Dylan stood motionless in the dark of the train tunnel. Beside her, a boy who looked about the same age as Tristan shifted and fidgeted, but she ignored him. Her gaze was fixed dead ahead, where Tristan, her Tristan, was staring, mouth agape, at a pretty, dark-haired girl.
The rope that tethered them hung loosely in her hands, but Dylan hadn’t been the one to haul Tristan back to safety. She’d tried – God, she’d tried – but it had been ripping through her grip, skinning the palms of her hands. She’d been about to lose control of it when she was roughly shouldered aside and the girl – Susanna – took a much firmer, stronger hold and yanked Tristan back through. Just in time.
They were lucky. A second later, and Dylan would have lost him. A second later, and Tristan would have been caught in the blast. But watching the way the two of them were gazing at each other now, Dylan didn’t feel very lucky.
“Tristan?” she called hesitantly.
She wanted an explanation. She wanted to get between him and the girl.
“Stop!” Tristan shouted. “There’s a wraith!”
Dylan planted her feet, flicking her torch all over the tunnel. “Where?”
She hadn’t seen anything fly past her but then… she’d been distracted.
“It’s here.” The cause of her distraction took a step to the left and kicked at something on the dirt and gravel floor. Her voice was low and accentless, but strangely compelling. “It’s dead.”
Tristan sighed and leant against the wall of the tunnel. “It must have got caught by the blast. Here,” he gestured to a thick length of metal by Dylan’s feet. “Pass me that.”
She handed it to him wordlessly and, after climbing stiffly to his feet, Tristan lifted the hunk of steel above his head and smashed down with all his strength. There was no blood, but wisps started to appear above the two lifeless hunks. The four of them stepped back while the wraith disintegrated into a cloud of back poison.
There were a million questions running through Dylan’s head as she watched Tristan and the girl standing over the wraith, but first she had to check… “Did it work, Tristan?”
“I don’t know.” Tristan turned, facing the space where the tear was. Dylan noticed he was avoiding Susanna’s gaze. “One way to find out.”
Lifting both hands up, he felt for a change in the air, the subtle difference that denoted a move into the wasteland. For two, three cautious steps, he met with nothing. Nothing at all.
The portal to the wasteland had closed.
“I think we’ve done it!” Tristan said, continuing to poke and prod at the impenetrable doorway.
“Really?” Dylan stepped forward eagerly, but Tristan held out a hand to keep her back. “It’s OK – I don’t feel it like I did before. There’s no pull.” She came forward until she stood shoulder to shoulder with him, feeling for the veil herself. When she was done, she dropped her hand and very deliberately intertwined her fingers with his.
She took a moment to glance back and take in Susanna’s reaction. The tunnel was too dark to really see, but was that a hint of consternation on her face? Of jealousy?
Jack’s face, at least, was utterly blank. Uninterested. He stood beside Susanna, but somehow also apart. Dylan turned back to Tristan.
“We did it,” she whispered.
Tristan let go of her hand and went to his waist, where he began to work at the tight knot of rope around his middle. Dylan saw his fingers tremble slightly as he worked at the tangled mass. It had saved his life. If it hadn’t been tied around him…
The same thought seemed to occur to Tristan. He gave up untying himself and dragged her into a tight embrace.
“Tristan?” Dylan spoke tentatively, one of her hands stroking through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Who is—”
“You saved me,” he mumbled, his face buried in her neck. “If you hadn’t pulled on the rope, the wraith would have had me. I couldn’t fight it.”
“You would have.” Dylan tried to reassure him, but a hard lump set in her throat. He didn’t know. He didn’t know that she wasn’t the one who managed to yank him to safety. She could feel Susanna’s eyes on her – along with the inexplicable silence between this new girl and Tristan, even though they clearly knew each other.
“No,” Tristan denied. “I couldn’t get a hold of the wraith. And there were only seconds left on the bomb. If you hadn’t pulled me through, Dylan, if you—”
“It wasn’t me.” The truth came blurting out even though she tried to hold it in. “I didn’t save you.”
Tristan stiffened for a moment in her arms before drawing back. “What?”
“I didn’t save you,” Dylan repeated. “It was her.” The words tasted like ash in her mouth. “Susanna was the one to pull you back through.”
Detangling himself from Dylan, Tristan turned to Susanna. His real saviour. Then he repeated exactly what he’d said before, his voice holding the same stunned shock.
“Susanna. You’re here.”
Shock, Dylan thought, and something more.
“Let’s get out of the tunnel,” Tristan said. “Then we’ll talk.”