Night School: Resistance (Night School 4)

A shadow crossed his face. In all their training he’d never betrayed anything but steady confidence. Now, as Allie realised how worried he was, nerves tightened their grip on her.

Because he was right. This meeting was taking them out of their comfort zone. Away from Cimmeria, where they knew they had home field advantage, and into London: enemy territory.

‘It’s all happening so fast,’ she said. Sometimes I feel like we’re kind of running into something we don’t totally understand.’

He met her gaze. ‘I suppose we’ll have more information tonight. I think that’s what Rachel and Dom are working on.’

‘Yes, but … there’s no time.’

Hearing the worry in her voice, Sylvain reached for her hand. She let him pull her closer, until she could feel the warmth of his skin through their clothes.

‘We’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘I promise.’

This close to him she could breathe in his familiar scent – he smelled of coffee, spicy sandalwood soap. See how his eyes fractured the light like sapphires.

He was beautiful and kind and brave. Any idiot could see that.



At that moment, footsteps stormed up the stairs towards them. They were moving fast. Urgently. As if someone was panicking.

In sync, they both turned.

Nicole hurtled up towards them, her blue pleated skirt swirling around her legs, dark hair flying.

‘Sylvain,’ she said and her voice sounded strange. She was white as paper. ‘Something’s happened.’

Allie felt Sylvain’s body tighten.

‘What is it?’ His voice had gone cold.

A tear ran down Nicole’s pale cheek and Allie saw that she was trembling. ‘It’s your father.’





32





Thirty-two





Isabelle met them at the foot of the stairs.

‘Is he alive?’ Sylvain kept asking. The colour had drained from his face but his voice was steady. Insistent.

All the headmistress could say was, ‘I hope so. We’re waiting.’ She reached for his arm as if to steady him. ‘But, Sylvain. It’s bad.’

From then, everything took on a nightmarish haze. Allie couldn’t seem to feel anything. She was numb.

The three students followed Isabelle to her office. Nicole and Allie tried to make Sylvain sit but he refused. Instead he stood stiffly by the door, his face drawn.

‘My mother …?’ he asked.

‘She’s fine. She’s on her way to the hospital now to be with your father,’ Isabelle said. ‘Please sit and I’ll tell you everything I know.’

He set his shoulders. ‘I will stand. But … tell me.’

Nobody could bear to sit if he didn’t, so they all stood as Isabelle explained what had happened.

His father had been at his offices in Paris. He had a meeting that afternoon elsewhere in the city with a business associate.

‘It was perfectly routine,’ Isabelle said. ‘Someone he met all the time.’

His chauffeur drove the car to the front door of the office to pick him up.

‘Everything was normal,’ Isabelle said. ‘He and his driver had gone less than a mile when the bomb went off. They believe it was hidden in the engine of the car. A very sophisticated device.’

A bomb.

The world swung beneath Allie’s feet. She gripped the back of the chair in front of her so hard her nails dug deep pits into the leather.

Unflinching, Sylvain fixed the headmistress with a piercing look. ‘How bad is it?’ When the headmistress hesitated, his tone sharpened. ‘Tell me.’

‘The car flipped over on to its top.’ Isabelle’s voice was low. ‘It flew fifty feet. The driver was killed instantly.’

Nicole made a small sound of grief. Allie covered her mouth with her hands. She knew Mr Cassel’s driver. He always had a smile for her when she passed him on the grounds. He was young. Normal.

Dead.

Sylvain looked suddenly older, his face sagging.

‘And my father?’

He tried so hard to look in control but Allie could see how he struggled to get the words out. How frightened he was.

Nicole put her arm around him; he didn’t seem to notice her touch.

Her actions seemed to release Allie from the shock that had held her in place, and she ran to Sylvain’s other side, putting her arm across his shoulders. . He stood stiffly in her embrace but she didn’t let go. She knew what it felt like to have fear and grief cut you off from the world.

‘All we know is he is alive. He’s in surgery.’ Isabelle’s golden brown eyes were full of sympathy. ‘His injuries are grave. I wish I could tell you more.’

Sylvain nodded, absorbing this information.

‘Allie, Nicole,’ he said, not at all unkindly, ‘let me go, please.’

Reluctantly, Allie let her hands drop to her sides. She wanted to help – she needed to do something. She thought of how kind he and his family had been to her and to Rachel after they’d washed up on their doorstep, pursued by monsters. She wanted to be like them – to always know the right thing to say or to do.