Gabriella Poole - Divided Souls (Darke Academy)

wake churn the Bosphorus.

What was she doing? She knew very well how she’d feel if someone spied on her. If Isabella found out, she’d be incandescent, and it

would probably put paid to their relationship altogether – which, considering Cassie had come downstairs this morning determined to

repair things between them, was a little ironic.

She couldn’t help it. She was as sure as she could be that Isabella had been talking to Jake, and not only that: she’d just arranged to

meet him. That, she told herself firmly, was proof that Isabella, too, had sabotaged their relationship. She’d been in contact with Jake.

She’d hidden that from Cassie. Isabella, too, was being devious. But perhaps this was her chance – to let Isabella lead her to Jake, and get

to the bottom of what was going on.

Oh hell. Either way, the potential for proof of Isabella’s betrayal didn’t make her feel any better. By the time the boat docked at the

mainland, Cassie’s heart was thudding with nerves and guilt and the fear of discovery. She was so careful to let everyone leave the boat

before her, to stay well back from Isabella, she almost lost her. Which was a stupid risk, and quite unnecessary. When Cassie did spot her

again, moving swiftly through the crowds, Isabella seemed oblivious to everything but her mission.

The streets were thronged. Cassie almost wished she could loiter and enjoy the atmosphere. The air was hot and smelled of musty

ancient buildings, of men’s cologne, of strong tobacco smoke and spices and roasting nuts. Elegant shops jostled for space with junk

emporiums and street vendors.

It struck Cassie that she was wasting practically her entire school career in intrigue and deception. Hell, it would have been fun to

experience all this alongside Isabella, laughing and talking and ogling ancient monuments, haggling for bargains and triumphing over

successes. That’s how it should have been. Normal school life would have been good. It would have been more than enough for a care-

home-raised scholarship girl.

Instead, she was tailing her erstwhile best friend through the streets and alleys of Sultanahmet, and it was no mean task. Without her

Few senses she’d have lost her long ago, but despite all the scents and sounds of the city, Cassie could still smell Isabella’s distinctive

perfume – and even the scent of her skin – tracking her without difficulty even when she lost sight of her.

Isabella didn’t stop even for the glossiest of shops, the most enchanting of silks or jewels or carpets. It was so unlike her, Cassie was

more than ever convinced she was headling for a rendezvous with Jake. The Grand Bazaar? The Argentinian girl seemed to be heading that

way, through Beyazit, and for all her remarks about a tourist trap, it would be the ideal place for a secret meeting.

Yes. Cassie dodged round jewellery stalls and kofte vendors in time to see Isabella disappear into one of the southern entrances. She

darted after her, no longer afraid of being seen. She was confident now that she could stay close to her quarry till she reached her

rendezvous.

It was an unpleasant surprise, then, when Isabella simply walked briskly through the covered streets, ignoring all the shops, and back

out of the western entrance.

When Isabella stopped and pulled out her phone, Cassie swore to herself and pulled back, turning swiftly to a vendor selling roasted

sweetcorn. A heartbeat later, Isabella was walking on. Once more Cassie followed, beginning to feel a deep degree of stupid.

Isabella didn’t go much farther, though: only as far as the shady trees and canopies of the Book Bazaar. Here she seemed to hesitate,

then found her bearings again and hurried down a paved lane crammed with bookstalls. After a while, she stopped quite deliberately, and

spoke to a stallholder.

Cassie ducked into another little shop, half hiding behind a rack of maps and pamphlets. What was going on? There was no sign of Jake,

but Isabella was handing the bookseller an envelope, and he was opening it to flick through what was inside.

Notes. Money. Cassie was sure of it.

The bookseller reached down below his counter, drawing something out. As he handed it to Isabella, Cassie craned dangerously far out

from her hiding place, desperate to see it. But it was too small, and too far away. As Isabella smiled and turned abruptly, Cassie ducked

back behind the rack, not breathing, focusing intently on an antique map of Turkey.

Her former roommate strode back determinedly the way she had come, passing quite close to Cassie but – thank heavens – failing to

glance to her right. Cassie felt the thrashing of her heart begin to subside, and she took a few deep breaths. She was as sure as she could

be that Isabella’s rendezvous was over, that that had been it.

What had been it? Slowly Cassie followed Isabella back through the Grand Bazaar, at a greater distance this time. The girl was in less of

a hurry now, browsing idly for scarves and kilims and brooches, stopping to buy herself a small bag of pistachios, then bartering for a