The sound of someone knocking interrupted them.
Who could that be?
Straining to hear, Allie leaned over further, until her head and shoulders were hanging right over the edge of the roof. But Raj and Isabelle had clearly gone to answer the door. She could hear the murmur of voices but they were too far away for her to make out their words.
After a moment, the door closed with a decisive bang. Then… silence.
They were gone.
Disappointed, Allie pulled herself back into a safer position on the roof; as she did, her eyes swept downward.
Two of Raj’s security guards stood on the ground below. They were staring right at her.
Allie’s heart leapt to her throat.
Oh bollocks.
Panicked, she scrambled out of view, her shoes skidding on the wet roof tiles. When she thought she was hidden, she leaned forward just far enough to peek down. Below her, the guards gestured for someone she couldn’t see to join them. After a second, Raj walked out to stand beside them. They pointed to Allie’s spot on the roof. Crossing his arms, he locked his unforgiving gaze on hers.
Allie swallowed hard.
Time to find a new hiding place, she thought.
Leaping to her feet, she ran across the rooftop to the place where the roof dipped down, sliding down the slope on her behind. Her short pleated skirt, not made for such activity, bunched up beneath her and water from the wet rooftop soaked through her dark tights. Holding on to the gutter with her fingertips, she slid along the stone ledge to her open window and vaulted through it on to her desk.
Once safely inside, she straightened triumphantly, only to find Isabelle standing in front of her with her arms crossed.
The headmistress didn’t wait for her to make excuses.
‘This is too much.’ Her tone was angry but Allie could hear the sadness in it. ‘You can’t keep doing this, Allie.’
Some part of Allie felt guilty for hurting her. But she easily suppressed that voice. Instead, she gave a disdainful shrug. ‘Fine. Whatever. Totes reformed. Never do it again, etc.’
Isabelle drew in a sharp breath. Her wounded expression threatened to make Allie feel something so she didn’t linger, heading straight for the door.
Isabelle seemed to gather herself. ‘I am not your enemy, Allie.’
‘Aren’t you?’ Standing by the door, Allie studied her as if she was a specimen on a tray.
‘Allie…’ Isabelle reached for her arm then, rethinking it, let her hand drop to her side. ‘I’m worried about you. And I want to help. But I can’t help you if you won’t let me.’
There was a time when Allie would have gone to Isabelle for help and advice – when they were close. When she trusted her.
Those days were over.
She fixed the headmistress with an uncaring look. ‘The thing is, Isabelle, your help gets people killed. So… no thanks.’
A direct hit. As Isabelle’s face crumpled, Allie ran out of the door.
Fighting the urge to cry, she limped down the grand staircase. Her knee ached, and the sound of her uneven footsteps (thump-THUMP thump-THUMP) echoed in the quiet like a cruel laugh.
With her head down, she took no notice of the polished oak panelling covering Cimmeria Academy’s walls. Or the grand oil paintings – some of which stood twice her height and held the images of long-dead men and women draped in gleaming silk and jewels. She was oblivious to the chandeliers made of hundreds of pieces of faceted crystal sparkling in the faint afternoon light, the heavy candle-holders that stood five feet tall, and the tapestries of wan medieval ladies and horses pursuing unworried foxes.
She saw none of it as, ducking into the great hall, she shoved the door to behind her. The vast ballroom was empty, illuminated only by weak afternoon light filtered through enormous windows at one end of the long room. Allie’s footsteps echoed hollowly as she paced the floor, her mind teeming with angry thoughts that pestered her like demons.
Thirty-three steps one way and pivot. Thirty-three steps back. And again.
Why should I be sorry? she fumed. Isabelle’s responsible for everything that’s happened. Jo trusted her. And now Jo’s dead.
Spinning on her heel she paced the other way.
As it always did, her mind flashed back to snow-covered woods, the flutter of a magpie’s wings, a small figure hurtling through the snow…
It was like a scab she couldn’t leave alone although it hurt to touch. She kept worrying at the edges of it so the pain never lessened.
Maybe she didn’t want the pain to lessen.
Jo is gone. Everyone failed her. And now Isabelle wants me to get back to ‘normal’? Screw her.
Allie pivoted and paced.
She’d never trust Isabelle again. It had all happened because of her and the fight she had with her brother that Allie didn’t even understand. They’d all been caught up in it, and Jo paid the price.
She didn’t trust Raj either. He was in charge of security for the school. He was supposed to be such an expert. But he’d gone off and left them alone, even after Allie begged him not to go. Begged him. So he wasn’t around when someone inside the school – someone Allie knew and trusted – opened the gate so Gabe could kill Jo.
She pivoted again in a tight, painful spin, rage giving her strength.
In the eight weeks that had passed since the murder, Raj and Isabelle hadn’t been able to find out who opened the gates that night. Who had been helping Nathaniel all along. A teacher, a Night School instructor, a student – somebody she passed in the hallway every day wanted her to die.