The Secret Fire by Daugherty C.J. & Rozenfeld Carina

Author:Daugherty, C.J. & Rozenfeld, Carina [Daugherty, C.J.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781910751374
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2015-09-02T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Taylor and Sacha walked side by side through the school’s swinging front doors.

God, Sacha thought, I hate the way this place smells.

The squat, brick building had a perpetual scent of industrial disinfectant, school lunches and teenage alienation.

‘Your school is so different from mine.’ Next to him, Taylor was gazing around with avid interest. ‘It’s so… European.’

Sacha wasn’t sure he knew what that meant.

He couldn’t believe how focussed and calm Taylor was.

As soon as the shops opened, they’d purchased new clothes – Sacha insisted on paying.

‘I have plenty of money,’ he’d said when Taylor protested. ‘And it’s my fault your clothes were ruined.’

He wouldn’t go to just any shop, though. He took her to an expensive boutique not far from the Louvre.

When they’d walked through the door, dirty and tired, he’d thought for a second the staff might call the police. But he’d already planned his explanation.

‘You’ll have to forgive us,’ he told the shop assistant, when she teetered towards him on perilously high heels, eyebrows winging upward. ‘We’ve been filming all night around the corner – you probably saw the film crew – and the wardrobe department left us in these ridiculous clothes. We can’t go home like this.’ He’d gestured at his blood-stained shirt. ‘This fake blood is disgusting.’

When she still appeared dubious, he pulled a thick wad of cash from his pocket. ‘Money is not a problem.’

The woman gaped at him. Then, recovering, she turned on her heel and led them both to a rack of dark clothes.

‘You might find what you’re looking for here, sir.’

Now Taylor wore a short, black skirt and a sleeveless dark top. He’d been a little surprised by her choices – these new clothes had a much edgier look than those she’d worn when she arrived in Paris.

Sacha had new jeans and a new black T-shirt, exactly like the ruined ones. Only much more expensive.

They’d changed in the dressing rooms at the shop, stuffing their bloodied clothes into a bin on a street corner.

Taylor even threw away her sandals, replacing them with sturdy, black ankle boots.

When he’d mentioned that, she’d said, ‘I need shoes I can run in.’

But he thought it was more than that. She was making a statement: Life is dangerous. If you want to survive, you get strong.

It was mid-morning; class was in session. Behind the long line of closed doors on either side of the wide, main corridor they could hear the murmur of teachers lecturing, and an occasional burst of explosive conversation from students.

When they reached Deide’s room, they loitered beside the door, waiting for the bell to ring. Sacha found it difficult not to stare at Taylor.

She’d pulled her hair back into a loose pony tail from which curls were already escaping and tumbling around her cheeks. Her golden hair and pale skin stood out in sharp contrast to the black top. She looked beautiful; intense.

Paris had changed her.

Holding her in his arms last night had felt so right. He hated the idea that, in a couple of hours, she’d get on a train.

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