Chapter Four
Blaise is waiting outside for me when my shift ends. His dark eyes are amused as he sees takes in my rumpled look.
"How was work?"
"Not now."
He shrugs and falls silent.
Maybe the girl wasn't even a witch. Maybe she won't turn me in to the ministry. I wonder what they'll do to me for running. It will probably only affirm my guilt in their eyes.
Everyone who ever met me knows I'm a coward. That in and of itself should be enough proof of my- not innocence- I was a Death Eater. But it should prove that I don't deserve to die. Potter knows what Voldemort did. Not all of it, but I know he saw through the Dark Lord's eyes.
I should tell Blaise about what happened. We have to move, have to-
"Drey!"
I come out of my thoughts to find Blaise shaking me roughly.
"What? Don't yell."
"I've been trying to get you attention for five minutes. We're going through here."
He points to an alley that cuts between two streets we'd have to walk a long ways down otherwise. But there's no way I'm going through there. The resturaunt and the nicer part of town are far behind us. Anything could be hiding in the shadows, just waiting for a couple of defenseless idiots to come within reach.
"No way. I wouldn't walk through there even with a wand."
"Don't be a baby."
Blaise grabs my hand and drags me toward the alley. He never did listen to me. I think that's why he's my friend, rather than my lackey. The rest of them just bowed and scraped and did whatever I told them to.
It's dark in the twilight, and I can barely see Blaise just ahead of me. It's longer than I thought. We're only half-way through, and already the street light is just a dim memory.
A large hand wraps around my mouth, pulling me back against a rock-hard chest. I knew something like this would happen. I knew we shouldn't have gone through here.
Blaise has heard the my struggles. The whites of his wide eyes gleam in the darkness as he searches for some kind of weapon in the trash that litters the edges of the pavement.
"Let him go."
The voice, though quiet, holds authority. My captor raises an arm, and the dim, reflected light from the street beyond glints from something metal in his hand. Pressed this close against his body though, I can feel him trembling. He's afraid.
A darker shadow emerges from the night. The metal is jerked from the man's hand. He stumbles, off balance. Falling beneath him, I reach out a hand to protect my face. He's heavy. Something cracks loudly as I hit the ground, and fire runs up my wrist.
"Is he always like this?"
Through the agony, I hear a dry, somehow familiar voice.
"Mostly."
Something cool wraps around my wrist and flows throught the shrieking nerves in my arm. I don't realize I'm making noise until Blaise slaps me.
"Merlin, Drey, shut up! You'll wake the dead moaning like that."
"That's an odd expression."
I knew I recognized that voice. The girl from the resturaunt. If she didn't know before, she does now. Her tone is exited and longing.
"Who are you?"