to join them.
Chapter Nine
the river flows
Time blurred, and Jazz did not know whether she stayed in the crawl space for long minutes or
hours. When at last she overcame her fear and tamped down her grief enough to act, her left arm had gone
numb and prickled with pins and nee-dles as she moved. Her neck and hips were stiff and ached to the
bone.
A foot from the ledge, she hesitated. The top of the lad-der was visible, and if she closed her eyes
she knew she would see Cadge's fingers being pulled away from the rungs. She kept them open.
Something shifted in the tunnel. She heard breathing, which stilled her own. For long moments she
considered her best course. The thugs who'd been driven mad by the Hour of Screams knew she had come
into the crawl space. They might not have been able to squeeze in there to come after her, but they knew
she was there. If they'd stuck around, surely she'd have heard them?
So whoever or whatever was out there was on their own and didn't know Jazz hid so near. She could
try to back up, but that might make enough noise to draw attention. Or she could inch forward just a bit,
enough to see who it was.
A low sigh came to her then, and a new thought rose in her mind. Cadge?
Jazz slid to the edge and looked down onto the platform. Her heart sank when she saw the bloody
figure lying there, limbs akimbo like some cast-off marionette. She drew in a shuddering breath.
Someone moved in the shadows on the other side of the tunnel. At first glance she thought it was a
ghost. An image crossed her mind of the magician's specter performing sleight of hand in the midst of old
London's echoes. She half-expected him to emerge, drawing colorful kerchiefs from the sleeves of his
jacket.
But the silhouette resolved itself, and she recognized him.
Stevie Sharpe.
He moved away from the wall, stepped over the old rail-road ties, and climbed up onto the platform.
Stevie pulled out a white rag and knelt to wipe some of the blood from Cadge's swollen face. One side of
the boy's skull had been caved in. Jazz put a hand to her mouth to hold in a scream.
There had been enough screaming today.
"Are you coming down?" Stevie asked, still gently wip-ing at Cadge's face.
He glanced up at her. She was surprised to see tears on his face. Stevie would not cry aloud; Jazz
knew that much about him already. His expression seemed carved in granite. But his tears gave him away.
"Jazz, come down," he said.
It took her a moment to realize that she was supposed to reply. But she couldn't open her mouth. She
crawled to the ladder and stared at the rungs where Cadge had tried so hard to hang on. Cadge, who had a
touch of whatever awareness Jazz had found here in the underneath. Cadge, who'd only ever been sweet,
who'd tried to make her feel at home.
"Jazz —"
Stevie stuffed the rag in his pocket and went to the ladder. He climbed up, boots clanging on the
metal rungs, and gently reached for her, putting a hand on her wrist.
"Come down," he said.
His eyes always seemed shielded. They were supposed to be the windows to the soul, and while Jazz
couldn't be sure she believed in souls, she did have faith in her ability to read someone's heart in their eyes.
But not Stevie. He hid himself down deep. She supposed they had that in common.
"I'm afraid," she whispered.
Stevie nodded. "Good. We should be afraid. But you can't stay here. The others will be gathering at
the ren-dezvous point soon, and we've got to check on Harry before we meet up with them."
Jazz wrapped her fingers around his wrist and they gripped each other's arms for a moment. From
the first, she'd seen that Stevie differed from the others in some in-tangible way. She still didn't know what
it was, beyond the age difference, but Jazz felt certain she had not imagined it.
The contact went on a beat longer than was comfort-able. Stevie pulled his hand back and averted
his eyes, then started down the ladder.
"Let's go."
Jazz took a breath and spun around. She scooted over the edge and began to climb down after him.
"Did you see them?" she asked as she came off the lad-der onto the decrepit old train platform,
purposefully avoid-ing looking at Cadge's body.
Stevie nodded. "I sent the others away, but I doubled back to see if I could help. After the Hour of
Screams went by, I heard them shouting and I knew what had happened.
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