‘Yes, you bloody do,’ the prefect said tartly. ‘Pay me back by not getting into trouble tonight, OK?’
The twisted truth had come so easily, Allie didn’t even feel guilty. If everything went to plan, Jules would never know a thing. Nobody would. Nobody would get into trouble. Everything would be fine.
Allie dashed down the narrow staircase, emerging several storeys later in the crypt. Using the small, light pocket torch Sylvain had given her, she crossed the darkened, ancient chamber. Alone and in the dark it was much creepier than it had been in a crowd of girls with the lights on. Quickly, she found her way to the short staircase leading outside.
The whole time she was fighting the fear that threatened to squeeze her heart until it couldn’t beat any more.
When she located the low door and her shaking fingers turned the handle, she stumbled out into the cold night air, the tightness in her chest loosening with relief.
I’ve done the hardest part, she reassured herself. But she knew that wasn’t true.
She and Sylvain had plotted out every step she would take, but they both knew Raj’s security guards patrolled the grounds nightly. And there was no way to predict where they would be. Sylvain believed Christopher had chosen this night and this time for a reason.
‘I think he is certain Raj’s team won’t be there, or at least they won’t encounter us.’ He’d frowned as he said it. ‘In a way that worries me more than anything.’
Still, they couldn’t be certain of any of that, and Allie crouched low as she darted through the darkness into the woods. With her torch tucked away in her pocket, her instincts guided her through the shadows.
She followed the path Sylvain had told her about – around the east side of the property, near the fence line. This footpath wasn’t as heavily used as the main path to the chapel and Allie was forced to move slowly to avoid tripping over the rocks and branches that cluttered her way.
The rain had ended at last. The night was cold and clear – a crescent moon shone brightly in a sky dusted with stars. But moonlight couldn’t penetrate through the tree canopy, and the path was muddy, and Allie cursed silently as she splashed into a puddle she couldn’t see. An icy breeze blew through the trees, and high above her head night birds grumbled. In the distance a fox screeched.
The noises were normal, but still, Allie felt a prickle of fear raise the hairs on the back of her neck. She had the strangest sense of being watched.
Picking up her speed, she tried to put the bad feeling behind her. Sylvain was out there somewhere, she knew. Maybe it was him.
They’d agreed that they would leave the building separately – he would depart before her and then watch for her from a hiding place. Once she was in the woods, he said, ‘I will be with you all the time. You won’t be able to see me, but trust that I will be there.’
I trust you, Sylvain, she thought. And then, conflictingly: Please be there.
As she rounded a bend, she was forced to clamber over a downed tree blocking the path. Her heart pounded – until she got across it, she was vulnerable. Panic made her careless and she crashed through the branches on the far side.
Once she’d made it to the other side, she could see the church wall ahead. Turning off the footpath before the churchyard, she made her way through the trees, moving carefully. Dried ferns brushed her fingertips like feathers, rustling softly with her every step. She could hear water rushing nearby.
As Sylvain had promised, on the far side of the church a narrow path led down to the stream and she followed it down to the water’s edge. As she neared the creek bank, the trees opened up and moonlight illuminated the muddy shore. She was standing where Isabelle had stood last summer to meet Nathaniel.
Now she stood alone, peering into the darkness for any sign of her brother but the woods stood silent. The stream itself was swollen to nearly three times the size it had been the last time she’d been here. The heavy rains had fed it nearly to the breaking point; now it was a mini-river, whose waters rushed by her feet.
Down the stream a stepping-stone bridge was almost completely submerged. As she watched the water rush past it in a violent torrent it occurred to her that it would be fun to hop across that bridge on a hot summer day; the kind of day when you secretly hope to fall in.
‘Allie.’
Christopher stood on the far bank, watching her with steady grey eyes exactly like her own.
‘Oh.’ Seeing him, she felt real, physical pain. Covering her mouth with her hand, she fought back tears.
He looked so much older. His unruly, light brown hair had been cut severely short, and he seemed taller, she thought. When she knew him, T-shirts and jeans had been his constant uniform. Now he wore a suit and tie, and the dark suit jacket covered the broad shoulders of a man.
Then he smiled and she could see the sixteen-year-old who’d helped her with her homework and met her after school. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’
‘Christopher, I’ve missed you so much.’ Through tears, she smiled back at him. ‘I had to make sure you were OK. Your hair is … so short.’
She couldn’t believe that was what she’d come up with to say to her long-lost brother, and colour flooded back into her face.
But he didn’t seem to notice. ‘You’ve grown up into such a beautiful girl,’ he said. ‘No wonder all the boys are in love with you. And I hear your grades are aces. I’m so proud of you, Allie-cat.’
As he spoke, Allie wondered how he knew those things about her, but then he used his old pet name for her and all other thoughts flew away.