Of course, for most of London, those bars were pretty high all the time. But the absolute peak was most often in the hours between midday and three p.m.: lunchtime.
I didn’t have a phone to check anymore—too hard to keep the thing topped up, and why did I even need it anyway? It wasn’t like anyone called me. And I got bored of texting and Snapchat lenses within the first five minutes—but if I did, I would bet any sum of money that Russell Square, at 12:26 p.m., matched its rounded peak almost perfectly.
It was heaving. The paths winding their way through the park were a constant stream of traffic, like the routes of endlessly busy worker ants. Under trees just now re-growing pale leaves were hordes of people arrayed on the grass: businessmen and women in suits and jackets, chowing down on sandwiches or pastas or sushi; a half-dozen groups of teenagers were spread on blankets, enjoying picnics, probably visiting for the day from some other corner of the country; an old married couple, who must’ve been at least seventy-five, sat side by side, reading. The old boy kept sneaking his wife glances. When she caught him, she nudged him and laughed, and granted him a peck on the lips.
Utterly sickening, in the best, cutest way.
“Right,” I said, at a fork in the path. “This is me.”
I turned to Carson. He’d not spoken a word since I reprimanded him down the street from Lady Angelica’s. And although I was absolutely, positively, one hundred percent grateful for that, the bone or chunk of brain or whatever was responsible for feeling guilt was just starting to wake up again. Not feeling particularly nasty as such, but I was distantly aware that Carson’s first experiences in London had been kind of a hot mess. Rounding that out with a good telling-off was probably enough to send him back home, writing England off forevermore.
He gave me a nervous look, unable to hold my eyes. He coughed. “Um. Well, err. Thank you for walking me back.”
I didn’t say fine, because it wasn’t. Instead, I told him, “Have safe travels, all right? And check out all those places I told you about.”
He nodded. Glanced at his shoes. My face. Then off over my shoulder.
“Right. Will do.”
Okay then.
“Well, see you.”
I turned to walk away—
“Wait!”
Pausing, I looked over my shoulder at him. If I lifted an eyebrow, I expected I’d be some kind of chav picture of Lady Angelica. The look I gave was a flat one, though.
“I was just, err, just wondering if you, um … if you had thought of anywhere else to visit.”
I frowned. Now, really?
“No, I haven’t. But I’m sure if you ask any one of the kind people out here, they’ll be able to recommend you someplace.”
And I turned on my heel, stepping away once more—
“Mira!”
Ugh. “What.”
Carson laughed nervously. “Those, um, those things that Lady Hauk had—th-those butlers. They were pretty … pretty cool, right?” Another nervous rattle of laughter.
Now I did lift an eyebrow. “Mate. Come on.”
If looks could be spineless, the one he gave me definitely fit the bill.
“I’m leaving now,” I said. Turned—
“Wait, Mira!”
He jogged up to me, caught me by the wrist.
I yanked it free, whirling on him.
“What do you think you’re playing at? I’ve got things to do! I told you earlier, I’ve had enough of babysitting you!”
A young woman, very early twenties, walked by. She wore sunglasses, which made me want to say, It’s bright, but it’s not that much like summer yet, love. Although their dark lenses masked her eyes, the turn of her head in our direction was plain to see, as was the lowering of her eyebrows. She frowned, lip pushing down a beauty spot.
Great. We were beginning to cause a scene. Probably looked like some couple whose relationship had finally sputtered out on the streets of Camden.
Carson opened his mouth. Whether it was to argue, fire off some retort, or simply to let it hang before closing it again, doing that infuriating goldfish thing—how was it possible to be sick of a person’s tics within less than twenty-four hours of meeting them?—I would never know. Instead his eyes drifted behind …
His face paled.
Behind us, people were suddenly screaming.
I turned on my heel, pumped with adrenaline.
Russell Square had thrown itself into action. Picnic blankets were abandoned as people climbed to their feet, bolting across the wide expanse of grass. The path emptied as others fled.
Striding toward us, cinquedeas drawn and glinting in the sunlight, they came:
The Order of Apdau.
15
My first thought was to do as Lady Angelica had said: to run.
But though the Order of Apdau made for us—for me—a large component of Russell Square was emptying in our direction. It was like that Indiana Jones thing; why run from the boulder whilst remaining in the path of the boulder? Hook a left out of there, damn it!
Net effect was that the crowd became too thick to make an escape.
Something else, too. I didn’t need help or advice from anyone. I could do things my way, just like I had been.
And right now, feeling like I was sleepwalking, I had had enough of running.
I slipped the umbrella from my belt, extending it. It burst to full-length in an instant, glamour dissipating as it grew to its full size.
I brandished Decidian’s Spear, teeth gritted.
“We’ve been through this!” I yelled. “I’d urge you to listen!”
The Order stopped just out of reach. Cinquedeas drawn and in hand, they looked poised to spring at any moment. I would have to trust that the adrenaline suddenly pulsing through my veins would be enough to keep me on my toes and fight them off.
And then what?
Didn’t know, and right now, didn’t care.
I jabbed air. In the midday sun, the dried orc blood had taken on a subtle blue sheen.
“I’ll use it,” I warned again. “Just watch me.”
The Order seemed to converse in perfect silence, assessing …
Then the lead swung his cinquedea and barreled forward.
“Damn it!” I grunted, swinging the spear for him.
He dodged, throwing up the sword.
Spear and cinquedea clanged.
Barely before I had retreated a step, readying myself to swing again, another launched in from the right—and the third came at me on the left.
I bit back a string of curses, spinning.
Decidian’s Spear slammed metal. A high-pitched whine shrieked, starting and ending in just a fraction of a second. Then I was darting sideways and back, feet working like one of the guests on those dancing shows, bringing the spear around—
This member of the Order was too close. He’d already passed the spear’s bloody tip. Best I could do was whack him upside the head—
He ducked as it sailed over—
One hand thrust out, catching it. Still carried by momentum, I tripped—
“Hey!” I yelped.
Apdau #3 bared clenched teeth beneath his cowl. He swung up with the cinquedea in his free hand—
Leather sailed out of nowhere, smashing him in the face.
“TAKE THAT!”
He staggered back, releasing Decidian’s Spear.
Left of me, Carson swung his manbag around. His mouth was wide open, caught between a snarl and a cry of fear.
Apdau #1 lunged—
“Carson, look out!”
He twisted.
A cinquedea sailed.
Carson ducked, almost too late, battle cry becoming a squeak of fright—I swore I caught sight of a tuft of brown hair flutter from where the blade just whizzed past his head—
Then I was swinging again, loosing my own roar.
The spear clashed, metal on metal, blocking one blade—
I dragged it around—
Metal flashed, and I
jerked back as it sailed overhead—was that a tuft of my hair deserting me now?!—and then pushed forward, stabbing for the nearest cloaked man’s midsection. He dodged back, though he didn’t need to; I jerked back so the pointed tip stopped short of where he’d been standing.
For all my words to the contrary, I wouldn’t kill these men. Couldn’t kill these men.
But if it was my life or theirs …
One of the cloaked men was halfway through recovering. He planted his feet, pivoting, cinquedea just beginning to swing—
“LEAVE HER ALONE!”
Carson swung again. The manbag slammed the order member in the face, sending him staggering back—just what was he packing in that thing?—and then—
“Carson!” I cried.
He twisted around as another man leapt—
I swung the spear around—too slow, damn it!—
Carson hissed as the blade sailed across his midsection.
“NO!”
He stared in utter shock, totally uncomprehending.
Frozen to the spot, I did the same.
Time seemed to stand still.
He reached down, face paper white and eyes bulging as his fingers wrapped his sweater just where his ribcage ended, and lifted—
A hole had been sliced in it.
There would be blood, I was certain—
But then the hole widened as he pulled it open.
The shirt underneath was intact.
I didn’t even have time to gasp, “They missed,” because suddenly metal flashed again. I yelped, staggering sideways to dodge, bringing the spear up—the blade collided with the spear’s handle, in the space between where each of my hands was planted. I grunted, biting my tongue as the force pushed me earthward and I fought to keep hold—
Another blade swung, low. I kicked up a leg. Air rushed past in a frigid breath—
Then I was rising—
Before I’d managed to, another swing crashed hard into the end of Decidian’s Spear. The impact was almost enough to knock me off-balance again. I lurched backward, planting my foot to steady myself—
“BRAND!”
The cry split the air. I twisted for it, Carson doing the same.
There, across the way, was—
Luo?
She bounced on her heels just up the path. Body like a spring, coiled to the point of maximum tension and ready to erupt, she jerked her head at me, eyes icy.
“This way!”
Easier said than done!
I needed to buy us an out first though, otherwise we weren’t going anywhere.
Spinning, I pushed all my energy into swinging Decidian’s Spear in a wide arc.
“GET—LOST!”
The Order of Apdau dodged back as it sailed through the air—
“NOW! MOVE IT, CARSON!”
Then we were sprinting.
Luo didn’t wait for us. Tearing into motion the moment she saw we could make a get-away, she sprinted with the speed of an Olympian down the path. I pumped my legs to keep up, grunting, torn between wanting the spear in hand to defend myself and wishing it would return to its umbrella form and make this escape slightly easier.
Carson barely kept up. On instinct, I gripped the spear one-handed and clasped his wrist.
“FASTER!”
Luo leapt off the path onto the grass. She shot a look behind us—the Order of Apdau were gaining, if my ears did not deceive me—and then, gripping something in hand, she chopped an arm through the air, neatly running it over the ground beneath.
The telltale blinding white edge of a gateway spilled across the grass.
“In here, quick!”
“What about you—?”
“I’ll close it behind us! Go!”
I crossed the last of the distance in three great strides, leapt—
The compass!
—and then vanished from Russell Square, drowning in spiraling lights.
16
Wet.
Definitely not in Russell Square anymore.
Carson popped out next to me. He landed in just as ungainly a fashion as I had: the instant his body realized he had gone from land to an unending expanse of water, he flailed, gasping, arms thrust out and sending salty waves across my face.
“Quit splashing me!” I complained. “Just kick your legs.”
Carson obeyed, although it looked as if it took great effort to do so.
Beside him, his manbag floated. Bobbing up and down on the water’s surface, it looked like debris drifting from a wrecked ship, waiting to wash up on a shore a thousand miles off.
“Where are we?” Carson asked shakily.
I frowned. “No idea.” I’d thought too late to give the compass a look.
But then, would it have mattered if I had? The Order of Apdau were much faster than we were. The only reason we’d got out in the first place was thanks to the help of our pixie-like accomplice. We didn’t have time to sprint across Russell Square until the compass showed someplace more hospitable, let alone for me to cut us a gateway.
Speaking of our Asian friend, she popped in, much more gracefully than Carson or I had.
A stab of dislike went through me.
“Where are we?” Carson asked again.
I cut over him. “Who are you?”
She appraised me with a cold look. Even treading water, she looked so put together.
Kitted out in my shabby shirt and dark jeans whose stains were hidden only thanks to their color, I tried to push out a flush of self-consciousness.
“That doesn’t sound much like a thank you, Brand,” she retorted. “I just saved both of your arses.”
“Thank you,” Carson bleated.
I resisted the urge to prod him with the end of spear. (Just a little prod, mind.)
“Are you following me?”
Luo laughed, a short incredulous sound that was clipped, started and ended in half a second. “Why would I be following you?”
“You were outside Lady Angelica’s—”
“I was paying a visit to Lady Hauk, not that it’s any of your business—”
“—and then you just crop up in the middle of Russell Square like some—some—some deus ex machina elf girl—”
“Elf girl?” she repeated, face gone from cold to offended in a heartbeat.
“—and send us through to who knows where!”
“Yeah. I got you out of there.” Luo sneered at me. “And again: I’m pretty sure that deserves a thank-you, Brand.”
I pressed my lips into a line.
Kicking water beside me, Carson looked like he wasn’t sure whether to try to convince me, or simply disappear into the sea like a human jellyfish.
“Fine,” I muttered at last. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Luo flicked her hair out of the water. “And for the record, I’m Heidi Luo.”
“Carson Yates,” he said softly.
“Mira Brand,” I begrudgingly added. “Although by the sound of it, you already know that.”
Heidi neither confirmed nor denied it.
Carson asked her, “Do you know where we are?”
“A water world,” she said sniffily, “although that much should be fairly obvious. Lucky for us, this one’s warm.”
“There are cold ones?”
Heidi gave him a mildly perplexed look. “Yes.”
“Is there any shore here?”
Heidi shrugged. “I haven’t mapped it, but I know it, generally. From research.”
From here, at least, there didn’t appear to be any shore in sight. Kicking myself around in a slow circle, I could see only miles of endless, uninterrupted blue. A fat disc almost twice as large as the sun I knew best lay fairly low in a clear sky. No birds—which meant if there was a shore somewhere on this globe, it certainly was not nearby, assuming birds here had evolved in a remotely similar fashion to those streaking the Earth’s skies.
Of course, I knew by now that this was by no means a given.
�
�So how do we get back to London?” Carson asked.
“This world connects to the Embankment tube station below us.”
Carson stammered, “B-below?” He seemed to suddenly remember he was in wide ocean, where anything might lurk, because panicked eyes darted around the eddying waves he sloshed into motion around his awkward doggy-paddle.
“It’s not far,” Heidi said. “Ten feet, give or take. We came out somewhere shallow.”
“Ten feet isn’t that shallow.”
“It’s like three meters, dude,” I grumbled.
Heidi started, “All we have to do is swim down—”
“Great,” I muttered.
She paused, icy look on me again. “What?”
I didn’t want to say. To put it into words—I’ve had to trust a stranger twice today already, and I don’t want to do it a third time—would sound stupid. But with Heidi frosty and waiting, and Carson’s eyes bouncing between us like they were following a ping pong ball, I had to say something. So I begrudgingly forced the first excuse that popped into my head.
“Just that—there could be anything down there.”
“Yeah; a gateway back to London, and a whole lot of water.”
“Says you.”
Heidi rolled her eyes. “Look, while we’re all treading water, the surface isn’t steady enough to open a gateway back to Russell Square. Plus it’s been, what, three minutes? Your Apdau friends won’t be far gone. Even if we could get through, you’re only going to end up with a fight on your hands again—and I get the joy of saving the day.”
Fire lit in my chest. “And why’s that? We were holding our own just fine before you rocked up.”
Not true, and Heidi knew it; she’d interrupted only moments before my legs went out from under me.
The World Beneath (The Mira Brand Adventures Book 1) Page 10