Voices in Stone - Emily Diamand Page 0,35

cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Gray! Come back, we can sort it out!”

But Gray couldn’t hear him, or was choosing not to.

“I’ll go and get him,” said Isis.

“Would you, love?” Cally said. “That’s so thoughtful of you.” Isis didn’t tell her it wasn’t thoughtful, she just didn’t want to be left alone with the two adults in case they started kissing again.

She took a step down the hill, then another. The steep slope quickly caught her feet, lumps and bumps of grass dancing her down the hill, pulling her legs into widening steps and then to a run that lasted until the slope flattened off. She slowed to a windswept stop a few paces from Gray.

“Your dad said sorry,” she panted, “and that you should come back up.”

“To that?” said Gray, pointing. Isis turned and saw the small figures of Cally and Gil at the top of the slope, arms around each other, heads pressed together.

“Not again.”

“They don’t waste time, do they?”

She shook her head, letting out a groan.

“I’m not going near the quarry,” said Gray, “whatever Dad thinks.”

“I think he’s pretty set on it.”

“Yeah, but if we go this way, then they’ll have to follow, won’t they?” He turned, and started walking away. Gray was as stubborn as his dad when he wanted to be.

The track was narrow, worn deep into the earth, and they followed it towards the trees. As the grass turned to woodland, the path crossed a dry stream bed, a line of chalky gravel and rocks that would be filled with water in the winter. As they stepped down into the ditch and Isis’s feet hit the rubble of stones, she felt a sudden stab of anxiety.

For a heartbeat she was seeing something other than trees and the curve of the valley. It was as if the landscape had another layer made of silver, which it exhaled in a single breath.

She blinked, and the sensation vanished.

Beside her in the stream bed, Gray was standing stock-still. He had a blanched, frightened expression on his face.

“Are you all right?” she asked him.

He shut his eyes, opened them again. “Do you think being psychic could be infectious?”

“It’s not a disease,” said Isis.

“I know, I just wondered if I could catch it. I mean, after seeing Angel, and the Devourer and stuff. Could it… spread?”

“Like a verruca?” said Isis, feeling herself prickle.

Gray looked at her for a moment, his jaw tight.

“Fine,” he said. “Forget it.” And he carried on walking, his footsteps quick and angry.

“Wait!” she followed, almost having to jog to keep up. Why was this happening? How could a fight bubble out of nothing? But Gray walked silently for a long while, his face blank to her questions, leading them further from their parents. And as she worried about him and their fight, Isis let go of what she’d seen when they were standing in the ditch. Perhaps it had only been her eyes, or a trick of the light?

The path wasn’t much wider than a rabbit track. It threaded between the tall spires of the beech trees, the air cooler than it had been out in the sunshine. As they weren’t talking, the only sounds were their own footsteps and the occasional chirrups of birds. And now the anxiety she’d felt before was building again. It made her want to move quicker, to get away, or… do something, even if she wasn’t sure what.

She found herself glancing back as she followed Gray, hoping for the reassuring thump of Gil’s and Cally’s feet. She worried whether they’d even noticed them walk off, or if they’d been too busy kissing. Thick, autumn light slanted through the branches, and the bright leaves above them flickered shadows across the ground. It was beautiful, but…

“Maybe we should go back?” she said.

Gray came to a stop. “I’m not going near the quarry.”

“I know.”

“I guess we could wait here for them.”

Except she didn’t want to wait either. She couldn’t stay here, with this feeling. “Maybe we should carry on?”

Gray frowned at her. “You wanted to go back a second ago.”

“I know, but now I don’t know.”

“Is something up with you?”

She shook her head. She was fine. Except she was feeling more and more anxious, feeling more and more like she needed to get somewhere, and wherever it was, she had to do it quickly.

“Things always turn out badly when I go on woodland walks,” she said.

Gray laughed.

“It’s not funny!”

The jumbled patterns of gold-lit trees stretched above them. Up. Up and