One Word Kill (Impossible Times Book 1) by Mark Lawrence

Author:Mark Lawrence [Lawrence, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Published: 2019-04-30T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

‘Hey.’

‘Hi.’ Mia was waiting for me at the gate we used on ‘vampire night’. Richmond Park stretched out behind green-painted iron railings, an uninspiring expanse of wet grass.

Mia shrugged away from the gatepost and came to walk with me, breath fogging the air. A light, annoying rain had started up, the super-fine kind that gets in your eyes and coats your face.

‘So.’ Mia kept close to my side. ‘This is kind of crazy.’

‘Very.’ I liked having her close. ‘I’m glad you decided to come.’

‘It’s not really the sort of thing you can just walk away from,’ she said.

‘No.’ I knew that Demus had helped her out with the money, but if she was like me then the real reason she was here was that, after the initial shock of it had sent her running from the car, the mystery of it niggled at her. And an itch like that has to be scratched. ‘I want to hear what he says.’

‘If it’s true . . . what he says . . .’

‘It makes you wonder what you can be sure of anymore. If anything is certain. What really matters.’

‘Yes.’ Mia stopped and looked up at me. ‘Exactly. All those things.’

‘I’m good with questions. Answers . . .’ I shrugged. ‘No sign of Rust since . . . ?’

‘No.’

We started walking again. Nobody I knew had seen Rust since he got cut. It made me uneasy. Like a shark’s fin vanishing beneath the waves.

‘So, do you think Simon will come to the party?’ Mia asked.

‘No.’ I didn’t think I would either. The thought of a party both thrilled and appalled me.

‘Why?’

‘I can think of about a thousand reasons!’ The Arnots’ parties were a thing of legend and this would be my first chance to experience one for myself. But I was hardly at my best.

‘Name one.’

Rather than choose one of Simon’s many reasons, I decided to offer up my own worst fear. ‘Dancing, for a start.’

‘Dancing?’ Mia laughed. ‘It’s not like you’re expected to do the waltz and the foxtrot, or do it in squares like a barn dance. It’s just . . . you know . . . dancing! Like on Top of the Pops, but with less lamé and glitter.’

‘He won’t do it. He can’t.’ Top of the Pops was another of my mother’s guilty TV pleasures, and I’d been watching the audience bounce around to the top twenty for years. But I still had no idea how it worked, and no desire to demonstrate that fact in front of Mia, with a backdrop of Henri’s dance school hotties showing everyone how to really do it.

‘Nonsense. Get over to Simon’s during the week and make him have a go. It’s as easy as climbing stairs. Move around a bit in time to the beat and that’s all there is to it. You don’t have to do anything fancy.’

‘Yeah. I . . . uh. I’ll tell him.’

‘Don’t tell him. Go there. Make him have a go, then make him come. Seriously.

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