Dark Heir: Dark Rise 2 by C.S. Pacat

Author:C.S. Pacat [C.S. Pacat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A&U Children’s
Published: 2023-09-21T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THERE WOULD BE no returning to the dig once they left, which meant Will didn’t have much time.

He told the others he was creating a distraction, scooped up a bundle of clothes as a pretext, and let Sloane’s guards follow him, knowing they saw a harmless messenger boy with a parcel for Captain Howell.

The second he was inside Howell’s tent, he strode right up to Howell not bothering with a greeting, put a hand on Howell’s wrist, and pushed inside.

He saw Howell’s eyes widen and he heard him give a cry of surprise, but he didn’t pause until he found himself inside Howell’s body.

Work quickly. Will had less than an hour before he was meant to join the others. He pushed further, using Howell’s S brand as a conduit, casting himself into the web he remembered, following along the now-familiar paths, seeking out the body he had inhabited on Violet’s ship, until, with a gasp, he opened his eyes.

His leg ached; a thicker sense of his body in space; objects in the room at strange angles. He was shorter. He couldn’t see the room properly.

He squinted, took a step, and fell, grabbing for the desk. Half catching its lip, his bad leg screamed its protest. He let out a cry and just hung on to the desk for a moment as his vision cleared. Slowly, he pulled himself up, making no assumptions this time about how to stay upright on his shorter legs.

This wasn’t a ship. It was an office, in the grand style but run-down, dilapidated, in an old building. A heavy oak chair accompanied the desk, a man’s jacket hanging over it. In the hours since Will had last peered through his eyes, the man he was inhabiting had docked and disembarked.

‘Leclerc! Apportez-moi ces papiers!’

Bring the papers? Which papers? He looked down at the desk. He would need to find what was requested if he wasn’t going to blow his cover.

Am I Leclerc? Everything was blurry. He thought at first that his eyes didn’t work. But when he groped around on the desk, his hand closed on glasses. He put them on, hooking them over his ears.

Blinking owlishly at the sudden clarity, he looked back down at the desk.

It was covered in papers. He could hear footsteps in the corridor, approaching. He let go of the desk and swayed, immediately grabbing on to it again. He tried leaning his weight against it surreptitiously, the sort of insouciant posture James might adopt. There was no way to find the right paper. Needing an excuse, he quickly took off his glasses and slipped them into his pocket, then he reached out to pick up a sheaf of paper at random.

He missed, a disorienting sensation: his arms were too short. He had to force himself to reach unnaturally further, clutching the paper just as the door swung open.

The woman James had called Mrs Duval strode inside.

‘Well? Do you have the inventory?’

She was even more imposing close up, with strong, angular features and piercing dark eyes.

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