But as they stepped into the corridor another idea slid into Cassie’s head; she felt her heart jolt again, though for different reasons. Could he … could he possibly have news of Ranjit? If he did, could it be bad news? Maybe that’s why he wanted Isabella there, in case Cassie reacted badly? A knot began to form in Cassie’s stomach. She didn’t like all this mysteriousness.
‘It’s flattering you came yourself, sir,’ she said tightly. ‘Why haven’t you sent your attack dog?’
Sir Alric closed the door behind them and led them both away. ‘You mean Marat? Ah, what a shame you’re so hostile, Cassie.’ He smiled a little. ‘You wouldn’t believe it, I know, but Marat is a treasure house of Few lore and knowledge. I know you dislike him, but he’s always been loyal to me, and I’ve never had reason to doubt him. You should have a more open mind about those you encounter – especially amongst the Few,’ he added pointedly.
Isabella was silent, anxious, but Cassie scowled. ‘If you trust him so completely, why didn’t you send him to get us?’
‘There are some things I don’t even want to share with Marat. At the present time, anyway.’
Now Cassie’s curiosity was piqued even more. Marat must know about Isabella leaving the Academy. Information about Ranjit, on the other hand – that could be something Sir Alric would want to keep under his hat.
Isabella was hanging back a little, so Cassie took the chance to hiss at him, ‘What’s going on? Is this something to do with Ranjit? Why is Isabella coming?’
‘Patience, Cassie.’ He gave her a strict sidelong glare, and spoke in a normal voice that Isabella must have heard. ‘This concerns Isabella more than anyone.’
Maybe he was going to try to talk her out of it. She turned back and exchanged a worried glance with Isabella. Darke needn’t think he was going to use Cassie’s feeding to blackmail Isabella into staying. Cassie wasn’t going to stand for that. She hoped her friend knew it, and tried a smile to reassure her. What was he up to?
Cassie blinked as Sir Alric turned to climb yet another flight of stairs. ‘Er … but your office is on this floor?’
‘We’re not going to my office. Do stop trying to second-guess me, Miss Bell.’
More irritated than ever, she followed him up the next flight and along another narrow corridor. They were in a separate part of the building now – one with so many twists and turns along the way, she was no longer sure where they were heading, and Isabella had caught up, nervous, sticking close to Cassie.
‘Where are we going?’ she hissed.
Cassie could only shake her head. Her fists were balled – partly with aggravation, partly because she was tensed for fight or flight. Where the hell was he taking them?
Cassie glanced to left and right, seeking a quick exit. Even with all that was going on, her Few instincts were kicking in. But what could she do – simply grab Isabella and abseil with her out of a top-floor window? And go where? Cassie shook her head. Whatever Sir Alric’s intentions were, they were about to find out, because there was nowhere for them to go. This new passageway led only to a single, thick wooden door.
As Sir Alric drew a key from his pocket, Cassie swallowed hard. It was a heavy, elaborate thing, carved with the same Few symbols that she’d spotted on pillars and the corners of paintings everywhere in this school; the same kind of symbol that was burned into her own shoulder blade, though in broken form. Cassie found she was holding her breath as Sir Alric turned the key in the lock, and then swung the door open.
The room was plain, furnished only with a bed and a couple of armchairs, and lined with books. And strangely, the first thing that hit her was the fresh coastal air, scented with oleander and seaweed and salt, borne in through the open French windows, light curtains billowing in the gentle breeze.
She simply didn’t believe what she was seeing; the apparent delusion was too crazy. Beside her, Isabella gave a hoarse cry, and stumbled against her. Cassie caught her in her arms, but could do nothing but stare at the figure that stood in the centre of the room.
He watched them gravely, apprehensively, one hand gripping his wrist tightly as if to hold himself still.
Jake Johnson.
CHAPTER EIGHT
They stood immobile for what felt like minutes, but could only have been seconds. Jake did not seem to be breathing any more than Cassie was; Isabella was gasping for air, stunned almost senseless, weak in Cassie’s arms. Cassie thought she might actually faint.
Then Isabella tensed, breathing hard and audibly as she recovered. She drew away from Cassie, and took a cautious step towards Jake. Then she took another, studying his face with disbelieving hope.
Her next step brought her close enough to the boy to touch him, and she did, reaching out shaking fingers to his cheek. She almost flinched as she made contact with his skin, as if expecting it to be stone cold, but at her touch he made a slight sound, and she pressed her palms fiercely to his cheeks.
‘Jake …’ she breathed.
The next moment, Isabella had flung herself into his embrace, wrapping her arms round his neck, sobbing his name. He closed his arms round her, so tightly Cassie thought he’d crush her, but she didn’t protest, just held him all the closer.
‘Jake! Jake! Is it really you?’
‘It’s me, it’s me.’ His voice was muffled in her hair, and Cassie suspected she could see a tear run from his eye. She could only stare at her reunited friends, her heart thundering. She couldn’t look at Sir Alric. What kind of a game was he playing? This was crazy. Jake was alive this whole time?