Angel of Death by S. Massery

Author:S. Massery [Massery, S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: S. Massery

15

HADLEY

I squirm just inside the front door. It’s too hot to stay in here—sweat is breaking out across my body—but I’m terrified to go outside. What if Patrick is out there? What if he followed us here, and he’s just beyond the door with a gun?

“Ready?” Griffin asks.

We’ve been alternating between pacing and sitting at the small kitchen table in the back room for almost two hours, and Shade finally came up with two passports.

He gave Griffin a look that I couldn’t decipher, then went back downstairs. We took a few minutes to gather our things, and now I’m ready to bolt.

“Are we going straight to the train?”

“I thought you wanted to explore.” He takes my hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Just…” I can’t, for the life of me, think of a valid excuse. Not without telling him about Patrick. “What if I get another nosebleed?”

He pulls out a handkerchief from one of his pockets. “I came prepared,” he says, smiling at me. His hand squeezes mine. “We’ll be okay.” He checks his watch and groans. “It is late, though. Our train leaves in an hour.”

“An hour! We still need to get our bags.”

“Yes, we do. Okay.” He unlocks the door, and Shade reappears.

“Thanks, man,” Griffin says.

“You’re welcome.” Shade’s eyes flicker from his to mine. “Keep her safe,” he mutters to Griffin.

We step outside and both take a deep breath.

A cool breeze hits us. I look around, sidestepping into Griffin, but the street is deserted. It’s only a quick walk to a busier street, and Griffin hails a passing cab. From there, we speed toward his apartment—he has me wait in the car while he gets the bags, which nearly gives me a heart attack—and then we move onward to the train station.

We pull up to the giant building, and I’m sure I’m not hiding my shock well. I’ve never seen anything so grand—and that’s saying a lot, because I’ve been to Grand Central Station many times.

“Come on,” Griffin says, laughing.

He has both of our bags, holding them in one hand like they’re nothing, and I let him lead me inside. It’s all impossibly old and new at the same time. Marble gleams everywhere. People crisscross in front of us. Everything is organized chaos, and I find myself enthralled with it.

“Does the train go straight to Paris?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, there’s a stop in Brussels. It’s an express train, though, so after that it’s a straight shot. We should be there in less than four hours.”

“Everything is a lot closer together here,” I say. “You can drive four hours in New York and still be in the same state.”

“True,” he says. “Here, we’re going through whole countries.”

“And the passports—”

“They’ll be clean.” He opens one. “Nice to meet you, Haley Williams. I’ve always been a fan of Paramore.” He chuckles, then flips to his ID and flashes it at me. “And I’m Graham Williams. Are we brother and sister, or husband and wife?”

I snort at his cocky grin. “We look nothing alike, so… Can’t say I never wanted a husband.

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