The little voice in my head grew louder urging me to get ready to leave even though it would be difficult to get out of the safe house and up to the close without putting any weight on my cast. Still I forced myself to get off the couch. I was done waiting for Mathias. I had trusted him, and he just abandoned me. The only thing left to do was to make my own way out of this place. It wouldn’t be easy, but I was determined. I made my way to my room, hobbling and hopping around the narrow space as I got my go bag back into order. I had already changed into another long skirt and a black wool sweater, so there was no need to do so again. My hair, I braided and pinned into a knot on the back of my head. Then, I pulled a dark green shawl out of the duffle bag. I would use it to cover my hair when I left to help hide my identity. One thing I had learned over the years was that it sometimes took only a very small change to persuade people they had mistaken you for someone else.
I had just finished packing and hobbling my way into the front room to put the go bag on the table when the door swung open, startling me into a yelp. I dropped the bag on the table and groped for something to defend myself with as a large shadow filled the doorway. My hand landed on a lantern and I raised it warily. Then, the shadow in the doorway moved into the room while tugging down a thick woolen scarf. Mathias’ gaze landed on the lantern I held poised to throw and he murmured, “We don’t have time to deal with a fire, Lauren.”
I set the lantern down and dropped into the chair, feeling my cheeks flush, even as I stared at Mathias. I wanted to say so many things to him. Ask him why he had left. Why he had come back. But none of those words made it past my tight throat. I took a calming breath and then quietly asked, “More hunting?”
“No. Making arrangements.”
Shock at the denial gave away first to relief and then to suspicion as the rest of his answer registered. I eyed him closely, not even sure if I wanted to ask before deciding it was better to know than to go along in the dark. “For what?”
“We have to leave,” came the simple statement. It was also completely lacking in explanation.
I frowned at him as he walked over to the table. He didn’t look even the tiniest bit surprised when he noticed my go bag was already resting on it. Instead, he gave a curt nod . . . almost as though he approved. My frown deepened. “If you’re going to drop me off at the airport, I would at least like to get some crutches first.”
Mathias gave me an indecipherable look, then he rounded the table and held out his hand to me. “We need to get to the clinic. The doctor was reluctant to wait too long past close of day.”
For a moment I considered refusing to go along with him. Whatever he had in mind probably wouldn’t make any sense, and Mathias no longer seemed to be in the mood for sharing information. Then, my practical survival instincts reasserted themselves. If we were going to the clinic first, I would be able to insist on crutches. Not to mention preparing myself mentally for breaking from Mathias’ company. Ignoring his outstretched hand, I carefully arranged my shawl over my hair making sure it was loose enough to obscure my profile from the side and then stood on my own. Mathias’ hand dropped back to his side as I shrugged into my wool coat and tugged on gloves.
Mathias didn’t hesitate over my little snub. As soon as I was ready, he shouldered my go bag and picked me up. As narrow and steep as the stairs leading out of the safe house were, I didn’t try to protest being carried. Instead, I worked hard to ignore the sensation of feeling safe and protected being carried gave me. It was all an illusion.
The only surprise for me was the fact that Mathias had a car waiting for us that wasn’t a taxi. I hadn’t expected him to try to rent another car. He had seemed content with buses and taxis since the crash. In no time at all, we were back at the clinic with the doctor having a rather pinched look on his face as he examined my cast.
He looked from Mathias to me and said gravely, “Mrs. Jones, I don’t think it is wise to remove the cast. It has only been five days.”
“We won’t be able to reach another doctor to have the plaster removed in four weeks,” Mathias interjected. His words were cool and calm, but at least they weren’t as terrifyingly cold as they had been yesterday. But they were still unyielding in their demand as he added, “We need a different option. One that will not require a saw to remove.”
When the doctor looked at me, I could read the unspoken question in his eyes. If I refused to go with Mathias now, the doctor would help me. For not even half a heartbeat, I was well and truly tempted to accept the silent offer. But . . . Leaving Mathias in the lurch seemed . . . unwise. Not so much for my sake as for his. I didn’t trust what he would do without my being around. I hesitated a moment longer before offering a little nod. “We can’t stay in Edinburgh much longer, and I don’t know where we’ll be in four weeks. If there is another option, it would make things much easier.”
The doctor’s lips thinned and I knew he wasn’t happy, but he finally jerked his head down in a curt nod. “Very well.” He stood up and informed us he was going to get the necessary supplies, disappearing out the door before I could offer a reply.
Silence reigned in the room as we waited for the doctor to return. I folded my hands in my lap and avoided Mathias’ gaze. Not that he seemed in a very talkative mood. As I considered the doctor’s attempt to offer aid, I realized something else. I hadn’t seen his nurse, Eileen, in the clinic even once since we came. I hoped we hadn’t run her off. When the doctor returned to the room, I couldn’t help myself. “What happened to your nurse? Is she all right?”
The doctor paused. He stared at me for a long moment then he said tightly, “I sent Eileen home when your husband showed up again this afternoon. She will no longer be involved in this matter.”
I kept quiet as he busied himself with the rest of the preparations. Mathias edged closer to the door of the room as the cast was being cut off, probably so he could hear if there were any intruders. The doctor then wrapped my ankle tightly and fitted a brace over my foot that placed firm pressure against my Achilles tendon and came up to the lower half of my calf. He fixed me with a stern look as he stated briskly, “Do not remove the brace if you can at all help it. And, do not put any weight on that foot for at least another four weeks. I will give you crutches. After four to six weeks, the tear should be mended enough to allow for some use. I would recommend a walking boot at that point for another few weeks to ensure you don’t cause it to tear again. A second surgery could lead to complications.”
“I understand,” I managed to get out between my clenched teeth. Waves of pain radiated from my ankle, but I refused to give into them. I blew out my breath slowly through my nose, trying to regain my composure, before I offered a faint smile and added, “Thank you for your help.”
The doctor made a noise of disagreement and then retorted crossly, “I’m a physician and my oath demands it of me.”
At least, he gave me the crutches and stuck around long enough to ensure I could use them without falling before ushering us out of the clinic. Making my own way out the back door of the clinic was both a relief and a loss since there was no longer any excuse for Mathias to carry me around, a completely ridiculous way for me to feel about it. I shoved away the feelings that made me want Mathias’ attention and focused on the important result of the painful switch from cast to brace. Now, I would be able to get around on my own without hopping or relying on Mathias for aid. If we were going to part ways, that was what I needed to concentrate on . . . not the feelings stirred up when being held by a 10.
The pain in my ankle kept me awake and, regrettably, alert as we drove from the clinic to Edinburgh’s airport. I watched the lights of planes and airships lifting into the night sky. Despite how long the clinic visit had felt, it was actually only a little after seven in the evening when we entered the airport proper. I stared at Mathias in surprise when he ushered me to one of the gates, but didn’t immediately leave for his own. I had been more than certain that this was where he planned to part ways. I g
lanced around, but everyone seemed preoccupied with their own flights. For some reason, it was of the utmost importance that I understood what he meant to do. Was he just assuring himself that I was going to get on the plane? Or something else entirely? I wasn’t sure and I needed to know.
Mathias was checking his watch when I leaned over to whisper, “Where exactly am I going?”
“London,” came the equally quiet reply.
“And, where are you going?”
Mathias glanced at me, his gaze unreadable. “Also London.”
I hesitated, suddenly uncertain if I really wanted to know the answer to my next question. But, I couldn’t seem to help myself. I licked my lips and then asked in a breathless whisper, “So we’ll go our separate ways at Heathrow?”
His arm settled around my shoulders, startling me, but then he leaned in close and his blue-green eyes pinned me in place. His breath was warm against my skin as he leaned in even closer and whispered in my ear, “We don’t have a lot of time, Hope. Just play along for now.”
That was the second time he had called me by my surname. It wasn’t the name on my Mrs. Jones’ ID and passport. It bothered me to hear him call me ‘Hope’ instead of ‘Lauren.’ It bothered me a lot. The call came for passengers to board the plane, and Mathias grabbed our go bags. Fortunately, they counted as carry-on. I was among the first to be seated due to my crutches and injured foot. Something that was only a slight relief. Mathias sat next to me and drummed his fingers against his knee as the other passengers streamed onto the plane until I finally reached over and covered his hand with mine. When he looked down at me, I offered a faint smile. “It will be fine.”
“It will be tricky,” he corrected. “We will need to catch the express to Paddington, and then take the underground to reach Euston station. If we don’t land before ten, we could very well miss the train.”
No sooner had he spoken than the plane taxied onto the runway. I gripped his hand a little tighter as we took off. Once we were in the air, I leaned closer to him as I whispered, “Why fly back to London if you are concerned about a train? There was a train station in Edinburgh.”
His breath stirred the tendrils of hair that had fallen around my face as he replied softly, “Because we are going to take the Caledonian Sleeper to Inverness by way of Edinburgh.”
I leaned back abruptly staring at him. My brow furrowed. I glanced around, but the seats around us were empty. Still I kept my voice as low and soft as possible as I whispered, “Back to Scotland?”
Mathias nodded. When I started to say more, question him, he held up a hand. “Later.”
Realizing I had no choice and it was rather foolish to try to question him about our escape plan when anyone could overhear us, I let it go. I still didn’t understand what was going on. I had been certain Mathias’ coldness meant that he intended to abandon me to my own devices. If not in Edinburgh, then at Heathrow. But now, he was talking about catching trains to go back to Scotland. Together. The man made no sense whatsoever.
I caught a short nap during the remainder of the flight only waking when we touched down in Heathrow. Mathias was in a hurry. Enough that he commandeered a wheelchair for my use, and then ran through the terminal to reach the Heathrow Express. How we didn’t get in trouble with security or locked in by crowds, I will never know. Somehow, we made it to the train. When we pulled into Paddington station, we had to change from the train to the underground heading for Euston. Upon reaching the station, Mathias once again put me in a wheelchair and sprinted to the ticket office. I kept my head down when I noticed a few 5s meandering through the crowd. Anyone above a 4 made me nervous now.
Then Mathias was back, two tickets clutched in his left hand. He pushed the wheelchair at a sprint until we reached the correct platform where I switched to using my crutches. By the time we were settled in a sleeping berth, the conductor was announcing the train was about to leave the station and I was in so much pain that I wanted nothing more than to sleep for a day. Mathias had given me the lower bunk of the two in our berth. The room itself was a little smaller than the bedrooms in the safe house. There was just enough room to move around, but I was more concerned about stowing my crutches and getting off my foot. At least my lack of height meant I wouldn’t have much issue with head room. I gingerly sat on the mattress trying to decide whether this was truly worth it.
“All right?”
I nodded.
Mathias didn’t question me further. Instead, he dug in his go bag pulled out an envelope and handed it to me. I opened it to find a new ID and passport identifying me as Leto Smith. Familiar enough with the routine, I handed him the identification I had been carrying as Amity Jones. He would dispose of it somewhere along the route.
The train pulled out of the station at fifteen minutes past eleven. I glanced up at Mathias. Part of me was glad he was still here. Another part of me was wondering if I was truly any safer with him than on my own. Yet, another part wanted to get him to talk about the change in him, what was causing him to be so cold at times. But weariness tugged at me. I rubbed my forehead trying to clear the cobwebs from my mind. Maybe I should start with easier questions. “How did you get tickets? Don’t overnights require ticket purchase well before leaving?”
“I ordered them over the phone. They were holding them for us.” Mathias looked down at me and then stated softly, “There were only norms managing the gates and boarding passes. No one knew to look for you.”
“I suppose that is something,” I murmured. A sigh escaped me as I unlaced my tennis shoe and slipped it off. I wriggled my toes and glanced over at where he was uncovering the sink. “Do you think we’ve lost the hunters now?”
He offered a slight shrug. “I do not know yet.”
“Mathias . . . Do you, umm, do you think that perhaps . . .” I trailed off, my aching head making it difficult to even figure out what I was trying to ask much less ask it.
Mathias’ voice softened ever so slightly as he brushed his fingers against my shoulder. “Get some sleep, Lauren. Mr. and Mrs. Smith have a long ride tomorrow. We’ll be changing tracks in Inverness.”
I should have pressed him for more information. I should have tried to talk to him about Edinburgh. Instead, I laid down and closed my eyes. When Mathias offered some of the healing tea, I gladly took it despite knowing it would knock me out for at least six hours. The weariness was muddling my thoughts, confusing me, and I needed rest. Especially if I was going to deal with Mathias, and keep his coldness from turning into a PR disaster for paranormals everywhere. After three years observing, connecting the right people to incoming calls, and arranging meetings at Halliman’s, I felt I should at least be able to do that much for both our sakes. Maybe not as much as the trained personnel at Halliman’s who tended to relocations or the actual PR side of the business, of course. But Mathias . . . He needed help and I was the only one around to offer it right now.
* * *
Lauren
I stifled a yawn behind my hand as I observed the people flowing in and out of the various trains at Inverness station. For the most part they were 2s and 3s with the occasional group of 4s passing through the central hub of the rail station. So far only a few 5s appeared on the platform and most of them looked as though they were going to meetings. None of them looked over at where I was sitting on a bench guarding our bags while Mathias found some breakfast. They were all too busy checking the signs for arrival and departure times, and then heading to one side of the station or the other to catch their trains. Which, actually made me feel a little better.
I adjusted my scarf using the movement to stretch some more. We’d arrived in Inverness just before nine in the morning, and Mathias purchased tokens to get us into the guest lounge where the showers were available to sleeper passengers. I was so happy to have the option of showering that I actually considered kissing him for it. Fortunately, I kept my head and didn’t embarrass myself.
The shower certainly helped loosen some of the knots
in my neck and shoulders. Freshly clean and almost relaxed . . . no wonder I was struggling against the urge to nap. It also helped that after being in the station for about an hour with no hints of pursuit, I was almost ready to declare that we had given Weard’s hunters the slip again. Of course, no sooner had I thought that than I glimpsed a new number in the crowd. A 7, and its owner was coming toward me. I looked around as panic started beating its wings against my ribs, but Mathias was nowhere to be seen. I twisted back to the approaching danger and caught a glimpse of the 7 surrounded by a group of tourists, marked by the cameras around their necks and maps clutched in their gloved hands, who were all 4s.
I struggled to my feet, grasping my crutches, but I didn’t have an easy way of grabbing both bags. My heart started pounding faster and there was a ringing in my ears as my breath came in fast gasps. The 7 pushed through the tourists and I caught a glimpse of a black man, his eyes half-shadowed by a flat cap and a wool coat that was unbuttoned as though he didn’t truly feel the cold in sharp contrast to the heavily layered and triple bundled tourists. Definitely a paranormal, and his attention was fixed on me. He strode toward me, purpose in every step, as I stood frozen to the ground.
Then, the 7’s steps slowed down until he came to a halt. I tensed half expecting him to lunge at me despite the fact that he stood far enough away for a family of Sprites pushing a two-seater stroller with sleeping twins to pass between us. When the Sprites cleared the way, the 7 was still there but he didn’t come any closer. Instead, his attention shifted to something behind me. It was only then that I realized someone stood beside me once more. I risked a glanced to my right and saw Mathias. His expression was cold and unreadable as he locked eyes with the 7. My grip on my crutches tightened as I realized they might fight here and now.
Flight by Numbers Page 5