by Linn Chapel
Luke had already scanned each member of their little band with his new detector before they had gathered in the living room that evening. They’d all been clean, and Tressa didn’t think he’d find any hidden bugs in their meager possessions, either, but she went dutifully upstairs to her bedroom and placed her spare set of clothes in a bag next to her shoes. When Luke entered the room to shine the Bug Catcher’s red circle of light over her items, no alarm was triggered.
Luke left the room and all was quiet but for the murmur of voices down the hall. Suddenly, the hush was broken.
Beep-beep-beep... beep-beep-beep...
Tressa ran into the adjoining bedroom to find that Luke was shining the red circle onto Peter’s duffel bag. Peter and Holt stood nearby, frozen with dismay.
Then with a cry, Peter crouched and rapidly pulled his items out of the bag so that Luke could scan them one by one. When the red light landed on a small case marked Music Demos, the digital alarm blared again. Beep-beep-beep...
Peter reached inside the little case. When his fingers came out, they were holding a small, perforated metal ball.
“A tracking bead! Let’s see if there’s anything else,” Peter growled.
Luke ran the detector’s red circle of light over the rest of the items. No other surveillance device was found.
Holt stepped closer to Peter to stare at the device with a deep frown. “What is a tracking bead?”
“It sends a location signal,” Luke explained tightly. “Our voices can’t be heard, but our location can be tracked.”
Tressa was so filled with apprehension that she felt rooted to the spot. She heard the others speaking rapidly, making plans. Then Holt’s hand was on her arm. He quickly steered her down the hall to her room.
“Get dressed and go outside,” he told her. Then he left the room.
Tressa put on her shoes and sweater in a daze and grabbed her bag of clothes. She ran down the stairs to find that Peter was turning off all the lights in the house while Luke carried bags out the front door.
Following them out of the house, Tressa made her way through the darkness to the cars.
Holt’s voice sounded just behind her. “Tressa, you’ll drive with Luke straight to the airport. Peter and I will make a detour to dispose of the tracking bead. Then we’ll join you at the airport.”
“But what if someone follows you because of the bead?” she asked in alarm, turning to face Holt. She could barely see him in the dark.
“We’ll have to take that chance.” His hands drew her hastily closer and then they rose and cupped her face. She knew that his keen eyes were running over her features in the dimness. He seemed to be more worried about her safety than his own. Then he dropped his hands and left to join Peter.
As they drove off, the headlights of Peter’s car shone in the darkness, making the roadway look like a narrow chasm between the looming walls of dark evergreens, and then the headlights disappeared as the car went around a bend.
Tressa slid into the passenger seat next to Luke. He spun his vehicle around in the driveway and then they began their own tense journey down the dark, winding road.
Tressa fidgeted uneasily in her seat. “They should have taken the bead to the cliffs by the house and thrown it into the sea.”
“Making a detour is better. They’ll plant the bead in a decoy location as soon as they can.”
Luke seemed confident they’d succeed with the maneuver, but Tressa spent much of the drive worrying that Peter and Holt would be intercepted before they could rid themselves of the bead.
Morning had dawned when Tressa boarded the airplane. Her fears had grown even higher, for Peter and Holt had not yet arrived at the airport. As she settled into her seat, Luke joined her in the neighboring seat, looking just as worried.
Soon the hatch would close and their flight would depart. Only a few passengers still remained in the aisle, stowing away luggage.
Luke suddenly sat forward. “Tressa! Look!”
Relief burst over Tressa as she spotted Peter boarding the airplane, followed by Holt. They both looked exhausted and Holt’s head wound was swollen and livid in the overhead lights of the airplane cabin.
Holt’s eyes ran over the passengers until he spotted Tressa. Giving her a rakish smile, he moved forward with Peter. The two of them sank into their seats just across the center aisle.
Luke leaned sideways to hiss across the gap, “Did you get rid of the bead?”
Holt nodded. “Yes, that part was easy. But the back roads were so poorly paved that our route took much longer than we expected.” As the airplane prepared for takeoff, he leaned back and his eyes drifted shut.
Holt only woke up when they landed in New York City to change planes. His face was still drawn and tired, but Tressa was relieved to see that he was steady as he rose to his feet. Her fears of concussion began to fade. The differences she had noticed must have been caused by his transition, she realized.
As they both squeezed into the center aisle, she gazed up at Holt, and for a few moments, Tressa felt as if they were the only two people on the crowded plane.
“How does your head feel?” she asked, glancing at his wound.
“Better.” His eyes danced briefly. “You look positively haggard, Tressa! But soon we’ll be in England. You’ll like the countryside in Somerset. I promise you will,” he said softly.
Another passenger bumped into Tressa with a piece of luggage just then, and the brief spell of something warmer and almost lighthearted that had surrounded herself and Holt suddenly disappeared.
It wasn’t long before they were boarding the flight that would take them overseas to London. As their aircraft climbed higher and higher into the sky, gaining altitude, Tressa gazed downward from the small window. Below, she could see the tall, gleaming buildings of Manhattan and the blue waters of the New York City harbor, sparkling in the sunlight.
It was a beautiful scene, but so vividly bright that she winced. She wondered how Holt was faring in the sunlight. She glanced across the aisle to find that he was resting with his jacket flung over his face.
By the time they landed in the London airport, it was nearly midnight. With Holt’s guidance they made their way via the Underground into the heart of London. As soon as she emerged aboveground, Tressa felt as if a bubble of drowsiness about her had suddenly popped, for the bright lights and bustle of the London streets startled her wide awake.
Luke must have felt the same way. In a dazed voice he said, “From a spot on the coast of Maine so quiet you could hear a pinecone dropping, to this. You couldn’t find two places that were more different.”
Soon Holt had found a hotel where they could stay. He booked a set of rooms and as soon as they had reached their floor, he disappeared into his room, closing the door without a word. Meanwhile, Peter and Luke stowed their gear in their shared room and returned to the ground floor to seek out a meal at the hotel’s English pub.
Tressa was too exhausted to feel hungry, so she entered her own room to ready herself for bed. She found her quarters surprisingly modern despite the historic architecture of the hotel. Brightly colored accent paint in shades of orange and lime green covered the walls with enormous flowers and leaves.
Next to the luxurious bed stood a raspberry-colored sofa with rolled armrests. Various electronics rested on a gleaming glass shelf nearby, and in the corner of the room hung a broad flower-shaped lamp, suspended from the ceiling on a green cord disguised as a tropical vine.
A giddy feeling came over Tressa, for the hotel room was so colorful and unexpected that it almost made her forget her fears of pursuit. She sank onto the raspberry-colored sofa, pulled a pillow in the shape of a giant lemon slice onto her lap, and breathed out a long sigh.
The London hotel might be bright and safe and cheery, but she knew that the cost of such comfortable opulence had to be high. She reached for a hotel brochure and glanced through the prices listed inside. What she saw made her blink with dismay, for they’d never
be able to afford such luxury.
She was still awake when she heard Peter and Luke returning from the pub downstairs. She opened her door to intercept them before they could enter their room. Worriedly, she mentioned the high cost of their hotel.
“I know the rooms are expensive,” Peter told her, “but Holt wouldn’t let us stay at any of the cheaper places we passed. We’ll find some way to repay him in the end.”
“That won’t be necessary,” came Holt’s voice. He was standing near the open doorway of his room. “Sleep, now. We’ll meet in the hotel pub tomorrow at noon, and then we’ll take the train to Somerset.”
Peter and Luke agreed drowsily and disappeared into their room. Tressa stood for a moment, feeling reluctant to say goodnight to Holt, but just as reluctant to linger with him.
For his part, he stood silently looking at her from just outside his doorway, his face unreadable. Suddenly, over his shoulder, Tressa spotted a blur of motion at the end of the hallway, near the stairs. Then it was gone.
Holt noticed her look of confusion. He turned quickly to scan the end of the hallway. “What’s wrong, Tressa?” he asked, turning back to her.
“I thought I saw something moving, but it was too fast for a person,” she said, frowning a little.
Holt stepped into the hallway and closed his door. “Go into your room, Tressa, and lock the door.” His voice was steady, but his dark eyes were alert and suspicious. “I’ll check the hotel and the streets nearby. If I find anything amiss, I’ll rouse you and your brothers.”
As Tressa returned to her room and locked the door from within, she mulled over the flash of movement she had seen near the stairs. No one from the States could have discovered their whereabouts in England so soon. Even so, she felt too uneasy to fall asleep.
She had already noticed the tropical décor of the bathroom. Now she went to the green bathing basin that had been designed to look like an enormous cupped leaf with curled edges, and started the water running. Nearby, she found a set of green towels and a matching bathrobe on a glass shelf. After soaking away some of her cares, she went back to bed, wrapped in the green bathrobe.
She listened in the dark, but Holt must not have found anything suspicious, for he never came to her door.
The next morning, Tressa woke to the sounds of heavy traffic. Turning over in bed, she spotted the orange and lime green walls and remember where she was.
As she changed into her other set of clothes and combed her hair, she heard voices out in the hallway. Emerging from her room, she found that Peter and Luke had risen as well.
Together they made their way to the hotel’s Victorian-style breakfast room, where Tressa poured herself a cup of strong coffee. Her appetite had returned with a vengeance that morning, so she made her way steadily through a large plate of eggs and then a second plate of muffins which she slathered with marmalade.
“What’s your room like?” she asked her brothers in between bites. “Mine has tropical flowers all over the walls and a bathtub shaped like a giant leaf.”
“Ours is black and white, with a wall-mounted waterfall that’s made of obsidian,” answered Luke. “Very posh.”
“It’s like being on a dream vacation, isn’t it? I only wish Holt weren’t spending so much money on our lodgings. I could use some more clothes, too,” she added a bit wistfully. “I slept in a hotel bathrobe, last night.”
“Why don’t you shop for a few clothes while we’re still in London? Just don’t go too far from the hotel.” Peter handed her a bundle of English pound notes.
“Where did this come from?” she asked, surprised.
“Holt gave it to me,” said Peter. “We’ll have to rely on him, for now – there’s no other way. Holt is the only one among us who can make cash withdrawals without being traced.”
Tressa nodded. Leafing through the pound notes, she murmured, “I’ll meet you at the pub at noon, then.”
As Tressa explored the shopping district near their Covent Garden hotel, she found that much of the merchandise was not only expensive but ultra-sophisticated. Even so, she was able to find a number of items that suited her.
The weather was very warm and humid for the end of April, so when Tressa returned to her room in the hotel she changed into the coolest outfit among her purchases, a white sundress with gold embroidery around the neckline.
She eyed herself in the bathroom mirror. Here in London, all of the women seemed so confident and stylish that she felt like a country mouse who had come to town. She’d be perfectly safe wearing the white sundress and leaving her hair loose around her shoulders, for no one would notice her among the sophisticated women of London. The kind of attention she always dreaded, those speculative looks that came from men she didn’t even know, would be thankfully absent.
Two hours remained before noon, and she meant to put them to good use. After slipping all of her belongings into one bag, she quietly checked out of her room, hoping her brothers wouldn’t notice her leaving the hotel for a second time.
Soon Tressa arrived at Westminster Abbey where she ran an admiring gaze over the soaring stonework of the ancient cathedral. Once she had stepped inside, she was even more impressed by the grand Gothic ceiling that arched above her head.
Taking up a tourist brochure, she learned that parts of the Abbey had been built over a thousand years ago. Looking up again, she gazed at the stained-glass windows. The atmosphere of those ancient days seemed to hover inside the vast cathedral, imbuing the very air with a quality of reverence and antiquity.
She tried to picture one of the coronation ceremonies of old, seeing in her imagination the crown, the royal cape and jewels, the attendants and the nobility. And in the center of it all, the next king or queen who would lead the kingdom, for better or for worse.
She explored further until she came to the Poet’s Corner where she viewed the memorials to Chaucer and Shakespeare and other literary greats.
If only Holt were at her side, she thought longingly. He’d have something to say, she was sure, about all of those famous authors. Then, after he’d aired his unvarnished opinions, he’d probably go on to quote a bit of Shakespeare from memory, along with some of Chaucer’s verses in their original Middle English.
If only Holt weren’t so bent on avoiding her company. He could tell her so much about London’s past, as well as his own.
As she left Westminster Abbey, she eyed the clock tower of Big Ben that rose near the Houses of Parliament, just across the busy thoroughfare from the cathedral. Reading the time, she realized that she’d have to hurry if she wanted to meet the others in the hotel pub at noon.
Spotting a shortcut along one side of the Abbey, she tucked her bag of clothes under her arm and quickly strode down a narrow path through the shrubbery.
The shade cast by the immense stone wall of the cathedral was cool and dense. Tressa had been feeling flushed from the warm weather all morning, even in her sleeveless sundress, but as she passed down the shady pathway, she felt almost chilled.
The path led her onward through a grove of rhododendrons. Up ahead she could hear the sounds of traffic, but the dark welter of leaves and branches blocked her view of the street ahead. Suddenly realizing that she was alone, she threw a cautious glance over her shoulder. She wished now that she had never taken the shortcut, for large cities like London were not safe for women even in the daytime.
Walking even faster, she sent forth her psychic ability, straining to focus with her eyes open. In her mind’s eye, she spotted a hazy shape floating in the distance.
Her focus slipped, blurring the scene. Filled with apprehension, she refocused. The shape appeared again: it was a dark, floating mound with a low entrance, like the opening to a cave. As Tressa absorbed the intentions within the mound, a surge of alarm swept over her.
Twenty-one
Someone has singled me out and intends to follow me.
As soon as she had read that intention, Tressa spotted a second dark mound, similar to th
e first. And within each mound, she sensed the undercurrents of an added intention, barely harnessed: the intention to hunt for blood.
Filled with dread, she pulled her thoughts back inward and ran as fast as she could, speeding through the shrubbery until she reached the sunlit street. Her chest was heaving as she stood on the sidewalk, surrounded by cars and pedestrians. What if the two watchers tried to find her again when it was dark?
But she’d be far away by then, safely hidden in Somerset.
She arrived back at the hotel’s pub without mishap and edged her way through the lunchtime throng near the door. Her progress was slowed when one of the patrons caught her by the arm. He’d had too much to drink and tried to detain her with a stream of tipsy conversation. She shook off his grip and threaded her way through the tables.
Tressa found the others easily, but she was taken aback by the ominous look on Holt’s face. And yet, for some reason, Peter and Luke were laughing.
She seated herself at their table. “What’s so funny?” she asked her brothers.
“We were just watching you give that man the cold shoulder,” said Peter. “Holt was under the impression that you might need his help, but we told him not to worry. You’re a pro.”
She ventured a glance in Holt’s direction. He was frowning irritably into his glass of ale.
Tressa murmured, “That man was just a nuisance. But something else happened that worried me. After I finished shopping for some clothes, I went to see Westminster Abbey. Later, as I was heading back to the hotel, I took a shortcut through some shrubbery. But someone was hiding there, watching me.”
“Tressa, you were supposed to stay near the hotel!” Peter glared at her.
“I didn’t think anything would happen in the daylight,” she protested.
“Did you use your ability to find out more?” he asked, frowning in concern.
