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.The Hour of Screams…She’d seen things down here, heard them, and out of everyone she seemed to see and hear the most.What that meant for her when the Hour of Screams came, she really didn’t wish to know.Maybe it would be best if she did not hang around long enough to find out.The remainder of their descent passed in silence.Cadge went first, moving smoothly and easily along the flashlit tunnels, ducking under pipes and sidestepping pools of stagnant water that reflected rainbows of grease.Jazz followed, marveling at Cadge’s dexterity and grace.He was a natural down here.Harry Fowler followed them both, trusting them to guide his way with their flashlights, and Jazz wondered how long he had been down here.He must have a history, a profession, perhaps a wife and children somewhere above, tales to tell, people to avoid, crimes to forget, or destinies yet to fulfill.He was much older than all of them, and older people had more to tell, and perhaps more to fear.Like Mum, she thought.She always feared more than me.Tried to make me as scared as her, but it took this to make that so.They heard sounds in the distance, and Jazz froze at every one.But Cadge did not, and Harry always calmed her with a smile or a shake of his head.They knew the sounds of the Underground, which belonged and which did not.Jazz knew that she had a decision to make.The time would come for the Hour of Screams to storm through her new home.She had to decide whether to wait for that to happen.And if she did wait, she had to decide whether she would choose a song to sing or open up her senses and listen.In the final short tunnel that led to the shelter, Jazz paused.Cadge went on before her and Harry stood beside her, looking down.I’m being watched, she thought, but she could not say that.“Need a minute.”“Of course,” Harry said.“Cadge and I will ensure there’s food being prepared.Time alone to think is good, Jazz girl.Time alone is fine.Part of the reason I came down here in the first place was for time alone.”“Don’t get much of that now,” she said, smiling.Harry smiled back and shook his head, and she saw something then that didn’t surprise her as much as it should: he was content.Perhaps more content than any adult she had ever known.Then he walked on, whispering something to Cadge.The boy turned and looked back at Jazz, and though she tried she could not give him a comforting smile.Because I’m being watched!As soon as Harry and Cadge disappeared through a blank doorway, Jazz scanned the tunnel around her, probing every nook and cranny with the powerful beam of her torch, chasing shadows away to reveal the truth of what hid beneath.She turned the torch off to see how much more she could see.The tall, elegant man she had seen during her first hallucination stood at the end of the short tunnel.He was looking just to her left, an enigmatic smile on his lips, tuxedo well fitted, and tall hat touching the ceiling without effect.His white-gloved hands rose before him, fingers flexing as if preparing for some infinitely intricate trick.No voices, no crowds, no rowdy catcalls from a ghostly audience…This man was alone.He made no sound.She could smell a vague hint of lotion, something sweeter and more pleasant than the usual underground smell of dust and age.His expression was the fixed, tired smile of a performing magician, but as his hands closed together, his eyes shifted slightly until they were staring directly into her own.Jazz shivered, nerve endings jangling as though a breath of freezing air had wafted through the tunnel.The ghostly man pressed his hands together, and when he pulled them apart a chain of sparks hung between them.It swung low and heavy, ghost fire given weight, and he seemed to be trying to communicate something to her with his eyes.And then he spoke.All in the touch, the ghost said.He brought his hands close together again, and just before they met, Jazz saw the sparkles darken, and within them a dozen small forms danced and squirmed.All in the touch.Jazz ran.She reached the shelter quickly, went to Harry, and hugged him, comforted only a little when he hugged her back.And an idea pounded at her, one that she could never, ever say.How do I hide from ghosts?“Why don’t we ever nick anything from the Tube? Seems like easy pickings down here, with people waiting for the train, minding their business.”Cadge’s face grew serious, his wide eyes narrowed with an expression that seemed almost an imitation of wisdom, like a small boy mimicking his father.“Harry hasn’t given you that speech yet? Surprised at that,” he said.“Can’t ever nick from the station platforms.They’re our doors and windows, like.Hard enough for us to come and go without drawin’ too much attention.We start snatching bags and wallets down here and too many people will remember our faces, be on the lookout.An easy place for the law to keep watch for us too.That’s why we gotta go topside.”“Right.Of course,” Jazz said.“I should’ve realized.Sort of a stupid question.”Cadge shook his head sagely.“Nah.Not stupid.You’ve only been at this a couple of months.You’ve got good ’ands and all.Scary good.Stevie said Harry’s got big plans for you—”“What plans?”Her face flushed, and she couldn’t decide if the reaction came from knowing Harry was impressed with her or that Stevie had been talking about her.He kept to himself so often, but sometimes she caught him watching her with a kind of veiled curiosity that made her breath catch in her throat.He almost never came over to talk to her but seemed always to be hovering nearby, as though he couldn’t decide if he was protector or predator.“Plans,” Cadge repeated, as though that was an answer.“Mr.F.’s got grand ambitions for you.For all of us, I guess.You’ve inspired him, like.Says we ought to move up in the world, now we’ve some of us got good enough to do more than nick a purse here and there.”Jazz wasn’t sure how she felt about that.It sounded like Harry’s grand ambitions—as Cadge called them—would mean engaging more with the upside world, and that didn’t sit well.“Anyway, what I was saying is, there ain’t any stupid questions, yeah? Down here’s got a whole different set of rules from up above.And nobody trained you to think like a thief, so you got to learn.”Jazz uttered a soft laugh as they reached the bottom of the steps and strolled into the Tube station.Over her shoulder she carried a heavy bag she’d nicked from a tourist foolish enough to put it down while paying for a newspaper.Inside it were two wallets she’d also filched, as well as a nice linen jacket, a small sack of groceries, and a plastic bag from Waterstone’s with a few suspense novels inside.All stolen [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]