Hey! So I was gonna update tomorrow as my birthday present to you, but I decided to do so today cuz I dunno if I’m going to be able to. But I’m celebrating my birthday Thursday anyway, cuz tomorrow’s Ash Wednesday and all, so whatevs. I can’t believe it’s only been a week since I’ve updated, so much has happened. I went out of town and got the stomach flu and skipped school yesterday and today and wow yeah. But yeah, here’s an update and hopefully one again next week because four day weekend this weekend yay!! :D Please vote and comment loads, it means so much! Oh and “follow” me?? I don’t know why this changed? But yeah, enjoy my last upload to you as a 14 year old!!!! Ahh!

Gracias! <3 vb123321

Chapter Fourteen



♣ Josh ♣



I wouldn’t have been able to believe it if I hadn’t been seeing it with my own eyes, because every neuron in my brain was in protest, saying that it couldn’t be true. But there was Charlie, sprawled across the back seat of the car, unconscious in Astrid’s lap. His face was ashen and his breathing was shallow, and she was still blue with cold and her teeth were chattering, but she was smiling as her head dipped to one side and her eyes closed. Within a few moments, her breathing slowed to match Charlie’s. And though she was still shaking and her face was white, I had never seen her look so happy.



Somehow, even though my mind was spinning wildly, we managed to make it back to the flat in record timing. The clouds were heavy in the dark sky and I knew it was only a matter of time before it started to snow and snow a lot, and so while I didn’t kill anyone on the London roads that night, I didn’t make any friends either. Joel fell asleep after about fifteen minutes, curled up like a cat in shotgun. For much of the ride, I found myself wondering what went on his head, because of all the crazy stuff that had happened to him.



When we arrived at the apartment, it took so long to wake Astrid that I actually became a little scared, shaking her roughly until she jerked into consciousness. She barely seemed to hear me as I told her she needed to help me take Charlie inside, since Joel was standing there looking lost and was no help at all. I had to forcibly move her out of the car and make her stand next to me so that I could use her shoulder to support Charlie, which she did readily enough. We then staggered inside, the bleary-eyed Joel holding open doors until at last we laid Charlie’s limp body down on the couch.



Astrid fell to her knees right there on the ground, leaning her chin on the edge of the couch and holding Charlie’s hand. She didn’t respond to anything I said to her, even when I suggested that we could drag an armchair next to the couch that she could sit in so that she would be more comfortable. Joel threw himself onto it instead, almost falling asleep until I managed to convince him that his bed would be more comfortable. I felt like a mother, making sure he made it into the bedroom before turning off his light and checking on Astrid, who hadn’t moved.



I stood in the doorway of the tiny living room for several minutes, just watching the two of them. It wasn’t much, as Charlie was still dead to the world and Astrid was just kneeling there clutching his hand as if her life depended on it; but somehow, even though everything was slipping downhill in a rapid spiral and I wasn’t really sure of anything anymore, I felt that it was the closest we’d ever been, just the three of us in silence, not really aware of each other but feeling it all the same.



At last I gave up on Astrid and crashed in the armchair, finally dropping off around five and sleeping fitfully for what I thought was a few hours. When I awoke, however, it was two o’clock in the afternoon on Thursday, and everything was quiet. Joel was still asleep in the bedroom, Astrid had finally drifted off with her head on the couch and her hand clasped loosely around Charlie’s, and though I couldn’t tell if Charlie himself was actually asleep or merely unconscious, it was a peaceful time.



And it continued to be for most of that day. Astrid woke up around five-thirty, when I was in the kitchen warming up some Campbell’s soup and trying to keep Joel out of the living room. She didn’t talk, merely accepted her bowl with a nod of thanks and ate as though she didn’t care what it was. At some point she put her spoon down on the counter, looked at the two of us standing there and said, quite calmly, “It’s my birthday.”



A good thirty seconds ticked by as Joel and I stared at her in shock, and then I plucked my phone out of my pocket to double-check the date. Sure enough, it was the twenty-second of December, and I’d completely forgotten that she had turned seventeen. Joel’s mouth had fallen open; he looked like he had forgotten things like birthdays even existed.



“Happy Birthday,” I managed at last.



She shrugged. “Well,” she said, still very composed, “at least we both forgot each other’s birthdays this year. And really,” her voice cracked just a little, “it’s not like I could have gotten a better birthday gift, right?”



Neither of us could come up with a response to that, and after a moment she placed her bowl in the sink, thanked me quite evenly for the soup, and walked straight back into the living room, where she pulled the armchair over next to the couch to sit next to Charlie’s limp figure. I watched her go and then exchanged a bewildered look with Joel.



“Is she mad that I didn’t get her something?” he asked in a low voice, sucking the end of his spoon worriedly. “If she had told me…”



I couldn’t help laughing, though I didn’t really feel like it. “She’s not mad at you,” I assured him. “She’s just – taking this with some shock. Understandably.”



“Okay.” Joel still had a little frown on his face, finishing his soup in silence and then offering to do the dishes, to my surprise. I wasn’t about to argue, though, because even though Charlie was still passed out and Astrid was acting shell-shocked, the atmosphere hadn’t felt this peaceful in weeks and I was rather enjoying it.



It didn’t last long.



Around eight o’clock that night, just as Joel was beginning to get hyper from waking up at three in the afternoon, Charlie moved from dead to the world to subconscious, tossing and turning on the couch. Astrid fell to her knees next to him and said his name over and over, but she couldn’t reach him. He was moaning and crying out in some Portuguese dialect that I didn’t understand, his voice low and hoarse. Once, Astrid put a hand on his arm in an attempt to pacify him, and he jerked it up abruptly, nearly punching her in the face as he cried something that sounded like leave me alone.



It was at this point, around nine-thirty, that Astrid started crying. She simply sat there at the side of the couch and cried into her hands, her shoulders shaking violently. When she looked over to where I was standing helplessly in the doorway, the expression on her face was so bleak that I felt compelled to do something.



“I’m going out,” I told her, grabbing my jacket from where I had dropped it on the armchair and shrugging it on. Alarm flashed over her face, her mouth opening to protest, but I cut her off. “And I’m going alone. You need to stay here to watch over Charlie – and Joel. I’m just going to try and find some painkillers or something, okay?”



She hesitated, looking from me back over to Charlie. Some emotion flooded her face, tears still pooling in her eyes, and it took me a moment to realize that it was the closest thing to real love that I had ever seen. For a second I stood very still, my hands still at my collar in the process of flipping it up, but then she looked at me with such a torn look in her eyes that I realized she didn’t even know what was going through her mind, let alone her heart.



What a damn birthday.



“Just the local pharmacy?” she asked, her voice small, and I nodded reassuringly.



“I’ll be back before you know it. And I can call if something happens, so keep your phone nearby, okay?” I waited until she nodded a few times, hoping that she had registered my words in her befuddled state, and then slipped on leather gloves and made sure my gun was secure in the front pocket of my jacket. Waving a hand to Astrid, I stepped out of the living room and ran into Joel.



“I’m going out,” I said to him in a low voice. “Do me a favor – watch over Astrid. She’s kind of – shaky – right now, you know what I’m saying?”



His face was pale, his blue eyes huge, but he nodded firmly. “Yeah, I gotcha. Don’t worry about us, just get help or something. That is what you’re going to do?” he added anxiously as I took my gun out of my pocket and cocked it. I smiled at him, a humorless smile, and he amended his opinion. “Maybe I don’t want to know.”



“Just the local pharmacy,” I assured him, and then I shoved open the apartment door and stepped out into the biting wind.



Closing the door behind me, I ignored the car, striding rapidly down the street with my hand deep in my pocket, wrapped tightly around the handle of my gun. A few snowflakes landed on my face, and I shivered, my eyes darting around at suspicious-looking shadows. Many of the buildings were frivolously decorated with bright Christmas lights, and dimly I realized that in about two days, it would be Christmas Eve. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, I thought dully, Astrid’s face flying through my mind, and my footsteps quickened.



I had gone two blocks when I realized that I didn’t really know where a local pharmacy was, but I knew I just had to get out of the apartment, had to try and do something. Rubbing stinging ears with gloved hands, I looked around wearily at the street signs, thankful that they were at least in English this time. Store lights shone brightly ahead, so I walked in that direction, hoping there would be some drugstore that was open.



There was, and when I pushed open the door, my presence was announced by one of those annoying little bells that made everyone look at me. Not exactly the most favorite thing of a spy, and so I quickly ducked into an aisle as non-awkwardly as I could. It was practically empty, with just a few dawdling customers, and the bored-looking cashier gave me an overly-cheery smile. I shrugged her off and stood in the drug aisle, staring at the tiny labels until my eyes blurred.



Pressing my hands against my eyelids, I took a deep breath, thinking of Charlie and how sick he was and how he really needed to see a doctor or something – but of course that was impossible. What was the next best? Sighing, I took Tylenol and ibuprofen off the shelf rather half-heartedly, standing there a moment longer and feeling indecisive. The lady at the cash register was watching me with some wariness, like she thought I was a runaway teen in here to drug-up.



“Can I help you with something?” she asked, and her voice said it all: You mess around in my store and I’ll call the police.



Turning to look at her, I hoisted a smile on my face. “I’m good, thanks. Just getting some medication for my mom; she’s having her migraines again.”



As soon as I spoke, I could’ve kicked myself.



“You’re an American?” The suspicion fell off her face, replaced by a warm smile that wasn’t what I was accustomed to. “Why, welcome to London! Did the flight give your mama the headache?”



I snatched at this excuse willingly, rolling my eyes. “Yeah. She hates flying; don’t know how Dad convinced her to get over here.”



The lady laughed as I smiled disarmingly, and I walked up to the counter to pay for the medication. A man stepped into line behind me. I was immediately aware of him, some sixth-sense making the hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and as I pulled my wallet out of my jacket pocket, I chanced a glance at him. He was tall and bulky with sandy curls and piercing eyes, his hands burrowed deep into the pockets of a thick jacket.



My palms began to sweat in their gloves.



You’re being paranoid, I scolded myself, but then I remembered that not only was G7 in London, but Delta as well, and that excuse flew out the window. The man stepped up to the counter next to me, fingering a packet of Trident Layers, but I knew he was watching me. I handed a folded bill to the cashier, who was taking her sweet time getting my change. The man looked over at me.



“Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear – you’re an American?” He had remembered to keep up a flawless British accent, if he was who I thought he was. I prayed he couldn’t hear my quickening heartbeat as I kept my voice as flippant as possible.



“Yeah. Flew over here for the holidays.”



“Really.” He cocked one eyebrow, one of his hands still deep in his pocket. “How interesting.”



Smiling politely, I scooped up the plastic bag containing the pills and began to move away from the counter, slipping my wallet into my pocket and keeping my hand in there, clutching the handle of my gun just in case. I had barely gone two steps when the man spoke from behind me.



“Not so fast, kid.”



I froze, my finger slipping onto the trigger of my gun, and very slowly, I turned around to face him. He was holding a slip over paper out towards me, his face relaxed. “Forgot your receipt, if you wanted it.”



Just paranoid?



Exhaling silently, I reached out for it without a word. The moment my fingers touched the paper, the man grabbed my upper arm, yanking me around and throwing me into the counter. The cashier screamed; the man’s gun had appeared in his hand and he was holding it to my forehead. I still had my hand in my pocket, my mind going a mile a minute, and as he opened his mouth to say something, I swung my wrist so that the plastic bag flew into his face, the pill bottles smashing against his jaw. They didn’t hurt him at all, of course, but it made him loosen his grip on his gun out of surprise for just a moment.



It was all I needed. Jerking my leg up and crashing it into his stomach, I grabbed his forearm, twisting it viciously until I heard a tiny crack and the gun fell out of his hand. The guy’s jaw clenched tightly and his face paled, but he made no sound, bringing his other hand chopping down at the side of my head. I ducked right under it, dancing to the left so that his arm twisted behind him and now it was him with his back to the counter. His pupils were dilating rapidly with pain, but still he fought, kicking at my stomach like I had to him. Snatching his gun up, I smashed it against his temple, once, twice, until he slumped over the counter, unconscious.



The cashier had both hands pressed to her mouth, staring at me. Breathing hard, I placed his gun on the counter gingerly, trying to look freaked out as I said, “Why did he attack me? I guess it’s good I took those judo classes, huh?” And as she continued staring, “Well, I’m okay, so do whatever you want – call the police, whatever – but if you could keep me out of this, I’d be most grateful.”



It wasn’t the brightest thing to say, but there was too much adrenaline in my veins for me to think. At least in her eyes I could’ve been innocent – that was why I hadn’t brought my own gun out of my pocket – but I didn’t want to be around when the cops showed up, so I turned on my heel and walked rapidly out of the store. I stuffed the pill bottles in my free pocket, hoping that they would make all this mess worth the risk. He was a Delta agent, I would bet my life on it, and his violent reaction told me that Young wasn’t going to be the negotiating type this time around. So my hand tightly grasped the handle of my gun as I ducked around the corner, keeping my eyes wide open.



I hadn’t realized how dark it was, how little light the streetlights really gave off, until I was moving rapidly down the sidewalk with adrenaline jumping through me. My teeth chattered softly as I kept looking around, snowflakes drifting down serenely to land on my frozen cheeks. A flicker of movement caught my eye: I didn’t stop walking as I glanced around to see a man on the opposite side of the street, matching my pace exactly. And in his hand, glinting briefly in the streetlight, was a gun.



Even as my mind made this connection, something flew past and made an indent in the pavement next to my sneaker. I stared at it for a split second, making the connection – gun plus no sound equaled silencer, which meant they were serious – and then my feet were flying as I sprinted up the street, zigzagging to make those bullets harder to catch me. The man was running too, more bullets flying past my head, and out of the corner of my eye I saw another coming from the other direction, boxing me in.



Yanking the gun out of my pocket and thanking my lucky stars that I had thought to screw a silencer on my own, I rapped off a few shots and then ducked into the refuge of the shadows. Pressing myself up against the edifice of a building, I looked around, breathing hard and holding my gun at chest-height. They were Delta agents – they had to be, who else would they be – and they weren’t messing around. I weighed my options, and then, as the silence grew too much to bear, I darted away from the building again, sticking to the shadows.



Moving as rapidly as I could, I slipped and slid on the icy ground, somehow managing to keep my gun hand steady in the process. I turned at too many corners to keep track of, at last sprinting into a long, dark alley that seemed to be deserted. As I glanced around, my feet slipped on an invisible patch of ice, and my body slammed into the cold ground. I allowed myself a few seconds for air and then sprang to my feet again, swiveling around just as another shadow launched itself at me.



For some reason, our guns were forgotten. My attacker hit me hard in my middle, sending me crashing to the ground once more. Swearing, I kicked his chest, pushing him off of me and coming to my feet at the same time as him. I went for his head, but he ducked, slamming a fist into my stomach so that I was doubled-over in pain and gasping for breath, my arms clenched at my sides in an automatic reaction. Only thankful that he hadn’t hit lower, I ducked my head as he took a swing at it, and then threw myself forward.



We collided, the surprise from my attack stopping his swinging blows at my head, and luckily the wall was to his back so that I could crash him up against it. In the split second that he wasted gasping for air, I twisted his arm so that the gun fell to the ground with a clatter and then pressed my own against his neck. He put his hands at shoulder-level, palms facing me in a sign of surrender, but I didn’t ease my grip on the front of his jacket.



“Josh, it’s me, it’s Wulf. Calm down.”



My breathing was hard and short, my heartbeat pounding in my ears so that it took a moment to register what he was saying. Only then did I take in the shadows of his face in the dim light, enough to see that it was Wulf, but still I didn’t loosen up. Instead I dug the cold barrel of my gun into his neck, my voice shaky as I snapped, “What the hell are you doing here?”



“I’m in London with a Delta team, remember?” His voice was remarkably calm considering how crazy my own sounded. “I’m trying to keep them off your case, but it’s hard when you waltz into a pharmacy and use an American accent.”



I gritted my teeth. “Yeah, well, it was an honest mistake. Things are pretty insane right now.” What an understatement, I thought, and Wulf frowned at me.



“What do you mean?”



“Oh, I dunno,” I growled, still holding the gun at his throat. “Having a bunch of agents after me when I’m just trying to get freaking Tylenol isn’t the best thing for a guy’s health. Why is it they found me so quickly? What did you tell them?”



“Look, kid–”



I shook his shirt roughly, grinding the barrel of the gun into his throat so that his words were choked into place. “Don’t give me any of that crap! What did you tell them?” My voice shook so violently that the words came out garbled, and the panic in me from the last few days was swelling. All at once I felt light-headed. I needed air.



“Josh.” Wulf was infinitely patient. “Listen to me – if I had told them anything, they would have found you ages ago. I’m the one who told you to use the safe house, remember?” And as I stared at him, breathing raggedly, “You’re completely safe there, don’t worry about it. I haven’t said anything. This was just a nasty coincidence.”



I lowered the gun just a notch and released my hold on his shirt to pass a hand over my face, mopping a few beads of sweat off it and trying to think of what to do. Twice my mouth opened and then closed again, my brain wanting to form the question but no words emerging. I was trembling, whether from the frigidness of the air or something else I couldn’t tell, and I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, swallowing hard.



“You all right there?” Wulf asked in a gentle voice, his hands moving slowly back down to his sides. And as I nodded quickly, “Why were you getting medication? Is Astrid sick?”



I laughed at that, the sound hollow even in my own ears, and the apprehension on his face increased as at last I removed the gun from his throat and stuck it in my pocket. For a moment I just stood there and looked at him, hands jammed deep in my pockets, and all at once I felt so lonely and desperate and helpless: I was just an eighteen-year-old guy stuck in the massive city of London, one I wasn’t overly familiar with. I wasn’t even sure if I could trust him, but I felt the need to tell somebody and he was the only one I could dare to.



“Remember Charlie Gallagher?” I said at last.



“Yeah – the kid who was killed in France?”



He didn’t mean to sound callous, it was just his natural tone, but I winced anyway, taking a deep breath. “Well – he’s alive.”



Wulf’s eyebrows jumped, which was about as much surprise as he was capable of showing, and very slowly he repeated, “He’s alive?” And when I nodded wordlessly, “How the hell…and you found him in London? So Cloying’s in London?”



I had to admit it was impressive that he could take a piece of news like this and immediately analyze it down to the most important point. “No – yes – I don’t even know. Astrid hasn’t told me anything. She’s the one that found him, went off somewhere and then called me hours later and I picked her and him up.” I scrubbed at my eyes wearily. “And now I don’t even know what’s going on, but I think it has something to do with Jay Nicholson, only she can’t tell me because Joel is always around and–”



“And you didn’t tell him Nicholson is alive.” Wulf looked at me shrewdly, his icy blue eyes just visible in the dim light. “I think you’re making a big mistake there.”



“You’re telling me?” I shot back, rubbing my numb ears. “It’s all a crazy mess. And he’s sick – he’s really sick, he won’t respond to anything we do or anything.”



Wulf stepped away from the wall, picking up his gun and sticking it into the waistband of his jeans. “What’s the matter with him?”



“He’s –” I searched for words as the panicked feeling continued to grow. “He’s sick, damn it, he keeps yelling out and he won’t talk to us and he won’t eat or drink and Astrid’s going crazy and I don’t know what to do – this is freaking London, I don’t know anyone, he needs to see a doctor but I can’t take him to one –”



“Hey, kid.” Wulf put a hand on my shoulder, his face shrouded with concern. “It’s going to be all right, you hear me? Everything’s going to be fine.”



I took a few gulping breaths to get myself under control again, ashamed that I had broken down like a little kid. Hell, I was supposed to be a professional. “Okay,” I managed after a moment, taking a long, slow breath and looking him in the eye. “Okay, I’m good.”



“And incidentally,” Wulf’s face was suddenly strict, “you need to be more careful. Delta isn’t the only agency in London, you know. No,” as I rolled my eyes, “I’m not talking about Cloying’s group. Have you forgotten about LaPointe’s agency? That wasn’t us in that pharmacy; we were waiting outside for you. He interrupted.”



That stopped me dead. I stared at him for a long moment. “You mean–”



He nodded. “It was us who chased you at the kid’s basketball game back in Michigan, though, in case you were worried about that. Although I think you got that from my texts?”



My brain was fumbling for a response, his mention of his texts making me even more confused, but the only words that came out were “So was it you who shot at us in that alley in Michigan, too?”



“What?” His startled face said it all. “What are you talking about?”



“Oh my gosh.” My breathing was quick again. I passed a hand over my mouth, trying to control myself. “We need to talk. But first – um – so…” Trying to find a non-panicky way to say what I wanted to ask him, I stumbled over the words until he laughed quietly.



“Of course I’m going to help you, idiot, who do you think I am?” He shoved my back playfully, and I tried to smile as he said, “Okay, take me to the safe house – I guess you walked, huh? We can talk there; we clearly need to. On to face this stupid weather, then. At least it’s not being stereotypical London and raining, right?”



He continued this senseless but strangely comforting dialogue up in a low voice as we walked back towards the apartment. My emotions were back under control, only embarrassment and wariness peeking through to the surface, but nonetheless I didn’t mind his prattle until we grew near the flat. His talk died away, replaced by a serious look.



“Is Astrid going to be okay with me here?” he asked as I stepped up to the door.



“To be honest, I’m past caring about what she’s okay with,” I replied shortly, turning the key in the lock. I pushed open the door to find myself face-to-face with Joel, who was holding what looked like a kitchen pipe. He relaxed when he saw me, his face pale and his hair sticking up in all directions as he peered curiously over my shoulder.



“Sorry, thought you might be a perpetrator. Who’s that?”



“Wulf,” I responded, just as tersely, and stepped into the hall, drinking in the warmth of the place. As I glanced into the living room, I heard Wulf instructing Joel on better ways to defend himself, chiefly disappearing into a back room because what if that perpetrator had a gun and you can’t stop a bullet very easily with a kitchen pipe. Smiling in spite of myself, I gestured to the agent, who followed me into the living room.



Astrid was still at Charlie’s side, her head on the space of the couch that was unoccupied by him, her face pale and drawn. She looked up as we approached her, the utter desolation in her eyes tugging at my heartstrings. “Can you help him?” she asked hoarsely, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief that she wasn’t going to raise trouble over whether or not we could trust him.



“Let me see what I can do, okay?” Wulf stooped at the side of the couch, looked at her pointedly for a long moment, and then, when she didn’t move, said patiently, “If you could just move over for half a sec, I could check on him.”



She scooted out of the way and watched anxiously as Wulf inspected the unconscious Charlie, lifting his eyelids and touching his forehead. He began to frown after a mere five seconds, and my stomach churned as the serious look on his face deepened into real worry. I moved forward, leaning against the armchair as I watched him, and Astrid kept giving me these wide-eyed looks that weren’t helping at all.



“He has a fever,” said Wulf after a moment, “and he’s very dehydrated.”



“We tried to give him water,” I said brusquely, “but he wouldn’t take it.”



He sat back on his heels, looking at Charlie for a long moment, and then shook his head with a sigh. “He’s really sick.”



“Thanks. Hadn’t quite figured that one out.”



Wulf glanced up at me with a frown, inclining his head silently in Astrid’s direction before saying, “Can I talk to you a second, kid?”



Feeling nervous, I nodded, and he got to his feet. I followed him into the hall, where he leaned against the doorway of the tiny living room, watching Astrid as she knelt by Charlie’s side again and took his hand in hers. Shoving my hands back in my pockets, I asked Joel quietly to grab a glass of water and bring it to Astrid so that he didn’t hear what Wulf had to say. The agent glanced at Joel as he went into the kitchen and then looked back at Astrid.



“She loves him, you know,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to say in what way – I don’t think she knows herself – but it’s clear in her face when she looks at him.”



I watched her a moment, taking in her pale face, and once again that emotion was written all over it, her eyes bright with tears in the light. “So what are we going to do?”



Wulf sighed wearily, looking over at me. “I’m not a good enough doc to help him, you know that. He needs to see a real doctor – yeah, I know, it’s too dangerous. But I have a friend here in London, he can help you. You can trust him.”



“You have an awful lot of resources in London,” I said carefully, his eyes narrowing in irritation at my tone.



“I’m trying to help you, kid.” He took a deep breath. “Look, I know it’s a pretty big risk, but this guy doesn’t even know what Delta is. He thinks I’m a rogue agent, and I saved his life once, so he owes me. Trust me on this one: He’s the man you need.”



Rubbing my forehead tiredly, I looked again at Astrid, who was accepting the glass of water from Joel with a tremulous smile, and then back at Wulf. “All right. Take us to him.”







It was nearly midnight by the time we were driving, because of many complications that I hadn’t foreseen. Once we were on the road with Wulf driving, I was too exhausted to think of doing much more than sit there in shotgun. It was deathly quiet in the car, the only noise that of Joel’s teeth chattering violently and the soft whir of the windshield wipers as snow fell. I wasn’t sure if Astrid was still conscious, as I knew she hadn’t slept at all the night before and this day had been most trying on her, although admittedly she hadn’t been shot at.



The place we arrived at wouldn’t have been at the top of my list as a place for a nursing home picnic, with its shadowy façade and zero windows, not to mention the neighborhood it was in. I couldn’t help feeling a little wary as Wulf told me tensely to stay in the car a moment and walked up to the door. After a minute or two, a man appeared, and they talked for several more minutes, the man peering suspiciously at the car. At last Wulf shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder, and then he headed back towards the car.



Together we managed to get Charlie inside, supported between us, and Joel and Astrid followed with anxious, wary expressions. The inside of the tiny building was much less forbidding than the outside, mainly because it had lights, but it didn’t do much to dispel the nervous atmosphere. The man stared at us with a cold, blank face as we paused in the hall, only lifting one hand to order us to follow him.



He led us down a flight of steps into a hallway that contained several doors, one of which he paused at. As he inspected us for a long moment, I took the opportunity to do the same. He was rather short and very thin, with balding hair and quick, nervous eyes that looked uncertainly from Wulf to us before saying in a French accent, “I must ask the girl and young boy to stay here while we take the patient inside. Then Hans and you,” this to me, “can join them.”



“I don’t think so.” Astrid stepped forward, alarmed. “I’m coming in there with him.”



The man frowned, but Wulf said quietly, “Let them in,” and at last he nodded. Pushing open the door, he led us into a large white room, filled with a hospital bed, IV, and the usual hospital machines. Wulf and I lowered Charlie onto the bed, his hair a dark splash against the pristine white of the pillow, and then stepped back to look around the room. The man was already getting into medical gear, shooting Astrid a frosty look as she sank down on the side of the bed, pushing Charlie’s hair out of his face.



Wulf took her arm gently. “Come on; we have to get out of here. He doesn’t work with people watching.”



She resisted. “What do you mean, work? What’s he going to do?”



“He’s a doctor, what do you think he’s going to do?” Wulf’s patience only went so far; I could tell he was struggling to restrain himself. “Listen to me, please. I’ll explain more outside.”



I took Astrid’s hand without a word, leading her out of the room. Joel and Wulf exited after us¸ the former looking pale and nervous. As soon as the door closed on that cold, white room, Astrid was pressed up against it, her face strained and desperate. Gently I looped my arm around her shoulders and steered her away from it, looking over to Wulf to see what to do. He was watching us with a peculiar look but shrugged it away as he caught my eye.



“Let’s find somewhere to sit down,” he said. “You all look exhausted. Armand – that’s the doctor – told me that we could use some of his rooms to sleep and stuff, if you want to follow me.” He turned without waiting for our assent, leading the way further down the hallway. I had to marvel at the structure of the building, it was ingenious, but Astrid looked sick as she glanced around her.



“You all right?” I asked in a low voice, grabbing the door that Wulf flung open and ushering her through it. “I know you didn’t get much sleep last night–”



“I’m okay.” She swallowed hard, glanced behind her with wary eyes. Her voice was barely audible. “This is exactly like the place I found Charlie at. I wonder how many of them are hidden in London that we never knew about, huh?” A nervous little laugh escaped her mouth.



I gave her a long, hard look, wondering if she was going to lose it on me again, and then said quietly, “Yeah. That’s crazy. Come on, then.”



As she followed me into another room, she said, “Look, I’m okay, I promise. We – we need to talk.”



“Clearly.” I was unable to keep irritation out of my voice. “It would be nice to know what the heck is going on sometimes, you know.”



Astrid’s face closed, her eyes hurt, but I stepped away from her and looked around the room. It was a tiny kitchen, with a fridge and small stove on one wall and a small table and set of chairs on the other. A few rooms branched off of it, which I assumed where bedrooms and the like, and again I couldn’t help but admire the complexity of it all. I watched Wulf as he checked the rooms for a sign of anyone else and then came back into the small kitchen.



“There are a few beds in there if you guys want to sleep. Otherwise we could sit here and get something to eat; I don’t know.”



“We need to talk,” I put in firmly before anyone could say anything. “Me and you minimally,” this to Wulf, “and later with you, Astrid, if you want. I need answers about all this crap that’s going on.”



“I understand,” said Wulf smoothly, but he was looking at Joel. “You look pretty bushed, chief; you want to go catch up on sleep in one of the bedrooms?”



“He’d love to.” I clapped Joel on the shoulder. “Right, buddy?”



“Excuse me?” He looked affronted. “Maybe I want to know what’s going on, too! Why can’t I stay here with you guys?” He managed to hold his angry look for all of ten seconds before a huge yawn slipped out of his mouth. Immediately he clapped a hand over his mouth, looking guilty, and I couldn’t help smiling.



“Come on, you know you want to sleep.” I grabbed his arm, leading him into one of the bedrooms. “You’ll be fine here, and we’ll tell you everything we discuss later.”



“I doubt you will,” he grumbled, but he threw himself down on the bed anyway, hiding another yawn with his hand as he glanced up at me. “Is he going to be okay? That guy Charlie or something?”



I looked at him for a long moment and found myself wondering what the hell I had been thinking when I agreed to let him come with us. He was just a kid; he wasn’t ready for this kind of stuff. Even now his blue eyes were wide an anxious, oblivious to things he needed to know but not ready to know them. Sighing, I stood in the doorway, one hand on the handle, and searched for words.



“I hope so.”