Ink and Bone

‘She can’t get out. It’s suicide.’

‘She’s an Obscurist, she can get out,’ Wolfe said. ‘And I hope to God it’s not.’

Jess followed them as the two men moved through the rest of the carriage. Santi turned on him at the door to the next section. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Go back. We’ll find her.’

‘I want to—’

‘Jess.’ Santi grabbed him by the shoulders and held his gaze. ‘Just go back. All right? I promise to tell you.’

Before he could tell Santi to go to hell, the man stepped back and slammed the compartment door between them. Jess grabbed for the knob.

It felt like grabbing a sharp knife, and he was knocked back as if something invisible had punched him hard in the chest. He couldn’t get his breath. When his eyes cleared again, he saw that the entire door pulsed red, like a beating heart.

He was locked out. The more he battered at the door, the more he shouted, the less it helped; Dario came stumbling out of his room, and Thomas, and Khalila. Glain. He didn’t answer any of their questions.

Gretel finally came, still sleek and perfectly composed, and pushed her way through to where Jess stood. ‘Sir,’ she said. ‘That area is secured. You can’t enter.’

‘Open it.’

‘Perhaps you should go back to your cabin—’

‘Open it!’ When she didn’t, he grabbed for her wrist, pulled her forward, and put her hand on the compartment door.

The red warning light continued to flash. Gretel pulled free.

‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘Only the highest-ranking person on the train can open it now. Scholar Wolfe.’

Jess wanted to hit her, but that wouldn’t do any good either, and so he hit the door again. Hard. The material looked like wood, but it felt like steel.

‘Jess!’ Thomas grabbed his arms and held him back. ‘Stop! What’s wrong with you?’

‘Morgan,’ Jess panted. ‘Morgan’s in there. She’s—’

The red light stopped pulsing, and the door’s handle turned.

Wolfe and Santi stepped through. One look at their faces, and Jess knew.

Santi was holding a thin, gold figure of eight of wire, sealed in the middle. Jess stared at it until his eyes ached.

‘She managed to open one of the doors,’ Wolfe said quietly. ‘She left this behind.’

‘She jumped?’ Khalila’s voice sounded puzzled, as if she couldn’t work it out. ‘But how could she survive at this speed? We’re going so … so fast …’

Jess heard the change in her voice, the sudden tremor, as it hit her. Hit them all.

‘I’m sorry,’ Wolfe said again.

‘You’re sorry.’ Glain’s voice sounded icy with contempt. ‘Again.’

Jess didn’t turn to look, but he heard her walk away and slam her cabin door. Khalila had turned away, and Jess thought that she’d found comfort, again, in Dario’s arms.

Thomas tried to talk to him. Jess just pushed past him.

Reset the board and keep playing.

He wanted to laugh at himself for being so stupid. He wanted to scream until his throat bled.

As he opened the door of his cabin, he heard Wolfe tell Santi, ‘Make sure he’s all right. He’ll take it better from you.’

Wolfe was wrong about that. Jess wouldn’t take it from anyone. He’d had enough of these people. All of them.

Before Santi could get to him, he stepped inside and shut the door, then locked it.

It was dark inside, but he didn’t want lights. He wanted the black. The silence. He remembered where the bed was, on his left, and walked over to sink down on it.

‘Jess.’

It was barely a whisper, and for a second he thought it was in his head. That he’d gone that mad, that he was imagining her voice now.

‘Jess.’

Something inside him went very, very still. He wasn’t imagining it. He couldn’t be. ‘Morgan?’

‘I tried to make them think I jumped,’ she whispered. She was sitting on the bed, curled up in the corner. He could feel the warmth of her now. Smell the lavender of the soap she’d used in the shower. ‘Did it work?’

The relief came in a rush, and hard on the heels of it, the grim understanding. She’d used him. She’d led a trail for him, hinted at ending it all, pointed him at Wolfe to deliver the message. ‘Oh yes. Worked a treat. They think you’re a smear of blood on the tracks. So did I.’

‘Jess—’

‘How’d you get the restraints off?’

‘It took some time, but I figured out how to get into the formula,’ she said. ‘The door wasn’t hard, once I knew how to do that.’

‘And then you hid in the one place you knew I wouldn’t come looking for you. You needed me to be desperate so Wolfe would believe it. You wanted me to think you were dead.’

‘Jess!’

‘It’s all right,’ he said. He knew she’d believe him, because he was a very good liar. ‘You can stay here. Once we’re all off the train, you can find some way off. Just keep ru

‘Jess!’

He stopped. He sat in silence, in the dark, and listened to her breath. It sounded fast, raw, and wounded. When her hand touched him, he flinched, as if she’d burnt him. He shut his eyes, like a scared child in the dark, trying to shut her out, but he already knew he couldn’t do it, no matter how much he wanted.

It had hurt so much when he’d thought she was gone, and so much more when she realised how she’d played him for a fool.

But he wanted her to touch him so badly his whole body ached for it. Stupid, stupid, because he shouldn’t feel that way. She’d done the same thing to him every other person he’d begun to care about in his life had done: used him for their own purposes. His da, ru

Somehow, he hadn’t expected it from her. Should have, though. He should hate her. He should want to walk away. Why can’t I walk away from her?

Her fingers touched his cheek, and traced warmth on his skin. Behind his eyes, gold flashes sparked and flared and spun, and he felt his heart ru

‘I’m sorry for doing that to you,’ she whispered, and she was so close now he felt her breath on his neck. ‘I’m so sorry.’

When she kissed him, it felt like an endless, weightless fall. Her lips warmed and softened and parted, and he got lost in the taste of her mouth, darkly spicy and sweet. His blood was thundering through his veins, and all he wanted, all he needed was to touch more of her.

It was so dark, and so bright, and he knew it was wrong.

Somehow, he pulled back from the drowning sensation of her mouth, and sat back. He felt her start to reach out for him, but her fingers fell away as they brushed his shirt.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, and he could tell that she was crying now, a broken sound. ‘I had to, Jess. Please don’t blame me for it. I want to – I want to stay, but I can’t go back. I can’t be locked away. You can’t want that for me.’

He didn’t. God help him.

‘You can stay,’ he said. ‘I won’t tell them.’

He didn’t speak again. He stripped off his boots and stretched out on his bed, fully clothed. He left room for her. After a long moment, she carefully laid herself down on her side behind him, feverishly warm but not touching him at all until she reached out and put a hand on his arm.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

He said nothing. He didn’t sleep for a long time, long after he heard her breathing change, slow, relax. Long after her body shifted and pressed against his.

Then, finally, he shut his eyes and let himself drift away.

It was still ink-dark, and Morgan was curled against him, when he opened his eyes and tested himself. This might be a dream. Just one of those dreams that make things so much worse when you wake up and find out she’s dead and this was all just your mind playing tricks.