The Iron Bells
Page 7
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After a couple of hours, I'm no closer to an idea of how to find Patrick. If his mother has already talked to his other friends and they haven't seen him, I don't see the point in wasting further time on them. I lie back so I can see overhead, the late afternoon sky a cloudless blue. It's gotten cooler up here and I zip up my jacket and tuck my hands into its pockets.
I hear the sound of feet on the ladder. I don't bother to sit up, sure that whoever it is will see me up here and go back down. Most everyone in the house knows this is my place. I close my eyes and try and figure out a plan.
The footsteps aren't leaving. In fact, they're getting closer. I crack open one eye, prepared to launch a caustic warning at the intruder and the words never get past my lips. Dham is staring down at me, head cocked, a strange expression on his face. I open the other eye and greet him. "Hello."
He straightens, a small smile on his face. "I can go if you want to be alone."
I shake my head. I do and I don't want to be alone. I don't know what I want, only that I don't want to think about Patrick being possessed another minute. I don't want to think about anything right now. I know I won't be good company, but I don't want to be alone with my thoughts.
"You were gone a long time," he begins as he sits down next to me. I shrug noncommittally. He raises his hands in a peaceful gesture. "I'm not trying to pry or anything. I just went looking for you, and you were already gone."
I slide my eyes over to look at him. His handsome face is open, unguarded. I feel a thrill in the pit of my stomach, intense and then gone. He looked for me? I duck my head to hide my blush. "Really?"
"Yeah. I wasn't sure how to get back down to the Underground."
"Oh." There's an entirely different feeling in my stomach now, like a rock coated in lead just dropped down through my esophagus. "Sorry about that."
"No problem." He leans back on his hands, eyes tracking the sun's progress as it sinks below the taller buildings. "So, you want to tell me where you went all day?"
I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. Part of me wants to talk to someone about what Mrs. Bowen asked of me, but a larger part doesn't want to say anything. I'm not even sure what I would say. I spent the day wandering around London hoping I might run into my possessed best friend because his mother asked me to? I'd sound mental.
"Just around a bit. I walked a lot." I sigh. Maybe I should have told him to leave. "I spent some time in the British Museum."
"You like to hang out in a museum?" He sounds unbelieving.
I frown. "Yes, I do. It soothes me. Calms me down."
"That didn't come out like I meant it to." He's looking at me, amusement darkening his eyes. "I just wouldn't have thought you'd spend your free time in a museum, especially after seeing the way you fight."
"What, I can't like art and use a blade? The two aren't mutually exclusive, you know."
He sits back up, running a hand through his hair. "Hold on, let me get my foot out of my mouth." He chuckles softly. "I'm sorry if I sound like an idiot. I was just surprised. I thought you'd do something more physical with your time off."
Physical is the last thing I want to be on my day off, but I don't tell him that. My ideal day off consists of lazing in bed reading for the better part of the morning before finally going downstairs for tea and toast, then returning to my room for more reading and napping. It's not a very ambitious schedule, but I do enough crazy stuff in my forays into the tunnels.
"What do you usually do with your time off?" I'm trying to change the subject away from me and back to him.
He laughs, startling a couple of roosting birds. "What time off?" He subsides back, this time resting on his elbows with his head tipped back. "The first time I got time off in the last year was on that boat across the ocean." He arches a brow at me. "I wouldn't recommend it."
I feel the smile creasing my cheeks. He grins. "So what did you do on the boat?"
"For the first couple of days, I puked my guts out. And while it was different than my regular routine, I think I would have happily gone back to the subway if it meant I'd be able to eat breakfast and not revisit it twenty minutes later."
"Did it get any better?" I wince in sympathy at the idea of him heaving over the side of a boat.
He nods. "Eventually. It took some time to get used to it. I stayed in the hold most of the time. It was safer that way."
"Did Peter stay down there with you?" I’m not sure about Peter, but Dham seems to trust him. Maybe I just need to become more familiar with the man. Heaven knows, I’m not particularly easy to get to know.
"Some. I was miserable so I wanted to be alone. In the dark. Not moving." He smiles at my outburst of laughter. "He thought it was safer if I didn't go topside very much. Never knew what might be watching."
I straighten up and look at him. "Sounds terrible."
"It wasn't a luxury trans-Atlantic cruise, that's for sure." He shrugs. "Once the vomit comet stopped though, it wasn't too bad. I got caught up on some reading. Practiced ringing. Did some sparring with the crew." A thoughtful look crosses his face. "Hey, is there anywhere I can do some target practice?"
"With a gun?" Guns are prized in the Resistance. They are pretty hard to come by.
He nods.
"Well, I don't suppose you have your own weapon?" England's gun laws have always been draconian, but since the Inquisition took control, it's almost impossible to lay hands on a firearm. Still, the Resistance has its ways. We have a few pistols and automatics but they are kept under lock and key.
When he shakes his head, I bite my lip in thought. We may have a few stockpiled that Dham can practice with. "We've probably got some extras we can spare. I'll talk to Ryland about it." And then it came to me. I could ask Ryland about Patrick too. He has a lot of contacts and resources, and he's met Patrick before. He'd be able to help me find him, if anyone could.