The Book Eaters(36)
Time to find Devon.
He paused at the entrance of the connecting passageway before entering the next carriage, first to listen and then to look. Minimal chatter, and nothing of his quarry. Several people tried to show him tickets or buy new ones. Ramsey told them the machine was broken and they left him alone.
The next carriage and the one after that were the same: thickly populated with tired, sweaty humans trying to make it home before the start of their pointless holiday. Also notably empty of his sister and her companions. The smell of so many people in close quarters made him glad for the scarf he wore. At least no one tried to buy a ticket.
Six minutes after boarding, Ramsey located his sister.
He caught the sound of a child laughing while out in a connecting passageway, mixing with the low, unfeminine pitch of Devon’s voice. Alert and wary, he paused by the exit of the fourth carriage. Listened at the loosely shuttered door of the fifth carriage.
“Don’t get too comfortable, we’re not home and dry yet.” A lilting, northern-sounding voice; must be the Ravenscar woman who’d killed his men with such efficacy. “Wish I’d brought more bullets. Just in case, and all that.”
Ramsey listened, intrigued. He’d always fancied owning a pistol, done a bit of target practice for fun once or twice. The paperwork required for them was awkward, though, as it would be for any regular book eater.
“You’re a ridiculously good shot.” Devon, unmistakably her voice. “Four clean kills in a handful of seconds, all moving targets. Where did you get the gun?”
He’d heard enough. Had to move quick. Ramsey took out the transmitter, holding it in one hand with his thumb on the button; would look like a walkie-talkie to the casual observer. The ticket-collecting machine he held in the other hand. Trigger finger ready, he opened the shuttered door with an elbow and shuffled in.
All three of his quarry sat on the floor of the connecting passage between carriages, and all three looked up sharply as he entered.
Hester Ravenscar—he recognized her at once, had studied the files and Family photographs to death—was nondescript, having neither a beautiful face nor an interesting figure. Dressed like a recovering hippie. If he hadn’t already seen how deadly she was, he would have dismissed her entirely. The boy, Cai, was also visually uninteresting. Small, slight, dark-haired. Nothing to indicate the true monstrous nature beneath.
Devon, though, looked like a poster child for Dykes on Bikes: tall and rangy, hacked-off hair, all-black clothes and far too much leather. Slouched against the wall like some delinquent city youth. A far cry from the lace-skirted girl in braids he recalled from long ago.
His sister blanched with shock as he walked in. Disguises didn’t mean much at their level of familiarity. Her gaze dropped to the transmitter held firmly in his fist and her jaw tightened.
“Evening, ladies,” Ramsey said, still half-buried in the winter scarf. Hat pulled low, almost to the eyebrows; comical, under other circumstances. “I’m afraid we don’t allow passengers to sit on the floor in this part of the train. Mind if I move you along to the carriage?”
“You two go get seats,” Devon said, climbing to her feet. “I’ll buy us tickets and catch up in a second. Did you say we were heading to Edinburgh?”
“Edinburgh, yes,” said Hester, after a pregnant pause, and Ramsey could sense the tension rolling off her. Reluctant to share information, he guessed.
But she moved off quickly enough with Cai at her heels. Probably keen to avoid further questions.
When the connecting door shut after them, Ramsey said calmly, “If I were actually hunting you, you’d be finished. You’ve ten seconds to give me an explanation for that massacre back there.”
“How did you even get—” she began, then wisely checked herself for once, swallowing the question. “Your men attacked us first. What was I supposed to do? Grab her gun? I might as well admit I’m a traitor and working for the Families!” She looked guiltily over one shoulder, as if the Ravenscar woman might burst through, crying vengeance.
“None of that, ta. A simple heads-up about what you were doing, where you were going, and who you were with would have been nice.” Ramsey wasn’t going to blame his superior in front of her. “At the moment we have an entire squad dead, and fuck knows what will happen to the two people I left behind.”
“Again, what was I supposed to do?” she bit back. Her gaze kept going toward the transmitter. “Here’s a thought—don’t come running after us next time! I didn’t know she had a sodding gun, in any case!”
“Has she told you who she is?” Sweat made his palms slick but he kept a firm grip on the transmitter, and a cool six feet away from Devon. Couldn’t be too sure she wouldn’t try something. “Or what she wants from you?”
“Obviously,” Devon said, clearly annoyed. “She’s a Ravenscar and is taking me straight to Killock. Like you wanted. Isn’t that the whole point of me dragging Cai through this hell?”
“It is, yes.” He fiddled with the ticket machine. Stupid thing. Hard to work one-handed but he didn’t dare remove his thumb from the transmitter. “Where is she taking you? Is Edinburgh your final destination, and what’s been agreed?”
“Somewhere in Scotland, that’s all I know. Fairly sure Edinburgh isn’t the final destination, only a place to change over.” Leather-clad arms crossed. “They’re offering me Redemption but I must agree to live under Ravenscar rules. It’s complicated.”