Night School: Resistance (Night School 4)

It had taken weeks after they left Cimmeria Academy for Rachel’s nightmares to stop. And she wasn’t the only one with bad dreams.

Allie touched the long, thin scar on her own shoulder. It felt hard beneath her fingers and still sensitive. A reminder of what she’d been through. And what she was running from.

It was only really when they came here that they’d both felt safe again.

They hadn’t even known whose house it was when they first arrived in a convoy of SUVs, after a short journey by private jet. When the heavy black gates opened, they revealed a grand villa that seemed to absorb the sun into its golden walls. Lush, magenta bougainvillea wrapped around it like a bright blanket.

It was beautiful. But it was just another mansion.

They had been standing in the heat, waiting for the driver to unload their bags, when the front door swung open and suddenly Sylvain was in the doorway, smiling at them like a piece of Cimmeria – like home.

Without even thinking about it, Allie had bounded up the steps and hurled herself into his arms.

He’d just laughed and pulled her closer, as if they hugged each other every day.

‘God,’ he’d whispered into her hair, ‘I’ve missed you.’

Later, as he showed them around, Sylvain would explain that this was his parents’ summer retreat. The grounds held several houses as well as the sprawling main villa, so there was room for guards and staff. High walls and a location at the top of a hill kept it secure.

It was the perfect place to hide and, after a week, Allie and Rachel had agreed they could pretty happily live here forever. In the constant French sunshine, it was easy to forget the chaos they’d left behind. Easy not to worry about Nathaniel and why the guards were constantly around. Why they never left the compound.

Except for today, when Sylvain had shown up by the pool with the tantalising offer of a few minutes of freedom.

‘I was thinking of going to the beach,’ he’d said. ‘Want to come?’

Allie hadn’t hesitated. ‘Are you joking?’ she’d asked. When he shook his head, grinning, she’d leapt to her feet. ‘Come on, Rach. You have to come, too.’

But Rachel had shooed them away. ‘You go, children,’ she’d said, glancing at them indulgently over the tops of her sunglasses. ‘I’ve got learning to do.’

So Allie and Sylvain had gone to the beach alone.

As they’d driven across the French countryside on Sylvain’s motorcycle, Allie had absorbed the beauty of the landscape with hungry eyes.

She loved it here.

The only problem was, they’d already been in France nearly a month. That was longer than they’d stayed any place since leaving Cimmeria. At any moment the call could come. Then the plane. Some new anonymous mansion would await them. And she and Rachel would be alone again.

Who knew when they’d come back here? When she’d ever see Sylvain again?

But so far the call hadn’t come, and Allie had begun to let herself dream that maybe they could stay. Maybe Nathaniel would never find them. Or perhaps he simply didn’t dare mess with Sylvain’s father. After all, Mr Cassel was a powerful leader of the French government and one of the country’s wealthiest men.

But on some level she’d always known this was just a fantasy. Nathaniel always found her.

Always.



The marble floor was cool beneath Allie’s bare feet. After the heat outside, the villa seemed as chilly as a refrigerator. Goosebumps rose on her arms and shoulders.

Above their heads, vaulted ceilings soared up twenty feet; at the top, fans circled steadily with a faint mechanical whirr.

‘I have to find Rachel,’ Allie said, turning towards the back of the house. But she’d only taken two steps when a trio of guards, clad in black T-shirts and shorts, burst into the room. Stopping in front of Sylvain, they spoke in rapid French as he listened attentively.

Allie, whose French was only so-so, waited impatiently for him to translate.

After a brief conversation the men ran off again. Sylvain turned to her, his brow furrowing.

‘Everything’s fine here,’ he said. ‘There was no attack on the house. Rachel is in her room. They’ve gone to get my parents.’

Allie breathed a relieved sigh. At least Rachel was OK. At least there was that.

But Sylvain didn’t look relieved. Worry still creased his forehead. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, searching his face for clues. ‘Has something else happened?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Something they said … I just have a bad feeling …’

He didn’t have to finish the sentence. Allie knew that feeling well.

‘They’re sending us away.’ Her tone was matter-of-fact even though her heart ached. ‘To the next safe house.’

At her side, his hand found hers. ‘I won’t let them.’

He sounded determined and, as Allie looked into his eyes, the colour of the French sky, she wished it was possible. But it wasn’t. Sylvain could handle a motorcycle like a pro but even he couldn’t tell Lucinda Meldrum what to do with her granddaughter.