is another way in.’

The door opened on to a short stairway down into a part of the cellar she’d never seen before. It seemed unused – old chairs were stacked haphazardly against the walls. Flickering lights in wall sconces cast moving shadows that chased them down the corridor. About halfway down the hall, he opened another door and flipped a light switch, revealing a narrow, winding staircase. Allie’s teeth were chattering so loudly she was sure he must be able to hear them.

‘It’s one of the old servants’ staircases,’ he explained. ‘They’re everywhere. We used another one the night of the fire.’

They climbed several storeys, finally emerging into a warm hallway. Sylvain led her past two closed doors before opening one. It was a spacious, neatly kept bedroom.

Instantly she knew just where they were. Her heart thudded three quick beats.