Thicker Than Blood
Chapter Three
The station will brimming with people, all shoving rudely and babbling incessantly, their constant chatter creating a droning hum that threatened to burst her eardrums with its increasing intensity.
Robin walked as quickly as she could through the mass of people, desperately trying to keep up with Amon's long-legged strides. She focused on his shaggy black mane of hair that stood nearly a head and shoulder higher than everyone else around them.
He stopped suddenly, and she came to a halt behind him, discreetly pressing herself against him. One of the attendants beside the train approached, and Amon began conversing with him in easy English.
Robin had always wondered how Amon could know so many different languages. She knew he spoke Japanese, but he also spoke fluent English with no trace of an accent. During their travels together, she had found that he spoke a variety of languages – French, German, Spanish, Chinese, Russian, Arabic, and even a touch of Shona. She had noted, with a slight smugness, though, that he had never learned to speak Italian.
He started moving again, and she pushed her weary legs to keep up. They had been speed walking through the bustling London crowds since their arrival at the airport early in the morning.
"Amon?"
He did not answer, but she saw his head tilt slightly.
"How much farther?"
"Our train departs from Platform 10," he answered. "We're almost there."
She nodded and matched his stride.
She glared at her reflection in the side of a train as they passed it. Amon had purchased a set of traveling clothes for her earlier in the year – a pair of baggy jeans, a huge t-shirt, and a ball cap. She looked more like a teenage boy than a nearly sixteen year old witch, which was undoubtedly the point. She felt lost in the clothes, though. She had to wear a belt to keep the pants from sliding off, and even with the belt, they felt so loose that they threatened to drop at any moment.
She turned her attention back to Amon and gasped.
Lost in her thoughts, she had slowed considerably. Amon was no longer in front of her.
Don't panic, her mind said. Platform 10. The train leaves from Platform 10. Just get there, and you'll find him.
She calmed her racing heart and walked quickly toward the obvious number 10 hanging from the rafters near the waiting train. She passed Platform 9 but stopped in between the signs.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tall, dark-haired man moving toward the back of the crowd. He was taller than the people around him, dressed all in black, and his black shaggy hair seemed in desperate need of a comb.
Amon she wondered. Where are you going?
She glanced toward the train at Platform 10 and then back at Amon, and with a sigh she raced after her warden. She pushed through the crowds as she made her way to where she had seen him, but when she reached the red brick support, he was no where in sight.
"Amon?" she called out lightly, hoping that his extra sensitive hearing would alert him to her presence.
But he never came.
A chill shivered down her spine, but she ignored it and kept scanning the crowd. Amon was so tall that his head should have been visible above the crowd.
And surely he would not have gotten on the train without me.
She took a step back to lean on the support – and landed squarely on her rump.
She sat in stunned silence for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what had happened, until she slowly realized that the drone of the crowd no longer seemed so deafening.
She looked to her left and stared blankly at the brick support.
"I was sure I was standing in front of it," she muttered, reaching out and setting her hand on the bricks.
Her heart stopped as her hand passed through them!
Robin gasped and scrambled to her feet, staring at the bricks, and she cried out as she backed into something hard. "Watch it, stupid!" She whirled around, her face pale, and locked eyes with a slender young man with cold eyes.
"Are you dense or something?" he snapped, taking in her appearance with one sharp look. "Watch where you're going."
"S—sorry," Robin stuttered, her entire frame trembling under his steely gaze.
With a disgusted snort, the boy brushed past her, the sweet breeze barely ruffling his gelled white hair.
She watched him walk toward the train waiting at the center of the station. Robin gaped in awe at the old steam engine. A sign hung on the front of it, boasting in big, bright letters, Hogwarts Express. She looked up and stared at the sign hanging from the side of the pillar.
"Platform nine and three quarters?" she whispered. "What is this?"
A flash of black drew her attention back toward the train where Amon was moving toward its back end.
"Amon!" she called out.
He did not turn. Certainly he would have heard her that time. She watched in horror, though, as he turned. His face was pale and stern, and his nose was long and humped in the middle. His eyes were cold and black, and his mouth was set in a grim line.
It wasn't Amon.
"Oh, no," Robin whispered.
"Hey!"
Robin turned around, fearful of another lecture. A small young woman with frizzy brown hair and bright blue eyes was smiling at her.
"You look lost," she said. "I bet you are."
"Yes. I—I—"
"No need to explain. First years get lost all the time. It's all quite a shock, I'm sure you know, and this whole situation is strange, being called back to school and all. But I'm certain that there's a reason for it. Professor Dumbledore never does anything without a reason."
"Professor Dumbledore?"
The girl regarded her quietly for a moment. She shrugged, more to herself, and took Robin's hand. "You're a witch, aren't you?" she asked in all seriousness.
Robin felt the room beginning to spin as panic settled firmly in her heart.
How does she know that? She can't tell by looking, can she? Amon, where are you?
"Well?" the girl asked. "Are you or aren't you?"
"I am."
"Good," the girl laughed and started pulling her toward the train. "That means that you belong with us."
"I do?"
"Of course, you do. From the note we got, no witch or wizard is safe right now. That's why we're all going back to school."
"School?"
"You are new, aren't you?" the girl laughed and dragged her on the train. "But that's all right. You're not the first witch to find all this shocking. I was amazed when I saw it too, although I'd been preparing for it for a while."
"You?" Robin stammered. "You are a witch?"
"Of course," the girl responded. "Everyone here is either a witch or a wizard."
"Everyone?" Robin's gaze moved from person to person through the whole crowd of people surrounding the old train.
"Goodness," the girl rolled her eyes, "what did you think you were going to find? Do you need someone to sit with? It can be a terribly long trip without someone to talk to. I usually sit with Ron and Harry. They're a little strange, but what boys aren't, right?"
Robin allowed herself to be pulled on board the train and deposited in a room. She still gaped in awe at her new friend.
I shouldn't be here, her mind said. I should tell her. But how can I tell her? I don't even know who she is. Amon says that we shouldn't trust anyone. Amon. He's bound to be worried. He'll be so angry.
Robin was startled from her thoughts as the girl handed her a strange orange drink and smiled beautifully.
They're all witches?
It was hopeless.
Amon stood on the empty platform, grinding his teeth and clenching his fists. He had searched the train – the whole train – twice for her, and he had not found her. He had looked through the crowd three times, and he had not found her.
She was gone.
At first a part of him had been angry. She knew better than to run off. But as he continued to search and continued to find no trace of her, something deep inside him began to ache with fear.
Where is she? he thought frantically.
He could not ask an attendant. The reason he had purchased the disguising travel clothes for her was to detract from attention. The last thing he needed to do was ask if someone had noticed her.
He had stood in helpless agony as the train filled with people and departed. Now he stood alone underneath the Platform 10 sign, trying to think of a plan. He took one last long glance around the station, and, seeing nothing, he started toward the exit.
He stopped on the front walk, listening to the cars go by. Where had she gone? More importantly, why had she gone?
As he stood still, watching, a passing vehicle immediately caught his sharp, gray eyes.
A large van.
Black. No windows.
Almost military in design.
His heart clenched in his chest.
SOLOMON, his mind hissed. SOLOMON is here. Nagira, you fool.
He watched the van stop at a light.
Robin, his heart hissed. They got Robin.
The light changed, and the van began to move. Amon jumped off the stairs and flagged a cab. He climbed in.
"Follow that black van," he ordered. "Now."
The cabbie, immediately intimidated by his passenger's steely gaze and dark voice, did not argue but raced after the van.