as he knelt and touched Eilidh’s neck. Her pulse was strong, faster than he would have expected, but she was alive. Standing and turning slowly, Munro listened. He couldn’t hear a sound from the trees, not so much as the peep of a mouse or a rustle of wind.
He glanced down and saw Eilidh move. She groaned and her eyelids fluttered, but she did not speak.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Cursing that he had no phone and no car, he slipped his arm underneath hers. A few blocks to the north, he would find a pub with a telephone. He could call a taxi from there.
Although she had a slight build, Eilidh was solid and heavier than she first appeared. Rather than throw her over his shoulder, he tried to carry her as though propping up a drunken friend. People would accept the latter without question, but a burly guy carrying a woman fireman-style? That might draw second looks. When a taxi finally picked them up, the driver seemed concerned that he’d have to clean up after a couple of drunks. Munro stuck a twenty in the driver’s hand up front, so at least he wouldn’t worry about them skipping out on the fare.
The night was nearly gone by the time they made it into Munro’s house. Eilidh still had not regained consciousness. She groaned and muttered, but seemed stuck in a nightmare from which she couldn’t wake.
He carried her inside and laid her on his bed, removing her strange leather shoes. He took off his own shoes and shirt and stretched his aching back. It had been a long, tiresome night. He worried about Eilidh, about the case, and about the undiscovered body over at the Grammar.
Exhaustion overtook him. He thought about bunking on the sofa, but wanted to be close in case Eilidh woke up. The last thing he needed was to discover she’d climbed out the window again. He still didn’t know why she’d done that, and they hadn’t spoken of it. When they saw each other at the school, the awkwardness disappeared in the face of other important matters. Now that they were alone and the urgency had passed, he feared the strained feeling would return the second she woke up.
He watched her in the moonlight, her small mouth slightly open and her long white lashes fluttering. He wished he could reach into her nightmare and make it stop. All he could do was hold her hand and whisper goodnight, hoping she would wake in the morning.
Chapter 10
A loud ringing caused Eilidh to wake with a start. It took her a moment to recognise Munro’s bedroom. She lay on his bed, fully dressed and alone, although the rumpled linens told her he must have lain next to her.
She heard voices down the hall. Slipping on her shoes, she stepped into the corridor and crept closer to the source of the sounds. She saw Munro’s visitor through the glass-paned interior door that led into the living room, but unfortunately, it kept her from catching every word, even with her excellent hearing.
A man wearing a police uniform sat in one of the large padded seats humans seemed to prefer in their homes. Eilidh could detect the scent of fried food, sweat, and cigarettes lingering near the entryway. The visitor’s voice was low, nearly a whisper, and he seemed serious and tense. Eilidh could not see Munro’s face, because he sat with his back to her, but she noticed how they leaned forward when they talked.
They spoke about the previous night’s death, and it frustrated her that she couldn’t make out more. She didn’t know how humans could stand to live in these box-houses, where they couldn’t feel the sun and rain or hear the wind.
Just as she was calculating whether she would be able to hear better from the kitchen, Munro’s guest stood. When he did, their eyes met. Eilidh panicked and took a step back. How could she be so stupid and slow as to let someone see her here? But if she ran, would that look worse?
The guest gestured toward her and said something to Munro, who stood. She
He glanced down and saw Eilidh move. She groaned and her eyelids fluttered, but she did not speak.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Cursing that he had no phone and no car, he slipped his arm underneath hers. A few blocks to the north, he would find a pub with a telephone. He could call a taxi from there.
Although she had a slight build, Eilidh was solid and heavier than she first appeared. Rather than throw her over his shoulder, he tried to carry her as though propping up a drunken friend. People would accept the latter without question, but a burly guy carrying a woman fireman-style? That might draw second looks. When a taxi finally picked them up, the driver seemed concerned that he’d have to clean up after a couple of drunks. Munro stuck a twenty in the driver’s hand up front, so at least he wouldn’t worry about them skipping out on the fare.
The night was nearly gone by the time they made it into Munro’s house. Eilidh still had not regained consciousness. She groaned and muttered, but seemed stuck in a nightmare from which she couldn’t wake.
He carried her inside and laid her on his bed, removing her strange leather shoes. He took off his own shoes and shirt and stretched his aching back. It had been a long, tiresome night. He worried about Eilidh, about the case, and about the undiscovered body over at the Grammar.
Exhaustion overtook him. He thought about bunking on the sofa, but wanted to be close in case Eilidh woke up. The last thing he needed was to discover she’d climbed out the window again. He still didn’t know why she’d done that, and they hadn’t spoken of it. When they saw each other at the school, the awkwardness disappeared in the face of other important matters. Now that they were alone and the urgency had passed, he feared the strained feeling would return the second she woke up.
He watched her in the moonlight, her small mouth slightly open and her long white lashes fluttering. He wished he could reach into her nightmare and make it stop. All he could do was hold her hand and whisper goodnight, hoping she would wake in the morning.
Chapter 10
A loud ringing caused Eilidh to wake with a start. It took her a moment to recognise Munro’s bedroom. She lay on his bed, fully dressed and alone, although the rumpled linens told her he must have lain next to her.
She heard voices down the hall. Slipping on her shoes, she stepped into the corridor and crept closer to the source of the sounds. She saw Munro’s visitor through the glass-paned interior door that led into the living room, but unfortunately, it kept her from catching every word, even with her excellent hearing.
A man wearing a police uniform sat in one of the large padded seats humans seemed to prefer in their homes. Eilidh could detect the scent of fried food, sweat, and cigarettes lingering near the entryway. The visitor’s voice was low, nearly a whisper, and he seemed serious and tense. Eilidh could not see Munro’s face, because he sat with his back to her, but she noticed how they leaned forward when they talked.
They spoke about the previous night’s death, and it frustrated her that she couldn’t make out more. She didn’t know how humans could stand to live in these box-houses, where they couldn’t feel the sun and rain or hear the wind.
Just as she was calculating whether she would be able to hear better from the kitchen, Munro’s guest stood. When he did, their eyes met. Eilidh panicked and took a step back. How could she be so stupid and slow as to let someone see her here? But if she ran, would that look worse?
The guest gestured toward her and said something to Munro, who stood. She
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