Cassie gave a strangled scream of frustration and banged her forehead with her fists. It was the first time she’d had even a hint of a clue, and whoever this was, they were no longer online. And who called themselves Tiger_eye anyway, she thought with annoyance? Why wouldn’t they let on their location? Well, that was easily checked. She clicked on the name and brought up Tiger_eye’s profile.
This account has been deactivated
What? Startled, she pushed her chair back from the desk. Deactivated? In the last thirty seconds?
Tiger_eye …
Something constricted her throat, and she blinked. Could it be? Could it have been Ranjit?
Who else would choose a name that told nothing – but that would mean something to Cassie? It wasn’t compulsory but it was good etiquette on the network to give some indication of place and identity – if the Few couldn’t trust each other, or so the theory went, nobody could. So why be so secretive?
Tiger_eye
He used to laugh when she told him he had ‘eyes like a bloody tiger’ when he was cross. But how would he know ‘darpak_mumbai’ was her? Maybe from her IP address … ? Her heart leaped. The reticence of the user seemed right. It all seemed to fit. Ranjit wouldn’t want to reveal himself, wouldn’t want to give any clue to his identity. He probably wouldn’t even want to show himself to Cassie, but maybe he hadn’t been able to help himself. Their spirits were so tightly bound and connected.
And then he’d panicked and logged off.
Cassie’s heart thudded in her ribcage. She shouldn’t allow herself to hope, but she couldn’t help it. It all made so much sense. And at least it was a start.
Feeling suddenly far more hopeful, if still troubled, Cassie shut down the laptop, yawning. Two in the morning, again. No wonder she couldn’t focus in class. No wonder some of the teachers were getting unusually stroppy with her. At least tomorrow was Saturday.
She fell gratefully into the comfortable bed, only just remembering to draw the mosquito drapes, and for the first time in weeks she slept through the night, undisturbed except for some very pleasant dreams of Ranjit returning to her …
When she did wake, it was to the bright morning sun streaming through the open windows, and the sounds of daytime birds and vervet monkeys in the trees. Pushing herself up, she blinked and shoved hair out of her eyes.
‘Oh, Cassie,’ said a familiar voice. ‘I hope I didn’t wake you…’
Cassie flushed, hoping she hadn’t given away anything about what she’d been dreaming. Isabella was sitting at her desk, half-turned to Cassie with an anxious expression on her face.
‘No. No, of course not.’ Cassie peered stupidly at her watch. ‘You’re up?’
Not just up, she thought, but wide awake. Grief had affected Isabella in many ways, but she had never been a morning person. Yet there she sat, alert and solemn, and the printer was already humming busily.
‘I had to write a letter,’ said Isabella. ‘I couldn’t stay in bed.’
‘What kind of a letter?’ Cassie climbed out of bed and stretched. ‘Are you OK?’
Isabella nodded, forcing a smile. ‘I’m OK. More OK now, anyway.’
Cassie went over to her, uneasy, and laid a hand on her shoulder. Isabella had never been anything approaching fat, but the thinness and fragility of her bones were a shock now, every time Cassie touched her. There were telltale tracks on her face, still visible although the tears had long dried. Nervously Cassie ventured, ‘Why more OK now?’
‘Because I’ve made a decision.’ Isabella turned completely to face her. ‘I’ve written to Sir Alric. Here.’ She pulled the sheet from the printer. ‘I’m … I’m leaving the Academy.’
Cassie felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. She sat down, abruptly, on Isabella’s bed. ‘No.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry, Cassie. I really am. My decision’s final.’
‘Isabella!’ Cassie felt tears sting her eyes; she didn’t for an instant think Isabella was bluffing. ‘I’m sorry, I … look, I know I’ve been preoccupied the last couple of weeks. I know I haven’t spent enough time with you—’
‘Oh, don’t talk nonsense, Cassie Bell!’ Isabella came and sat down on the bed beside her, clasping her hand. ‘You’ve been brilliant. Truly. And I know you’ve been preoccupied too, and I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you more about all of this, but … I’ve been thinking. Thinking about everything. And this is the right thing. For me, at least. You’ll find another feeding source, I know you will.’ Her face was suddenly anxious. ‘Won’t you?’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake! That’s not the issue! It doesn’t matter a damn!’
‘It does, Cassie. But you’ll be all right, I know you will. Otherwise I wouldn’t go, no matter what. And you know we’re going to be friends forever, no?’
‘Isabella,’ she whispered. ‘Of course I know that. But what will I do without you, here at the Academy? When are you going?’
‘As soon as possible.’ Isabella squeezed her hand. ‘Oh, Cassie, I’ll miss you so much. You’ll be OK, won’t you?’
Cassie felt a tear roll down her cheek. ‘Of course. You need to do what’s best for you, I know that. But Isabella, have you talked to your parents about this?’ A tiny spark of hope burned, and was instantly extinguished when Isabella nodded.