Page 8 of All My Broken Dreams

She squinted at him. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Deacon. Deacon Wake.”

“Pleased to meet you, Deacon.”

She shook his hand, giving him a keen look of appraisal that went right through him. Her hand was warm and dry, and much smaller than his. It took him an embarrassingly long time to release it.

“Where are you staying? I can get you a cab.”

“I was supposed to be staying with my brother. I didn’t arrange for a hotel. Besides, I have to be nearby; I have to stay near Locksley Hall Academy in case I run into Harry. The hotels are too far away.”

“Okay, okay, no problem. There is a youth hostel not far from here. It’ll be vacant at this time of year.”

“I can’t stay in a hostel.” Panic edged her voice. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help but I can’t be in a place with people and no privacy. If you take me to Dugald Croft, I’m sure I’ll find Harry there and I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine as soon as I’m with Harry.”

Harry Listowel wasn’t at Dugald Croft. Harry Listowel was miles away on the Isle of Arran being reprogrammed. On rare occasions, a member of Fuil Bratach would balk at the rules or demands or even resist the Order itself, questioning its value. When that happened, the member would be taken to Arran for ‘recalibration’, as Alastair called it. Indoctrinating members like Harry Listowel who had lived outside of their privileged bubble was a challenge. Harry had his own ideas about power and its purpose–ideas that conflicted with Fuil Bratach.

Harry would be back when he understood where he was going wrong.Soon, Deacon thought uneasily. It had been a long time. Too long.

“Look, I have an idea,” he said aloud. “My place is not far from here. I can put you up for a night or two until your arm heals. If you need a reference, I can give you a number to call. Mrs. Cameron, my building supervisor, will vouch for me.”

“No, I don’t need to call anyone. I like how you talk. How you phrase things. It’s very old-fashioned. Thank you, Deacon. Thank you for not leaving me.”

Suddenly, she clung to him like he was her last hope. His heart raced and he didn’t know why. She was beautiful, at least to him, but he knew many beautiful women and none of them made his heart race and lump in his throat.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said gruffly, pushing her away. “Wait until you see my place. It’s nothing to get emotional about.”

Deacon began throwing her things in the suitcase that was the size of a space shuttle, not wanting to hold any garment for too long out of the uneasy sense that it would bring her too close.

“I’m sorry,” Robbie said. “I don’t want you to think you’re going to be stuck with me forever. My sole reason for accepting your offer is to find my brother. A good night’s sleep is all I need. Then I’ll go to Dugald Croft and be out of your hair, I promise.”

“Away we go, then,” he said, straightening, his spirits lifting. “I’ve got a fireplace and strong drink; what more do we need?”

“Nothing,” she said with a glance at him. “It sounds perfect.”

He snaked her arm around his waist to help her walk and with Harry’s sister under his protection, Deacon relaxed. By thetime she recovered, Harry would be back and she wouldn’t be the wiser.

Nothing bad would happen to her. For once, nothing bad was going to happen to anyone.

Chapter Five

He didn’t walk too fast, which Robbie appreciated. His brown coat flapped around his long legs; his collar was pulled up against the rain. He wasn’t wearing a hat, but the snow didn’t penetrate his hair the way it did hers. On Deacon Wake, it rolled off the damp chocolate waves and glistened in droplets on his brow.

Deacon’s eyes were dark brown, almost black, reflecting the light and appearing to glow. When they fastened on her, she felt weak and tongue-tied. He was also exceptionally tall and broad in the shoulders, not that she had much experience with males. Harry wasn’t as tall as Deacon. He could be average for all she knew. He was strong, dragging the suitcase as well carrying her. Her pulse quickened when he hoisted her up against him to get a better grip.

“How long was your brother living at the Croft? I live nearby; I know almost everyone in the neighborhood. I might have seen him.”

“I’m not sure when he moved in. It might have been soon after he arrived. It’s the only address he gave us.”

Wake didn’t respond right away. “And when was that?”

“In late September. We haven’t heard from him since and my mom is frantic. She tried calling but his phone must be turned off. He hasn’t responded to her emails or texts. A few days ago, she contacted the Dean of Admissions and he said he’d look into it but that students were given full autonomy. The Academy doesn’t track their comings and goings. The scary thing is he said he’d never heard of Harry Listowel.”

The alteration in his expression was slight but she was sure she didn’t imagine it. If Robbie didn’t know better, she would swear Deacon Wake had heard this story before.

“His name not coming up could be a clerical error. Locksley Hall is a small university. Faculty and students are generally known to one another but the Dean doesn’t know every student who was admitted this year. Are you sure he was enrolled at Locksley Hall?”

“Positive. He showed me the acceptance letter; he was thrilled to get in. It’s a total mystery.” The snow was falling in thicker clumps, changing from rain to snow as the night dragged on. She looked at him curiously. “Are you a student at Locksley? You seem to know a lot about it.” He looked too old to be a student.

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