The Lost Girl

6

Puppets



I want to run away, but some force holds me fast. I reach for something, anything, to steady me, and my hand closes over the door frame. My fingers bite down so hard my knuckles turn white.

“So what now, Matthew?” I ask, biting back a whine of panic. “You ask me to come quietly and I say you can go to hell?”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course you refuse to be reasonable. Have you never considered giving in gracefully?”

“I’ll give in gracefully when the time’s right. But until then, I’m not going gently into any good night, thank you very much.”

“You needn’t take that tone with me,” says Matthew, smothering a yawn. “Effusive thanks will do nicely.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know if you have bothered to look around, dearest Eva,” he drawls. “If you had, you’d have noticed that I am alone. If I had intended to take you to the Loom, I would have brought Theseus or Lennox. Seekers. Powerless I am not, but I have no desire to wrinkle this new shirt in a brawl with you. It therefore stands to reason that I am not here to capture you.”

This makes very little sense to me. I swallow, trying to moisten my dry mouth. “How did you find me?”

“I,” says Matthew, “know everything. Have we not discussed that at length?”

“Were you in Manchester yesterday?”

He smiles but ignores the question. “I rather think it would be prudent to move this little chat somewhere more, ah, discreet.”

I don’t like admitting it, but he has a point. I show him the way up to the loft, stamping down on my terror, trying to think. A few minutes ago I wanted nothing more than for Sean to be back. Now I hope he stays out awhile longer. I can’t let Matthew get hold of him too.

Once we’re upstairs, I keep my eyes fixed on Matthew, the way you might watch a snake for sudden movements.

“Why?” I ask. “Why didn’t you bring a seeker?”

“They’re busy,” says Matthew blithely, “and I rather thought everything would turn so tedious and predictable if I did. If you return to the Loom now, you will go to trial and tragically perish. And I will have no new material for my definitive encyclopedia on echo behavior. You asked me for help once,” he adds. “And I told you to find your own way out. Which you have done. More or less. I have to admit, I wasn’t sure you would have the nerve to run. I’m impressed. It’s been so entertaining that I am most intrigued to see what you do next.”

I stare at him in disbelief. Hope blossoms in my toes and begins to creep upward. I try to read his expression, but it’s impossible.

“How would the other Weavers feel about you not taking me back?”

“I daresay they wouldn’t be surprised,” muses Matthew. “They’ve long since given up trying to predict my actions or understand my motivations.”

I don’t take my eyes off him. He found me and he’s letting me go. I can’t quite accept it. This is a Weaver. Matthew. It can’t be this easy.

“I don’t trust you,” I say. “You’re not doing this to be kind.”

“I have never had a reputation for kindness,” Sir Matthew reflects, “and I am only heroic if it suits me.”

I ignore that. “What do you want from me? Do you want me to be grateful? Thank you on my knees? You’re only doing this so you can entertain yourself watching me squirm. I’m a puppet and you want to pull the strings. I’m only safe from you as long as you find this amusing. The moment you get bored, you’ll send seekers after me.” I shake my head. “Soon I’ll be far away. I don’t care if you come after me or not. I ran away to survive. To win my life back. Not to let you mess about with it. I won’t be played with. And I’m not going to thank you.”

Matthew gives me a long, hard look. I see amusement, but something else, too, something I can’t put my finger on.

“You should thank me, you impossible little brat,” he says at last, pointing a finger to the tip of my nose. “If I don’t play my games, how long do you imagine you can outlast the seekers on your own?”

“I’m not on my own—”

I stop, biting my tongue in chagrin. But Matthew doesn’t look like this is news to him. “And by that I suppose you mean Jonathan’s son?” He shrugs dismissively. “He hardly counts anymore. I don’t expect you will ever see him again.”

My blood freezes. My voice is hardly more than a whisper.

“What does that mean?”

“A little birdie’s been chattering,” says Matthew, examining his fingernails. “A girl birdie. I did mention the seekers were busy, didn’t I? The little birdie told Adrian that you would be going to a bank in the city to empty a certain deposit box. This was, oh, an hour ago. Naturally the seekers made haste to get there and wait for you.”

I’m going to be sick. “Ophelia? She told Adrian?” A bitter taste fills my mouth. I’ve loved her most of my life. I always knew, we all knew, that she was loyal to the Loom. But she kept my secrets from them despite that. I didn’t think that would change. I trusted her.

“Of course she told him.”

“Sean.” I choke on his name. I told him to call her. This is my fault. “God. They’ll find Sean. But—but it’s me they want. They—they will leave him alone, won’t they? They won’t hurt him or take him away?”

“What a sweet, innocent thought.” Matthew casts his eyes skyward. “And totally incorrect. He broke our laws too. If I were you, I’d write him off and get the devil out of here. Flee with your life like you so grandly wanted.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Going to go after him, are you? You don’t even know where he is.”

“I can call Erik and ask him about the bank. Thanks to Ophelia, I don’t have to be careful about contacting him anymore. It’s too late for that now.”

“You are being absurd.”

I scramble for my shoes. “I have to find Sean before your seekers do. I might be in time. Get out of the way!”

“No.” Matthew puts his foot down on my boots. I try to pull them out from under him, but he is immovable. I straighten up, ready to hit him, and he gives me a cold, dry look. “You will not be in time. I have no doubt they’ve found him already. If you go out there, you will also be captured, and as I have already told you, that does not suit me one bit. Do be sensible for a change. His capture does not mean death. Yours will. Tedious. Predictable. Remember?”

“Move!”

“And this is what he would want, is it?” he drawls, refusing to budge. “He’d like it if you went out and threw yourself into the jaws of the waiting beast? He’d be happy, would he?”

It’s the last thing Sean would want. He will never forgive me if I am captured because of this. But he’s out there and if there’s still a chance I can help him—

“I can go barefoot, you know,” I hiss through my teeth.

I see him move, but I am standing too close to him. I can’t get out of the way in time. His hand closes over my throat.

I gasp. Oxygen vanishes from my lungs. My hands claw frantically at his, but everything goes dim and dark at the edges. Then it’s all gone.