The Lost Girl

4

Risky



Sean puts a coin in the pay phone and dials a number. We don’t dare use our phones. For all we know, my tracker has died and the seekers have been after us for hours. I stand rigidly a few feet from him, arms crossed tightly over my chest, and watch the crowds. Manchester Airport is busy and chaotic and I don’t like it. A seeker could be anywhere. I am terrified I wouldn’t spot one in these crowds until it was too late.

I open my mouth to tell Sean to hurry, but he glares me into silence. I turn back to the crowds. I’ve been gripping my shoulder bag so hard my fingers are numb and the strap is slick with sweat. I feel sticky and edgy and bone tired. We’ve been traveling for the better part of a day, with only a few broken hours’ sleep on the flight. But I will have to get used to feeling this way. I ran away. I can’t now expect my life to be restful.

“Done,” says Sean, coming up behind me. “Let’s get to the train station.”

I feel smug for a moment. “Not leaving me behind, then?”

We argued about this through most of the flight. My key unlocks a safe-deposit box in London. Sean wanted to take the key and go fetch its contents himself, leaving me in Manchester and far away from the Loom, but I refused to be left behind.

“Compromise,” says Sean. “We both go to London, but I go alone to empty the box.”

I consider this. “Okay. That’s fair.”

He looks relieved. I’m an exhausting person to argue with.

“Who did you call?”

“A friend in London. I was trying to find a safe place we could stay while we’re there. Just for a night or two. It’d be dangerous to linger in London much longer than that.”

“Hotel?”

Sean shakes his head. We start walking through the milling crowds in the direction of a sign for the train station. “We’d be better off saving our money while we can. I thought we could hide out at a theater. There are rehearsals going on, but the place will be deserted at night, and we’ll just do our best not to be seen during the day.”

This sounds very risky, but I have no better ideas. I rub my arms to fend off the cold and look back over my shoulder. I keep expecting to be pounced on at any moment.

The sun is dazzlingly sharp outside. At the train station Sean goes to buy tickets while I stop at a shop to find us some lunch. It’s hard letting him out of my sight. We’re more vulnerable on our own. There’s always a blind spot. Somewhere we won’t see them coming from. I choose the first sandwiches I see and throw in some chocolate bars and bottled drinks. My hands aren’t steady. I have to fumble in my bag for money.

I spot Sean making his way toward me. I stare at him for a moment or two. It’s funny, feeling so pleased and yet so frightened at the same time. It’s been months since I have felt like my fate is firmly in my hands and not vanishing out of reach like a floating lantern. I am in danger out here, but I am alive, and if I can keep outrunning them I will stay alive. Having to look over my shoulder, being constantly afraid, it’s not perfect. But it’s worth it. It has given me my life back.

And it has taken Sean’s old life away. Suddenly my throat feels scratchy. I swallow. One day I will make him go back. I have to.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he says.

I rearrange my face. “When’s our train?”

“In about ten minutes.”

I hand him a sandwich and we eat as we walk, taking a flight of stairs down to our platform to wait. My bags and shoulders feel heavier with each passing minute. Sean looks as tired as I feel.

By the time the train pulls in and we find our seats, I feel half in a trance and no less edgy. It’s getting harder to stay awake. I sit next to the window and rub my eyes and look out at people passing by.

That’s when I see him. His blue eyes are like knives.

At first it’s only a dream. Not quite real. The fear is a cold trickle sliding slowly, lazily, up my spine. Then it freezes into panic and my eyes snap wide open.

The train begins to move, but my gaze is glued to the platform. Where is he? He was there a moment ago!

I leap up and climb over Sean into the aisle.

“Eva, what—?”

I ignore him and race down the aisle as the train moves away, pressing myself to the windows to try and spot him again. A hand closes over my elbow and I jump and turn, ready to fight him off, but it’s only Sean and he looks worried.

“What the hell is going on?”

“I saw—I thought—I thought I saw—”

He steers me back to our seats. People glance our way, but I don’t care. I sit down, certain I am about to be captured. Or that I am going mad. Imagining things that aren’t there.

“Saw what?”

I lick my dry lips and look at Sean. “Matthew.”

“Where?” He sounds calm but he looks around, eyes wary, alert, searching for any threat. “On the platform? Watching us?”

“It was only for a second. I saw him.” Doubt punches a hole in my voice. “At least I could have sworn I did. But then I looked again and I couldn’t spot him. Maybe—maybe I imagined it.”

“You haven’t slept much. And you’re scared. It’s probably normal to start seeing bad things all over the place. If it was him, we’d be in the seekers’ hands by now.”

That should make me feel better, but I can’t help thinking of Matthew, who likes to play games, and the way he looked at me as he watched me run off my last train to see Sean, and how it would be so like him to turn up and vanish again, leaving me behind to question what I did or didn’t see.

“Try to sleep,” says Sean.

But I don’t. He doesn’t either. The Loom feels an awful lot closer.