Page 105 of The Shadows Beyond
Darcy’s words were a sudden jagged knife slice across his skin. They were true—Elliot could keep them safe in ways Julien could never—but it stung, nevertheless.
“Thank you,” said Cinn, looking between them all, a small smile playing on his lips that Julien itched to trace over with his fingers. “I would love for you to come.”
twenty-five
Julien
The London Underground wasn’t as bad as Julien feared. It certainly wasn’t as dirty as the Paris Metro and also had significantly fewer people rudely barging into you.
Their flight landed an hour late, catapulting them straight into the five p.m. rush hour. Julien had tried to reason with Cinn, citing the benefits of taking a black cab, but he’d rolled his eyes and headed straight for the underground sign. When Elliot smirked and followed Cinn, Julien knew the battle had been lost.
As they descended onto the platform, the distant rumble of an approaching train echoed through the tunnels, accompanied by the distinct smell of grease and an announcement shouting at them to mind the gap over and over. Flickering fluorescent lights overhead bathed the diverse mix of commuters in a surreal glow.
When they finally pushed their way into an overcrowded carriage, Julien tentatively clutched the slightly damp handrail. “How long are we on this thing for?” he said, making no effort to stop his nose wrinkling in distaste.
“All the way to the end of the Northern Line, High Barnet.”
The train came to an abrupt halt, sending Julien’s body jerking forwards.
“Think you can survive that long, princeling?” Cinn’s eyes sparkled.
“What?Princeling?”
Cinn only laughed.
Scowling, Julien jumped out of the way of a throng of people now pushing their way off the carriage.
Cinn, gliding in between the moving crowd like water through fingertips, said, “There are seats now, so stop your tantrum.”
Elliot howled with laughter, and Julien wondered at what point he was going to have to intervene with the union they’d clearly formed, one that took great joy in teaming up against him.
The carriage was still packed, forcing Elliot to sit a few seats down from the two Cinn and Julien took, side by side. He instantly struck up a conversation with a stranger who was carrying a motorcycle helmet.
“How does he do that?” asked Cinn, with a slow shake of his head.
“Whydoes he do that?” replied Julien.
Cinn snorted, then rubbed his hand over his face and slumped back into his seat.
“Are you okay?”
“Just anxious to get there and see what the situation is.”
“What do you think we’re going to find?”
“Sounds like he’s deep in it this time. Both the drugs and his debt to Heino Richter.”
“Have you ever met him?”
Julien conjured images of Cinn with the heinous crime lord he’d heard a bit about, but he couldn’t quite make it work.
“Once. When I was helping Tyler clear his last debt, and I agreed to his plan of letting his men rob Rosewood’s safe.”
Cinn’s eyes shot straight to his shoes, and he rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time,” Julien said, in lieu of his actual thoughts on the matter, which was quite the opposite. To Cinn’s credit, his loyalty to those who he cared about certainly knew no bounds.
“It helped that although I loved the team at the restaurant, the owner was a wanker. I kind of figured he could claim the money back on insurance. Serves him right for paying us minimum wage on twelve-hour shifts with stupidly short breaks.”
