aggravation, partly because she was tensed for fight or flight. Where the hell was he taking them?
Cassie glanced to left and right, seeking a quick exit. Even with all that was going on, her Few instincts were kicking in. But what could she do – simply grab Isabella and abseil with her out of a top-floor window? And go where? Cassie shook her head. Whatever Sir Alric’s intentions were, they were about to find out, because there was nowhere for them to go. This new passageway led only to a single, thick wooden door.
As Sir Alric drew a key from his pocket, Cassie swallowed hard. It was a heavy, elaborate thing, carved with the same Few symbols that she’d spotted on pillars and the corners of paintings everywhere in this school; the same kind of symbol that was burned into her own shoulder blade, though in broken form. Cassie found she was holding her breath as Sir Alric turned the key in the lock, and then swung the door open.
The room was plain, furnished only with a bed and a couple of armchairs, and lined with books. And strangely, the first thing that hit her was the fresh coastal air, scented with oleander and seaweed and salt, borne in through the open French windows, light curtains billowing in the gentle breeze.
She simply didn’t believe what she was seeing; the apparent delusion was too crazy. Beside her, Isabella gave a hoarse cry, and stumbled against her. Cassie caught her in her arms, but could do nothing but stare at the figure that stood in the centre of the room.
He watched them gravely, apprehensively, one hand gripping his wrist tightly as if to hold himself still.
Jake Johnson.
CHAPTER EIGHT
T hey stood immobile for what felt like minutes, but could only have been seconds. Jake did not seem to be breathing any more than Cassie was; Isabella was gasping for air, stunned almost senseless, weak in Cassie’s arms. Cassie thought she might actually faint.
Then Isabella tensed, breathing hard and audibly as she recovered. She drew away from Cassie, and took a cautious step towards Jake. Then she took another, studying his face with disbelieving hope.
Her next step brought her close enough to the boy to touch him, and she did, reaching out shaking fingers to his cheek. She almost flinched as she made contact with his skin, as if expecting it to be stone cold, but at her touch he made a slight sound, and she pressed her palms fiercely to his cheeks.
‘Jake …’ she breathed.
The next moment, Isabella had flung herself into his embrace, wrapping her arms round his neck, sobbing his name. He closed his arms round her, so tightly Cassie thought he’d crush her, but she didn’t protest, just held him all the closer.
‘Jake! Jake! Is it really you?’
‘It’s me, it’s me.’ His voice was muffled in her hair, and Cassie suspected she could see a tear run from his eye. She could only stare at her reunited friends, her heart thundering. She couldn’t look at Sir Alric. What kind of a game was he playing? This was crazy. Jake was alive this whole time?
After what seemed like forever, Jake gently pulled away from Isabella, though he kept his hands on her shoulders, staring at her like he’d never look away.
‘Cassie?’ He glanced over with a weak smile. ‘Cassie, it’s so good to see you too.’
Unfolding her stiff arms, she walked forward and hugged him hard. ‘Jake. What the hell?’
‘I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry,’ he murmured.
Cassie stood back, eyeing him, unable to repress her growing, disbelieving smile. ‘I … I can’t believe this …’ She tailed off and her smile began to fade as anger took over. ‘But it’s not you who owes us an apology.’ She turned on her heel and stared at Sir Alric.
He was still just inside the door, watching them. ‘Despite that, Cassie, I think I’ll allow Jake to explain. I’m sure you’d rather hear it from him.’
He’s right, she thought. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear a word out of his mouth right now. Cassie