Page 52 of Break Out the Girl

17: LONDON

The red emergency light coats everything in a glare that has my nerves rattling.

It’s not like me to be so chickeny, but something about red-light bulbs has always given me the yikes.

I put it down to the school darkroom mishap.

Don’t mix fixers with an acid, kids.

I’d impart that wisdom to my current little buddy, but she’s got the eyes of a startled hare, and startled hares are never good at absorbing information.

Or being startled.

Or walking on their own, but that’s OK.

I’ve got impressive faun-muscles and carry her with just one arm. The little hare hasn’t told me her name, but one thing is for sure, it’s not ‘Sky’, sadly.

Shane informed me none of the kids we found are Kitten’s special friend. My stomach bottomed out at the news.

I so wanted to take Kitten her most-wanted present, but instead I’m like a Santa who shops in Poundland instead of a proper elf workshop.

The two little lasses clutching at my calves told us Sky, and the other kids, were taken off the ship a couple of hours ago. They don’t have any more scoop, but I’m guessing Coco and Bozo made off with them.

Those creepy clowns always liked to be in charge of the biggest sales.

Still, now is not a time for memory lane, the little gaggle of poor niblets we have collected are swaying on their little feet. “Cling on to my leg-hair, girls, don’t be shy.”

Girl-one told me her name was Pepper, and girl-two is Sheena.

Ricky sits by my feet.

Little Hare sleeps in my arms. And though my biceps are cozy, this whole scene isn’t the snuggliest place for a siesta, if I’m honest.

Crack, crack, crack.

More gunshots from outside.

Hurry along, Shane.

The ticks are tocking.

Ah! As if I conjured him, which maybe I did, I’m not quite sure about my faun-powers yet, Shane steps out through the waterproof door that leads to the engines. He wipes his hands in a way that makes me think he might have just crushed a skull or two.

Nice!

His dark eyes lock onto the curly hair of the girl cradled against my chest. “She breathing?”

“Yep, just needed a nap.”

The girl’s eyes flutter open for a second, glassy and entirely vacant from the heavy sedatives. “It’s OK, little pea, we’re getting you out of here.”

Four peas in my pod, but none of them a Sky-pea.

But seeing as their wee bodies will take up hardly any room on the dinghy, we decided to bring them along. I’d have been very happy to have been liberated by a marvelous faun back in the day.

But no such luck.

Still, one faun’s loss is another pea's gain. I think that’s the saying.