The cold air of York hit my lungs the moment we stepped out of the station
I kept my head down, urging Marcus to do the same, wary of the security cameras scattered throughout the corners of the building. Though with Marcus's height and broad build, it was nearly impossible for him to go unnoticed. Anyone looking in the right direction could spot him from a mile away.
Garrick could've already contacted the local authorities. Or worse.
For all I knew, our faces might already be circulating through police networks, maybe even the news. But then again, if the train officer hadn't bothered to stop the train when Garrick demanded it, and if there weren't police waiting for us the moment we stepped off, then we were probably still in the clear.
At least for now.
"We can't stay here for long," I muttered, eyeing the line of taxis waiting outside the station and the crowd of passengers queuing for them.
An idea began to form in my head.
Marcus's hand tightened around my shoulder, pulling me slightly closer to him.
I had almost forgotten how uneasy crowds made him. How the noise, the lights, the constant movement of people and machines pressed in on him. Even a smaller station like this one must have felt overwhelming.
And York was nothing like the world he had come from.
"We should find somewhere to stay for the night," I said, spotting a small inn just a short walk from the station.
The past few hours of running had clearly taken their toll on him. His pride wouldn't allow him to admit it, but I could see the effort it took for him to keep himself steady, to appear unaffected. Not to mention, I also had to change his bandages.
"Do you not think the hound will catch us if we remain here for the night?" he asked quietly. "He knows where we are."
I paused, considering the options.
"All the more reason not to move like frightened prey," I said, glancing back toward the station, lowering my voice. "Stations, trains, taxis—those are the first places he'll lock down. If we keep running now, we'll simply walk straight into him. It'll take time for him to come back here anyway."
"We'll stay close," I went on. "Somewhere small and forgettable. Just for the night."
My eyes flicked briefly to his side, to where I knew his wounds still hadn't fully healed. And how his bandages would need changing.
"And for you to recover."
I exhaled, thinking ahead.
"I can book us a car later," I added. Then seeing the confusion on his face, I clarified, "A vehicle like Samuel's. It could take us all the way to Newcastle. It would be faster that way."
Marcus studied me for a moment longer, then gave a small, reluctant nod.
Then he followed, as I led him to cross the street together, slipping into the flow of pedestrians. Until Marcus slowed for half a second at the edge of the pavement, his gaze lifting to the traffic light above us, glowing red against the dimming sky.
The cars were moving, but no one had inched forward.
He stilled beside me, watching it with wonder, like the lights was some kind of command given by an unseen authority.
"The light signals them to stop," I said quietly, following his gaze. "Red means stop. Green means go."
As if on cue, the light shifted.
Green.
And the crowd surged froward.
Marcus moved with me this time, though I could feel the tension in his arm as we crossed. His dark eyes flicking between the halted vehicles, the obedient drivers and the quiet order of it al, as we moved along with the others.
"A city governed by color and light," he murmured. "Rome would have prospered with such discipline. Fewer carts overturned. Fewer men trampled in the streets."
I huffed a soft breath. "Yeah. It does help."
The moment we reached the other side, I didn't linger.
Even as his initial unease had gave way to curiosity, I kept moving. If Garrick wasn't hunting us down, I might've enjoyed showing him around York, especially with its strong ties to Roman history.
But not now.
I led him toward the inn just beyond the corner. Small and narrow, the kind of place one would miss entirely if one weren't looking for it. I had stayed here once, years ago, during my university days with Pippa.
A flickering sign hung above the door, its paint worn with age.
It was perfect. Forgettable.
I pushed the door open, and the bell above it chimed softly as we stepped inside.
The warmth hit immediately, along with the faint scent of old wood and something floral. Cleaning products, maybe.
A woman sat behind the desk, barely looking up from her computer screen.
"Room?" she asked.
"Yes, please," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Just for the night."
Marcus remained a step behind me, quiet and watchful. But I could feel it. His attention sweeping the room the way it had outside, taking in every detail, every exit, every unfamiliar object. Like a solider mapping foreign ground.
I slid my debit card across the counter.
"One bed?" the woman asked.
"Two," I said, a little too quickly.
She barely glanced at the screen before shaking her head. "Sorry, love. We're fully booked. Only got singles left."
I blinked, instinctively looking past her.
She barely glanced at the screen before shaking her head. "Sorry, love. We're fully booked for the double beds. Only got singles left."
I blinked, instinctively looking past her. Then looked around the place.
The lobby was nearly empty.
No luggage. No voices. No sign of the so-called crowd filling up the place.
"You're fully booked?" I repeated, unable to keep the disbelief out of my voice.
"That's right," she said, not even bothering to look up this time.
I hesitated, my fingers tapping lightly against the counter as I weighed our options. Going somewhere else meant more time out in the open. More cameras. More time wasted. Not to mention, I didn't know how long Marcus could take it.
"...Fine," I muttered. "We'll take it."
She hummed, tapping something into the system before sliding the card machine toward me.
I paid, pocketing my card as she handed over the key.
Then, just as I turned—
"You'll thank me later," she said with a wink.
I froze for half a second.
Slowly, I turned back to her, but she was already looking down at her screen again. Like she hadn't just said anything at all.
I shook my head and walked over to Marcus, who stood in the middle of the lobby, his attention fixed on a painting of the building as it had once stood in the Middle Ages.
"This place...stirs a sense of a familiarity," he said, his voice low, contemplative.
"It would have been long after your time," I replied, glancing at the date etched beneath the frame. 1457.
"Even so," he said, his gaze lingering, "there is something in its bones—the structure, the order of it. This city...it bears the faint imprint of Rome."
I huffed out a quiet breath, folding my arms loosely across my chest.
"Pippa should've been here instead of me," I muttered. "She'd be able to help you assimilate to this environment more than I do. Probably start lecturing you on timelines and architectural transitions."
Marcus turned to me then, something sharper in his gaze.
"I do not require—"
"We should head up," I cut in quickly, before he could finish.
His brows drew together slightly.
"Your bandages need changing," I added, forcing my tone into something practical, detached. "And I'd rather not have you bleeding through your shirt in the middle of the lobby for everyone to see."
For a moment, he simply looked at me like he knew exactly what I was doing. Avoiding.
Then, after a brief pause, he inclined his head.
"As you wish," he said quietly.
And somehow, that felt far too much like surrender.