coincidence that heâs here at the same time as us.â
There was a light tap at the door. Paolo went to open it while Luciano continued his pacing.
âI really donât think itâs safe for her to come here,â he was saying. âEverything we know about the city makes it seem a hotbed of villainy â I mean, itâs the centre of the di Chimiciâs world, isnât it?â
His pacing had brought him opposite the door. His jaw fell open when he saw the slight short-haired figure with the silver eyebrow ring.
And the effect on Georgia was no less dramatic. She recognised the black-haired boy. She had been staring at his photograph only a few hours ago at her violin teacherâs house.
âI promised you two more Stravaganti, didnât I, Georgia?â said Paolo smiling.
âLucien!â said Georgia â and vanished.
Chapter 5
The Shadow of Doubt
Georgia woke suddenly in her bed in London, her heart racing, but it wasnât morning. The house was quiet and dark. She was in a whirl of confusion. Dreaming of a city with flying horses was one thing â even if it turned out not to be a dream and the city was real. But coming face to face with someone from her own world, someone she knew to be dead â that was something else again.
She lay in the darkness, holding the flying horse in a tight grip, waiting for her heart to slow and her thoughts to settle. Half of her wanted to go back to Remora immediately, but the other half was still terrified. It had definitely been Lucien that she had seen in Paoloâs house. There was no way she could have mistaken him, even in his sixteenth-century Talian clothes. Georgia was an expert where Lucien Mulholland was concerned.
He had been in the year above her when she joined Barnsbury Comprehensive, and she had seen him once or twice at his motherâs when she went to violin lessons after school. But it had been only in Year 10 that she had begun to feel differently about him. Russell was quite wrong about her; she was interested in boys â at least in one boy. But Georgia was shy as well as unhappy and her butch image had been developed to protect her feelings.
If Lucien had been aware of those feelings, he had never shown it. They both played in the school orchestra and the irony of being second fiddle to Lucien wasnât lost on her. But once Georgia had joined the orchestra, it not only gave her more chance of seeing him, it meant that when they met at his house, he would actually talk to her. Gradually she had realised that he was shy too. He didnât have girlfriends; that was one blessing at least.
But just when she was hoping that they could be friends and that perhaps one day he might return her feelings, he had become ill. Lying there in the dark, Georgia re-lived last yearâs agony of discovering that Lucien was seriously ill, that he had to be off school for weeks having chemotherapy, that he had lost his beautiful hair. His mother stopped teaching and Georgia was cut off from all news of him, except what she could glean from the school gossip machine.
There had been a few weeks last summer when she had believed that he was getting better, that he would return to school in the autumn term cured. Georgia had even seen him again when she had resumed violin lessons. He seemed older somehow and a little remote, but not unfriendly, just preoccupied. She had made up her mind to tell him how much she liked him, but then terrible news had filtered through and put an end to all her plans: Lucien was in hospital, he was in a coma, he was dead.
She had gone to the funeral like a zombie, not believing that the only boy she had ever liked could be lost to her for ever. Only seeing his grieving parents and hearing his best friend Tomâs voice cracking as he read a poem convinced her that Lucien had really gone.
And now there he was again in Talia, looking gorgeous and as healthy as when he sat in front of
There was a light tap at the door. Paolo went to open it while Luciano continued his pacing.
âI really donât think itâs safe for her to come here,â he was saying. âEverything we know about the city makes it seem a hotbed of villainy â I mean, itâs the centre of the di Chimiciâs world, isnât it?â
His pacing had brought him opposite the door. His jaw fell open when he saw the slight short-haired figure with the silver eyebrow ring.
And the effect on Georgia was no less dramatic. She recognised the black-haired boy. She had been staring at his photograph only a few hours ago at her violin teacherâs house.
âI promised you two more Stravaganti, didnât I, Georgia?â said Paolo smiling.
âLucien!â said Georgia â and vanished.
Chapter 5
The Shadow of Doubt
Georgia woke suddenly in her bed in London, her heart racing, but it wasnât morning. The house was quiet and dark. She was in a whirl of confusion. Dreaming of a city with flying horses was one thing â even if it turned out not to be a dream and the city was real. But coming face to face with someone from her own world, someone she knew to be dead â that was something else again.
She lay in the darkness, holding the flying horse in a tight grip, waiting for her heart to slow and her thoughts to settle. Half of her wanted to go back to Remora immediately, but the other half was still terrified. It had definitely been Lucien that she had seen in Paoloâs house. There was no way she could have mistaken him, even in his sixteenth-century Talian clothes. Georgia was an expert where Lucien Mulholland was concerned.
He had been in the year above her when she joined Barnsbury Comprehensive, and she had seen him once or twice at his motherâs when she went to violin lessons after school. But it had been only in Year 10 that she had begun to feel differently about him. Russell was quite wrong about her; she was interested in boys â at least in one boy. But Georgia was shy as well as unhappy and her butch image had been developed to protect her feelings.
If Lucien had been aware of those feelings, he had never shown it. They both played in the school orchestra and the irony of being second fiddle to Lucien wasnât lost on her. But once Georgia had joined the orchestra, it not only gave her more chance of seeing him, it meant that when they met at his house, he would actually talk to her. Gradually she had realised that he was shy too. He didnât have girlfriends; that was one blessing at least.
But just when she was hoping that they could be friends and that perhaps one day he might return her feelings, he had become ill. Lying there in the dark, Georgia re-lived last yearâs agony of discovering that Lucien was seriously ill, that he had to be off school for weeks having chemotherapy, that he had lost his beautiful hair. His mother stopped teaching and Georgia was cut off from all news of him, except what she could glean from the school gossip machine.
There had been a few weeks last summer when she had believed that he was getting better, that he would return to school in the autumn term cured. Georgia had even seen him again when she had resumed violin lessons. He seemed older somehow and a little remote, but not unfriendly, just preoccupied. She had made up her mind to tell him how much she liked him, but then terrible news had filtered through and put an end to all her plans: Lucien was in hospital, he was in a coma, he was dead.
She had gone to the funeral like a zombie, not believing that the only boy she had ever liked could be lost to her for ever. Only seeing his grieving parents and hearing his best friend Tomâs voice cracking as he read a poem convinced her that Lucien had really gone.
And now there he was again in Talia, looking gorgeous and as healthy as when he sat in front of
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