The Passage to Mythrin 2-Book Bundle

by Patricia Bow

  She jumped up and raised her hand to the bolt. And froze there, hand hovering. The bolt creaked in its socket. She laid a hand softly on the door and it shifted under her fingers, as if the wood was breathing. Or bending, ever so slightly, inward.

  Somebody was leaning on the other side of the wooden panel. Somebody large and heavy. Who was trying his best to be silent, which meant he knew she was here. Who was patiently waiting for her to slide the bolt and open the door.

  Her thoughts flew to the ring she’d found, sized for a big man. Could he have traced her here? Was he here after his property? Was he furious?

  Amelia eased backward down the stairs, one hand splayed on each side wall. She kept her face toward the unseen door. No way she was going to turn her back on it.

  One slow downward step, then another.

  And then another door crashed open below and a dazzling light blinded her.

  §

  “Wow!” Simon shook his head in admiration. “I don’t think I ever saw anybody jump that high from a standing start before.”

  Ammy didn’t seem to think it was funny. “You could’ve called out! Or knocked.” She slumped against the wall and oozed down it until she was sitting on a step. “’Stead of just busting in like that. I could have broken my neck!”

  “Well, you didn’t. What are you doing here, anyway? It’s two-thirty in the morning!”

  She mumbled. Sounded like “... sleepwalking ...”

  “You’re kidding! What’s it like?”

  “How should I know? I was in bed and then I was here. I’ve never done it before in my life!” She rubbed her eyes. “Where’s here?”

  “The stairs to the roof, what did you think?”

  “I didn’t think, I was asleep — remember? How’d you know I was here?”

  “I heard you go out and it seemed weird, so I went looking for you.” He jingled the keys in his dressing gown pocket. “You didn’t leave the building — I could tell by the way the doors were locked — and you weren’t in the basement, or in Celeste’s storage room, so this was the only other place you could be.”

  “And you came looking ... why?”

  “Curious.” And worried too, he would have added, if she’d been a bit friendlier.

  Ammy pointed a trembling finger at the door to the roof. “Somebody’s behind that door.”

  “Up there?” Simon shook his head. “Can’t be. There’s just the roof up there. This is the only way up. And” — he reached up past her and felt the bolt — “it’s still locked.”

  “They could’ve got up by the fire escape.”

  “Uh-uh. The bottoms of the ladders are twelve feet off the ground.”

  “Then what the heck good are they?”

  Patience, he told himself. “You get down to the lowest landing and then there’s no more stairs — there’s a ladder you unhook and it slides down. Pretty clever, actually. They’re for escaping from fires, just like the name says. You’re not supposed to use them to climb up.”

  “Then how did that person get on the roof?”

  “Ammy, there’s nobody on the roof.”

  “There is!”

  No point in arguing, he decided. “We’ll take a look.”

  “All right!” She stood up and tightened the sash of her dressing gown.

  The sensible thing, of course, would have been to go back downstairs and wake Celeste. If he’d been by himself and thought somebody was on the roof who shouldn’t be, that’s what he’d have done. But here was Ammy, with a glint in her eye that didn’t look sensible. And it was the dead of night, and the whole town was asleep except them, and something strange was in the air.

  Besides, that crack about “geeky little boys” from this afternoon still rankled, despite — or maybe because of — Ammy’s backhanded apology. Of course, he had nothing to prove. But he was glad he was wearing the grown-up-looking navy blue robe Celeste had given him for Christmas, instead of his old one with the Star Trek motif.

  We’ll be back inside in no time, Simon promised himself. Ammy had on a thin, silky, red Chinese-patterned robe. She wouldn’t last ten seconds.

  And her feet were bare. That wouldn’t do. “Where are your slippers?”

  “Slippers?” She grimaced. “I don’t own any. Slippers are dorky.”

  Trust Ammy. He sat down and pulled off his slippers. “Put these on.”

  “But you —”

  “I have socks on too, see?” He stuck out a foot to show her.

  “You wear slippers and socks?”

  “With our cold floors? Sure.”

  She made a sound that was not quite a snicker, but consented to put on the slippers. They were too big, so he gave her his socks — tight-knit, waterproof, real wool socks — and he wore the slippers. Then he stood up, pulled back the bolt, and swung the door wide. Icy air flooded in.

  Nothing and nobody was out there. He stepped gingerly out on the squeaking crust of snow. Ammy stepped out after him, her hands deep inside her silken sleeves. Waves of snow blew over the surface, filling in whatever footprints there might have been.

  “Just a quick look round.” Simon led the way toward the waist-high parapet that edged the roof. Breath clouds whipped away from his mouth.

  The top of the stairs was covered with a little hut. The roof was flat and, aside from the hut and six brick chimneys sticking up, it was bare. If they hadn’t been freezing to death they might have admired the view of Dunstone’s lights below and the sharp stars above.

  Simon hunched his shoulders to his ears. “S-seen enough?”

  “Y-y-yeah.”

  They scurried back. Just short of the hut, Ammy stopped. “What’s that up there?”

  A black shape sat on top of the hut. “Pile of sacks? Boxes?”

  “But it...”

  It moved. Uncurled and stretched. Stood up.

  Simon’s mouth dropped open. It — she — was a woman, or maybe a girl, by the shape. That was about all you could see in the starlight. What kept Simon’s mouth hanging open was that ... it was hard to tell in this light, but it looked like she was dressed in nothing but her long, tangled hair.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  GIRL BY STARLIGHT

  For a couple of heartbeats, the only sound was the hiss of snow blowing over the frozen crust. Then Amelia leaned to Simon’s ear. “Careful!” she whispered. “Don’t scare her.”

  “Wha...?” He was staring at the girl like his eyelids were velcroed open. Suddenly they squeezed shut.

  “What?”

  “I said, don’t scare her.”

  “She doesn’t look scared.”

  That was true. The girl stood straight, hands at sides. Staring back at them, Amelia thought, although that was hard to tell. She could have been standing on a beach in July. Here, in this weather, in nothing but her skin. Bonkers. Totally.

  Simon grabbed her arm. “Come on! We’ve got to tell Celeste.”

  “No! We’ve got to get her inside first. She’ll freeze if we leave her there!” She pulled him close and muttered, “Or maybe she’ll....” She tilted her head at the parapet. “And then how will we feel?”

  His eyes widened. “You think that’s why she came up here?”

  “Who knows? Give me your dressing gown. Yours is longer.”

  “Why?” His eyes darted up at the girl and snapped down again. “Oh, right.” He dug the ring of keys out of his pocket and pulled at his sash, but not fast enough. Amelia peeled the robe off him and dumped it onto the roof of the hut. “Go ahead, put that on!”

  The girl just nudged the robe with her foot. It was a long foot with sharp toenails, crusted with snow.

  “Let’s g-get Celeste.” Simon flailed his arms around his sides. “Can’t you s-see there’s something wrong with her?”

  “Sure I can. But....” Amelia sank her hands into her pockets. Her fingers closed on the ruby ring. How did that get there? And, funny — instead of being cold it was warm. Holding it was like holding somebody’s hand. It he
lped. She squeezed, then let it go.

  “Help me get up there,” she said. “And don’t argue!”

  It was only when Amelia was standing on the hut roof beside the girl that she felt afraid. Only then did she realize how tall the girl was — as tall as her dad, at least. The face staring down at her from its tangle of hair was only a shadow with two faint lights in it.

  This is no time to get scared! She stooped for the robe and draped it over the girl’s shoulders. Delicate, like cats’ bones. The girl just stood there, as if she didn’t know what clothes were for. Amelia pushed thin arms into sleeves, pulled the robe closed, and tied the sash.

  “Come on, then. Come down where it’s warm.” The girl didn’t move. Amelia tugged at her sleeve and pointed downward. “You’d like to be warm, yes? Warm?”

  “Waaarm.” A husky whisper.

  “All right. I’m going down. Then you come too. Okay?”

  She slithered off the roof, landed beside Simon, and brushed snow off her robe. “See? If I can do it, you can do it!” She waved encouragingly. “Don’t be afraid, it’s not far.”

  The girl stood still a moment, staring down at her. Then she took one step off the hut roof and dropped straight down. She landed as if she weighed next to nothing. Snow puffed up from under her feet and swirled around her. She laughed silently and put out a pointed pink tongue to catch the glittering motes.

  Once she’d decided to move, it wasn’t hard to guide her into the hut and down the stairs. Then Amelia had to lead her all the way along the corridor to the main stairs at the front of the building. Simon walked ahead. He kept taking nervous looks back over his shoulder.

  He was two steps away from the stairs when the girl stopped short. “No,” she said.

  Ammy tugged gently at her arm. “Come on, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

  “No.”

  “Could be she wants to know where we’re taking her.” Simon came back from the stairs. “Maybe she’s afraid we’ll call the cops.”

  “Of course we won’t! Why would we do that?”

  “Because maybe she belongs in some hospital.” He stared hard and meaningfully at Amelia. “Maybe people are looking for her right now.”

  The tall girl gazed down at them, eyes moving from face to face as they spoke. She looked alert and interested and not crazy at all.

  They could see her properly now, in the corridor light. She looked about fifteen, Amelia thought. Sixteen at most. But not like any sixteen-year-old she’d ever seen before.

  Dark red hair sparked with gold fell below her hips. Her eyes were large and gold-green and tilted like a cat’s. Her skin was so thin you could see blue veins at her temples and on her hands. You’d think a breeze would blow her away.

  “We don’t even know her name,” Simon said.

  “That’s right!” Amelia faced the girl. She slapped Simon’s shoulder. “He’s Simon. Simon. And I” — she touched her chest — “I’m Amelia. Amelia.”

  The girl lifted a long hand and ran her fingers over the tips of Amelia’s neon hair. Her lips parted. Was that a smile? The points of her white teeth gleamed.

  “And you? What’s your name?” Amelia touched the girl’s arm. “Your name?”

  The girl lifted her head. Her lips closed; her eyes darkened. The corridor chilled. Amelia stepped back.

  “Ammy, I think we should talk.” Simon tried to pull her towards the stairs. “Without her. With Celeste.”

  “But we can’t leave her here by herself!” She yanked her arm free.

  “Not to worry, we’ll put her in here.” He walked over to the nearest closed apartment door. A brass 3A was bolted to the panel below a glass peephole. “Celeste’s storage room.”

  “It’ll be locked.”

  “Not a problem.” He swung the ring of keys on his finger.

  Amelia was diverted. “What’s that, every key you ever owned?”

  “Celeste made me copies of all her keys, just in case. I always carry them.” He flipped through the collection, chose one, and unlocked the door. He reached in and switched on the light, then waved the others in ahead of him.

  The living room was crowded. A table with a sewing machine stood along one wall. Beside it ran a row of cardboard boxes stacked three and four high. A green sofa with stuffing sprouting from the arms faced the doorway, and a massive wooden cupboard filled one corner.

  The girl immediately crossed to the window and tried to open it. “No!” Amelia dashed over. “Too cold!” She thought of the three-storey drop outside.

  The girl ignored her. It was a double-hung window, the kind you slide up from the bottom. After a few seconds of pushing and shaking the frame, she discovered the latch at the top of the lower section. She twisted it, raised the window, and stuck her head and shoulders out. A fire escape landing was right outside. She closed the window without latching it. Amelia breathed again.

  The girl looked the window up and down as if making sure the way it worked was fixed in her mind. She’d never seen that kind of window before, Amelia realized. And then: She wants to be sure there’s a way out.

  “Interesting,” murmured Simon, close behind her. “Let’s go.”

  They both turned, took a couple of steps, and lurched.

  “Uh-oh!” Simon said.

  The girl held them each by an arm. “No,” she said.

  “We’re just going to get help.” Amelia tried to pry the fingers off her arm. They looked like twigs but felt like steel.

  Simon winced. “What did I tell you?”

  “We won’t do anything to hurt you. I promise!” Amelia tugged at the hand. Its strength frightened her.

  The girl let them go so suddenly, Amelia staggered and Simon fell against the door. Then before they could move she was across the room. Up with the window, out on the fire escape. One bound and she was up on the iron railing.

  Amelia started to climb out the window. Simon pulled her back.

  “But she’ll fall!”

  “You go out there and she’ll jump.”

  The girl stood easily on the railing, facing out. The wind had picked up. Her hair was a blizzard of red. Simon’s heavy dressing gown flapped. But she looks a lot steadier than me, Amelia thought. Poised on her toes, like a bird about to take flight.

  “Please...” Amelia quavered. “Please come down.”

  The girl glanced over her shoulder. “No tell.”

  “No, of course I won’t tell.”

  The girl pivoted on one foot. The wind battered her. She swayed. Any second now...

  She stabbed a finger at Simon. “He.”

  “He won’t tell, either. I promise! Now, please, please...”

  The girl looked straight into her eyes. Her stare was like two strong hands gripping Amelia’s shoulders. “You promise.”

  “Yes, yes! I promise! I said I do! Believe me!”

  Her eyes flicked at Simon, then back at Amelia. “He promise.”

  “Yes, he promises too. Simon? Say it!”

  “Sure, I promise,” said Simon from behind her head.

  The girl held Amelia’s eyes a moment longer. Then she jumped back down onto the fire escape, ducked through the window into the room, and gripped both their outstretched hands. “I hear you. I believe.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  COUGAR ON A LEDGE

  Before they left 3A, Ammy found a chipped china mug in the kitchen and showed the girl how to get a drink of water. Funny, Simon thought, that she had to be shown. And after that she kept turning the taps on and off. She seemed fascinated by the way the water flowed and stopped. Ammy had to show her how to turn the lights off, too.

  “Well, you’ve really dropped us in it now,” he said, when they were out in the corridor. “Now she’ll be really upset when we tell Celeste.”

  “What? Wait a minute!” Ammy swung around to face him at the top of the stairs. “Of course we’re not going to tell Grandmother!”

  “But we have to!”

  “We
can’t! We promised. And she said, I believe.”

  “But it’s like she forced us. That’s not a real promise.”

  “Oh, no? Well, my promise was real and I thought yours was too.” She jabbed a forefinger at his chest. “And if you break your promise, I won’t ever forgive you!”

  Simon had a painful vision of what it would be like to live for six months with an unforgiving Ammy.

  “Besides, it’ll only be for a day or two.” She turned and headed down the stairs. “Until we figure out what to do.”

  “Just for a day, then.”

  “Or two.”

  They agreed on one thing, at least. The girl needed warmth, food, and proper clothes. The first two turned out to be Simon’s job. Back in the apartment, he grabbed the extra blanket from the foot of his bed, detoured to the kitchen for an orange and a bag of mixed nuts, and slipped out again.

  Upstairs he knocked softly on the door of 3A. There was no answer. He unlocked it, opened it about six inches, then bent down, set the blanket and food on the floor, and pushed them through the dark gap. A bony hand clamped on his wrist and he froze. Two glinting eyes stared into his. Like she’s scanning my ID. Then she let go and the door closed.

  §

  Simon dreamed of an elderly gerbil straining to spin a giant exercise wheel. Squeak, clatter, grind ... squeak, clatter, grind. The rhythmic creaking scattered the last of his sleep.

  Yawning, he sat up. Felt around on the floor for his socks. No socks. Groped on the coverlet for his robe. No robe. What the heck?

  Then he remembered.

  On his way to the kitchen in pyjamas and a clean pair of socks, he thumped on Ammy’s door. She groaned.

  He was pouring orange juice into a glass when Ammy shambled in, still in her pyjamas and red silk dressing gown, and barefoot. Her red and yellow hair stuck out in all directions. She looked like a porcupine that had lost a paintball fight. He opened his mouth to tell her so, then got a good look at her face and closed his mouth. He reached for a second glass and poured.