The Midnight Watch

Chapter 29

All I'm going to say is...

...if you guys don't work out what is going on at the end of this chapter, I will disown you all.

So yeah. No pressure.

We didn't return to Silveryn land. Isaiah had made it very clear that we should do the opposite. Instead, Ben gave directions for his own home. It was nearby, his family loved Kai and we would be safe there, deep in Davengard land.

And sure enough, we received a hero's welcome at the Lindwell household. Huge meals, warm water to wash and a bed each. Only trouble was, those beds weren't in individual rooms. I shared with Becky and Ben's younger sister. She was nice enough, but she made it clear she disliked the invasion of privacy. The boys were all crammed in together.

So it was safe to say that we spent more time in the garden than the house.

Weeks — maybe even a month — passed slowly. We were bored and restless and on edge. And nothing, not even setting up a watch and helping with the chores, could keep me from dwelling in a trance-like of contemplation. None of the thoughts which came that way were ever remotely helpful.

There was no need to be doing anything else, though. Wyatt Rochester seemed content to move slowly, perhaps so it wouldn't look so much like a power grab when he disinherited Kai and crowned himself regent. But I suspected that he had men out looking for Kai, and if they found him, I had illusions what would happen. Wyatt considered his stepson disposable at best, a target at worst.

It was just a matter of waiting for Rhodric to turn up, which was looking less and less likely by the day.

Nothing of significance happened until one long, hot summer's day when a call came in over the radio. That was hardly a rare occurrence, and we never dared replying. But this one was different. It was rejected. The operator claimed there weren't any spare patrols to deal with something as trivial as public disturbance, because everyone was out hunting for fugitives who had left an entire patrol unconscious near the coast.

I buckled my weapons harness, threw a Moon Guard jacket over my shirt and left the house without so much as a goodbye. It was safe to answer — there wouldn't be a patrol there to recognise me, and I could deal with it alone.

It wasn't far. I walked the two miles to where the incident had been reported. It was a crossroads surrounded by forest, and it was shrouded in darkness as the sun set. Of-freaking-course. The vagrants couldn't have picked a creepier location if they tried, but then again — as had just occurred to me — maybe that was the idea.

Spotting the problem was easy enough. A gang was gathered on the corner, huddled under a bus shelter and smoking something which looked suspiciously like weed. It was a stroke of luck, really, that they were still there. A half-hour response time wasn't exactly exemplary.

And there was no one — absolutely no one — else in sight. So who the hell had called in? Who could possibly have been along this deserted stretch of road, and decided that the gang of street youths were bothering them, only to vanish before they got their comeuppance? Suddenly, the call didn't feel so safe.

I wasn't sure if my mainland-heightened senses were still raw, but the back of my neck was prickling uncomfortably. As if someone was watching us. Just paranoia, I stubbornly told myself. This is what happens when you don't leave the house for weeks.

"Hey!" I shouted. They didn't seem to notice.

So I was left with the unpleasant job of physically breaking up the circle. With a great deal of shoving and shouting, I eventually managed to get their attention. Blissfully vacant eyes stared back at me. Seeing but not caring.