The Book Eaters(30)
Not enough time to get in touch with her other contact. She’d just have to go with Hester for now, and get in contact later. Devon hit the flush, yanked up her jeans, then closed the mobile and washed her hands before stepping out.
“I’m ready.” Hard enough to keep her coded conversations secret from Cai, and now she’d have to avoid Hester, too. She felt the start of a stress headache in her temples.
They slipped down the stairs in a tight group of three, Hester leading the way with Devon following, her small suitcase and messenger bag slung across one shoulder. Cai stuck close to her side as they left without a backward glance. All homes looked the same when abandoned.
“We’re tight for time.” Hester had one hand stuffed into her purse, and Devon wondered what weapon she had hidden in there. “Give me a shout if something catches your eye.”
The night they walked beneath was not the night Devon had stepped into a couple of hours before. Sobriety drew sharp the lines of every building and the temperature had dropped colder. The sidewalks were slowly thinning of people. Somewhere distant, clusters of revelers shouted and cheered on the eve of Christmas.
Cai tugged his lip anxiously. “What happens if we meet a dragon or a knight on the way to the train station?”
Hester shortened her purse strap so that the bag was close against her body. “Then we run and hope to shake them in the station crowds.”
St. Mary’s Cathedral came into view as they segued from St. James Boulevard onto Neville Street, its solitary bell tower thrown tall against a dark winter sky. They were not far from the train station, only two blocks away on the other side of the road.
“This would have been easier and less dangerous if we’d left sooner,” Devon said, scanning the crowd with narrowed eyes. “I could have met you hours ago, if you’d wanted.”
“I had no idea it was so urgent!” The other woman’s glasses were misting up from her own breath as she spoke. “Besides, you’re the one who dossed about in a pub for an hour.”
“Well, you weren’t exactly in a hurry to—” Devon began, the words dying in her throat.
Two men were standing on the wide courtyard steps that led up to St. Mary’s Cathedral, their backs toward her. The first man was a dragon, rendered faceless by his helmet. The second man had the same dark hair as Devon, the same slant to his shoulders but a little older and taller and broader. Wearing a pressed suit with his hair combed back neatly. He half turned and she caught sight of a lapel pin, shaped like a tiny silver tree, which pierced his collar and nailed it in place.
Ramsey Fairweather, now a Family knight. Her brother and friend; her enemy and hunter. The second man was one she’d also met and knew to name: Ealand, a friend of Ramsey’s. Also a knight.
She wasn’t surprised to see them. This was the encounter that she’d been expecting, even waiting for. The knights were nothing if not reliable and predictable.
Still, this particular timing was inconvenient as all hell.
Hester slowed her pace. “What’s wrong?”
“Knights ahead, ten o’clock,” Devon said.
“Stay calm.” Hester swiveled to the right, toward the road. Completely cool and unfazed; she was a veteran at this. “Let’s cross the street, see if we can pass them by.”
“They’ll see us,” Cai whispered. “If they look this way—”
“Keep your head down, and don’t panic.” Devon took her own advice, a curious kind of excitement stealing over. After so many days of drab repetition, she was almost relieved to have something happen.
They closed the distance to the station with rapid steps, crossing a road nearly devoid of traffic. Devon keeping her head down and Hester keeping her collar up. For a moment, it seemed they might slip past simply by crossing the street, when a taxi pulled up to the nearby curb.
A group of drunken young men spilled out. One of them tripped over the curb and pinwheeled like a clown while the rest broke into loud, horsey laughter.
Ramsey turned automatically at the noise and saw them at once. His form stiffened and the dragon at his side swiveled around in a sharp, jerking motion, as if someone had pulled an invisible string to whip him tautly in their direction. Ealand followed his gaze, eyes widening.
“Fuck,” said Cai.
“Watch your bloody mouth.” Devon caught him by the wrist and started running. Chilly night air slapped her face from the speed of her jaunt. Hester also broke into a run, keeping pace.
The sidewalk had grown slick with ice as the temperature had continued dropping through the evening, and her cheap boots skidded on gum-scabbed pavements, too clunky for efficient running. Devon kicked them off in a fury, to the astonishment of the taxi passengers, and ran barefoot on the cold ground. Hester swore and almost tripped over the discarded boots.
“But you get to swear!” Cai ran free and light in his too-small shoes and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him move so fluidly. They’d fled cities before, once with human police circling and once with knights on their tail, but she’d had to carry him both times. “How come I have to watch my mouth?”
It took Devon a full two seconds to parse what he was on about. “What?!” she said, shoving him beneath the arches of the station entrance. “For Chrissakes, I’m a grown-up. Swearing is my privilege!”