At last Ben panted, “Did we lose them?”
“We lost Saint. Which I think means she hurt herself, because that woman is fast. And if we’re going to be blamed for that, we’re in a lot more trouble now. A lot.”
“That doesn’t seem possible,” Ben managed to point out. There were black spots in front of his eyes.
“It’s always possible,” Jonah said. “She has terrifying friends. Oh, damn it. I hope she’s not dead.”
That thought had been very much in Ben’s mind too. “She’s a windwalker. Surely…”
“No, I can get hurt falling off things as much as the next man, if I don’t catch myself on the way down. But she’s a tough one, she might have made it. Oh Lord.” Jonah let his head flop back with a groan. “I do seem to make a mess of things. I had no idea the justiciary would be there.”
“I was bait. Day more or less told me so. They knew you’d come for me.”
“Did they?” said Jonah, and then, hesitantly, “Did you?”
Ben tried to steady his breathing, in and out. “Where are we going?” he asked, after a moment, and winced as he realised what he’d said. It came so naturally. “That is—should we split up?”
“No. We shouldn’t.” Jonah’s eyes were on Ben’s, intensely blue, and Ben gave a little nod, because the thought of running from retribution alone in this huge, unfriendly city held no appeal. That was, without doubt, the reason.
“Um…I don’t know,” Jonah said, going back to his question. “I think we should leave London as soon as possible, by which I mean when you have your breath back. Where… They might anticipate us going north, to Hertfordshire or Manchester. Doubling back east doesn’t appeal. South or west, nowhere you have any connections, what do you think?” He shrugged at Ben’s look. “If we don’t have a destination in mind, they won’t be able to guess it. Pick one.”
“Southwest.”
“Reading? Gloucester? Exeter, maybe? Why not. That’s a train from Paddington, then.”
“I don’t have a ha’penny to my name.” The realisation struck Ben with force. “My clothes, everything, it’s all back at the dosshouse—”
“So it’s gone. The police are going to be quite testy about this, you know, and the justiciary even worse. We can’t go back.”
“No—but—” Ticket fare. Something else to wear. Food.
“I’ll deal with the money,” Jonah said. “I have resources.”
“I don’t want your money.” The words were out without Ben’s conscious thought, a bursting of five months’ resentment.
Jonah’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t proposing— Oh, goodness, Ben, I got you into this, could you not please let me try to get you out?”
“You didn’t last time.” Ben’s voice rasped.
“No,” Jonah said. “I had reasons for that, but…later?”
Later wasn’t good enough. Ben wanted to know now, right now, why Jonah had abandoned him so utterly five months ago. Why there had been no attempt at contact in all that time. Why he had not been there, waiting at the prison gate for his release, as some tiny, contemptible part of Ben’s soul had believed he would be, and been crushed at the absence.
On the other hand, they were running from the law.
“Later,” he agreed. “But I need to know, Jonah. I need to understand.”
“Everything, I promise. Once we get on a train.”
Chapter Seven
They came down from the rooftops not long afterwards, to Ben’s intense relief, losing themselves in the London crowds. He forged ahead, consumed with the need to reach the station. Jonah seemed less urgent, and less forceful, buffeted by the crowds, constantly managing to get in the way of the people who sidestepped Ben.
It took a good ten minutes for Ben to realise what was happening, and when he did he seized Jonah’s arm with all the force of the avenging law he no longer represented.
“Are you picking pockets?” he hissed savagely.
“Ssh! Of course I am.”
“Jesus Christ.” Ben shook him. “You—”
“If we don’t get out of London in the next few hours, either the police or the justiciary or Miss Saint’s fiancé is going to catch up with us. And I didn’t have any money. Now I do. We’re on the run from the law, you can’t quibble about a bit of fingersmithing.”
“Yes, I can,” Ben snarled back, aware that the low-voiced argument was attracting too much attention. “Stop it.”
“How else are we going to get out of London?” Jonah demanded. “Beg for funds?” He held Ben’s eyes for an answer he didn’t have, shook off his grip and strode on.
It was a long walk. Long enough for Ben to start sweating every time a hurried footstep or a fast-moving hansom came up behind them, convinced that the Met or the justiciary must have caught up with them by now. Long enough for him to wonder what the devil he was doing, and why the devil he kept doing it.