“What—”
“Give me some credit.” Jonah pulled his clothing straight. His lip was split and his cheek bruised, but there was just a hint of the old sapphire sparkle dawning in his eyes. “This seems like a good moment to leave.” He strode to the window, and Ben realised, with sickening horror, that he was going to do it again. He was going to use that damned witchcraft of his, leave Ben to be arrested, again…
“Are you coming?”
“What?”
Jonah threw the window open in a swift movement. “It’s about twenty feet to the next rooftop. We can do that. I’ll go over first, and you run to me, yes?”
“What?” It seemed to be all Ben could say.
“I walk on air, Ben. I can walk you. Just run to me. Or you can stay here and be arrested, but I wish you wouldn’t. Let me get us out of here. Please.”
“How?”
“Just shut your eyes and run straight over. Pretend you’re on the rugby pitch.” Jonah’s lips gave a tiny twitch. “Score me a try.”
There was a crash and a scream from the stairs. The police were on their floor now.
“I’m going.” Jonah swung a leg over the sill. “Come after me when I wave. I’ll hold you up. Don’t stop, don’t hesitate. If you stop running, you’ll fall.” He paused, and gave Ben a tentative smile. “Trust me? Just once more?”
Then he was gone. Ben lunged for the window, sticking his head out, and saw him sprint through the air, a few long strides. He landed with a dancer’s turn on the dark tiled roof opposite, twenty feet away and about six feet lower down.
Heavy footsteps approached the door.
If he stayed, it would be two years’ hard, and that was a death sentence for many men. If he jumped and fell, it was a death sentence without the trouble of labour, and at least it would all be over. That had been in his mind anyway, once he’d taken his revenge on Jonah, and there was nothing left in his life.
If he could trust Jonah…
He couldn’t. It was insane.
He couldn’t go back to gaol. Whatever happened, he could not bear that.
Ben swung one leg over the windowsill, then the other. The door of the room slammed open, and a policeman gave a roar, lunging for him. Jonah was perched on the roof opposite, beckoning. Ben shut his eyes and launched himself out into the void.
His foot hit something.
He jerked, and hesitated, and it went from under him, and Jonah screamed, “Run, dammit!” as something else solidified under his flailing foot, pushing him. There was a deep bellow from the window behind him. Ben ran, eyes clamped shut, one stride and another, not thinking. Familiar hands clasped his and pulled, and suddenly he was toppling over and onto Jonah’s warm body, and heard his triumphant laugh.
“Did it!” Jonah crowed.
“Oi!” roared a voice from the house opposite. “You there! Oh, how the—”
“Come on,” Jonah said urgently. He squirmed up from under Ben, grabbing his hand, and they were running again. It was utter madness. The tiles were steeply pitched, poorly fastened, brittle with age. They cracked under Ben’s feet, and he couldn’t see a thing, and every step might take them over the edge, plummeting to the stone-flagged street below.
But Jonah’s hand was warm on his, holding tight, and when Ben’s foot slipped there was a hard, impossible nudge from the air that pushed him back upright.
“Whoa.” Jonah pulled them to a halt. They had run along a line of terraced houses, and were at the end of the row. “There.” He pointed over, on a diagonal, to where another street joined theirs at a sharp angle. “We’re going to windwalk over there, me first, then you, and then we’re going to saunter away, all right? Ready?”
“No!” Ben yelped, as Jonah started to disengage his hand. “Jesus!”
Jonah grinned. “Oh, come on. It’s fun. Isn’t it fun?”
“Fun?”
“Fun,” Jonah assured him. A police whistle sounded from the street below. “Bugger. Come on, let’s be somewhere else. I’ll head over there first, I can’t do us both at once. Wait for my signal, shut eyes, run. No hesitating. If you stop, you fall. Let’s go.”
He pulled his hand away, turned, ran. A few lithe steps over nothing and he was on the roof opposite. He held out a hand, grin devilish.
Ben shut his eyes and pushed himself forward, and this time he didn’t stop. There was a slight give to whatever was under his feet, a sense of something that would not hold him for long, but the consuming terror that it wouldn’t hold him at all was a great deal stronger than any urge to investigate. He crashed onto the roof opposite, and Jonah’s arms closed round him, falling backwards against the pitched roofline and onto dry-slimy tiles.