The Masked City (The Invisible Library #2)(89)

She set her teeth. ‘And it came free!’ she shouted.

The small metal ting of the chain coming loose rang through the cabin, even louder than the pulsing of the engines. The metal links were slick against her palms now, like oil made solid. They snaked around her hands, curling about her wrists almost affectionately.

The Train shuddered lengthwise, the movement jerking along the carriage like the crack of a whip. Irene lost her balance, falling to her knees. And as if it had been waiting for its moment, the chain lunged for her neck. She cried out in shock, holding her now tightly bound hands as far away from her as she could, clinging desperately to the chain to stop it getting any closer. The chain’s ends brushed coldly against her skin, trying to get nearer to her throat.

Suddenly it slipped between her fingers, freeing her wrists, but flinging itself around her neck. She managed to get her fingers between the chain and her skin, but it tightened against them, cutting into her flesh in a vicious, deliberate attempt at murder. Her pulse rang in her ears even louder than the screaming of the Train’s whistle.

She shut her eyes, forcing back panic, holding on to a last thread of consciousness. There was still air in her lungs. ‘Chain, slacken,’ she wheezed, the words coming out in a barely audible whisper. ‘Slacken enough for me to breathe.’

The chain relaxed its stranglehold, and the flashing lights in front of her eyes receded. It shifted and flexed against her fingers, writhing around her neck as if trying to find a new avenue for attack. If it was somehow alive, then the Language wouldn’t have a lasting effect on it. She could throw it out of the window, perhaps? Or, better still, destroy it? Tell it to come to pieces? But what if it re-joined itself?

The boiler door drew her eye, and she staggered across to it and threw the door open. Heat came rushing out, searing her face and making her choke again. The chain tightened as if in response, grinding the fingers of her other hand against her neck and dragging her head back.

‘Fae silver chain,’ she gritted out, being as precise as she could, ‘loosen! Be quiescent! HOLD STILL!’

The chain went slack enough for her to wrench it over her head and get a firm hold of it with both hands. She balled it up and flung it into the furnace, and it clattered and twisted as it left her hands, trying to move and lunge at her. She slammed the boiler door on it, her hands aching from the scorching heat. It hammered at the door, but after a few seconds its last desperate clangs died away.

Then the great lever came down of its own volition.

The steam whistle screamed, but this was a cry of joyous liberation, wild freedom finally allowed to run loose. The whole engine car shook, and the Train began to move.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE



For a long moment all Irene could do was lean over, rest her hands on her thighs and breathe. The wet fabric of her skirts soothed her scoured palms, and there was a great aching numbness in her mind. She’d done it. The Train was moving. All three of them were safely on board.

They’d done it.

Outside the window she could see nothing but dark water, shivering and tossing, with distant lights catching the foam-caps. Hopefully it would be a quicker journey back to Vale’s London than it had been to get here in the first place. The atmosphere on the Train must be nearly as toxic to Kai as Venice was.

She opened the engine car door, then hesitated. The carriage beyond was not the one that she had just left. The Train must somehow have readjusted itself, to bring her so quickly to this end of its structure. ‘Ah …’ she started, feeling a bit foolish addressing the Train in so conversational a way. ‘Please can you return me to the carriage containing my companions?’

The carriage was silent.

All right. That was probably a ‘no’, so she had a walk ahead of her. Shouting at the Train would be a waste of time - but slamming the door did make her feel better.

Just as before, each carriage was different and displayed new heights of luxury. The only shoddy element here was her. And as she travelled the length of the Train it seemed to be moving more erratically than before, with the juddering and shaking of a regular steam train. Each step had Irene swaying in order to keep her balance.

The sixth compartment also seemed empty, until she spotted someone lounging on a black velvet sofa with a glass of pale-green liquor. It just wasn’t the person she’d been expecting to see.

‘Zayanna?’ she said blankly.

‘Clarice!’ Zayanna attempted to hide the glass of liquor under the sofa, but some of it spilled, and the scattered drops left hissing marks in the carpeting. She was back in her bikini, her long bronzed limbs artfully displayed against the sofa’s darkness, hair tumbling down over one shoulder. ‘I was just about to get back to searching …’ She frowned. ‘Wait a moment. It was you that I was supposed to be searching for?’

‘It was?’ Irene tried to think of a plausible lie. ‘Well, you’ve found me now, so you don’t have to worry about it—’

Then her brain cut in. Zayanna was on the Train, apparently searching for her. Which meant that others would be seeking her too. And Vale and Kai … Her stomach dropped.

‘Why were you looking for me?’ She desperately wanted any answer except the one she expected.

‘Well.’ Zayanna was absently twisting a tendril of hair, but she was also watching Irene closely from under lowered eyelashes. ‘There was this rumour that you’d rescued the dragon and were escaping with him. Darling. And we were with you earlier, so we were tagged as potential conspirators - until we agreed to help with the search, just to prove how non-involved and non-traitorous we are. Darling.’