fingers, but when she tentatively stretched out and felt around, Delaney wasnât within reach.
That was it. Delaney had been with her in the tunnel under the school â but now she was alone. Darrell stopped moving and listened carefully. No sound of the dogâs hearty, happy breathing. No sound at all. The air felt heavy and close, and ...
What was that?
Her heart settled back down in her chest. Only the sound of a drop of water, splashing.
Splashing where? Into what?
Darrell drew her legs into her chest. Her hand crept down to her right knee, and the unmistakeable feel of coarse cloth bound to heavy wood brought her whirling thoughts into focus; an unaccountable excitement fluttered in her stomach.
Itâs happened again ...
The last thing she remembered was walking with herfriends through the hidden passage leading out of the Eagle Glen library. But where on earth had she ended up? And
when
?
She rubbed her eyes and tried to push the headache away through sheer force of will. As always, the peppermint helped a little with the nausea, but she knew nothing but time would quiet the pain. She gathered up a handful of sleeve and pressed it to the tender spot behind her ear. The pain was still intense, but the wound did not seem to be actively bleeding, and that had to be a good thing.
Using her hands as support, she crab-walked sideways until she could feel a solid stone wall at her shoulder. Cold slipped through seams and folds of her clothing, and she hugged herself for warmth. The mint in her mouth melted away as she leaned against the wall with a sigh and tried to figure out how she had come to be here and what exactly was to be done next.
She seemed to be in the middle of some kind of long passage or hall, but it was clearly not the dusty passage underneath the school. The air smelled different â of seaweed and fish underlined with a sweet, rotten stench she did not want to put a name to.
Which way to turn? Darrell flipped a mental coin and looked to the right. âSeems as good a direction as any,â she muttered.
Using the wall for balance, Darrell pulled herself upright. Her right leg was heavy, and the act of walking no longer came naturally. She slid one hand along the clammy surface of the rock and stepped cautiously down the passageway to the right. The air still felt dank, but the hint of an icy breeze stirred the damp hairs on her neck. Feeling more confident in her choice, she moved instinctively toward the breath of air. The footing was treacherous, and Darrell found herself wishing for the carved walking stick that had once been a gift from an old man in Florence. Limping, she felt the stone surface rough under her fingertips, and she followed the wall down the passage.
Most worrisome was the absence of her friends and Delaney. She could still feel the way his fur had bunched under his collar like a ruff as sheâd held him last. He had to be here somewhere â but she did not know enough about her surroundings to risk calling out to him. Not yet.
And what about Brodie and Kate? Theyâd been in the passage with her ... She stopped suddenly. Brodie and Kate had been there â theyâd all been there â because of Paris. Darrell quailed inwardly. What if sheâd dragged Paris into this, too?
A new sense of panic pushing her forward, Darrell followed the passage around a slight curve and noticed the dark had lifted a little, though no source of lightcould be seen. In the low, greenish glow she could see what she had only been able to feel before. Her twentyfirst-century outfit of jeans and a sweater was gone. She was now wearing a long, free-flowing skirt of heavy wool under a decorative overskirt with a pattern lost in the dim light. The package of mints in her pocket had disappeared, leaving a few loose candies. And all that remained of the art pencil she always carried in the back pocket of her jeans was a stick of charcoal with a jagged end.
And most
That was it. Delaney had been with her in the tunnel under the school â but now she was alone. Darrell stopped moving and listened carefully. No sound of the dogâs hearty, happy breathing. No sound at all. The air felt heavy and close, and ...
What was that?
Her heart settled back down in her chest. Only the sound of a drop of water, splashing.
Splashing where? Into what?
Darrell drew her legs into her chest. Her hand crept down to her right knee, and the unmistakeable feel of coarse cloth bound to heavy wood brought her whirling thoughts into focus; an unaccountable excitement fluttered in her stomach.
Itâs happened again ...
The last thing she remembered was walking with herfriends through the hidden passage leading out of the Eagle Glen library. But where on earth had she ended up? And
when
?
She rubbed her eyes and tried to push the headache away through sheer force of will. As always, the peppermint helped a little with the nausea, but she knew nothing but time would quiet the pain. She gathered up a handful of sleeve and pressed it to the tender spot behind her ear. The pain was still intense, but the wound did not seem to be actively bleeding, and that had to be a good thing.
Using her hands as support, she crab-walked sideways until she could feel a solid stone wall at her shoulder. Cold slipped through seams and folds of her clothing, and she hugged herself for warmth. The mint in her mouth melted away as she leaned against the wall with a sigh and tried to figure out how she had come to be here and what exactly was to be done next.
She seemed to be in the middle of some kind of long passage or hall, but it was clearly not the dusty passage underneath the school. The air smelled different â of seaweed and fish underlined with a sweet, rotten stench she did not want to put a name to.
Which way to turn? Darrell flipped a mental coin and looked to the right. âSeems as good a direction as any,â she muttered.
Using the wall for balance, Darrell pulled herself upright. Her right leg was heavy, and the act of walking no longer came naturally. She slid one hand along the clammy surface of the rock and stepped cautiously down the passageway to the right. The air still felt dank, but the hint of an icy breeze stirred the damp hairs on her neck. Feeling more confident in her choice, she moved instinctively toward the breath of air. The footing was treacherous, and Darrell found herself wishing for the carved walking stick that had once been a gift from an old man in Florence. Limping, she felt the stone surface rough under her fingertips, and she followed the wall down the passage.
Most worrisome was the absence of her friends and Delaney. She could still feel the way his fur had bunched under his collar like a ruff as sheâd held him last. He had to be here somewhere â but she did not know enough about her surroundings to risk calling out to him. Not yet.
And what about Brodie and Kate? Theyâd been in the passage with her ... She stopped suddenly. Brodie and Kate had been there â theyâd all been there â because of Paris. Darrell quailed inwardly. What if sheâd dragged Paris into this, too?
A new sense of panic pushing her forward, Darrell followed the passage around a slight curve and noticed the dark had lifted a little, though no source of lightcould be seen. In the low, greenish glow she could see what she had only been able to feel before. Her twentyfirst-century outfit of jeans and a sweater was gone. She was now wearing a long, free-flowing skirt of heavy wool under a decorative overskirt with a pattern lost in the dim light. The package of mints in her pocket had disappeared, leaving a few loose candies. And all that remained of the art pencil she always carried in the back pocket of her jeans was a stick of charcoal with a jagged end.
And most
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