Above the Vaulted Sky - Page 121

Chapter Eighteen

            Elle stands, crosses the room in a single stride and grasps Teague by the scruff of his dirty old coat. He’s caught off balance and jerks to his feet to prevent himself from falling backwards.

            She drives him into the table in the middle of the room, rattling every instrument on it.

                  ‘Alright Mr Melodramatic,’ she snarls. ‘You’re going to give us some answers. right now. What’s happened to Graham?’

            Teague overcomes his shock quickly. He adopts his default expression of quiet malcontent, twisting his nose and staring at a point about Elle’s shoulder.

                  ‘Your friend has travelled as only a spirit should. I think it should be quite obvious that while a spirit is readily able to travel great distances in a fraction of a second, the human body is not.’

                  ‘So what’s happened to him?’ I demand, joining Elle. ‘A straight answer, not a lecture.’

                  ‘He is falling apart,’ Teague replies, as though he’s discussing the weather. ‘Every single atom will lose its bond. He’ll exist, but in what form I can’t be sure.’

            I stare at him and he meets my eye. Those dark green eyes that I can’t trust. But why would he lie now?

                  ‘And what do we do to fix it?’ Elle shakes him to draw his attention back to her.

                  ‘This isn’t how it works, kids,’ Teague says. ‘Do you think I’m going to  do everything you say just because you demand it? I have done everything you’ve asked of me so far. You set me free and I’ll save your friend’s life.’

                  ‘Well that’s not going to happen,’ I state. ‘If we free you, you’ll be gone. You earn trust, Teague.’

            Elle nods her approval at my words.

                  ‘Well then it’s fairly simple,’ Teague says. ‘You let your friend crumble into nothing. If I die as a result of this…predicament, then I’ll simply exist as a spirit. I can find my way back. If Graham dematerialises, then good luck finding him to do anything about it.’

            Graham groans loudly. I’m hoping he’s not listening too closely. I turn away from Teague, pressing my hands to my temples. How can I trust him? The man who isn’t afraid of murder. Who was willing to kill me good and proper and send me god knows where?

                  ‘Time is ticking, Easton,’ he says. ‘I suspect that Graham has minutes in this current form.’