‘I don’t think so,’ says Teague,
still marching forward. I’m quick to lose my breath, but he seems possessed by
something that stalls his human qualities. ‘Don’t you think I thought of that.’
‘How are you doing that?’ I ask.
He snorts. ‘You really think you’ll
catch me monologueing like that? No, you’re here to remove this connection we
share, then you’re on your way and I’ll be on mine.’
‘Connection?’ I ask. ‘Is that
how you found me.’
He wheels around and leans close
to me. I lean backwards, intimidated by his sudden movement.
‘You ask too many questions,’ he
say through gritted teeth. ‘Don’t you think I have better things to do than
drag you around?’
‘Well I don’t know,’ I consider.
‘You won’t tell me.’
I see his hand twitch. Is he
going to hit me? Can ghosts even hit other ghosts? I suppose if we can drink a
cup of tea we can do most things. But then is Teague a ghost at all?
‘Tell me one thing,’ I say,
meeting him squarely in his swampy green eyes. ‘Why didn’t you steal The Alchemist before? If it’s so
crucial?’
‘Because it’s not exactly at the
top of every thief’s hit list,’ he explains with an annoyed quality to his
voice. ‘I left it in the museum to keep it safe. I didn’t expect some do-gooder
kid to come and steal it to save his weirdo friend.’
‘How do you know what I’ve been
doing?’ I ask. ‘How long have you been following me?’
‘Oh for god’s sake,’ says
Teague. He steps back, still holding my wrist in his tight grip. It’s windy up
here. Windy enough that I feel like a particularly strong gust might pick me up
and wheel me away towards the far distant peaks. I wonder can I feel the cold
of the snow on my fingers?
‘I don’t need to steal the book
to study it,’ he says. ‘You do realise that don’t you? That it would have been
a lot easier, and a lot kinder to a hallowed text to bring your friend to it,
than endanger it and remove it from the case?’
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