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Houses had begun to appear more frequently. Two more shots ricocheted through the air. Sarah felt something push her off-balance. Her side had felt hot. The streets were all cobblestone and she’d had to concentrate in order to not lose her footing on the uneven terrain. She’d veered down a side lane but didn’t break stride, zigzagging back and forth through the streets until she’d reached the church.
In the quiet of the evening, her footsteps had echoed like drum beats across the tiled portico. She’d moved round to the right of the building and pressed herself into the buttress beneath the stained-glass windows, trying to catch her breath. Doubling over, she’d grabbed her side, thinking a stitch explained the pain. Even in the darkened shadows of the church she’d seen the stain on her hand as she’d brought it close to her face.
She’d been shot!
Without thinking, she shrugged her jacket off and wrapped it around her to try and stem the bleeding. This was where they were supposed to meet but she couldn’t be sure she wasn’t still followed. She’d dropped to her knees and rolled herself under the hedge, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming her.
‘Sarah, baby?’ She could feel someone pushing her. Or were they shaking her?
‘Sarah?’
Where am I?
She knew that voice. But she couldn’t find it. Was she still under the verandah?
‘Let her sleep.’
Who was that?
The voice jolted her away from her thoughts. She tried to find the surface but sank below the black again.
The room was bathedin gray. Sarah couldn't tell if the daylight was draining away, or creeping to the surface. She turned her head to the left and found Alex sleeping beside her, lying on his side to face her. His dark hair had fallen over his eyes, his breathing long and deep. Sarah tried to swallow but her mouth tasted like stale communion wafers. She shifted her shoulders, then her hips. Testing for pain. She could feel the wound. It was uncomfortable, with the capacity to be really painful.
She pulled herself up onto her elbow, pushing herself into a sitting position and found her pain threshold was well and truly breached. She breathed through it, deciding she could live with it. She inhaled again, trying to place the unfamiliar scents. They weren't in Beaune anymore.
Was that lavender?
‘Hey, what are you doing up?’ Alex mumbled through half-sleep. He rolled onto his back, rubbing the palms of his hands into his eyes. ‘What time is it?’
Sarah swung her legs to the side of the bed, determined to get her bearings.
‘Wait. Let me help you.’
She grimaced and tried hard not to vocalize the pain her action caused. Alex’s hands on her shoulders gently stopped her from falling forward and she didn’t argue when he insisted, she lay back down.
‘Where are we?’
‘Avignon.’
Still in France. ‘How did we get to Avignon?’
‘I called Mick. He organized a driver, a car. Even the doctor.’
Sarah tried to take it all in. She had no recollection of any of these events.
‘Doctor?’
‘He’s… connected. Completely off the books.’
‘Oh.’ Was all she could muster in response.
‘What happened to your friends?’ She hoped her words found the right tone of sarcasm.
‘They weren’t The Devils.’
That piece of information cleared the fog in her head. ‘What? Who were they?’ She struggled back up on her elbows, ignoring the pain that shot through her side.
‘Just take it easy. You’ve been shot. This time yesterday the Doc only just finished patching you up. You’re lucky, the bullet went straight through. Missed anything too important.’
