Aaaaaand the next one! Thanks to those who made it past the first chapter, I know it's slow...
Purple Knights and talking mirrors
For a moment I am relieved to be out of that alleyway, and feeling the air rushing past my face as the shadow of a man in front of my navigates us through the back streets of Camden. The surreality of it sends adrenaline rushing through my body. But then my arm flies out to steady myself as we make another sharp turn, and I see blood from the deep cut on my forearm spatter the walls of the narrow street – and I am shocked back in to reality. I dig my heels in abruptly, causing the man, Sirius, to jerk back, and I fight, pushing my palms against him and squirming, shrieking, trying to free myself from his vice-like grip on my wrist. He lets me struggle for a moment, seemingly surprised, and then loses patience. He shakes me so hard I feel my teeth rattle and I close my eyes, sobbing.
"Look at me" I hear it even though it's barely more than a growl. I open my eyes and want to shut them again because his face is inches away from mine, and there's a fury and desperation in his eyes that makes me cringe. I hiccup as more tears run down my face, but his expression just hardens even further.
"You're going to fucking co-operate, Analeigh Grayson, because I just left behind my closest friend to get you to safety. And if you don't, I'll leave you behind and go back to him, and I don't give three shits who finds you. Am I clear?"
I swallow hard, still holding his gaze. He knows my name he knows my name he knows my name. I wonder what else he knows. My brain clears slightly. I weigh up my options. His grip on my arm is still hard as steel. There'll be bruises there tomorrow. Pissing him off is achieving nothing. And he did get me away from those two men in black robes, albeit somewhat reluctantly. I look away, nod once and bite my lip, letting tears continue to run down my cheeks. He takes the acceptance, snorts, turns around and begins to stride down the deserted street, not as fast as before but still dragging me along behind him.
The clacking of my heels seem to echo in the silence. I muster my courage to stutter out "Umm…I…where – where are we going then?"
"We're taking a bus" he replies shortly, not looking at me. We turn another corner and he looks up and down the street, and comes to a halt so abruptly I stumble into him. He spares me one glare and pulls a baton out of his pocket. Involuntarily I flinch away, my mind goes blank with fear and I squirm again in his grip. His gaze flashes towards me, and I think I imagine it but maybe his eyes soften slightly.
"I'm just calling our ride," he says lowly, turning his gaze back to the street, and sticks out his arm with the baton from the curb, as if hailing a taxi. For a moment there's nothing. I begin to wonder if this is all a sick joke, but the drip drip drip of my bloody arm tells me otherwise. I look at it idly – there's so much blood you can't see the tan skin of my arm anymore, and I feel slightly faint so I look away again. Sirius is watching me but doesn't say anything. That's when the street light above us starts to flicker ominously. Really, it's like something out of a movie. And then with a BANG a violently purple bus comes from out of nowhere, careening up the street, and lurches to a halt right in front of us.
I'm frozen in place gawping up at the golden shimmering letters on its side that read The Knight Bus, but Sirius lets go of my arm and approaches it, as a conductor in an equally violent purple uniform hops down from the door and begins to speak with a Cockney twang,
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wiz – "
"Yeah yeah" says Sirius irritably, interrupting the conductor and walking briskly towards the door. He digs around in his pockets and shoves a handful of what looks like solid gold into the conductor's affronted face, which immediately changes to a grin at the sight of money. "We need to go to Stonehaven, as close to Dunnotar Castle as you can get us".
"In a rush then? Alright alright le' me just git your change then sir" says the conductor, turning back around.
"Take us there first and you can keep the change", barks Sirius, stepping on to the bus. He stops for a second, and whirls around to face me. It's as if my feet are rooted to the ground. Every piece of common sense that has been instilled in me since childhood is telling me (in my mother's voice) don't you dare get on that bus. You won't be able to get off. It could take you anywhere. Run. Go home. Sirius seems to sense my dilema, and just as I'm starting to back away, jumps down again and propels me towards the door with a hand on my back. I want to fight but he mutters in my ear try anything and I'll knock you out, so I allow myself to be steered onto the strange Knight Bus, thinking it'd be more helpful for future escape plans to see where he's taking me. The slam of the doors as they shut behind us rings of terrible finality, and I see the conductor looking at me with a mix of horror and curiosity. I look down at my ruined dress and arm that is still weeping feebly with blood, and start to feel sick again, so I avert my gaze. I hear the clink of coins and Sirius saying to the conductor "That's for no questions", before I get a proper look at the interior of the bus. There's beds everywhere that look as if they were shifted suddenly, as the only other passenger on the bus is an old woman picking herself up gingerly from the floor. My brain is too exhausted to question this strangeness any further, so I let Sirius push me onto a bed and sit still as he takes a seat behind me.
"Hold on" is all he says before the bus gives an almighty lurch and we're rocketing down the street, swerving parked cars and lamposts that appear to jump out of the way and then
BANG.
Suddenly there is no city and the bus is rocketing down a country lane, and I'm thinking that I'd rather not see how close we are to hitting things, my brain can't take any more worry. So I turn my head away from the window and towards my sullen companion who I do not have the guts to ask "why Stonehaven, what could possibly be in Scotland?" because his eyes are still steel chips of grey and I know for some reason that rage is directed at least partly at me. He is digging through the pockets of his leather jacket and I get a chance to fully inspect him.
He is tall, I registered that subconsciously back in Camden, about 6'3", 6'4" maybe, enough to tower over me. His hair is a bit too long to be average, and straight with a slight wave, black as ink, resting messily in his eyes though he pulls his hand through it occasionally to clear his face. And his face – he is handsome, there's no denying it. If I'd seen him in a club I would probably have tried to make eye contact with him, see if he wants to buy me a drink…but as it is, I only register it as a physical description. He has an aristocratic look about him, and effortless elegance, like he could be from old money, or maybe even royalty. He would fit well in a Mayfair or Kensington club, I think idly. That thought brings me up sharply, and I gasp softly "Tom!"
Sirius pauses in his digging to glare at me. "Who?"
I turn to face him fully on the bed, suddenly filled with urgency. "My – friend…Tom, he was with me…in the bar, he won't know what's happened, will he be OK? Are the men after him too? You should've – "
His hand over my mouth cuts me off mid-rant, and his eyes are burning with sullen anger again.
"Shut your mouth before someone hears you" he seethes, looking subtly at the old woman on her bed, and the conductor up at the front. Neither of them look to be paying attention though. He continues, "You're not the only one worried for a friend".
He returns to his pockets, and I return to my silent observing. He seems to find what he is looking for, and pulls out a rather ornate mirror that looks far too large to fit comfortable into the pocket from which he pulled it. But I don't say anything. There are so many weird things happening if I question every one I think my head might explode. And the effects of being slammed into a wall multiple times are coming back to hurt – I rub the back of my head absent-mindedly. Sirius is staring intently into the glassy surface, his gaze roaming the reflection as if expecting to see something more. And he isn't disappointed. His hard expression shifts to one of relief as a different face appears in the glass. His friend, James, is in the mirror. With one quick glance to make sure the old woman is still sleeping, Sirius says "Alright Prongs, you OK?"
And James replies. I try to push the fact that they were communicating via mirror from my mind, so as to better understand the conversation. I just file it away with all the other strange happenings of the night to freak out about when I am more functioning and coherent.
"Yeah fine, I distracted Mulciber long enough for you two to get away, then disapparated myself. The bugger was tough though, tougher than usual. Did he…?"
The question hangs in the air. Sirius glances my way, so subtly I wouldn't have noticed but for the fact I'm staring at him. His eyes flash to my bloody arm and he turns back to the mirror nodding "Probably".
"Right, that explains it then" says James briskly. "Do you need any help? If you tell me where you are I can apparate over and – "
"Nah don't worry about it," says Sirius. "You apparating will just draw more attention to us. I'll stick to the plan, we're pretty well on schedule".
"Alright," James replied, though he looked doubtful.
"See you back at base then?"
"Yeah" Sirius grins, flashing shiny white teeth at the mirror as James' face is replaced by his own. He puts the mirror away, and I notice the tension that had previously been coiled into his body is all but gone. Suddenly, he turns to me, not quite smiling but with a softer face.
"OK this must all be completely confusing…" he starts, and I continue to stare at him like a lemon.
"But I'm not the right person to really explain it to you" he continues. His voice is gentler than before, like he's talking to a wounded animal. Which I suppose I kind of am. "That's for back at base. Right now all you need to know is that you're going somewhere safe. We have to take a rather convoluted route, just in case anyone's following us, and I can't just apparate, er…teleport?...us there, 'cause we don't know if they managed to put a trace on you. Traces can be activated by app – teleportation. So we're taking a long way. Stonehaven isn't our final stop, more of a diversion really. But you'll end up safe". He finishes somewhat awkwardly.
I continue to stare at him. Finally finding my voice, I say the only thing I can think of right now: "I want to go home", and begin to pull away from him, my breath picking up pace and I can feel the edges of a panic attack beginning to creep in on my consciousness. The rational part of me thinks about time, your fight-or-fight should have kicked in long ago, but he sees my response and grabs my shoulder to stop me pulling away. He puts his face next to mine and before I can object to this invasion of personal space I hear him whisper "Stop making this so difficult. We've risked a lot for this. I wouldn't expect you to understand but at least wait until you do. Now stop. Your. Crying." And I do, because there's a lace of anger back in his voice, and as he pulls away I see that his eyes are stone again.
Sighing heavily he reaches for my injured arm with one hand, and raises the baton in the other. Seeing me squirm away again at the sight of it, he tightens his grip but says calmly "I'm just going to bandage it. This here is called a wand. We do magic with it". I look at him dumbly but before I can react he is muttering words and there's a nice warm feeling on the cut in my arm. I look down and see white bandages snaking around it, binding tightly but not uncomfortably over the gash, and stopping the bleeding. Looking up to meet his eyes, I feel a sudden wave of lassitude has taken me, and it has all become too much. I think I knew that all along, the voice in my head says dully. The Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard, was what the conductor was saying. A wand, it makes sense…in a twisted sort of way. What else could explain this but magic. Seemingly sensing my exhaustion, Sirius lets me slip from his grip and fall sideways onto the bed, so that my legs hang off the side but my torso is lying down. The bus is still jerking and BANGing occasionally, but there is almost nothing I can do to keep the darkness from encroaching on my vision, and I welcome the relief from conscious thought.
