Tension wakes me the rest of the way. The last thing I remember was Gisela putting on some intensely boring orchestra music that nonetheless seemed to delight Jules.Of course he’d like classical music, I’d thought, rolling my eyes but secretly rather charmed. It had been mid-afternoon then, an hour or two after we’d stopped for lunch.
It’s dark outside now. Gisela and Luisa are still in the front seats, little more than silhouettes—though I can see that Luisa’s got one arm stretched out, and her fingers are curled around her wife’s hand as she drives. Neal’s on my other side, slumped forward, with his head pressed awkwardly against the seat back in front ofhim, mouth hanging open. Both boys are contorted into what look like horrifically uncomfortable positions—but then, they’re used to being tall in a world designed for shorter people.
I ought to have stayed awake, because right now, I don’t trustanyone. But if this couple had wanted to bring us to the police or dump us somewhere, they’d have had ample time during the hours we were asleep.
Jules sucks in a deeper breath and then lets it out in the tiniest of snores, like a puppy chasing rabbits in his sleep—and in spite of myself I start to laugh. I try to stifle it, but my shaking body is still in the crook of his arm, and it jars him awake.
From the front seat, Luisa says with only a tiny bit of her usual edge, “Are you now awake?”
“Arggh,” says Neal on my other side. He sits up with another creaking groan, staring blankly at the seat back his face was pressed against. After a moment, he swipes his sleeve at what I’m guessing is a patch of drool left behind.
“We are now in our town, very close to Dresden.” Gisela’s voice is much friendlier than her wife’s. “But it is late. Our house is not large, but we often invite our friends to visit us, and we have a little guest cottage. If you would like you can sleep there, and Luisa will drive you on to Dresden in the morning.”
Jules is still sleepy—he never did wake up very fast, even on Gaia—and manages to get as far as remembering his arm’s around me, and giving me a squeeze. I interpret that as a yes, but the couple’s seemingly selfless gesture triggers my silent alarm, the hairs on the back of my neck lifting.
“Um,” I say, before coughing to clear the gravel from my voice. “Thanks, but we really need to keep moving.”
Jules sits up straighter and looks at me. Even in the darkness I can see his furrowed brow. “Hang on,” he says softly. “We’re exhausted. We can’t, uh, we can’t get tickets back to London in the middle of the night.”
I eye him, hoping he can see some of the edge in my look.“We’ve depended upon these two for too much already.” I’m hoping, with the stress in my voice, that he’ll understand: Why would two perfect strangers allow us to stay with them when we have no money, no way to repay them, nothing to offer at all except more trouble for them to go to?
In the front seat, the couple are conversing in low voices, ostensibly discussing plans for making us comfortable—but in reality, providing cover for us to speak a little more privately.
Jules watches me, brow still furrowed. “What makes you think we can’t trust them?” he whispers.
“What makes you think wecan?” I retort. If I’d been them, and seen what we saw after that car crash, I wouldn’t be takinganyrisks. They could have heard or seen some sort of bulletin about us while we were asleep, and be planning to call the authorities once they get us settled in that guest cottage.
The furrow in Jules’s brow eases, and I see his lips twitch into one of those wry smiles that tells me he’s about to score a point. “Instinct,” he replies, lifting the arm around me to smooth back a bit of hair from my eyes.
Instinct.The word I used to convince him to jump through the portal back in the heart of that Gaian temple. Of course, I kissed him too, which might’ve had something to do with his decision to follow me through. From the gleam in his eye, he’s remembering both.
My nerves are still jangling, and I close my eyes a moment. I’m trying to think, to figure out whether my unease is because I don’t trustthemor because I never trust anyone. I honestly can’t tell which it is.
“All right,” I say, once there’s a lull in the quiet conversation between the couple in the front of the car. “That’s really nice of you. I guess we could use some real sleep.”
Their house is small, a single story with one bedroom and an open-plan living space and kitchen. The cottage out back is even tinier, with a little twin bed and a cramped half bathroom, buteverything about it is so cozy that by the time Gisela uncovers fresh sheets for the bed and Luisa brings in a couple granola bars and some apples, my misgivings about trusting the kindness of strangers have all but vanished.
Neal, who’d been in the kitchen in the main house helping Luisa cut up the apples, sticks his head into the cottage and gives a quick laugh. “Yeah, um, can I sleep on the couch in there?” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the main house. “This thing is not big enough for three.”
Luisa opens her mouth to reply, looking a little stern, but Gisela beats her to it. “Of course! I should have thought of this. We will get sheets.”
Neal grins. “I’ll help.”
“Wait—” I reach out, a sudden flare of panic making me bold, and grab Neal by the arm. “You should stay out here. You’re tall like Jules, you’ll fit better on the bed. I’m small, I’ll take the couch.”
Neal snorts, rolling his eyes toward his cousin, whose face is unreadable as he watches us. “Bugger that. Last time Jules and I bunked together, I woke up with a fat lip. You can’t put two people this tall in a bed that size. Way too many elbows.” Gently but firmly, Neal detaches my hand from his arm. “Most nights I end up sleeping on the couch in my dorm anyway. Night, guys.”
And he’s gone, leaving me and Jules alone in the little house.
We spent so much time alone on Gaia, on the ship, you’d think we’d be used to it. But so much has happened, and now there’s silence, I find I have no idea where to start any of the conversations we should have.
I’m brisk as I turn for the low dresser where they’ve left the granola bars and apples. “Well, tomorrow’s probably going to be insane, trying to get across the border into the Czech Republic, so it’s probably a good thing we’ve got a place to sleep.”
Jules sits down on the end of the bed, the only real place to sit in the little cottage. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, inspecting the wrapper of the granola barlike I can make any sense of the German ingredients list. “I don’t know.”
“If you want I can take some blankets and sleep on the floor.”
