Chapter Twenty-Three
I huddle in an abandoned rectory of a church near the Canary Wharf area. I'm alive and free, which is a whole lot more than I expected when I went for my little dip in the Thames. Still, I'm soaked through and I've got a bullet graze on my back and the marvelous beginnings of a massive head cold. I wrestle my way out of my wet hoodie and spread it out to dry on the cleanest spot of floor I can find. I wrap my arms around my body and try to stay as warm as possible until the sun rises.
I have to get back to Ryland and the others. I have to find out if Dham got away. My mind strays to memories of our kiss in the alley and I feel a pleasant heat rush through me despite the clamminess of my waterlogged clothes. Even if it was an act to throw the Inquisition off our true purpose for being out, it still was a kiss. My first, if you don't count clumsy attempts with Patrick in order to get it out of the way.
My chattering teeth distract me from my pathetic romantic musings. No sense getting all moon-faced about something that didn't mean anything, not when I could likely die from hypothermia or some kind of awful infection in the wound on my back from my unplanned swim in the river. Those are much more immediate and important things to dwell on rather than whether or not a boy likes me. Still, I can't help wondering if he felt anything like what I feel.
I rub my arms and legs and creep over to a broken window for a look out. I can see the faint glimmer of dawn just beginning to color the sky with the barest hint of rose. It will be light soon, and light means people. And people mean that I can try and get back to the Highwayman in the crowd. Of course, it doesn't help that I look like some kind of homeless person and probably smell even worse; I'll just have to hope that the Inquisition's actions over the past few days are enough for people to keep their heads down and mind their own business.
I wait impatiently as the city slowly wakes up. I can hear the faint sound of a few cars soon joined by others on the road running past my location. As the sun rises, foot traffic increases. I wait until the sun is fully up and the morning rush to work is in full swing. My clothes have dried on me and I move stiffly as the fabric chafes against my skin.
I turn my shirt around and inside out, hoping to hide the bloody mark on my back. I debate about putting my hoodie back on and then decide against it. The Inquisition saw me in it last night; it might be better if I don't look so recognizable. I shove it in a hole in the wall, then make my way out into the street.
The morning is bright; the sky a remarkable cloudless blue. I hurry along with the press of humanity, hands tucked deep in my pockets. I spring for a bus ride, keeping my head down in case there is a video feed on this route. I get out far enough away from the Highwayman that I can at least shake off pursuit if I have to. I walk down the streets, keeping to areas where there are lots of people to mill about with.
I'm passing a newsstand when the front page on one of the papers catches my eye. It's a grainy picture, blown up to take up almost half of the front page, of Dham. I'm beside him, but you can't see my face hardly at all because of the hoodie. I'm glad I left it behind. But Dham's face is clear. One of the street cameras must have gotten a shot before he covered up.
I scan the article quickly, ignoring the fish-eye I get from the clerk at the register. It says Dham is wanted in suspicion of terrorist activities and anyone who has any knowledge of his location is to report him to their local Inquisition headquarters or to the nearest police station. It also mentions he is probably armed and is extremely dangerous.
Crap. Crappity crap crap on a crap cracker.
I put a coin on the counter and take a copy of the paper. Ryland and Dham need to see this. I'm happy because this means that Dham wasn't caught. But otherwise, this article is the worst kind of news. I tuck the paper under my arm and continue quickly down the street.
When I'm positive I'm not being followed, I head to Auntie’s. I’m exhausted and I need a place to shower and clean my wound. Wearily, I climb the steps leading to the house and let myself in.
I'm pulled into a bear hug that smashes the breath from my lungs. I can tell it's Ryland by scent—for some reason he always smells like woodsmoke to me. I hide a wince as he brushes against the wound on my back.
"We thought you were caught," he whispers against my tangled hair. "When you didn't come back with Dham…."
"I got away," I manage to choke out, "but not before I took a bath in the Thames." No need to tell him about the bullet; I've worried him enough.
He pushes me away to get a good look at me. I can see tears standing in the corners of his eyes, but they don't fall. He blinks quickly. "Is that what that smell is?"
I nod, a giddy grin on my face. For the first time since last night I feel truly safe. "Is Dham here?"
Ryland nods, pulling me close against him. "He came in with the bag last night. He wanted to go out looking for you right away—I practically had to sit on him to keep him in here. I think Cat and Peter finally convinced him to get some sleep."
As we pass the kitchen I see Auntie hovering. I can tell she wants to come over, but she’s letting Ryland debrief me. He orders food for me, then leads me to Auntie’s private office. I slump into a chair, exhaustion plowing into me like a lorry. The rustle of paper at my back reminds me of the important news I carry. I reach back, wincing as the graze pulls sharply, and hand Ryland the paper. "We've got a problem."
Ryland takes the paper from my hand. I wait in silence as he reads the article. Finally he puts the paper down on the desk and says, "Damn."
"No, Dham." Clear evidence that I'm beyond tired; that joke is terrible.
Ryland doesn't even crack a smile. "We're running out of time." He stands up and begins to pace the small office. The sound of his feet on the floorboards beats out a rhythm that begins to lull me to sleep. I force myself to sit up straighter.
Auntie knocks, then enters with a plate of food. It's just some bread with butter and marmalade and some cheese and salami, but I start wolfing it down as if it is the finest gourmet meal. I swallow a couple of bites before I speak. "We already were." I look at Ryland. "What do we do now?"
He runs a hand through his short hair, the ends standing up like bristles. "We need to move the mission up. As soon as we can."
"How?" I take a huge bite of bread and sigh.
He leans down beside me, his arm resting across the back of my chair. "You let me worry about that." Ryland pauses for a moment, eyes intent on my face. "Amaranth, are you sure you are alright?"
I nod, but it turns into a yawn. Ryland smiles, a genuine one that actually reaches his eyes. He leans over and hugs me again. "Go get some sleep." He wrinkles his nose. "And a shower. You reek."
"You really know the things to say to charm a lady." I manage to lever myself back to my feet with only a slight wobble.
He pushes me lightly toward the door, hands resting briefly on my shoulders. "Get going, you."
The Iron Bells Page 28
