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The driver nodded curtly and slammed the door. Seconds later, the carriage jerked forward. Angry shouts followed as we drove away, but they fell behind us as the driver brought the horses to a trot.
Graham sighed and sank into his seat. “Thank you.”
I looked at him curiously, wondering why he hadn’t brought up my crimes. He couldn’t bethatpolite.
“Did you happen to, uh, read the papers today?” I asked. “Or yesterday?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. They’re all talking about how useless I am, aren’t they?”
I stared at him in disbelief. “So, you haven’t been following the news?”
He shook his head. “Why would I? I was there for my mother’s dreadful speech. I’m not interested in reading about it.”
“And has she said . . . anything?”
“She told me I couldn’t leave the house and that the city’s not safe right now, but otherwise, I’ve been keeping my distance. She’s particularly paranoid at the moment, which makes her especially controlling.”
I nodded, glad I wouldn’t have to deal with his questions—yet. But my trouble was far from over. Mrs. Whitting had most likely sent every Enforcer at the library after me. I gripped the side of the carriage as we took a sharp turn.
“We need to get out,” I said.
“What do you mean?” asked Graham. “We just got in.”
“We’re being followed.”
“Are you sure?”
In reply, I pulled on a cord that hung from the ceiling. A bell jingled and the carriage came to an abrupt halt. I moved the curtain aside. We had stopped in front of a church with a tall steeple and a laurel wreath engraved above the doors. The street was just busy enough for me to have a shot at blending in.
“Pay the driver and meet me inside.” I opened the door and jumped out, making my way toward the church.
When I reached the black arched doors, I turned an aged brass knob and pushed them open, slipping into a deserted chapel. Soft light floated through faded stained-glass windows, casting a misty glow on the empty pews. A portrait of Kendrick Irvine hung in front of a row of altars. The eerie silence fell heavily on my ears, but the stone floor hummed with a faint vibration from the rushing world outside.
I stepped into the aisle hesitantly, feeling more like an intruder than ever.
ChapterSixteen
A warm handtouched my shoulder and I pulled back. I hadn’t noticed Graham enter the church.
“Sorry.” He pulled his hand back to his side. “I’m indebted to you. I don’t know how to express it.”
He wouldn’t have been grateful had he known my true motives, but I could almost fool myself into believing I did it for him. Now that the fear from minutes ago seemed so far away, my mood began to lift.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I said. “Now you’re stuck hiding out with me until those parasites find something else to do.”
He smiled fully, revealing the elusive dimple on his cheek. “That doesn’t sound so terrible.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Let’s find somewhere we—you—can be safe.”
“This chapel seems quite safe,” he said. “I don’t think journalists will be bold enough to charge through its doors.”
“Let’s not take our chances.”
“I’d rather not go back outside just yet,” he said.
“I’m not suggesting we go out. Let’s go up.”
“Up?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.
