[13]

Once you know where you're going, traversing the London Underground is easy. Most of the time it's just a case of following the crowd and watching for signs pointing out the way to your platform. During off-peak hours it can be quite easy getting from one train to the next and you generally have plenty of space to move around and figure out your route. Trying to do that during rush hour however is an entirely different matter. Throughout those golden hours everything is a hundred miles an hour and there are quite literary thousands of people between you and your destination. In the morning it's because people are in a panic to get to work and any loss of time could be career ending. In the evenings it's because they want to get home as quick as a possible, so they have longer to relax and sleep before doing it all again the following day. Naturally everyone believes their journey is more important than anyone else's and heaven help the unlucky soul who gets in the way. Seriously, you could turn it into a spectator sport.

There are days when I'm thankful for not having a nine to five job. This however, was not one of those days.

Continuing the trend of constant paranoia, I made sure we switched trains every few stops, making it harder for anyone tracking us. If they couldn't tail us, then by switching trains it effectively meant they wouldn't be able to accurately guess as to where we were going. It gave us better than slim odds to get somewhere safe. So we rode the Northern Line a few stops to London Bridge, switched over to the Jubilee Line until we got to Green Park, moved to the Piccadilly Line to South Kensington and so on and so forth until we arrived at Victoria station.

"Come on," I said. "This is our stop."

The girl was so exhausted she just moved along with me, not saying a word. We got off the train and started following the crowd, blending in with the mass of commuters, a feat made easier by the black jacket I had had the forethought in grabbing. It was tough trying to act casual when every bump and shunt caused my body to scream in protest. I had to swallow down every urge to hurl a fireball at next person to push past us. Instead I just kept focused on moving forward, one foot after the other.

After several escalator rides we soon found ourselves walking towards the ticket barriers, and last I checked neither of us had been in the position to stop by one of the booths before boarding our train. I rummaged through the jacket pockets and came up empty. It seemed like it was worth a try. There were plenty of people about so I could have tried my luck at picking a pocket or two and make like Fagin, but it would have been pot luck getting my hands on one ticket, let alone two. Jumping the barrier was also out of the question. Forgetting about the fact that I have just been tortured for God knows how long, I had a traumatised girl with me plus I'd have station personnel on me before I made it anywhere near the exits. Yes I know how to fight, I've been train in several fighting styles, but I wasn't in any shape to start a brawl with people who didn't deserve it. I was running out of options and as we stepped towards the barriers I realised there was only one way out of this, I would need to use magic. I honestly didn't know how much there was left in the tank but I didn't see another way out of this situation without it.

I placed my hand on the front sensor, the one used by people with those pre-paid Oyster card things (Lou has tried explaining them to me and while I understand the concept, I don't see what's wrong with an old fashioned paper ticket). I stepped in front of the girl and began to gather my will. Immediately a heavy pressure began to build behind my eyes, stars swam through my vision and the weariness in my joints intensified. It was slow going by usual standards as it took me a good view seconds to pull the simple hex together, but as soon as I had enough I released it with a whisper of "Hauta."

My will flowed through my hand and into the barrier, leaving me quietly panting. Lights on the barrier's machinery began flashing green and red, the gates slammed open and closed several times until it died.

The sheer effort needed to cast the hex surprised me. Usually it wouldn't cost me any more energy than pulling the lid off a pen. Deep down a cold, rational part of me knew that I had just run out of gas. I had nothing left. I stood there panting, desperately fighting against the weariness that threatened to consume me when I felt a calm and soothing presence draw near. The girl had positioned herself under my arm, taking up some of my weight and helped me through the barriers. A sensation of warmth washed over me, spreading from the points of her touch and like before, all my worries and fears and troubles seemed light years away. My instincts screamed at me, telling me that focusing on the warmth was dangerous but it felt so good. It made me feel like everything was going to be ok, that the hurting would end. It made me feel safe.

But we weren't safe. We were being hunted and in my current state I wouldn't be able to do a thing to stop our pursuers if they found us. My head was telling me that we were all but defenceless but my heart wanted to embrace the nurturing warmth, believing in its protection. The most fundamental wars are that of heart against head. One telling you what feels right whilst the other tells you what's best.

But instead of making a decision I just focused on my feet, focused on keeping them moving, one step after the other. It was something I could control, something neutral that knew neither safety nor danger, and they would do whatever I told them to. Well, most of the time anyway. But most importantly it was something I knew was real. My feet were there and I knew I had to keep them moving, I knew that they were necessary to get me where we needed to go. As I put one foot in front of the other I could feel the internal struggle begin to fade away behind the cold certainty of my movement and I used it to help build a wall in my mind, locking away those doubts and false securities. As the only one of us not semi traumatised, it wouldn't do us any good for me to fall under any kind of mental influence.

So we walked. We left Victoria station and headed out into the city proper.

As we reached the exit, daylight flooded our vision. I winced away from the dazzling brightness and noted that the girl had the same reaction. As we were going through the station I never thought to look at a clock. Not surprising really as there were more pressing concerns. The rush hour crowd we had been hiding in had been the morning commute. Everyone around us was busy trying to get to work, which also explained the overwhelming aroma of coffee all around us. Now I had stopped to think about it and take in the details, everywhere you looked there was someone walking past with coffee in those cardboard cups of varying sizes and brands. I felt my mouth being to water at the smell. It had been far too long since I had been able to taste the sweet nectar that is coffee. I had money on me before I was abducted, which I can't say I was surprised to find was no longer the case, otherwise I would have got some for myself and the girl. I needed to come up with something better to call her other than 'The Girl'.

"So what should I call you?" I asked. My mouth operating completely without my brains permission.

"Hm? She murmured as she looked up at me, dazed and confused, her eyes trying to adjust to the light.

Well I had started the conversation so I may as well carry on. "What's your name? We've been kidnapped and tortured together, it seems kind of rude not to learn your name."

"E...Ellie." She said. She was still pretty out of it but the fact that Ellie was responding to me was a good sign.

"Well it's nice to meet you Ellie. I'm Gabriel but my friends call me Gabe."

She mumbled something else that I couldn't quite make out and I realised that I wasn't going to get much else out of her. I was surprised that she was still moving let alone coherent enough to tell me her name. There was nothing else for me to do now other than to keep us moving forward.

We went east out of the station, shuffling through the crowded London pavements. My body continued to protest the fact that I was keeping it moving and not curling up into a ball. The continuous jostling from the masses around wasn't helping matters much either, but still I kept us on our path as I lead us along Buckingham Palace Road. We crossed over at the lights and then continued heading east turning onto Lower Belgrave Street. Thankfully we were very close to our destination. On a normal day the walk from the station would only take a couple of minutes but under the circumstances it's not surprising that it took us nearly twenty. We rounded the corner onto Chester Square and walked up to a white three story house. It was massive, I mean I could fit my flat into the place five times over and still have space free for storage. Joining to the main structure was an extension that even from street level I could see housed a roof top garden. It was the type of place that I could never afford to live in even if I didn't spend a penny from now until the day I died after eight lifetimes. I felt poorer every second that went by.

I knocked on the front door and waited for a minute. Nothing. I knocked again, this time a little harder and then stepped back to wait. Still nothing. I pounded the door in desperation and just when my heart began to sink in hopelessness, I heard the sound of a latch starting to turn.

"Ok, ok," called a male voice from behind the door as it opened. "Bloody salesmen."

A man stood in the doorway, just under six foot in height with black hair shaven close to dark skin. Lines on his face gave the impression of a life well lived, full of love and laughter and pain and anger and all the emotions a human was capable of. The uneducated would mistake him for a man in his late forties, but he was much older than that, by at least a century.

"Look whatever you're selling I'm…" His rant trailed off as he saw me, eyes going wide with surprise. "My lord. Gabe?"

"Hi Joe," I said. "I need your help."