I groan quietly as I regain conscienceness, feeling the pain return across my body, but my main concern is my head. I can barely hold it up as I blink my eyes open to look around. The air smells musty, like this area hasn't been used for several months, and the missing boards of wood from the walls suggests further that it's fallen into disrepair. I'm not an expert on the Victorian age, but I'm fairly sure their basements and warehouses weren't made from wood which narrows the field of where I am considerably.

I feel like there is someone else here, somebody watching me from the shadows. I attempt to reach into my pocket for my phone, but my hands are tied behind me with thick rope which digs into my skin.

I enhale some dust as I try to breathe, and I splutter as the tiny particles choke me.

"Sophie?" somebody calls, and my ears begin to ring. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think so," I call back. I can accept why somebody may want to take me - because of ransomes and other factors which are common at this time - but why take my dad as well? It doesn't make any sense. "I swear I am never getting into another cab." Dad chuckles quietly.

"Yes, that job certainly seems to attract a certain type of person."

"So where are we?" I question, looking around.

"Surely you can answer that," he challenges and I roll my eyes.

"Concrete ground and wooden walls suggests that we are in a barn, which means we're no longer in London."

"Good ..." dad urges, looking for more.

"This barn obviously hasn't been used for a while," I continue, squinting as I look around the building. "But there are unopened crates over in the corner which means it's used for storage. I thought originally the air was musty, but there's something else that I was missing. In those crates are bottles of alcohol, but they would still be drinkable, which means the owner had no use for them, he was bankrupt and lost his business then. The men who took me were unemployed of any job I could recognise, but I didn't make the connection that they may have been working for someone else. They didn't take me on a whim as I originally thought, otherwise they wouldn't have taken us both, which means they know that we aren't from this time. They've taken us to a farm which means we're obviously out of London, but what if it's more than that? What if the angels are keeping certain humans alive on the agreement that they take the future kind to the farm. A farm where we're the livestock."

"Well done," dad compliments. "But I think we know enough to know that we have to escape." I nod in agreement, ignoring the fact that we can't see each other.

"These ropes are too tight for me to undo," I admit as I fiddle with the knots.

"We're in a barn," dad reminds me, and I smile at my stupidity.

"Of course!" I nudge my chair closer to the walls. A barn always contains something sharp, which is why children aren't allowed to go in unattended, but it also means that we'll be able to cut through the rope.

"I've found something," dad calls out, and I hear the slice as the metal cuts through cleanly. "Where are you?"

"Your eleven o'clock," I guess, judging on his voice. "I'd say thirty paces." He sees me as he steps into the light.

"Right, hold still."

"Like I can do otherwise," I mutter, smirking. He glares at me for a moment.

"I could leave you here," he tells me, a smile creeping through his poker face.

"You wouldn't," I dare and he chuckles, bending down behind me to cut through my bonds.

"I know," he mutters as the rope fall to the ground, and he helps me stand up. I fall against him as my head swirls, making me dizzy. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"My head hurts," I admit. "I must have hit it when I fell." It's not just my head either. Looking down, I can see the cuts from the glass more clearly and I can see where the blood has soaked through onto my shirt, which isn't good if we're trying to stay unnoticed.

"Not much we can do about it here," dad says grimly. "Might have to wait until we get back into London." I nod in acknowlegment and smile, trying to conceal the amount of pain I'm in.

"I can wait. I can also walk, so we may as well start."