‘Wake up,’ she whispered urgently. ‘Oh, Ranjit. Please be OK. Please.’
His golden eyes flickered open. For long moments they were blurred, seeming to look through and past her, and then, miraculously, they focused, and something like a smile twitched the corner of his mouth.
‘Ranjit?’
‘Cassie … Cassie …’
‘It’s me,’ she whispered, her voice ragged.
‘Oh my God. Cassie. Wh-what happened?’
‘It doesn’t matter. You’re all right. I’ve got you.’
His fingers closed around her wrists as if he wanted to make sure, to feel the strength of her pulse. ‘Cassie …’ Reaching out, he touched her face.
‘It’s OK, really. I’m here.’
‘Oh thank God. Thank God.’ He wrapped his arms round her, and she felt tears sting her eyes at the weakness of his grip.
‘Ranjit …’ She could hardly stand to make him stop. ‘We have to get moving. We’re not safe yet.’
‘All right …’ He looked up into her eyes, and suddenly his smile faded. The skin between his eyes creased with a terrible anxiety.
‘Wait, Cassie – the artefacts …’ But his eyelids were drooping again.
‘Ranjit?’
‘You mustn’t let them …’
‘Ranjit?’ she said, her voice panicked.
He slumped back, limp again, his eyes closed.
Cassie stared at him, her mind in turmoil. He was breathing softly, passed out again.
She swallowed. But I have you, she thought. I have you, Ranjit, and that’s the most important thing right now. The rest, I’ll deal with when I get us out of here …
Quite right, my dear! Don’t worry about those old relics! Let’s go home!
‘Shut up, Estelle!’ Cassie snapped. But remembering it was the spirit’s cooperation that had helped her get Ranjit back, she softened slightly. ‘Like you should be calling anything an old relic,’ she muttered.
Such petulance, my dear! You should be thankful.
The spirit sounded brighter and bouncier than she had in a long time, Cassie thought darkly. And understandably, because without the Knife and the Pendant … No. She wouldn’t even think about it till she got Ranjit to safety.
That, of course, was going to be a challenge, with him unconscious once more, his breath barely stirring in his lungs, and them more than seventy miles from the Academy. Tears sprang to Cassie’s eyes, but she blinked them away. Ranjit was relying on her, whether he knew it or not.
Her physical strength, at least, was returning; she could feel the powerful adrenalin of desperation flowing in her blood and muscles. The spirit inside her was growing hungry after the effort of the fight and the beating she’d taken, but she had to get Ranjit away from here. Getting to her feet, Cassie hauled him up. It took three tries, but at last she got her arm securely under him and she could hoist him up with a grunt. Cassie staggered out into the road, dragging him with her.
And what are you going to do now? Walk to Mombasa?
The sun was below the horizon, and the sky was darkening fast; they mustn’t be here much longer. Cassie was thinking so furiously, and with such a crushing sense of hopelessness, she barely heard the throaty rumble of a vehicle.
At last it penetrated the fog of her thoughts. It was racing towards her from the north, its engine sounding tortured, the gears grinding as it skidded round the nearest corner. Cassie had time only to drop Ranjit like a sack of potatoes, and then stumble out into the road, waving her arms wildly.
The matatu swerved and jolted to a stop, stalling only a couple of metres away from her. Its driver goggled at her through the dirty windscreen; it wasn’t her previous matatu and driver, she realised with a gasp of relief – the one who had clearly been under instructions from the Svenssons. And even more to her relief, the vehicle was empty.
Before this driver could gun the ignition again, Cassie jumped on board, tugging her battered wallet from her back pocket. She flourished it at him.
‘Hey! No, no. I’m going home,’ he protested. ‘Day’s over, mzungu.’
‘Please. Wait. I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you whatever you want. Private hire.’
He hesitated, looking at the notes. She was glad she’d brought so much. ‘Where to?’
‘Mombasa.’ She hesitated. ‘Well, just past Mombasa.’
He eyed her suspiciously. ‘That will cost you a lot of money.’
‘I don’t care.’ Cassie glanced back at Ranjit, slumped in the road like a corpse.
‘What’s wrong with him?’
‘He’s … he’s very drunk. I need to get him back to school. We’ll get in trouble.’ Cassie took a deep breath. ‘I’ll pay whatever you want. Please.’ She racked her brain for a useful phrase. ‘Tafadhali.’
He made a face, then looked out at the road.
‘Ndiyo. Get your friend.’
Cassie stayed wide awake through this journey; her bones were too rattled, her brain buzzing, for any sleep now. Nor could she bear to think about the ramifications of what she’d done; all she could do was stare down at Ranjit and stroke his bruised but beautiful face. He lay across her lap, not stirring, barely breathing, his body jolting violently every time the matatu hit a pothole. She held him as tightly as she dared, trying to cushion his body against the wild ride. Occasionally he half-woke, and gave a groan of pain, but he always slipped back into oblivion. In some ways she was glad. Ranjit had been on the run from all of this; she doubted he’d come back to the Academy with her voluntarily.