Hey guys…hoo boy sorry it’s been so long. I haven’t felt like writing Omega in like three years, I’m so sorry. Luckily I think I’m back on track and it’s Easter break starting Wednesday whoop! So loads of time (I hope). Now that track’s started and stuff it’s hard cuz five miles a day tends to tire you out, but yeah. So thank you for being patient with me, I know it’s difficult because my mother tells me it is all the time, but yeah – Happy Palm Sunday! If that’s technically a happy day…eh well Easter in a week yay I would say hallelujah except you can’t in Lent oops so yeah sorry I’m babbling again I’ll stop. Please – enjoy! And fan/comment/vote please it means so much to me, really!!!

Gracias!! <3 vb123321

Chapter Eighteen



♥ Astrid ♥



I was glad to be out of the safe house, even though I tried not to show it. During the car ride, I fingered a small slip of paper that I found tucked into the lining of the wallet of the intruder. The others hadn’t seen it yet – I had palmed it when inspecting the wallet – and I was trying to figure out a way to tell them. I was a little surprised it was even in the wallet at all, considering the guy was a spy and everything.



It looked like it was some sort of identification card, without a name or picture, but it sported a barcode, which surprised me again. Barcodes are not difficult to tamper with to be used for other, unwanted purposes. Other than that, it was blank, except for a light watermark imprinted into it: Ω. My knowledge of Ancient Greek was limited, but I was intelligent enough to know that it was an omega, the last letter of the alphabet.



I didn’t know what it meant, and I also didn’t know why I was holding it back from Josh and Charlie, except maybe that I had a hunch it had something to do with Pierre’s agency. But why did that affect anything? It wasn’t like Pierre and I were ever going to be anything. Maybe it was just because I needed to know just what he was part of and why he had lied.



Closing my fist around the card carefully, I slipped it into my sleeve and tried to think about something else.



We found a cheap extended-visit hotel in another part of the city, far enough away from the safe house that it felt relatively secure, but still in the more middle-class area. Josh was unhappy about it, mainly because I forbid him from telling Wulf where we went until we were sure the agent hadn’t been from Delta.



“How are we ever going to know?” he demanded, but complied anyway.



Joel had been surprisingly quiet as we drove to the apartment, checked into it, and entered our room. I had expected him to complain about how he wouldn’t be able to play basketball with Josh now, but he didn’t, which only served to make me feel guiltier. Making a mental note to try and do something for the kid as soon as possible, I threw my backpack down in a corner of the bedroom. It was a three-roomed arrangement: one bedroom connected to a tiny kitchen and living area that had a couch.



“All right.” I looked at the three of them; all were watching me rather morosely. “Oh, come on, it’s not that much smaller than the other one. And it’s better than a shack in Siberia, don’t you think?” And as they rolled their eyes, “Okay, now – sleeping arrangements, seeing as it’s nine o’clock and almost past Joel’s bedtime.”



“Hey!” he protested, scowling, and I grinned at him.



“Kidding. So – any dibs on the bed?”



Josh and Charlie shrugged in unison; all three of us agents were used to sleeping wherever we could, so the prospect of the floor wasn’t a terrible one. Joel glanced at them and then at me, and after a moment he said gallantly, “Ladies first. You have the bed, Astrid.”



“Sexist.” I hid a smile. “You can say if you want the bed, Joel. You’re more used to sleeping in them anyway. “Or,” as he looked stubborn, “Charlie, Josh? No one’s going to accuse you of not being a man.”



Both sent me flat looks. “Astrid, take the bed.” Josh shook his head. “You’re so stupid sometimes. And anyway, you are the girl, sexist or not. Charlie can take the couch,” he paused for any objections, “and Joel and I can sleep on the floor. Just give us some of the fifty pillows they put on hotel beds, and we’ll find some extra blankets.”



We proceeded to do this, and once Josh and Joel had arranged their beds on the floor, I called a meeting in the bedroom. As all of us were already in there, it was only a few seconds before we were all seated, Josh and Joel on the floor, Charlie leaning against the headboard of the bed, and me perched at its foot. I announced my decision to make a plan of what we needed to do and was met with blank faces.



“The thing is, Astrid,” said Josh slowly, “we don’t have loads of options. Anything we do, we’ll be tracked.”



I had to concede this point was accurate but pointed out that we could hardly sit around and do nothing forever. Remembering the card in my sleeve, I hesitated for a brief second before pulling it out and showing it to them. “I found this in that guy’s wallet.”



“And you’re only just telling us now?” Josh didn’t sound angry so much as resigned, coming to his knees to tug the card out of my hand and look at it. Charlie didn’t look as interested as I thought he would, his eyes half-closed as he glanced over at me; he looked exhausted. Joel leaned over Josh’s shoulder to examine it, his face confused.



“What do you think it is?” I asked Josh, taking it from him to show Charlie, who glanced at it before shrugging disinterestedly.



Josh’s brow was furrowed. “Well, that rules out Delta, I suppose. I’ve never heard of them carrying those. I don’t know much about Cloying’s group –”



“No.” Charlie’s voice was flat, and we all looked around at him. “Cloying’s group wouldn’t have anything that sophisticated. Remember? They’re a bunch of guerilla soldiers.”



There was a pause, and then Josh murmured, “You’re the boss,” and continued to inspect the card. “Well – Pierre’s agency, then? Whatever that is?”



“That’s what I was thinking.” I took a deep breath. “We really need to figure out who they are.”



I caught Josh and Charlie exchanging a glance, a frown on the latter’s face, and then Josh said in a careful voice, “Astrid, I understand, and yeah, we want to know too, but I feel like that’s not really important right now.”



“Then what is?” I challenged, slightly defensive.



“Oh, I dunno.” Josh sat back on his heels, glaring at me. “Someone we know has the Red list, which raises big issues for all of us – except, of course, you –”



“Josh,” said Charlie quietly, “that’s not fair.”



Josh caught his breath and shut up, long enough to gain control, but then said firmly, “It’s still more important. We have to find the Red list.”



I nodded slowly. “But how?”



“That,” he admitted, “is a very good question. So what should we do?”



We discussed this for nearly half an hour as Joel began to doze, his head tipping further and further back on his mound of pillows and blankets, and then reached a tentative decision. We would go after Cloying, Josh said, because if we got him for Young, things might look a little brighter. And we could get the Red list back from Jay – although, of course, we made it look like Cloying had it for Joel’s sake.



“It’s extremely unlikely that he’ll give it up,” I reminded them.



“What else can we do?” challenged Josh, and I dropped the matter. If Josh said we were going to get the Red list, I figured we probably were. That was just the way things worked.



However, it brought up another issue – the whole Joel-Jay thing – and it was as I was wondering how to delicately bring it up, my phone rang. Immediately all eyes were on me, and I groaned as I pulled it out of my pocket and glanced at the ID.



“Déjà vu,” I mumbled, holding the screen up in front of Charlie so that he could see it.



“Young?” He raised an eyebrow. “What, he calls you often?”



“No, in the motel in Michigan – oh, never mind. Should I pick up?”



Josh was frowning and shaking his head, but Charlie looked at the phone with a thoughtful expression, as if he didn’t know what to make of it. I figured he probably didn’t even know what was going on with the whole crazy situation and made a snap decision, sliding accept and pressing the phone to my ear. As I said “hello,” I threw my legs over the side of the bed and stood, walking into the tiny kitchen and leaning against the even smaller fridge.



“Miss von Shauff. I’m surprised you picked up.”



I glanced at my watch. “Well, you’ve got a minute thirty, so talk.”



“You think I’m calling you because I want to track you?” He sounded amused. “I’m your boss; I can always find you. It’s no secret you’re in London.”



“What do you want?” I cut across his rambling, knowing that he most definitely was trying to track me, as he wouldn’t know the location of the hotel that quickly. Or so I hoped. And a thought hit me – maybe I could ask him about Pierre’s agency, somehow trick him into telling me. You never knew.



His voice was crisp. “It’s the matter of that AWOL on your heads. Seeing as you were very confused when you decided to leave the States, I assume you’re now having second thoughts and are probably wishing that you could return?”



“No, not really.” Mine was light. “London’s a beautiful city.”



“According to my sources” – he wasn’t taking any crap – “you’ve made quite a find there already, haven’t you?”



I went still, eyes staring at the wall straight ahead, my heartbeat slowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”



“Charlie Gallagher. Alive. Imagine that – gone one month, back the next.”



My fingers clenched into a fist on the rim of the sink, my heart thumping in my ears as I tried to keep my tone unruffled. “Okay, so you’re well-informed. What’s your point?”



He was cool, oh so calm, his voice playing out the words so silkily that my mind slowed. “Don’t you think, after three months of confinement, all he wants to do is go home? See his mother, who is sick with grief, and his little sister? Don’t you think he’s done with London, wants to move on, wants to get back to a familiar setting? And guess who’s the one who is holding him back…oh my, wouldn’t that be…you?”



I couldn’t speak for several seconds, any thought of him tracking us flying out the window. His words flowed into my mind, settling there, and try as I might, I couldn’t get them to leave again. “The AWOL can’t extend to Charlie,” I said finally, my voice tight. “He didn’t do anything. It’s not his fault the kid’s in London; he just happens to be with us.”



“Exactly. He’s with you. So now the AWOL extends over him, too. And I’m sure you can tell me what that means, Miss von Shauff?”



The urge to throw the phone across the room was immense. I knew exactly what that meant, and I hated him so much in that instant that I felt almost physically sick. Struggling to control myself, I took a deep breath, imagining him just sitting there smiling, laughing at me and my reaction to his thinly disguised threat.



“Maybe you’re having trouble remembering.” Young was enjoying this, enjoying twisting my emotions into a knot with his words. “None of you – Steiner, Gallagher, and yourself – will be allowed into the States with the AWOL. When you are found – not if, but when – you will be placed under arrest and tried in a full court for treason. You knew all of this when you signed the contract and became an agent, so there is little excuse for any of you.”



“Treason?” I choked out, my anger rising. “How the hell is going to London treason? We’re being chased by English agents, it’s not like we’re talking to them!”



He was dismissive. “That’s irrelevant. The point is you violated your contract.”



“A contract I signed when I was ten years old!” I was nearly shouting now and made an effort to calm down as Charlie’s head poked around the bedroom door with a concerned look. I gestured for him to go back, glaring at him until he complied with a frown.



Young was still talking. “It’s still a contract. You had full knowledge of the consequences when you left the States. Have you told your friend Charlie about them?”



“He knows about the AWOL. I’m not sure he knows exactly how much that covers, though.” I was quiet for a moment, remembering his mother, who had comforted me even in her grief, and Sadie, spunky, lively Sadie who worshipped the ground he walked on. And when the words came out, my voice was faint. “He’ll never see his family again?”



“More like they’ll never see him again. Or have you forgotten the sentence for treason?”



I was clutching the back of the phone so tightly that my knuckles burned, my mind turning upside-down as his words registered. “Oh my gosh,” I whispered. “What have I done?”



“That, Miss von Shauff, is a very good question.”



Closing my eyes in near-despair, I sunk to the floor, leaning my forehead against my knees as I spoke in a monotone. “Why don’t you just send in a team and kill us all now? Take the kid out so you can use him to get Jay, be my guest. I know about the Red list, Young.”



Finally I had managed to shock him into a moment of silence. When he spoke again, all amusement was out of his voice. “I don’t want to know how you know about the Red list; I think I can imagine well enough. But I’m sure you realize what that means – even if you do get the AWOL off your heads, there’s always the chance that the list could go out into the open. Do you think you’ll ever be safe?”



“Am I ever safe?” I returned. “I’m a teenaged spy, Young, really.”



“I happen to know your name’s been wiped off of it. But are your friends’?”



“You know they’re not,” I hissed into the mouthpiece, my hand trembling minutely. “How about you start giving me options, or I’m going to hang up. Why am I still talking to you?”



“All right, you want options? I have one for you – and only one.” He paused, and then his tone was icy cold as he spoke again. “Kill Jay Nicholson.”



My head rose off my knees in shock as I almost dropped the phone. I opened my mouth to reply, but no sound came out. His end was silent as well, giving me time to let his words sink in, those sly, conniving words designed to twist my mind to its breaking point. This was his job, this is what he did for a living – and it was working.



And then he was speaking again. “I know you know his location, Astrid. Or even if you don’t, we both know how easy it would be for you to find him. He just can’t stay away.”



“So why didn’t you use me?” I was hoarse, my words sticking in my throat. “Why didn’t you use me as bait for him?”



“Don’t you think we tried? What do you think you were in France for, a party?” He paused to let that sink in. “We don’t know what else to try – after all, you have his brother. You chose the wrong moment to take him away; we were just coming to get him. Funny, isn’t it, how things happen sometimes…”



“So I have to kill him?” I was still numb. “That’s the answer to all of this?”



“How else can we get the Red list? He’ll never give it up alive. And maybe you think he’s too innocent to ever do anything with it, but what happens if Cloying gets his hands on it, or some other fanatic? We’d be blown completely out into the open.”



“What if…” I was breathing hard and fast, my mind thundering away a mile a minute as I tried to think. “What if I managed to get the Red list without killing Jay? Then could we come back to the States?”



“No.” It was like a slice with an axe, Jay’s own death sentence. “Jay Nicholson must die. He is no longer a dispensable rogue; he never was in the first place. You think this has been about Cloying? You’re wrong; it’s been about Jay the whole time. And the Red list.”



“But…” I shook my head confusedly, forgetting he couldn’t see me. “I don’t understand why he has to die.”



“You don’t need to understand, do you? You have your assignment – your last assignment – and that’s all you need to know. Otherwise, you can say good-bye to your homes, and your families, and maybe even your lives. We’ll find you and his brother, use Joel instead of you. It wouldn’t be difficult. But this way I’m giving you an option.”



“I can’t kill him,” I whispered, my heart squeezing. “You know I can’t do that.”



“Then you’ve killed two others.” His voice held no mercy. “It’s up to you, Astrid. Find him – he holds your ticket home.”



And then he hung up.



Ironic, I thought dimly as the phone fell from my hand and I was left staring blankly at the opposite wall. How we had just decided to somehow get the Red list from Jay, that it would be our purpose from then on, and now it had become an official assignment. A final assignment, ten times more difficult than any other I had set out on.



An assignment just for me.







I managed to tell the others that it was just the usual threats and warnings, escaping to the shower before they could take a good look at my face. Much later, when I was lying on the bed in the dark and my hands had barely stopped shaking, the words came back, swirling around and around in my head. Kill Jay. He must die. But why? I didn’t understand; sure, it was the Red list and everything, but I was positive I could get it without having to kill him. Young had made it a personal thing, then.



It was well past midnight, somewhere in the early hours of the morning, and the only noise was the gentle sound of Josh’s and Joel’s breathing. I couldn’t sleep, Young’s threat looming over my head in the darkness. All thoughts of Pierre and his agency had disappeared from my mind, and I was too jumpy to even close my eyes for more than a few seconds. The luminescent glow of the bedside clock read three-thirty as I tossed to one side restlessly.



Joel. How would he react if I told him everything? That Jay was alive, that now I had to kill him…his own brother! No, I wasn’t going to be telling anyone, as I wasn’t planning on carrying it out anyway. But how else could we stop living like hunted animals and go back to something semi-normal?



I was about to go take a shot of Tylenol or something to knock me out when I heard something from the tiny living room. Freezing on the bed, I listened for a moment, trying to pinpoint the noise, but it was too muffled to make out. The only person in there was Charlie, as far as I knew – and as I realized this, my nerves spiked. Was someone breaking in again?



Josh and Joel were still sleeping soundly. I hesitated only a moment, sliding out of the bed and snatching up a gun from the nightstand. Creeping silently around their piles of blankets and pillows, I pulled open the door and stepped into the adjoining room. It wasn’t as dark as the bedroom, lit by a wide window that threw in enough streetlight for me to be able to clearly see the silhouette of the couch Charlie was sleeping on.



Except he wasn’t on it.



I closed the door of the bedroom behind me, standing in front of it with the gun held loosely in my hands. The couch was empty, and as I looked down, I saw a mass of blankets and pillows on the floor next to it. As I stepped closer, I realized that Charlie had most likely rolled off the couch in his sleep and was now lying on the floor, twisted in a sheet and tossing fretfully. He was mumbling something I couldn’t understand, his voice occasionally fluctuating into an agitated cry.



Tucking the gun into the pocket of my sweatpants and moving forward, I stooped at his side, placing one hand cautiously on his arm. He reacted violently, throwing it off and nearly hitting me in the face. Words in Portuguese were spilling out of his mouth, so rapidly that I couldn’t understand them, and his face was ghostly white in the pale light, contorted with pain.



“Hey.” I kept my voice low, laying a hand on his arm again carefully. “It’s okay.”



But he was still asleep, caught in the middle of a nightmare, his hair whipping across his forehead as his head jolted from side to side fitfully.



Shaking his arm, I whispered, “Wake up, Charlie. You’re okay; wake up,” and I could feel the tensing of his muscles as he cried out loudly, sweat shining on his face. And then suddenly his eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright, his hands clenched into fists at his sides and the look on his face so wild that I involuntarily shuffled backwards to give him space.



His eyes focused on me, wide and confused, and it took a moment for recognition to set in. Then he brought his knees up awkwardly, the blanket hindering this effort, and hugged them tightly, burying his face in the softness of the blanket. I could see his entire body shaking, his hair wilting over his head so that I couldn’t see his face at all, and for a moment all I could do was sit there silently.



“You want to talk about it?” I said after a moment, my voice seeming too loud in the stillness. He didn’t respond, though his torso moved in a great, shuddering breath of air, and I moved forward warily, touching his shoulder. “You okay now?”



Now his head rose, grey eyes peering out at me blearily, and the expression on his face was so desolate that my heart twisted in my chest. For a long moment he simply looked at me, something in his eyes making me feel strangely uncomfortable, and then he exhaled loudly, rubbing his face with one hand.



“Just a nightmare,” he mumbled and then drooped back down on the floor, his head resting on the askew pillow and sheets.



He put his hands over his face as I looked down at him, and I recognized the dismissal but ignored it. Reaching out one hand, I gently began moving it through his hair, the muscles in his arms tensing before loosening slowly. His eyes were closed as he removed his hands from his face, shadows eminent even in the dim light, and his breathing was shallow and fast.



“What was it about?” I asked presently, wondering if this was a dumb thing to do. I was scared; I had never seen him like this, and I didn’t know what to say.



He shook his head minutely, eyes tight shut, and I didn’t press him, just sat there with my hand moving over his forehead smoothly and my heart cracking. His breathing was still rocky, as if he had just finished sprinting a mile, but I knew that it was the icy fear that was pounding through his veins and wished I knew how to relieve it.



After a minute or two, I figured it was time to leave. He seemed to be close to falling asleep again, and so I began to withdraw my hand and move away, but then his own hand rose and caught my wrist loosely. His eyes opened, piercing grey as they moved to my face and filled with an emotion I couldn’t read: it was almost desperation.



“Please.” His voice was husky and pained. “Stay with me.”



“You need to sleep –” I protested.



“I just need to know you’re okay.”



I stopped, frowning slightly as his eyes burned into mine, his hand releasing my wrist and falling limply back to his side. His words made no sense – he was the one in trouble here – but I just nodded and said slowly, “Okay. I’ll stay,” and the relief on his face was evident. I scooted over so that I was seated with my back against the couch next to his head, pulling at the blanket so that it covered my legs as well.



His eyes were closing again as I began to massage his forehead again, watching his face as sleep drifted over him. His body was beginning to relax, the tightness of his jaw lessening and his fists uncurling, and I brushed the dark hair out of his face carefully.



“Talk to me,” he murmured, his voice drowsy. “So I know you’re still safe.”



I smiled, thankful that he couldn’t see it in the dark, and said softly, “Of course I’m safe. We’re in a random hotel, Charlie, in the middle of London with three different agencies chasing after us. What could be safer?”



“Please.” There was no humor in his voice, just that quiet desperation.



And so I talked to him in a whisper, telling him in greater depth all that had happened since the assignment in France. It was probably the last thing he wanted to hear, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. His breathing began to slow, his body relaxing as my words floated over him, and I kept talking until my whisper started to sound hoarse, speaking of things as trivial as how I had missed practicing karate with him.



At last I stopped, the slow rhythm of his rising and falling chest telling me that he was asleep, and it was a peaceful sleep this time. I slumped down a little more on the floor so that my neck was resting against the edge of the couch but continued to move my hand through his hair as I stared at the ceiling. My thoughts were back to swirling around my head, sleep eluding me even then.



How could I do this to him? Even though his physical condition was getting better, it was clear that his mental state was still frayed. What had he been dreaming about? The pain on his face had been all too clear, with a glimpse of that fear that I caught in his eyes from time to time when he thought I wasn’t watching. Who had done this to him? Had it been Finn, the Portuguese man that Jay hated?



Or was it Jay himself?



I closed my eyes in exhaustion; thinking about these things made my head ache. He was so close that I could almost feel his heartbeat, my hand pausing to rest on his shoulder as my eyelids at last began to prickle wearily. The expression on his face loomed in my mind, the distraction and misery and that dreadful fear and pain that I had seen while he had been dreaming. He was falling apart, and with him my heart.



His lips moved in his sleep as I looked over at him, two syllables, and with a blinding jolt I remembered Cloying’s words: “Every last one of them will call for their mother.” And how Charlie’s mouth had moved right before…I screwed my eyes closed tightly as the memories began to flood in again, the sound of his screams from the purgatorium mali filling my ears and that emotion in his eyes crowding my mind until tears squeezed out of my eyes. They fell down my face, slick and wet on my cheeks, as I sat there wretchedly.



Young was right; all he wanted to do was to go home. How could I keep him away from his family? And if I didn’t do as Young said – he would never see them again. My conscience was battering me mercilessly, my brain struggling to find some logic in the situation.



What the hell was I going to do?







Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep that night. Charlie remained quiet for the three hours in which I managed to drift off, and when I woke, he wasn’t in the room. My back was stiff from sleeping in an awkward sitting position, and when I slowly got to my feet, my neck ached obligingly as well.



There was no noise in the small flat, except for the sound of the sink being turned on briefly from the kitchen, and as I pushed open the bedroom door gently, I saw that Josh and Joel were still dead to the world on the floor. I gave up completely on any thoughts of sleep, grabbed my jeans out of my backpack to change out of the sweatpants I slept in, and disappeared into the bathroom.



Predictably, I looked like crap, but as I wasn’t overly concerned with my appearance at that point, I merely changed, put my hair into a long, slapdash ponytail, and brushed my teeth. Contrary to what most people believed, teenaged spies did still brush their teeth. Then I pulled on my boots and padded out of the bathroom into the tiny kitchen.



Charlie was leaning against the counter, a coffee mug in one hand. He glanced up at me as I came in, and I saw his face just long enough before he turned away to see that it looked five times as tired as mine had. The automatic defense mechanism was back in his eyes; he had retreated into himself again, clearly didn’t want to discuss what had happened only a few short hours before.



“Coffee in the pot if you want some,” he said in a neutral tone. “I don’t know what’s going on with your whole anti-coffee thing at the moment, but it sure tastes good.”



“Especially on little sleep,” I said, but softly, so that he could choose to act as though he hadn’t heard me if he wanted to. He looked over at me again as I grabbed a mug and began to pour myself some coffee, studiously ignoring his gaze. As I raised it to my lips and finally met his eyes, I saw that he was frowning.



“Astrid –” He stopped and then started again with a determined set of his jaw. “I’m sorry about last night. I was just a little – stressed.”



My confused face was reflected in his grey eyes, so that I almost felt as though I was talking to myself as I said, “Why are you apologizing? I don’t mind.”



He shrugged, hesitation on his face, and for a moment I thought he was going to swallow that fierce pride that held his emotions back and tell me everything. But at that moment a noise came from the bedroom and Joel stumbled in, rubbing his eyes sleepily and blinking at us as we stood there staring at him.



“Oh, sorry…” He was already backing away. “Awkward moment?”



“No, no,” I said hurriedly, realizing how close Charlie and I were and how strange it must have looked for Joel. “We were just talking.”



Joel stood in the doorway, his blue eyes deceivingly guileless. “It’s fine. I understand. I’ll just go shower and leave you two to kiss in peace.”



If I hadn’t been a professionally-trained agent, I might have blushed, and I did feel heat rise to my face but managed to control it, stepping away from Charlie quickly. Joel was smirking widely, but then Josh appeared behind him and grabbed him in a headlock, causing him to jump half a foot in the air in surprise. The blonde tried to squirm away as Josh knuckled the top of his head playfully.



“Watch it, kid. Didn’t I tell you not to mess with Astrid?”



“Get off of me!” Joel pushed Josh away from him, scowling, but I caught a tiny smile trying to force its way onto his face. “I was just kidding. Calm down.”



“You’re such an idiot,” Josh muttered, crossing the floor to grab a coffee mug for himself, but he gave me a curious look from behind Charlie’s back as he did so. I chose to ignore this, taking another gulp of coffee too quickly. My eyes began to water and I coughed for a few seconds, Joel bounding over to pound my back enthusiastically.



“Careful, please,” I gasped, shoving him away. “Don’t kill me.”



Charlie stepped away from us into the doorway of the kitchen, looking uncomfortable. It was a small room, and with the four of us in it, I could understand claustrophobia. Josh took a large quaff of coffee and then announced that we were actually going to do something today, like go walk around downtown.



Joel looked excited. “Can we go visit the London Eye? Or Big Ben?”



I snorted. “What, are we tourists?”



“I meant more like downtown, Joel,” explained Josh, wincing. “As in the more – um – bad parts of the city. So we can find Cloying; we discussed this last night, remember? I figure that if we’re going to be tracked anyway, we may as well start doing something. It’s better than just sitting around here.”



Joel wilted against the sink, upset. “Can’t we ever have any fun?”



“Isn’t learning karate with Josh fun?” I teased, patting his shoulder. “Okay, well, if we’re settled, then everyone grab some breakfast and then get whatever stuff you want to take together.”



“I thought we were just walking around,” said Joel, frowning. “Why do we have to take all our stuff with us?”



“You never know when we won’t be able to return to a place. So we bring our stuff with us; also another reason why we travel light, just a backpack.”



“I’ll go do that now, then,” broke in Charlie, looking relieved to have an excuse to get out of the crowded kitchen, and then he disappeared.



As Joel moved to the coffeepot – despite protests from me about his youth – Josh crossed over to stand next to me, lowering his voice. “What was all that about with Charlie?”



Hesitating, I looked into his eyes, seeing the concern in them, but I couldn’t find a way to tell him. It was Charlie’s business, after all, and I wasn’t sure if he wanted Josh to know.



But then Josh said quietly, “Was it about that guy Finn?” and I raised my eyebrows in mild surprise.



“Where did you hear about him?” I asked, but he shook this off impatiently, giving me an interrogative look. I frowned briefly, wondering what this meant, and then said, “Well – yes, I think so. He was having some nightmares last night and won’t tell me what they mean.”



I saw something flicker in Josh’s eyes, so subtle that I only caught it because I knew him so well, not because of my training. This was enough to make me say “what?” sharply, but again he brushed me off, looking away and mumbling something incoherently. I wanted to press him further – clearly I wasn’t the only one who knew something here – but then he turned away to talk to Joel, and I was left standing alone.



And more confused than ever.