I stretched my legs and wiggled my toes. My back throbbed from hours of being hunched in front of a laptop. The skin on my forehead felt like it was being stretched thin from the stress of the past days.
I lasted about a week in Paris after that fiasco about Jacqueline Shaw. Then, my hotel room was bombed through by a fairy that could summon rocks out of thin air. I remembered packing quickly, shoving the journals into yet another orange suitcase I acquired in Montrogue first. Then, the laptop came in second.
I had grabbed a few spare clothes to last me at least three days in a new city. I didn't even bother getting undergarments from the dresser. Too much time.
The fairy had bounded from the anteroom, wailing about sniffing something delightful somewhere in my area. My heart had pounded against my chest so hard I felt like it's going to burst out of my skin. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.
I had bounded down the emergency stairs as sirens wailed outside, no doubt searching for the cause of the shaft of smoke now billowing from a hole in the wall of my ex-room.
Then, I booked the nearest flight to anywhere while aboard a taxi heading towards de Gaulle Airport. I felt like I was in an epic car chase scene in a movie when I urged the driver to drive faster, the rock-throwing fairy not far behind.
How they even manage to find me everywhere I go was beyond me. It's probably the journals but I don't think about that. The letter warned about my life being dangerous as the writer was not sure about the type of magic this world had. Well, it just turned dangerous, all right.
I had hopped off even before the car had stopped moving completely, throwing a handful of Euros into the backseat. The driver swore at me in fancy French as I tackled my luggage out of the boot. His cries faded behind me as I strode forward and blended with the people amassing the airport.
I didn't relax until the plane had taken off. Sleep had left my system. What if the fairy hitched a ride with everyone in the plane? If it would go insane when we were thousands of feet from the ground...
You get it.
As soon as the plane landed in Luton, my nerves were frayed like a wire chewed on by a cat. I swiped Jacqueline's card everywhere, buying myself some clothes, food, and a room in an apartment in Churchway. A quick Google search later and I realized that the British Library wasn't far from here.
I smiled. Bingo! I'd spend all my time there and write the hell out of this fifth journal.
That, folks, was how I ended up sipping cups of warm coffee under a square table umbrella, typing madly into my laptop the contents of the fifth journal. I've spent a week getting myself halfway. A week more and I could probably finish the whole thing.
Nothing has sniffed me since coming to London. Odd. No one even gave me more than a sideways glance. Well, maybe except for the barista in the coffee shop in the Library that kept sneaking glimpses at my table every time I was here. I winked at him too many times now that he probably thinks I was twitchy from too much coffee or from something worse.
Every day, as I walked from the apartment to the Library, I didn't stop scanning the roads, the people, and even the garbage. After four months of running for my life, I had become quite acquainted with their nuances well enough and those were their usual hiding spots. Weirdly, I still didn't find any signs.
The sky was gray today. It's even grayer than yesterday and London has some of the grayest skies I've ever seen. A sigh tore off my lips. I hope it won't rain. The last time it did, I slipped and landed hard on my butt on the pavement on the way back to the apartment.
I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. I blinked, trying to dispel the growing cloud of weariness in my eyes. Perhaps I should get tested for glasses but who was I kidding when I say that I have the time?
Another sigh heaved off my chest. Get to work. Peace wouldn't last forever. I peered back into the yellowing paper of the fifth journal. Unlike the first three ones, the fourth and the fifth bordered on sad to depressing in a span of a few pages. I turned a page and skimmed. Damn, these people had it rough.
I typed a few more paragraphs, the sound of keys clacking faint against the chatter of people and chairs squeaking in the background. Then, my fingers froze, hovering above the keyboard.
I was alone again after so long. The fact that I ran away from home, from university, and even from my country...those were other matters. This time I was completely alone.
I sat back and rubbed my face. The semester would be done next month so I need to make it back before then. My parents would believe that I was really stuck in university and unable to go home if I did that.
My gut twinged with guilt when my parents' faces popped into my head. Of all the things that I hated doing, it's lying to my parents that I hated the most. Sure, there were times that I lied to their face to get away with something, but doing something this big, this dangerous, this uncertain, and lying to them about everything...it's on another level.
I slapped my cheeks and shook my head. A middle-aged couple whipped to me from the nearby table to the left. I winked at them and probably rubbed them off the wrong way when the white-haired woman shuffled her husband up and away from the store. I don't care. Focus on the job at hand. It's what I always did. Focus, focus, focus. Worry about the rest later. I accepted this job. I came this far. Let me see it through.
A chair screeched to my left. A tall girl with long light brown hair dropped into my line of vision. She was frowning with her striking features scrunched up.
"You just can't sit where you want to!" a male voice in a fancy accent exclaimed behind me. He reminded me of Jocasta but lighter, somehow. His shadow blocked what little sunlight passed through the clouds as he entered my periphery and smiled. "I'm sorry, but is this seat taken?"
He gestured towards the other three seats around my table. I didn't even realize my mouth was hanging open but I clamped my jaw shut and shook my head without a word.
"See? She's alone," the girl clicked her tongue and waved her hand at the boy. "Sit down. I'm knackered."
The boy obliged, taking the empty seat across from me. I watched his eyes and they wandered to the journal propped open by my laptop. The girl picked dirt from her fingernails and tapped her pink rubber shoes against the cobbled floor. Sorry, those were probably called trainers over here.
I sighed and tilted my laptop screen a bit further, helping my back straighten a little. I continued typing. The words blurred in my vision as they sped across the page, matching my typing speed. It's always fun watching the words fly out of one's brain and imprint into a blank page.
"You're writing for NatGeo?" the boy's voice speared through my headspace.
I raised my head up and blinked. "What?" My eyes widened when it clicked. I scratched my neck and chuckled. "Oh, yes. Pretty much."
The boy 's smile grew like his teeth were creeping out of his cheeks. "That's wicked!" He leaned against the table. His enthusiasm jarred the life out of me. "What volume are you working on?"
"Uh..." I stared at the domed umbrella above us. Come on, brain, think!
"It's fine. No need to get your knickers in a twist," the girl said from my left. Her hazel eyes twinkled against the faint sunlight. "Rom can be excitable at times."
"Come on, Jule," Rom tucked his arms to his chest from across the table. "You know how I fancy NatGeo and this lady is actually writing for them!"
He turned back to me, his dark brown eyes wide and a goofy grin plastered across his lips. "What are you writing about?" He cast his eyes around like he's looking for something. "Are you going to feature the beauty of St. Pancras or the Old Church and its many histories? Oh, are you working with a historian who's getting coffee nearby?"
"Rom, stop. You're scaring her," Jule crossed her legs with a frown.
My head whipped back and forth, going along with their exchange. I tried organizing my next replies into neat threads so they could exit my mouth gracefully. Instead, I blurted, "You guys are named Rom and Jule?"
"I'm Romeo and this is my girlfriend, Juliet," Rom tapped his chest before jabbing his thumb in Jule's direction.
I raised my eyebrows. "Damn, have you two read Shakespeare yet?"
"Duh," Jule rolled her eyes. "I swear, if someone offers me some sleeping potion, I'm not taking it."
I chuckled. This was an interesting encounter, indeed. "Are your families even rivals?"
"No, they don't even know each other," Rom leaned aside and jerked his chin towards my legs. "Also, why are you carrying your baggage with you?"
I followed his gaze into the orange luggage parked a few inches from me with its handle still yanked up. I shrugged. "I like moving around on a whim."
Rom clapped twice. "Spoken like a true NatGeo journalist!"
A dry laugh scratched at the back of my throat. "It wasn't all that fun."
"How long have you been here?" Jule tucked her hair behind her ears. "I've seen you since we entered. We're going out now and you're still here."
"I come around to work on my...stuff," I ran a hand at the journal's surface absently. "Usually, I drop by in the morning and stay until closing time."
"Which is close," Rom glanced at his watch.
I did too. The digital clock in my laptop blinked at me like it was sending me a message in Morse. I would have to leave a few minutes from now. Then, it's the long walk back to my apartment again.
"How about you?" I shut my laptop and tapped a finger against its cover. Rom and Jule didn't even look older than me. Just taller...and more mature. I waved a hand in the air. "Is this one of your, um, dates?"
"No," Rom flushed. He couldn't have denied it faster. "It's for a school project. We're supposed to look into some stuff regarding British history."
I nodded. "Ah, I see," I bent down and opened the zipper of my suitcase. That's when I saw it. A flash, a flicker, a swish. Somewhere to my right. On the glass windows. Something was watching me. Jule and Rom's playful banter faded in my ears as I squinted at the spot between an empty table and the shop's entrance.
It's tall, almost as tall as the two teenagers in front of me. Almost...
I shoved the new laptop inside my suitcase and locked it. I drew up and faced Jule and Rom again. "Hey, could you guys phone the police for me?" I made sure to smile as innocently as I could. They couldn't know what was going on with me.
A confused look bled in Rom's face. "What for?" he craned his head to one side. "I swear, we aren't trying to scam you."
"Yes, I know that," I snapped. My nerves were starting to fray once again. I sighed. Calm. Calm down your breathing. I was on the edge of my seat as my legs took the time to get ready to start sprinting. "Look, you're good people and I don't want you to get roped up in my mess. So go call the police now. For me."
Rom pulled his phone from his pocket. "What do you want me to say?"
I looked at the shimmering spot again. It wouldn't be too long before it materializes and locks in on me. I exhaled through my mouth. "What's the quickest way to Luton?"
"King's Cross," Jule replied. "It's the Underground. The station is not far from here."
"Good," I stood up and regarded the two teens. "Call them and tell them I'm going to be at King's Cross."
Jule stared up at me from her seat with her eyebrows drawn together. " What the hell is going on?"
I yanked my suitcase to an angle and started walking. "You don't have to know," I gave them a little wave. "It was nice talking to you. Get out of here before it attacks."
Jule looked back behind her. "What will?"
I turned away just as the glass shattered and people screamed. I bit my lip, springing up the three steps on the Library's vast plaza, past the weird statue with a scissor.
Something howled behind me. Then heavy, thudding footsteps. A heavy gasp bled out of my lips. King's Cross. I just needed to make it to King's Cross.
For the life of me, I ran.