over the mucky ground. I drop my head and start to cry softly to myself, knowing I’ll have to straighten up in little time. I can’t believe it’s true. I can’t believe I’ve lost C.L. After all the things that have happened.
I can’t believe the void in my heart, for a man I barely knew.
“What’s this mutiny!” I hear someone scream.
I twist my head round. The fog is too dense to make out anything. “C.L.?” I shout. “Is that you?” A wisp of blackish-grey smoke trundles past, twisting and sweeping over the landscape in front of me. Then, like smoke over fire, disturbed by wind, it bends and sweeps past me again.
“Careful, miss,” Sadar hollers up from his train car. “Remember, the Infirmed can throw their voices.”
“No,” I say, slowing the horses to a crawl. “No, it’s C.L. It’s him.” I stand, hand to my eyes, squinting, searching the clouds for any faint sign of a figure. Something howls, and my heart plunges to my knees. Perhaps Sadar is right. The Infirmed. They do prey on your deepest desires. I wave my hand through the cloud cover, not willing to give up on C.L. just yet. “Ernest, is it you?” I’ve never called him that before—but I figure if I do, he’s sure to answer.
The black entity curls past me again. Out of the stream a face appears, white vapour through the curling, dark mist. The piercing eyes of a ghoul stare through me like burning fire. It bares teeth as sharp as pins.
“Oh, God! It’s not him!” I fall back into my seat, bringing the reins down hard. The horses leap forward, apparitions whirling round my head. The horses spook and rear. I fight to get them down on the ground and moving. We shoot forward through the chanting mist, apparitions forming all around us.
“Wait!” I hear someone calling but don’t look back. “Wait! Please, Eyelet, it’s me!” It’s a ruse. It’s not true. The Infirmed are trying to fool me. I mustn’t listen to them.
“Eyelet!” The voice calls again.
What’s going on? What’s happening? The spirits cackle. Is it really C.L.? My neck wrenches toward the sound.
“Eyelet, slow down!”
Feet hit the back platform of the caboose, scuttling up the rails to the roof.
“Eyelet!”
“C.L.?” I breathe, wanting so badly to turn, yet at the same time so, so afraid to. Apparitions swoop and dip in front of me, their voices taunting. I close my eyes tight and slap the reins harder. The horses jerk forward under the pressure.
“What’s this?” A voice niggles its way into my ears. Something plops down beside me, its weight bouncing me on the bench. “Thought yuh could pull this caper off without me, did yuh?”
I pop open my eyes. C.L. sits beside me, looking a bit battered and bruised, sporting a toothless grin.
“Never!” I shout, throwing my arms round his neck.
Thirteen
Flossie
“What do you mean, you couldn’t catch her? You’re ghouls, aren’t you?” I whirl around on them, staring hard into the daunting silver faces. The Infirmed cower and hang their heads.
“We almost had her, miss, but then the train sped up and . . .”
“Train? What do you mean, train?” I vex my brows. “I sent you after a coach, not a train!”
The Infirmed’s heads swing back and forth, their white eyes pinched and confused. “But you said you wanted the girl,” one of them bravely speaks. “We thought you meant—”
“You found the girl? Where?” I swish toward them.
“Just outside the entrance bridge to Gears.”
“Was he with her?”
“Who, miss?”
“The boy with the purple scars on his face, of course.”
The Infirmed look to each other. “Theys was a lot of people there, but none with a raised purple scar, miss,” says one.
“There was one without any arms,” says another.
“C.L.” I whirl around, agile now on my newfound appendages. “She must be travelling with him.” I bite a nail and pace on my tentacles, in complete command. “They must be on their way to save
I can’t believe the void in my heart, for a man I barely knew.
“What’s this mutiny!” I hear someone scream.
I twist my head round. The fog is too dense to make out anything. “C.L.?” I shout. “Is that you?” A wisp of blackish-grey smoke trundles past, twisting and sweeping over the landscape in front of me. Then, like smoke over fire, disturbed by wind, it bends and sweeps past me again.
“Careful, miss,” Sadar hollers up from his train car. “Remember, the Infirmed can throw their voices.”
“No,” I say, slowing the horses to a crawl. “No, it’s C.L. It’s him.” I stand, hand to my eyes, squinting, searching the clouds for any faint sign of a figure. Something howls, and my heart plunges to my knees. Perhaps Sadar is right. The Infirmed. They do prey on your deepest desires. I wave my hand through the cloud cover, not willing to give up on C.L. just yet. “Ernest, is it you?” I’ve never called him that before—but I figure if I do, he’s sure to answer.
The black entity curls past me again. Out of the stream a face appears, white vapour through the curling, dark mist. The piercing eyes of a ghoul stare through me like burning fire. It bares teeth as sharp as pins.
“Oh, God! It’s not him!” I fall back into my seat, bringing the reins down hard. The horses leap forward, apparitions whirling round my head. The horses spook and rear. I fight to get them down on the ground and moving. We shoot forward through the chanting mist, apparitions forming all around us.
“Wait!” I hear someone calling but don’t look back. “Wait! Please, Eyelet, it’s me!” It’s a ruse. It’s not true. The Infirmed are trying to fool me. I mustn’t listen to them.
“Eyelet!” The voice calls again.
What’s going on? What’s happening? The spirits cackle. Is it really C.L.? My neck wrenches toward the sound.
“Eyelet, slow down!”
Feet hit the back platform of the caboose, scuttling up the rails to the roof.
“Eyelet!”
“C.L.?” I breathe, wanting so badly to turn, yet at the same time so, so afraid to. Apparitions swoop and dip in front of me, their voices taunting. I close my eyes tight and slap the reins harder. The horses jerk forward under the pressure.
“What’s this?” A voice niggles its way into my ears. Something plops down beside me, its weight bouncing me on the bench. “Thought yuh could pull this caper off without me, did yuh?”
I pop open my eyes. C.L. sits beside me, looking a bit battered and bruised, sporting a toothless grin.
“Never!” I shout, throwing my arms round his neck.
Thirteen
Flossie
“What do you mean, you couldn’t catch her? You’re ghouls, aren’t you?” I whirl around on them, staring hard into the daunting silver faces. The Infirmed cower and hang their heads.
“We almost had her, miss, but then the train sped up and . . .”
“Train? What do you mean, train?” I vex my brows. “I sent you after a coach, not a train!”
The Infirmed’s heads swing back and forth, their white eyes pinched and confused. “But you said you wanted the girl,” one of them bravely speaks. “We thought you meant—”
“You found the girl? Where?” I swish toward them.
“Just outside the entrance bridge to Gears.”
“Was he with her?”
“Who, miss?”
“The boy with the purple scars on his face, of course.”
The Infirmed look to each other. “Theys was a lot of people there, but none with a raised purple scar, miss,” says one.
“There was one without any arms,” says another.
“C.L.” I whirl around, agile now on my newfound appendages. “She must be travelling with him.” I bite a nail and pace on my tentacles, in complete command. “They must be on their way to save
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