She wondered, even as the words left her mouth, why she said things like that.
Sacha just smiled at her through a mouthful of foam, managing to look so endearing it completely nonplussed her, and she forgot to criticise herself for a while.
When they got back to the camp fire, she checked her phone once more for any sign of a signal, and found the battery completely dead.
‘Bollocks,’ she said, holding it up so Sacha could see the blank screen. ‘Is yours working?’
He checked his phone and shook his head. ‘It’s dead, too.’
The first twinge of panic stirred in Taylor’s chest. But Sacha was calm about the whole thing.
‘We have the address of the safe house. Louisa will meet us there. It’ll be fine.’
Taylor couldn’t understand how he could be so sanguine. Nothing seemed to get to him. When he wasn’t looking, she studied him, admiring his sharp cheekbones or the way his eyes were the same blue as the lake. She liked how tall and skinny he was, the way his straight brown hair fell into his eyes, the way he blew it back with a puff of air.
Once, when they were loading their things back on the bike, he caught her gaze. He didn’t look away. She wondered if he’d been watching her when she wasn’t looking, too.
Kissing him had been amazing. Better than she’d ever imagined. Maybe it was a French thing. Or maybe it was just Sacha. But kissing her last boyfriend paled by comparison.
He’d even managed to make the power surge thing less humiliating.
‘You’re like a girl-shaped rechargeable battery,’ he’d said, trailing kisses down her neck. ‘Plugged into the planet.’
She’d wanted to argue but she also didn’t want him to stop kissing her.
The memory made her blush. Maybe she needed to stop thinking about kissing.
It took both of them to push the motorcycle out of its hiding place – its wheels had sunk in the soft mud. When she climbed on behind him, he glanced back. His eyes were even more beautiful through the visor.
‘Ready?’
She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him closer than she’d dared the previous day. Before he put the bike into gear, Sacha reached down to squeeze her hand. That simple gesture made her heart flip.
Whatever awaited them at the end of the road, they would face it together.
‘I’m ready.’
* * *
It was nearly noon by the time Taylor and Sacha reached the town they were looking for. Staying off the main roads made everything more complicated – the back roads were confusing, and they’d taken several wrong turns.
They finally ended up in a town where the narrow streets were all lined with houses in pale pink stone. Most had closed their shutters to the heat, giving the place a sleepy, abandoned feel.
The motorcycle engine sounded louder here, and Sacha quickly found a quiet spot on a side street to park.
Removing his helmet, he pulled a paper from his pocket to check the address.
‘We’re looking for Rue des Abbesses,’ he said.
Taylor pulled off her own helmet and took a deep gulp of air. After being encased in plastic for hours, even hot air felt good on her skin.
‘Are there more directions?’
He shook his head. ‘It just says Rue des Abbesses.’
Taylor looked around. ‘We’ll have to go street by street.’
‘Wait.’ Sacha rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘A street with a name like that is bound to be near a church or abbey.’ He twisted around to point to where a church steeple rose above the green trees like a stovepipe. ‘It’ll be back there somewhere.’
‘Makes sense.’ Taylor pulled her helmet back on. ‘Let’s go take a look.’
They headed back the way they’d come, slowing for every street sign.
They found the grey-stone abbey after some searching, at the far end of a long lane behind a high wall with a forbidding gate. A sign mounted nearby read: ‘Rue des Abbesses’.
‘At last,’ Taylor said.
Sacha slowed the bike to a crawl. They made their way down, checking numbers. The one they sought was a tall, narrow house, just outside the imposing metal gates of the abbey.
Taylor closed her eyes to see the place. Molecular energy was all around her – tiny golden threads from the plants in the gardens, thicker strands from the electrical wires overhead, and something under her feet – running water, she guessed.
Inside the houses, all was calm. In some, she sensed the red signs of human energy. In others, nothing at all. No sign of Mortimer.
‘It looks safe,’ she said.
Sacha cut the engine.
Like all the buildings on the street, this house was made of the same stone as the abbey – solid and grey. It was three storeys tall, its roof bristling with chimneys. Filmy curtains covered the upper windows, while the lower windows were shuttered tightly. A low wall surrounded it, with an old stable to one side. The front gate had been left open, as if they were expected.
Taylor could get nothing from the house at all – neither human nor alchemical energy.
‘It’s weird,’ she said in a low voice. ‘It’s like the house is empty – only it’s more than empty. I can’t sense the electricity or water or anything.’ She stared at the tall, old building. ‘It’s like the building isn’t there.’
Sacha didn’t like the sound of that. But it was definitely the place.
‘Let’s check it out,’ he said.
Motioning for her to follow, he climbed off the bike. They didn’t take their bags.
‘Let’s leave everything here. Just in case…’ he said.
They headed slowly across the little courtyard in front of the door. A fountain gushed to one side – a statue of a beautiful girl poured water slowly and forever from an urn.
They were midway to the front door when the gate swung shut behind them and latched with a solid clunk. Taylor’s heart stopped.
They stood frozen, torn between running away and knocking.
‘Maybe it’s them,’ Taylor suggested. ‘They shut the gate to keep us safe.’
‘Or it could be Mortimer,’ Sacha pointed out. ‘Shutting the gate to keep us in. Besides, my bike’s on the other side.’
He didn’t look happy.
‘I think we should knock,’ she decided. ‘There has to be a reason I can’t sense anything from that house. Maybe it’s just that a safe house is really… safe.’
‘Just be ready to run,’ Sacha cautioned her. ‘And don’t wait for me. If it’s him, you go. Don’t let him get both of us.’
Taylor reached for his hand. ‘He’s not getting either of us.’
They both heard footsteps approach. Taylor tried to sense what was coming but the house gave nothing away.
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.
Sacha’s hand tightened on hers.
‘Be ready,’ he whispered.
They both heard the locks turning, bolts sliding, and it was too late to run.
The door swung open soundlessly.
A man stood in front of them. Dark hair carefully combed back, a square, smoothly shaven jaw, a pair of fashionable glasses.
‘There you are,’ he said in French-accented English. ‘We were worried.’
Sacha drew a startled breath.
‘Mr Deide?’
Twenty-Five
‘I’m so glad to see you both in one piece,’ Deide said, handing Sacha a steaming mug of coffee.
Sacha accepted it numbly.
They stood in a bright, spacious kitchen at the back of the elegant house.
He didn’t know what to think. The last time he’d seen his English teacher had been in his Paris classroom, warning Taylor that she was in danger.
He looked exactly the same – button-down shirt, trendy glasses, artful stubble on his jaw. But he looked a little older, as if the last few weeks had taken years off his life.
‘I’m so confused,’ Sacha said. ‘I thought you were in Paris. What ha
ppened?’
‘Yes, well.’ Deide’s eyes were hard to read behind his glasses. ‘That’s a long story.’
Standing a little apart, Taylor watched the two of them, a worried frown creasing her brow.
‘Where are Louisa and Alastair?’ she asked.
‘They’re fine,’ the teacher assured her. ‘They had some trouble with the van but they’re on their way. Is your phone not working? They’ve been trying to reach you. We’ve been very worried.’
‘Both our batteries died,’ Taylor explained.
He nodded, and turned to pour steaming water from the kettle into a cup. The kitchen was straight out of a catalogue – the countertops were scrubbed pine; white cabinets lined the walls. The whole place was attractive and characterless.
‘That is as we suspected.’
‘Mr Deide,’ Sacha said. ‘I still don’t understand what you’re doing here.’
The teacher handed Taylor a cup of tea.
‘I’ll explain,’ he said. ‘Please follow me.’
He led the way back down the wide, main corridor to the living room. The room was big and expensively decorated, with polished wood floors and deep white sofas. Just like the kitchen it had an underlying forlorn air of emptiness.
Sacha and Taylor perched side by side on one of the sofas. He sat down across from them, a cup of coffee in one hand.
‘When you left Paris,’ Deide began, ‘I wanted to go find you, Sacha. But St Wilfred’s thought that was a bad idea.’
Sacha frowned. ‘Why?’
‘You see,’ the teacher said, ‘at the time, I was being followed. We now know it was Mortimer Pierce. Then, obviously, we didn’t know who it was. All we knew was it was someone dabbling with Dark power. Aldrich believed I should stay in Paris to lure him away from you. We hoped if he thought I was hiding you, then you might have more of a chance. Unfortunately, that didn’t work as well as we’d hoped. And then Aldrich, himself, was killed.’
He stopped then, his face clouding, and turned to Taylor. ‘I was so sorry to hear about your grandfather. I met him only a few times, but I admired him greatly.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied, feelingly.
A momentary silence fell.
Taylor broke it.
‘Mr Deide, are we safe here? Why couldn’t I sense you in this house? The whole building gave me nothing at all.’
The teacher looked pleased. ‘We’ve done our job well, then. This building, like all our safe houses is protected using the old methods.’ He pointed above the window. For the first time Sacha saw the symbols carved there – triangles within a circle, a snake eating its tail.
‘This particular combination of alchemical symbols acts as a barrier – no energy comes in and none goes out.’
‘What about Mortimer Pierce?’ Sacha asked. ‘Would these protections stop him?’
Deide’s face darkened. ‘I’m afraid there’s no way to know the answer to that question. He’s dabbled in demonology. His power goes beyond anything we understand…’
His voice trailed off. Holding up a hand to silence them, he turned towards the window, listening. A second later, Sacha heard it, too. A car engine, growing closer. And then, stopping.
The teacher sprang up from the sofa and sprinted from the room. Without waiting for an invitation, Taylor and Sacha ran after him to the front door.
Alastair’s battered blue van was parked out front next to Sacha’s gleaming motorcycle.
The passenger door gave a rusty groan and Louisa climbed out, her turquoise hair sparkling in the afternoon sun.
‘Dammit, you two,’ she complained, throwing a leather bag over her shoulder. ‘Where the hell have you been?’
‘Louisa!’ Taylor sped down the stairs and launched herself at her. ‘I was so worried.’
Louisa hugged her back reflexively. It was the first time Sacha could ever remember seeing her genuinely flustered.
‘No need for histrionics,’ she said gruffly.
But Sacha could tell she was pleased.
Alastair emerged from the driver’s seat carrying the rest of their things, his hair more dishevelled than Sacha had ever seen it.
‘Bloody van overheated.’ His cut-glass English accent made it sound kind of impressive. ‘I thought Lou was going to murder it with her eyes.’
‘It deserved to die,’ Louisa said.
When Alastair reached Sacha he gave him a one-arm hug.
‘Good to see you in one piece.’
‘You as well,’ Sacha said, grinning.
They were all talking at once, complaining about the roads, the van, when Deide held up his hands.
‘Everyone, s’il vous plait. We’re not safe out here. Move the vehicles into the courtyard, please. Lock the gate. Then we talk.’
* * *
A few minutes later they were all settled in the living room, telling their tales of the night before.
‘… so we just camped down by the lake,’ Sacha finished. ‘No sign of trouble. What about you guys?’
‘Slept in the van.’ Louisa gave a casual shrug. ‘No baddies there either.’
‘Well, that’s not exactly true,’ Alastair said.
He and Louisa exchanged a look.
‘Oh, yeah,’ she said. ‘That.’
‘That, what?’ Taylor asked.
Louisa hesitated.
‘All day long we kept sensing Dark power.’ She glanced at Deide. ‘It was off and on, never steady enough that I could get a handle on it or identify it. Maybe it was some other Dark power guy but I got the feeling we were being followed.’
‘You didn’t think to mention this before?’ Deide did not look happy.
‘Well, here’s the thing,’ Alastair said. ‘After we entered the forest, we lost it completely. Never encountered it again. We thought maybe we just got rid of him.’
Deide leaned back in his chair, his expression was troubled. ‘I do not believe it is possible to get rid of Pierce in this way. I don’t like the sound of this at all.’
‘How is he doing this?’ Sacha could hear the frustration in Taylor’s voice. ‘How could he find us? How is he doing any of this? The zombies. The attack. It doesn’t make sense. We did everything right. It’s like he’s not human.’
She bit her lip hard as if to make herself stop.
It was Deide who responded.
‘You are not wrong. What he is doing was long believed impossible,’ he said, choosing his words carefully. ‘And I’m not certain how human he really is anymore.’
He glanced at Louisa, who inclined her head slightly.
Deide continued. ‘We think the things he’s doing – his power – it may mean he’s closer to raising this demon than we’d thought. It’s as if they’re already working together.’
An icy shard of fear entered Sacha’s chest.
‘I thought the reason he needed me was to raise the demon. Isn’t that what this is all about? What are you telling us? Has he done it already? Are we too late?’
‘I think it’s more that he’s found a way to communicate with the demon,’ Deide said. ‘And now the demon is helping him.’
‘Why?’ Sacha stuttered. ‘How…?’
Alastair interceded. ‘Why? Because it’s in the demon’s interest for Mortimer to win. How…? Well. That’s what we’re trying to figure out.’
‘We’re not too late, Sacha.’ Leaning forward, Deide rested his wrists on his knees. ‘The demon is not in our dimension. But somehow his energy is filtering through. It’s possible it’s just a matter of time – it’s only three days from the moment the curse is due to be fulfilled – the separation between our world and other dimensions could be losing strength. That would explain how Mortimer could make these creatures. And why they are not affected by our abilities. And why the traditions that usually protect us are failing.’
‘What happens now?’ Taylor asked. ‘How long can we stay here? When do we move on?’
‘I think it’s safe for you all to spend the night here
,’ Deide said. ‘Tomorrow, though, you must go to Carcassonne. There’s another safe house there, waiting for you. It’s more remote than this one – and better protected.’
‘But we are safe here tonight,’ Sacha asked. ‘Right?’
The look Deide gave him was regretful.
‘This is the best we can do. But I am sorry to say, nowhere is safe anymore.’
Twenty-Six
Later on, Taylor would remember that night they spent in the safe house as a hazy blur. After that first serious discussion, the mood lightened – becoming at times, almost giddy. The levels of stress they’d been operating under couldn’t be sustained, and the tension finally broke.
They had dinner in the dining room, gathered around a long table, everyone talking and laughing.
To her own surprise, Taylor found herself enjoying it. For the most part, they all avoided talking about Mortimer. Instead, they talked about other things.
Louisa told them about the ordeal of spending the night in the van, and how Alastair snored.
‘How dare you,’ Alastair said, with faux umbrage.
‘Like a bloody lawn mower,’ Louisa said, demonstrating raucously until he threw a piece of bread at her.
Taylor and Sacha explained how they’d subsisted on squashed pastries and brushed their teeth in lake water. Their stories grew slightly hysterical as they frantically avoided mentioning kissing.
‘And the birds were so noisy,’ Sacha exclaimed.
‘So noisy,’ Taylor agreed with too much enthusiasm. ‘It was crazy.’
But no one seemed to notice.
Throughout it all, Deide listened and smiled, laughing in the right places, and pouring drinks when glasses looked low. Keeping everyone talking.
They were all exhausted, and it was still early when Deide showed everyone up to their rooms. Taylor and Louisa shared a spacious room on the top floor, with whitewashed floors and twin beds neatly covered in spotless, matelassé spreads. A small porcelain lamp sat on the tiny table between them, beneath an oil painting of a farmhouse under a vivid blue sky.
The Secret City Page 17