Don't Look Back by S. B. Hayes Page B

crawl through the gap and lay on the concrete staring up at the griffins. Harry’s face loomed somewhere above me, but his features were rippling as if he was underwater. My throat was making a horrible gasping sound. Momentarily I was back in my bedroom, staring at my pink lampshade and wondering why I couldn’t get my breath. Harry’s hand held mine and there was a pulling sensation on my arm as he dragged me to a sitting position.
    â€˜They came alive,’ I mumbled. ‘Everything came alive.’
    My vision began to clear, and Harry gave me an exasperated look. I stared at my hands and feet and then touched my head. There was no blood, no abrasions or any wounds that I could feel.
    â€˜Is my head all right? I mean, is it bleeding or … scratched?’
    He looked puzzled. ‘There isn’t a mark on you.’
    I examined my clothes. There weren’t any rips in them, yet I could still feel both my flesh and my clothes being torn apart. I pulled up my T-shirt. The skin was perfectly smooth and unbroken.
    â€˜What made you turn back?’ Harry asked.
    My breath was still ragged and my chest heaving. A sob welled deep inside and I tried to swallow it.
    â€˜I didn’t turn back, Harry. I reached the house … sorry I was so long. It took ages.’
    He shook his head at me in bemusement. ‘You really are weird, Sinead. You’ve only been gone for ten minutes. I barely had time to realize you weren’t there.’

Twelve
    I clutched my head. What was happening to me? It was one thing to mistakenly see a figure outside Patrick’s flat in the middle of the night, quite another to imagine being attacked and ripped apart by brambles. And what about the time issue? I was sure I had been gone for over an hour yet Harry claimed it was only ten minutes. A glance at my watch told me he was right. How could it be?
    â€˜Are you all right?’ Harry asked with concern. ‘You look a bit shaken.’
    â€˜I just … fell over a branch or something,’ I muttered.
    â€˜What’s it like in there? Have they seen Patrick?’
    I self-consciously pulled at my earring. ‘I didn’t get a straight reply, but he’s definitely been there.’
    â€˜How can you know?’
    I wormed my hand into my pocket and took out the medal. ‘I found this in the grounds. It’s Patrick’s Saint Christopher medal; I’d recognize it anywhere.’
    Harry rubbed the three-day growth on his chin. ‘Well, who did you speak to?’
    I gave a nervous cough. ‘The place is deserted and I only saw one person – a decrepit nun who was tight-lipped about giving up any information.’
    â€˜If you’re so sure Patrick’s been there, Sinead, we definitely should tell the police. Remember your time obsession? It’s almost three weeks since he disappeared.’
    This was the second time he’d suggested this. ‘Go to the police and tell them what? How threatening does this sound – an elderly nun is holding my six-foot-two, nineteen-year-old brother prisoner?’
    Harry ran one hand through his tangled hair. ‘You’re right. If he’s there, it has to be willingly.’
    His words suddenly made me remember something. ‘That nun – Sister Catherine – muttered this weird stuff about me not having been invited to the house, and then she said, “Remember you came of your own free will, Sinead.”’
    â€˜Why would she say that?’
    I braced myself, already anticipating Harry’s reaction. ‘I don’t know, but she said I could find the answers I wanted at Benedict House, if I … erm … worked there for fourteen days.’
    Harry’s eyes flared and he stared at me in total disbelief. ‘Tell me you’re joking?’
    I threw my hands in the air. ‘What other choice do I have? I thought you understood Patrick’s game. His SaintChristopher medal is