‘Allie…’ Isabelle reached for her arm then, rethinking it, let her hand drop to her side. ‘I’m worried about you. And I want to help. But I can’t help you if you won’t let me.’
There was a time when Allie would have gone to Isabelle for help and advice – when they were close. When she trusted her.
Those days were over.
She fixed the headmistress with an uncaring look. ‘The thing is, Isabelle, your help gets people killed. So… no thanks.’
A direct hit. As Isabelle’s face crumpled, Allie ran out of the door.
Fighting the urge to cry, she limped down the grand staircase. Her knee ached, and the sound of her uneven footsteps (
With her head down, she took no notice of the polished oak panelling covering Cimmeria Academy’s walls. Or the grand oil paintings – some of which stood twice her height and held the images of long-dead men and women draped in gleaming silk and jewels. She was oblivious to the chandeliers made of hundreds of pieces of faceted crystal sparkling in the faint afternoon light, the heavy candle-holders that stood five feet tall, and the tapestries of wan medieval ladies and horses pursuing unworried foxes.
She saw none of it as, ducking into the great hall, she shoved the door to behind her. The vast ballroom was empty, illuminated only by weak afternoon light filtered through enormous windows at one end of the long room. Allie’s footsteps echoed hollowly as she paced the floor, her mind teeming with angry thoughts that pestered her like demons.
Thirty-three steps one way and pivot. Thirty-three steps back. And again.
Spinning on her heel she paced the other way.
As it always did, her mind flashed back to snow-covered woods, the flutter of a magpie’s wings, a small figure hurtling through the snow…
It was like a scab she couldn’t leave alone although it hurt to touch. She kept worrying at the edges of it so the pain never lessened.
Maybe she didn’t want the pain to lessen.
Allie pivoted and paced.
She’d never trust Isabelle again. It had all happened because of her and the fight she had with her brother that Allie didn’t even understand. They’d all been caught up in it, and Jo paid the price.
She didn’t trust Raj either. He was in charge of security for the school. He was supposed to be such an expert. But he’d gone off and left them alone, even after Allie begged him not to go.
She pivoted again in a tight, painful spin, rage giving her strength.
In the eight weeks that had passed since the murder, Raj and Isabelle hadn’t been able to find out who opened the gates that night. Who had been helping Nathaniel all along. A teacher, a Night School instructor, a student – somebody she passed in the hallway every day wanted her to
And they’d done nothing about it.
Suddenly, she stopped pacing. She knew what she had to do.
Yanking the heavy door open, she headed straight for Isabelle’s office, running to get there before she lost her nerve. She was going to tell the headmistress she didn’t want to go to school here any more. She couldn’t go on like this. She’d go anywhere in the world as long as it was far away from here. Out in the real world she could find out what was really going on. She’d talk to her grandmother and together they’d find Jo’s killers. And they’d punish them.
Tucked away under the main staircase, which soared upward from the central hall in a theatrical swoop of ornate polished oak, Isabelle’s door was hidden so cleverly in the intricately carved panelling that when Allie first came to Cimmeria she’d had trouble seeing it. She didn’t have that problem any more.
Her jaw clenched, she shoved the door open without knocking. ‘Isabelle, you have to —’
The office was empty.
The headmistress had obviously left in a hurry – the black cashmere cardigan she’d been wearing earlier was draped carelessly across the back of a chair. Steam still rose from a cup of Earl Grey tea, which sat in the middle of the leather blotter on top of her desk next to her glasses…
And her mobile phone.
Her mouth slightly open, Allie stared at it. Her brain couldn’t register what she was seeing.
All electronic devices were banned at Cimmeria. Of all The Rules, this was the most strictly enforced. No computers, no televisions, and absolutely no phones.
If students wanted to phone someone they needed permission from the headmistress. They were only allowed to call their parents, and even then only if they had a good reason. But here was a phone, right within her reach.
As she’d stared at it, Allie’s mind had whirred through a checklist of things that would happen. Isabelle would never forgive her. She’d be expelled. She’d lose her friends. But she might also find out what was really going on. And that could force Isabelle and Raj to finally
So she picked up the phone, stuck it in her pocket and walked out of the door.
THREE
Outside Cimmeria’s gates, the forest was wilder, blocking the weak rays of late afternoon light. Here, it was already night and Allie looked uneasily over her shoulder as she hurried through the gloom.
With every step she assured herself she was doing the right thing. Nathaniel was out there somewhere and he was looking for her but Allie didn’t care any more. She was so exhausted, so angry, so
But she’d never felt more exposed. She was completely alone now. And Jo’s killers could be anywhere.
It was unnervingly quiet, the only sound the crunching of dried twigs under her feet. The sun was setting and the cold was growing intense – the wind cut through the fabric of her coat, chilling the sweat on her skin. In her pockets her hands balled into icy fists.
She’d made so many trips to hospitals recently she’d come to know the local roads pretty well, and as she walked she calmed herself by thinking through the route in her head – visualising a map. By her own calculation she wasn’t far from the main road. Once there, all she had to do was turn right and then follow the signs. There were fewer trees around the main road, and more light. It wouldn’t be as spooky.
All she had to do was get through these woods and she’d be safe. It was simple.
And it all went perfectly. In fact, she’d almost reached the crossroads when a sound, as faint as an intake of breath, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
Stifling a gasp, she darted right, ducking behind the thick trunk of a tall pine. Crouching low, her hands pressed against the rough bark, she peered into the gloom.
Whatever that was, she didn’t think it had been made by the trees.
From her hiding spot, she could see no one. But the woods were dark and filled with shadows that shivered and danced with the breeze. Each one could be a person. Each one could be a killer.
She was beginning to find it hard to breathe.
