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But his side ached like he’d drenched it in Greek Fire, and that, more than anything else, convinced him that he hadn’t just dreamt it. He’d moved in his sleep, and was now on his back. Morgan’s hair had spilt heavy over his chest, and he breathed in the scent of it. His hand stroked slowly down her arm, and he felt her wake up. It felt comfortable … strange, but comfortable.
And a hateful little voice whispered deep inside that she’d set him to trick Wolfe, and she was doing the same thing now. Making him believe something that couldn’t be true. Making him believe she cared. Doesn’t matter, he told that part of him. If she doesn’t end up with a collar on her neck, locked in a tower, it doesn’t matter how much she lies to me. It’s all that matters. She should be free, whatever it costs.
He felt a sudden odd lurch run through the metal around them. Then another one.
Morgan raised her head. ‘Something’s wrong,’ she said. ‘Did you feel—’
The train screamed, and everything began to slide.
A red light flashed on, off, on, and in the light Jess saw that things were moving inside the cabin, moving as if gravity had stopped. Every flash of the light, the things were in a different spot, but he couldn’t really feel the motion any more.
And then, it was nothing but motion. He was weightless, tumbling off the bed and slamming into the wall, and he had to bite back a scream as pain sheeted through him. Morgan fell next to him, and braced herself with outstretched arms above his head to keep from sliding into him as the train continued to shriek.
Not the train. The brakes, Jess realised. A scream of burning metals that were never meant to burn together like this, at this speed. The train lurched, let go, lurched again. He could hear shouts from other rooms now.
With one more massive jolt, the train squealed to a halt, and he coughed as he caught a breath of acrid smoke. Something was burning underneath.
He turned his head to look for Morgan, but it had gone dark again, and he couldn’t see her, but her warmth was still beside him. He could hear her gasp for breath, and cough on it. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We stopped.’
The Alexandrian Express never stopped.
One of the glows flickered on above the bed, and for the first time, Jess saw her. She looked frantic and grim.
‘Why did we stop?’ Morgan handed him the heavy, still-bloodstained boots he’d worn in Oxford.
‘No idea.’ He jammed his feet into them. Her shoes were in the corner. She was just snapping the catches shut when the train jerked hard, again, and it was good that he was sitting on the edge of the bed now and braced, because it might have thrown him even more violently than before. Morgan slid forward, and he grabbed her around the waist to brace her. She sent him a quick, all-too-fleeting smile. ‘Stay here. Stay out of sight. They still think you’re dead, so whatever you do, don’t let them see you.’
She leant her forehead against his for an instant. ‘Take care of yourself, Jess. Please. Please.’
He knew she was telling him goodbye. This was her chance. Her chance to disappear into the dark outside this train, to find a safe haven somewhere far away where the Library would never find her.
He wanted to go with her. It was a nice dream, and he let himself have it for the length of the kiss that followed, fierce and sweet and promising things that he knew would never be.
Kisses could lie as well as words.
He turned the light off again on his way out the door.
EPHEMERA
Ciphered message sent via Codex. Sender and recipient both erased in a ma
The Alexandrian Express departs soon from London. Wolfe is on board. Take him alive and he will answer all your questions.
Handwritten message from the Artifex Magnus to the Archivist, sealed and sent to the Black Archive. Marked for immediate disposal.
All the pieces are in place. Wolfe is on the train; you were right that he would try to protect the girl. It’s a pity about her. We could have used another powerful Obscurist, but she was clearly going to be hard to make useful. All that’s left is to blame the Burners.
They’ve been told where to find the prize, and they will be in place. With any luck, they will all be destroyed.
I hope you know what you’re doing, crossing the Obscurist Magnus in this; it’s not just the girl she’s losing, after all. She might never forgive you. Or me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
If the Alexandrian Express hadn’t been the best, most advanced piece of machinery in the world, built to carry no less than the Archivist Magister, they likely would have all been dead. Jess had said it himself: nothing but a smear of blood on the tracks. As it was, the train looked oddly twisted out of shape, and he could feel the engines labouring unsteadily under the corridor floor. Jess looked out the windows as he stepped out of his room, but it was dead of night outside, and nothing visible but hills and trees.
Dario emerged at almost the same moment. He had put on his boots and pants, but he’d never got to his shirt. It made him look even more piratical, as did the gun in his hand.
‘Burners?’ Dario asked. Jess shook his head, because he didn’t know, although it was a decent guess. ‘Where’s your gun?’
‘I turned over my pack. It should be in the rear of the train with the rest.’
‘Good thing for you I kept a gun, then,’ Dario said, and gri
A door opened on Jess’s left. It was Khalila, who’d either taken the time to put on her headscarf or hadn’t yet removed it. She seemed calm and unhurt, and like Dario, she held a gun. Was I the only one not to stay armed? Jess thought.
Thomas, who came pelting through the doors that separated the cars, looked rumpled and unkempt; he was also unarmed, which made Jess feel a little less foolish. ‘All okay?’ he asked. They nodded. ‘Glain has hit her head. Wolfe is seeing to her, but he told me to take you all to the lounge. Gretel says it is the most secure place.’
That seemed simple enough, until Dario turned to head that direction, and the door in front of him opened to reveal a stranger – no Library uniform, and the man was armed with a gun of his own.
‘Stop!’ Dario shouted. The other one – the Burner, Jess assumed – did, but only for an instant. He lunged forward, low and fast, and Dario’s shot went wild.
Khalila’s did not. She braced herself, aimed, and hit the Burner with one shot, right in the chest. The sound was shockingly loud in the enclosed space, loud enough to set up a ringing in Jess’s deadened ears like bells.
Khalila calmly walked over to the man she’d shot and crouched down to press her fingers to his neck. ‘Dead,’ she said. She slid his gun over to Jess, and he picked it up. His ears were still ringing, but he could make out what she said. ‘He won’t be the only one.’
‘Is he a Burner?’ Dario asked.
‘I don’t know. But he meant to kill us.’
Jess checked the doorway to the next carriage. Beyond the door, the dining room seemed empty, though darkened, and Jess took the lead forward. Chairs and tables were broken and scattered, white tablecloths slumped in tangles, crystal broken and crunching underfoot. Jess was glad he’d had the foresight to put on his boots. Something moved ahead, and Jess stopped, planted his feet, and aimed. It was just a shadow, and then he blinked, and saw it was Gretel, the train attendant. Bloody, and injured. He lowered the weapon and moved to her to help her up, and silently passed her back to Dario, who took charge of her.