3

Riley Cohen stepped down from the VIA train onto the crowded platform at Toronto’s Union station. Heaving her heavy backpack more firmly onto her thin shoulders, she followed the streaming crowd. She ignored the jostling, self- absorbed passengers, intent on keeping the exit sign in sight.

The crowd bottlenecked through the exit hallway and emptied into the larger terminal where a milling throng stared intently at the constantly updating information boards. Unable to see over those ahead, Riley squeezed her way to the front and craned her neck upward. Her eyes scanned the schedule. There it was. Her next train wasn’t leaving for another four hours. Track seven.

Great. Was nothing on time?

Riley let the knapsack fall to the ground with relief while she considered what to do. She pulled a battered map and guidebook from the back pocket of her black jeans, and thumbed through the creased pages until she found what she was looking for. The tourist highlights were listed in italic font. Four hours wasn’t long enough to really go anywhere interesting or see anything major. The CN tower wasn’t too far away, at least looking at the map, but was out of the question with the heavy bag.

She shoved a lock of black hair off her forehead and looked around for a sign indicating facilities for checking luggage. Unfortunately, all she could see were other passengers. With an impatient grunt, she grabbed the straps of the knapsack and swung it back over her shoulders and headed away from the throng.

“May I help you?”

Riley stopped abruptly as a young man stepped in front of her and blocked her path. He was of medium height and slim build. His jeans and windbreaker had seen better days but he wore them with a certain style. He was gorgeous, like something out of her sister Deborah’s Italian Vogue, all lips and carved cheekbones. Dirty blond hair and eyes the colour of the Tahitian sea. Wow.

“Nope. I don’t think so.” Riley directed her comment to the young man’s throat and began to walk around him. They were probably contact lenses.

“Are you sure?” The man sidestepped to block her path. “That bag is far too heavy.”

“I’m able to carry my own stuff.” Maybe some women couldn’t think their way out of a paper bag and needed some guy to open their doors and carry their luggage, like her sister, but she certainly didn’t.

The man’s lips began to curl into a grin. “I was just trying to be polite.”

“Yeah, well, thanks but no thanks.” The smile she returned was patently false. She heaved at the knapsack strap, which was slipping down one shoulder, and walked around him with a brisk stride.

With a frustrated sigh, she battled against the tide of humanity, figuring that an information booth was likely to be closer to the entrance of the station than her present location. She had almost completely forgotten the handsome man, until he spoke again a few minutes later directly behind her.

“If you’re looking for something, maybe I can help.”

Man, this guy was persistent. Fifteen minutes off the train that was going to take her to Vancouver and her sister’s apartment, and some loser was attaching himself to her like a leech. Riley stopped so abruptly the young man bumped into her. She nearly fell over. He grabbed her arm just in time.

“That bag is far too heavy. You nearly fell.”

“Hate to burst your bubble, pal, but the bag isn’t the problem. It’s you. You nearly knocked me over,” Riley snorted.

The man smiled. He almost glowed with pleasure.

Riley barely stopped the twitch of her own lips. If she’d ever seen a more attractive male, she couldn’t remember it, and the smile seemed infectious, despite her annoyance. Which was quickly draining away, and why, she didn’t know.

“Look,” the man said, squaring his shoulders and letting go of her arm. “I didn’t mean to make you angry. I just want to help. See, I have this assignment for my philosophy course and I really have to get it done today. And I thought you looked like a friendly girl who might help me out.”

Friendly? How on earth had he interpreted her new Goth-styled makeup, black clothing and several piercings as friendly? He must be a bit stunned. No, she didn’t want to encourage any guy right now; she was leaving town in a couple of hours. And, no, she also couldn’t be bothered to help with some stupid assignment. She had enough on her mind. But he was very attractive and the longer she stood there the more she felt her resolve slipping. She bit her lip. Walk away, she thought.

“What assignment?” she heard herself say.

The man pulled out a battered roll of foolscap papers from his back pocket and waved it vaguely. “It takes about six minutes to answer,” he said with a pleading look. He glanced around quickly then back to her. “I’ll loan you the pen. I’ll even buy the coffee.”

Riley sighed. Why did she allow herself to do these things? Helping anyone always bit you in the bum later. Ignore him and walk away.

“I take cream and sugar,” she said.

“There’s a snack bar just down in the commuter rail section. I’ll carry your bag.”

Riley didn’t refuse. The words were on her lips but wouldn’t come out. He pulled the strap deftly off her shoulder and hoisted it over his own. She didn’t even want to stop him. “Wow, you must be strong,” he said, before turning quickly and heading off.

Riley stifled down the little flip of pleasure and followed as he wove his way through the crowd. She tried to generate a measure of annoyance and focused on the highhanded manner in which he’d pried her backpack from her. Her purse was in that satchel. If he chose to run off with all her worldly possessions, she’d never be able to stop him. The last month would seem like a day in the park compared to being stranded in Toronto without any money, identification or change of clothes. Why wasn’t she more concerned? She reached out and snatched one of the straps.

“Here we are,” the young man said as he veered into a cluster of plastic tables and chairs of a small café next to an emergency exit. He dropped her bag on an empty chair and called over his shoulder. “Want anything to eat?”

Riley shook her head and sat down slowly. She pulled her knapsack onto her lap. What on earth was she doing?

The man was back in a moment carrying two Styrofoam cups. He placed one in front of her, sat down and pried the lid off his own. His eyes closed with pleasure as he took a long sip. “I love this stuff,” he said unnecessarily.

Riley left the lid on hers. Women got drugged and kidnapped all the time in big cities. He didn’t look like the type but one could never be too careful.

“My name is Darius Finn.” The young man stretched his hand out to shake hers.

She swallowed the sigh as she clasped his hand briefly. “So what’s this questionnaire you want me to answer?”

Darius smoothed the pages out on the stained table, seemingly oblivious to the crumbs and coffee stains. He took another mouthful of coffee before giving her a look that made her toes curl. “I’ll read them out to you. Okay? Ready? Number one: Have you ever been the victim of attempted murder?”

Riley shot to her feet. Her heart zoomed up into her throat. She backed away, knocking over the chair with a clatter. Several patrons turned to stare.

“How did you know?” she breathed. She looked around quickly. She hadn’t told anyone. “How did you–”

“I know who you are, Riley.” Darius’ voice dropped. The aquamarine eyes bore into her like lasers. “I know what happened. I’m here to warn you. They won’t miss again.”

“No, no …” Riley turned. The world was closing in on her. It felt like she couldn’t breathe. She backed away another few steps, then turned, grabbed her bag and ran.

Darius shouted. Riley didn’t hear the exact words but she felt an inexplicable mental tug. She ignored the compulsion to go back. All that was important now was getting away. Again.

Holding her bag tightly in her arms, she ran through the commuters, dodging and darting, without once looking behind. Forget the CN tower. Where the hell was Track seven?

He was behind her, catching up quickly with his much longer legs. She heard him call her name.

Run, she admonished herself. A stitch caught in her side. She gasped with pain but didn’t slow down. There were too many people and she couldn’t see the signs for the track she wanted. She’d have to disappear instead.

As if her prayers were answered, the crowd around her parted for a second and revealed the subway entrance. Decision instantaneously made, she turned and dove through the doors, across the outside corridor and down the stairs. She nearly collapsed at the tollbooth. Panting, she struggled to balance her knapsack on the turnstile while she rummaged in the front pocket of her jeans for a couple of toonies. Never had she cursed the tightness of her jeans, as she did now.

The coins slipped into her shaking fingers. She dumped them on the little tray. “Keep the change,” she directed the clerk before shoving the turnstile forward and entering the subway.

She permitted herself a glance behind.

Darius Finn was taking the steps two at a time. He was staring right at her. He nearly knocked over a teenage boy who was shuffling up the steps. The boy turned and shouted “Hey!” before a look of incredulity crossed his face. Then the crowd swallowed him up and he was lost to Riley’s view.

She didn’t bother to hang around. She ran down the escalator, pushing past people with no regard for their disgruntled comments, and entered the platform. There was no train.

Crap.

There weren’t many people and all of them seemed to be intently reading the newspaper and frowning. The wide platform stretched ahead, but other than a couple of graffiti-covered pillars, there was nothing to hide behind. She knew that running down the tracks was a very stupid idea. There didn’t seem to be another exit.

A tall, well-dressed woman stepped out from the cluster of commuters facing the open track. She turned and stared at Riley with dead eyes. The hair rose on Riley’s arms and on the back of her neck as if an icy breeze had sprung up all around her. Oh no. Not again.

The woman began to walk towards her, the high heels clicking hollowly on the tiled floor. Time seemed to slow down.

It was just like at home. The woman, the concert, the panic. All over again. Riley shook her head and backed away. Her damp palms clutched the knapsack to her chest like a talisman.

The woman opened her designer purse and pulled out a tiny gun.

Riley’s breath caught in her chest. She couldn’t wrench her eyes away from the silver weapon.

Darius grabbed her from behind. She screamed.

Riley struggled but Darius’ arms were like steel bands around her. “Stop fighting me, you fool. I’m here to help you,” he muttered as he practically lifted her off her feet. He yelled at the woman. “Give it up. She’s mine.”

No one else on the platform seemed to notice what was going on. It was like one of those weird dreams, where everyone goes about their business while something terrible is happening.

“Ow! Riley, cut it out.” Darius twisted her to the side so that he could face the woman unobstructed as Riley’s heel connected sharply with his shin. He was trying to reach something in his pocket but Riley’s hip was in the way. “Keep your distance,” he shouted at the advancing assailant.

“I don’t fear you, Guardian.” The woman spoke in a heavy, low voice that didn’t suit her. “The Potential is mine.” She didn’t stop walking. There were only a few metres between them.

Riley twisted desperately. Her heart was pounding so hard in her ears she could barely hear what Darius and the woman were saying. A slight breeze brushed her bangs off her forehead: a subway train was approaching. Darius managed to pull something out of his pocket that Riley couldn’t see.

“Hey!”

Riley glanced back at the shout. Running down the stairs was the gangly teenager Darius nearly knocked over entering the subway station. He was pointing right at Darius. “Hey, I want to talk to you.”

The woman was almost within touching distance but she had stopped and was staring up the stairs, a look of pure malevolent cunning upon her face. The overhead lights glinted off the silver of the gun. “Two for one,” she said.

Darius twisted around, thrusting Riley almost in the other direction. He swore.

A blast of cool air whipped up debris and dust.

The boy leaped the last few steps and landed breathless beside them.

Something white flashed from Darius’ hand towards the woman. The woman cried out and stumbled backwards.

Darius didn’t hesitate. He lunged towards the boy, grabbed him around the waist, knocking him off his feet.

The woman regained her balance and, snarling, raised her gun.

Darius, carrying both Riley and the teenage boy, dashed across the several paces of platform and jumped into the train track chasm.

Riley was too shocked to even yell. They hit the ground with a thud then rolled in a heap against the wall next to an outside rail. Riley was momentarily winded. Darius and the boy fell against her. Panicked that she might touch the live middle rail of the subway, she pulled her feet up as fast as she could. There was no time to worry about anything else as her attention was diverted the moment she looked upwards.

The bright light of the subway train was hurtling towards her. She was seconds away from certain death.

A jagged, tingling sensation ran through her body, starting where Darius held her and spreading outwards. There was a sharp tug, as if she were jerked by invisible hands.

Then everything around her disappeared.