The Lamia Hunt

Chapter Thirty: An Uneventful Journey

03:05 16/12/1999

Ling's unease was far from gone.
They had walked in silence to the station, where she'd been the one to buy them tickets to London. From there, they'd catch another train to France, and then the informant would have to take over. That was better, she supposed, than what usually happened when they sent Praedatori to Europe. It was a nightmare and a half to navigate, made harder when you couldn't find anyone who spoke English. Still, she wasn't convinced by this informant. There was something about him that worried her deeply, that made her feel that something could happen at any moment, and that when it did, she wouldn't even be able to run.

They were sitting at a table, not looking at each other; Ling was gazing out of the window, or out of what little wasn't taken up by her own reflection. There wasn't much to see. The informant had his head bent so that it touched his chest, his gloved hands clasped and resting on the table. She couldn't tell if he was asleep, but she doubted it.
Aside from themselves, the train was mostly empty; what few people there were were slumped in their sats, heads lolling and moving with the clatter of the train. As the announcements for each station blared out, the sleepers would sit upright and open their eyes, listening intently for their stop, but soon fall again into their stupor as they realised that they weren't yet there.
Ling stretched back, her hands behind her head. She should sleep while she could; there were plenty more train rides to go, but they weren't all going to be this calm.

She was woken by the informant leaning over the table, saying,
"Come on, Miss Lu. It's almost our stop." Miss Lu. She didn't like the sound of the name; it didn't seem right. Neither, of course, did the fact that she'd slept for almost the whole train ride. How had she managed it?
They were pulling into the station, and she stood up, grabbing the briefcases next to her, before stepping out of the train.
It had been longer than she cared to remember since she'd been to London. It was a remarkably busy place, so confusingly and mesmerisingly rushed and chaotic that it made her want to scream. It hadn't been usual for her to actually head into the city; the main reason she came here was to go to other places by train. However, she had been there occasionally, and she hadn't liked it. Adeline had, though. She'd loved the city, its bland grey streets and mismatched old buildings, the bustling crowds that appeared each day and then vanished. She'd loved it so much that Ling wondered why she hadn't come here instead of staying near Principia after she transformed into a Lamia.
Theodore hadn't much cared for London, either, but he'd never quite hated it as much as Ling did. It was funny, how much they'd discussed that. Of all the things they could have said as friends, all the memories they could have created, the bonds they could have strengthened, they'd chosen to bicker. They'd done it a lot, too; every time they'd passed through one of the stations, one of them would mention it, and it would be the only thing they discussed for at least an hour. And now, they'd never have one of those hours again, and there was no way to get them back.
"Phew," breathed the informant as they stepped off the platform and into the main section of the building. "Hate London."
"Pardon?" Had he known – no, he couldn't have. Must have just been luck.
He shrugged.
"This city. It's horrid."
Ling nodded. She agreed with him, but that didn't make the fact that he'd said what she'd been thinking any less disconcerting.
He exhaled, loudly.
"We'd best find somewhere to stay," he said. "It's too late to catch another train."
Ling glanced at her watch, noting that the hands were pointed somewhere. Aside from that, she paid no further attention. It wasn't that she couldn't tell the time, but there was something in her mind that wasn't working, that wasn't allowing her to process the information. Abashed, she let her hand fall. She wasn't going to question the informant's judgement. After all, he was probably right.
That did leave the question, though, of where they were supposed to sleep.
"Come on," said the informant, beginning to walk towards an exit. "We'd best find somewhere to stay before it gets too late."