I look at the window behind me, the door opposite, jumpy, as if just by thinking of what scares me I can conjure it up.

And Astrid and Nico together: what does it mean? I can’t process this. Stella said Astrid was behind the assassinations, that AGT did it but she set it up. It couldn’t have been Nico; it was over twenty-five years ago, and he couldn’t be much older than that. But Astrid must have links with the AGT. Is that it, is she still using them for her purposes?

But Nico hated the Lorders. How could they be in the same place at the same time? He was AGT through and through.

I shake my head, trying to make sense of it all. After I was taken from Castlerigg to that other place by Dr Craig, Nico was there. He was involved from the beginning. Astrid was my grandmother – or so I thought back then – she knew me since I was a baby. She might be the only person who knows where I even come from. Now that I’ve seen her with Nico, is it too much coincidence to think the AGT targeted me and she wasn’t involved? Stella thinks Dad was behind what happened to me, but was it Astrid – her own mother – all along?

Approaching footsteps pull me from my thoughts: my heart races. There is a light tap, and Finley opens the door.

He sees the look on my face. ‘It’s only me: maybe we should get a secret knock?’

‘Sorry, I’m just jumpy. And I’m sorry about losing it before,’ I say.

‘No worries. Here you go,’ he says, and holds out one of two big bowls in his hands, full of stew with bread on the side, and it smells good. I’d told him I was hungry to get him to go, to give me time to compose myself, but now that I can smell food, I’m famished.

While we eat, Finley looks at me curiously, then pauses in between mouthfuls. ‘You look different, and I just worked it out: no glasses. But your eyes look different somehow.’

‘I lost them in the lake.’

‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’

I stare back at him. The weak point in my plan, such as it is, is this moment. ‘Sometimes it’s better not to know stuff.’

‘Like what you were up to today.’

‘Exactly.’

‘It’s nice to have a reputation-enhancing houseguest, but no matter how slack they run this place, eventually someone official is bound to notice. You can’t stay here forever.’

‘Just a few hours will be fine. Thanks.’

‘What can I do to help?’

I can’t see any way to get the information I need without the direct approach. ‘I need to find Len,’ I say, with a silent apology to Len. He didn’t want Finley to know anything, did he?

‘Always knew there was more to the old man than meets the eye. That’s easy; he lives over the hill. We could go now?’

‘I think better to wait until everybody is asleep, then slip out. Tell me where to find him, and I’ll—’

‘No way. I’m coming too. Don’t want you to get lost or bang on the wrong door.’

‘But—’

‘No buts. That’s it.’ He takes the bowls, some things for his roomie who is bunked down in another room. Comes back and stays, reading a book in a chair with a grimace at the state of the other bed, tells me he’ll watch over me, that everything is okay, to get some sleep and he’ll wake me up in a few hours.

Warm at last, I’m convinced I’ll never sleep, that it isn’t possible. There are my own fears still, and others intruding: what if Nico realises Ellie saw me last? My stomach turns to think what he might do if he gets his hands on her. Then I’m angry at Stella for using Ellie like that; then I’m scared for Stella. And Finley. It won’t take long for someone to remember we spent the day together, to come looking for him, and then if they haven’t already connected that with the ones they were chasing from the orphanage today, they will soon. He says he’s watching over me, but he has no idea what he could face if they come here.

My fears like black crows circle around in my head, but somehow they become more faint and distant, and drift away.

A small head peeks over his mother’s shoulder, giggles.

Get down! I’m saying inside and with my eyes, but he doesn’t get it. He peeks out again.

This time they see him. Black-garbed Lorders.

They march past me and grab the boy from his mother; she’s pleading, he is crying. Everyone on the train stares at their feet, at the floor, at the dead windows. No one moves. No one says anything.

Not this time: it is time to say no. No more. I get out of my seat. ‘Leave him alone!’

One of the Lorders slowly turns around. His blond-streaked hair is too long and unruly for a Lorder. His pale blue eyes glint with danger. He smiles a seductive smile, and holds out a hand.

Nico? No. It can’t be.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

* * *

My eyes snap open. There is a brief moment of confusion: where am I? Finley’s room. It is still, silent. What woke me?

I glance across the room and there is just enough moonlight through gaps in the curtains to see: the chair and other bed are empty. I’m alone.

Then there is a faint sound in the hall: footsteps?

I sit up with a rush of fear. Nowhere to hide. Not enough time to get out the window: nowhere to run.

There is a feather-light tap on the door, and it opens: Finley.

I sag back in relief.

‘Oh good, you’re awake,’ he says. ‘Time to go.’

I shake off the panic, and grab my things off the radiator. ‘Nearly dry.’

He turns as I change into them fast.

‘Now come on,’ he says, and takes my hand. ‘If anyone spots us they’ll just think I’m sneaking you out.

Finley looks into the hall, draws me out. We walk silently to the stairs, down them and then out the back door – a real door, not a window this time.

I glance back at the lake: all is silent inky darkness. I frown to myself. Surely once the Lorders realised I wasn’t in the house or up the path, they’d work out I took a kayak, that the other paddles were missing? I’d half expected to see search lights.

We creep along footpaths up and away from the houses and the lake, Finley leading the way. I am sure-footed and silent in the dark: years of woods training with Nico made sure of that. Finley is less so. A particularly loud crack in front makes me cringe. ‘Keep it down up there,’ I whisper.

‘Don’t worry, the tree is fine,’ Finley says.

‘What tree?’

‘The one whose branch I just smacked my head into. I’m starting to see that being a Shorty has its advantages.’

We reach a road, walk along it for a mile, keeping a careful listen for cars, ducking out of sight whenever one goes by. Then we turn down a long twisty lane.

‘Here we are: chez Len,’ Finley says. More a shack than a house; the car we borrowed earlier is pulled in alongside. It is silent and dark.

‘What time is it?’ I whisper.

‘4 am.’

‘Hope he’s not a heavy sleeper.’

Finley tries knocking lightly on the door; no response. He tries the handle: locked. We exchange a glance. ‘Somehow really banging on the door goes against the whole sneaking around thing,’ he says.

I pick up a few pebbles and ping them against the window.

Eventually we hear movement inside, locks turning. The door opens and Len peers out. ‘This better be good.’

Len pulls us into the kitchen, shuts the door. ‘I don’t know about you, but I can’t be civil without tea this time of the morning. You can make it while we talk,’ he says to Finley. Points out the kettle, cups. Draws me into the next room and shuts the door.

‘So, Miss Lucy Connor: your cover is blown.’

‘You know?’

He inclines his head.

‘How?’

‘Got a message from your mother.’

I stare at him in shock. ‘She knows you?’

‘How’d you think you got put on MIA in the first place?’

I shake my head. ‘I don’t know; I guess I didn’t think about it.’

‘Do you know how they worked out who you are?’

‘I don’t know. But I think Steph – one of the girls – is a spy for Astrid. She saw my glasses come off. That my eyes are green.’

‘Those were some glasses. Not wearing them any more?’

‘Lost them in the lake. Don’t suppose it matters now. I’m sure Astrid was already suspicious that something was up with Stella. Then if Steph told her about my glasses, she must have put things together and worked it out.’ I lean back and sigh. ‘I’m sorry about involving Finley. I had to run, and I didn’t know how else to find you.’

‘He’s a smart lad. He’ll keep his mouth shut. But there’s more to tell, isn’t there?’

There is a tap on the door. Finley peeks in, holds out two cups of tea. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Not just yet, give us a few moments,’ Len says.

Finley looks disappointed, but hands us our tea and goes back through the door.

Len has a slurp of way-too-hot tea but looks happier. ‘That’s better. Now tell me: what happened yesterday afternoon to make Lorders be looking for you up that mountain?’

‘I found out something, something that puts Lorders in a very bad light. I need to get to Aiden, the sooner the better. Can you help?’

He stares steadily back at me, sighs. ‘I’ll always help when I can, because I’m a stupid old idiot. Not enough life left to be cautious with. But getting you out of town will be difficult if they’re looking for you. Maybe you should tell me why it’s so important.’

And I hesitate, torn. Aiden trusts him, and that is good enough for me. But is it safer if he doesn’t know?

‘Look at it this way. If you’re the only one who knows something, and something happens to you, nobody knows.’

I nod. Gulp. ‘It’s so awful, it’s hard to even say.’ My head aches, and I drop it in my hands.

‘Time is tight, Lucy,’ he says gently.

‘I’d rather you didn’t use that name: stick with Riley.’

‘Okay, then; Riley.’

I look up, meet his eye. ‘We saw them from a distance. A line of children, walking along the fence inside the orphanage grounds. But something wasn’t right about them. They weren’t like normal children. So I went for a closer look.’

‘Mad as a box of frogs. And?’

‘They’re all Slated. Even little ones, maybe four or five years old.’ The horror I can feel on my face is reflected in his. ‘They were like…robots, almost. No personality, no life.’

He grips my hand. ‘Evidence?’

I pat my pocket. ‘Photos, in my camera, of Levos on their wrists.’

‘Bad timing.’ He curses under his breath. ‘MIA’s website has been hacked.’

‘What? Could that be how they found where I was?’ As a Slated, seeking out my past life is completely illegal. That’d be reason enough for Lorders to hunt me down, without adding in stumbling on their secrets at the orphanage.

‘They got into the protected areas of the site. Any information available to administrators of MIA was open to them. If they looked, they’d know you were reported found, but not your location. That type of information is not stored on the website, not even encrypted. Of course they may have worked out to look for you in Keswick. But all computer communications are suspended while it is investigated, so we can’t email the photos as backup. Besides, Aiden’ll need you: you’re the witness. We’ve got to get you there.’

‘Well. You know how they’re looking for Lucy Connor? Things could get worse.’

‘It can get worse?’ Len asks mildly.

‘If they put her together with the girl who took photos at their so-called orphanage. And that Finley was with me. And you were seen with us later on. I’m so sorry.’