“No, you don’t understand…” But the hay bales come away. Darkness falls through the window, complete and horrifying. The world dies a step behind me as August lifts me, takes my hand, and pulls me towards the rift.
But all I can think about is that all-consuming craving.
I need him.
I need him.
I need him.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
GOOD AUGUST
WHY CAN’T THIS BE LOVE
None of us considered the height at which we opened the rift. We had no choice but to jump through, a great nothing engulfing everything around us. But when we tumble out, we hit hard pavement, wet and greasy, the barbarity of the fall almost slapping the high out of me. Almost.
There’s a shout, bright lights, and a buzzing sound as a car swerves to avoid hitting us. It just clips August’s hip as he pushes me back against a railing, where I stumble, almost fall over it, but he spins forward and grabs hold of my hand, steadying me, breathless, on the edge of an enormous drop.
The others scramble to their feet, running to the sliver of whatever sort of footpath this is. If it’s even that? We’re high up on some sort of overpass. It’s nighttime, and the lights of the cars are blinding, so many of them flying by. I say flying, because they’re hovering just off the road, yet all staying within a one-way freeway.
It’s comparatively dark below. Streetlights barely illuminate dark shapes, grey concrete, but shiny buildings soar high on either side of the overpass, casting us in light so bright it almost looks like daytime. Billboards everywhere, advertisements, some leaping out of their frames, cover us in a pink-orange glow.Glass windows shine the lights of their occupants out on us, and we can see, clear as day, people living on top of each other in tiny apartments, up and up and up.
“Where are we?” Jon yells over the hum of the traffic.
“It’s got to be London,” August replies. “Greater London. Somewhere. However far we walked from St. John’s Wood.”
“This isn’t London.” I say it, but I know he must be right. Every rift we’ve opened came out in the same place in the new world. Every time. But there isn’t a thing I recognise here, even searching between the buildings. No landmark, no sign this is a world I’ve ever set foot in.
“It could be a future world?” Assassin August suggests. “If this timeline’s a little further on, that would check out.”
August’s brow drops. He stares into the middle distance, concentrating hard.
Assassin August claps him on the shoulder. “But that’s great. These guys are bound to have an understanding of particles. Maybe they’ve even discovered the Blackthorne particle for themselves. Maybe they did it years ago!”
“Yeah, maybe,” he mutters, that fake smile I know too well drawing across his lips.
“Okay, so we… we need to find a university?” Shashi suggests. “I’d rather hit up a scientist before I attempt to explain this to a police force.”
“That’s smart,” my August agrees, but he’s still got that drawn look about him, thinking over whatever he’s not saying.
We make our way along the road while I half trip over, trying to get my shoelaces done up, pulling my still-damp sweater back on. Amber and Shashi give the others back their shirts and pull into their own things. I can’t imagine what a mess the lot of us must look to the people driving by.
What I’d give to be back in the barn right now. That tender moment, the slow dust motes in the dying sun’s rays. August’s gentle touch.
August’s not-so-gentle touch…
Heat floods my cheeks. But now August, who’s fallen in single file behind me, is nothing like the August of only a few minutes ago.
My body’s still on fire; I can feel him all through me. But if he feels the same, he doesn’t let on at all.
I follow the group until the overpass finally drops low enough that we see what looks like a pedestrian bridge crossing beneath it. The drop’s a good two metres, but it’s better than being up here, walking forever.
The soles of my feet protest hard against the fall. My heart protests harder when August lands near me and waits for the others without a word.
I let them move ahead, drawing back to be near him as we wander along the quiet bridge.
It smells dirty and industrial up here. Like cleaning products, soot, and occasionally, human urine. Nice to see some things don’t change.
