A little later we both climbed into the pedicab. The driver swung back onto the bike and cranked the music up loud.
Ashur sat like a stone idol; his legs were so long they barely fit in the cramped footwell. His scowl was carved so deep it looked as if he'd had a limb taken off.
He kept his cold gaze pinned straight ahead. Blue bulbs overhead bathed his face in light and, for a moment, he could have been the sort of subject a photographer would kill to shoot.
I smirked and looked away. We slouched as low as we could so our faces wouldn't show, and dragged the paper streamers down from the canopy to help hide us.
London was heaving. I'd never have guessed they'd brought me all the way here while I was out cold. The whole time in the safe house I'd assumed we were in some satellite town.
I kept my eyes on the streets—on people walking free. We rolled past what looked like Chinatown. Every so often another pedicab as gaudy as ours rattled by. Wind threaded my hair and cooled my raw skin.
I drew a long breath; the smell of fresh food hit me and I realised how hungry I was. Fairy lights were strung everywhere. In each corner of the city someone was busy with something—someone dancing, someone playing—everyone, all of them living.
I watched a group of girls spill out of a Korean shop, laughing. I'd never had a friend to waste time with. Well—there was one person, though I wouldn't call it friendship. I'd done them a favour; they'd spent years trying to repay it. Does that count? Doubt it.
Ashur's voice pulled me back.
'We need to get you to the point the Organisation specified. Th… that's the only place that's safe for us.'
I looked at him. He spoke better these days, the stammer softer. I tipped my head towards a police car easing past.
'Right now the city's crawling with police.'
He took in the swarm of patrols trawling the area. 'You seem to be enjoying this ride.'
I couldn't stop my mouth curving. 'Truth.I've always wanted to see London. Seems I finally get to.'
The singer blaring from the speakers was a bit too cheerful. I leaned forward and asked the young driver to switch the track—to the one I saved for the rare days I had a sliver of life to myself. He fiddled with his phone; I sank back. Ashur shot me a wintry side-eye and bared his teeth in a thin grin. I ignored him and watched the road as a familiar voice poured into my ears—Lana Del Rey:
Cinnamon in my teeth
From your kiss
You're touching me
All the pills that you take
Violet, blue, green, red to keep me
I stared up at the night and murmured along—then felt the weight of Ashur's gaze. I turned. He was watching me, and his eyes… they gleamed strangely, like two meteor stones that had fallen straight into his sockets. Stardust, maybe.
We stopped at a red light. Police lights flared, dragging our attention. A patrol car pulled up right beside us; the driver's window was down and the young officer was eyeing our rider. I felt the blood in my veins turn to ice.
Ashur's hand snapped round my wrist. He hauled me into him and pressed my head to his chest so my hair fell across my cheek; he tucked his face into the hollow of my neck. My heart skipped a beat and then raced. Lana kept singing in my ear:
If you hold me without hurting me, you'll be the first who ever did.
Time seemed to stand still. His arm looped round my waist; his breath burned against my skin. My body was frozen and his was fire—like a snake coiled around a butterfly's wings. I figured he'd pulled me close to hide my face, to keep the police from looking twice. We needed to read as two people swallowed by their feelings—not the pair who'd just set half the city on fire.
When the pedicab rolled on, Ashur slowly let go. I pressed my palm to his chest to steady myself and eased away. The patrol car moved off; I let out a breath, though my heart was still thundering. I pressed a shaky hand to my sternum and looked anywhere but at him.
I told myself the pounding was fear of the police—not the 'Piranha's' embrace.