Gabriella Poole - Blood Ties (Darke Academy)

‘I’m sorry, Isabella. I should have told you about finding that printout, but I didn’t want to worry you until I’d had a chance to speak to

Jake myself. But then he walked in on us and it all just—’

Isabella’s hand suddenly closed around her own. She realised they were shaking.

‘OK, Cassie. It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that we talk to Jake and find out what’s going on.’

They had managed to catch a cab after ten minutes of desperate flagging, but it felt like an age until they finally pulled up to the Academy.

As they walked into the atrium, Cassie glanced back through the glass doors and her heart stopped. Stepping out of a silver saloon car

were two burly, stone-faced men in identical suits and dark glasses. They barged past the girls and headed for the elevators. Their suits

were cut generously at the armpits, Cassie noticed. She’d seen enough television cop shows to know that meant shoulder holsters.

‘Johnson’s room is on the third floor,’ muttered one of the men to his associate as they pushed the elevator call button.

‘Shit,’ Cassie whispered, nodding towards the men. ‘Isabella, we have to get to Jake’s room now .’

‘Let’s take the stairs.’ Isabella was already breaking into a run. They took the steps two at a time, and arrived, panting, at Jake’s room in a

matter of seconds.

‘Jake!’ Isabella banged on his door so hard Cassie thought she might break it. ‘Jake, are you there? Please, Jake, open up.’

Almost to their surprise, the door swung open. Jake stood before them, his expression stormy.

‘Forget it, Isabella, I can’t talk now.’

‘Jake, listen—’ Cassie began.

‘To you? No, thanks.’ Jake made to move past them.

‘The FBI,’ she blurted. ‘They know you’ve been accessing their files.’

‘I know that,’ snapped Jake. ‘They traced me to my parents’ house this afternoon. That’s why I came back here.’

‘Yeah, well I think they’re here now.’

Jake froze. ‘What?’

‘Please,’ Cassie continued, ‘I don’t think we have much time—’

Before she could finish, the elevator pinged, and footsteps began echoing down the hallway.

‘Someone’s coming,’ Isabella hissed. ‘Jake!’

‘Get out of here, both of you. I’ll deal with this.’

The footsteps were getting closer, approaching the corner. Cassie grabbed Isabella’s arm.

‘He’s right. Isabella, come on!’ she said, beginning to drag her friend off in the opposite direction from the advancing steps.

‘Jake …’ Isabella started, reaching out briefly to touch his hand before Cassie pulled her away, back into the emergency stairwell. From

there, they heard the footsteps reach Jake’s door.

‘Jacob Johnson?’ intoned a deep, stern voice. ‘Federal Bureau of Investigation. You’re under arrest.’

* * *

Cassie knew nothing would snap Isabella out of her desolate mood, but since the afternoon’s events she had refused to eat a bite and

wouldn’t step outside of their room. What she needed was food; Cassie knew just how bad things looked through a film of hunger …

The paper bag full of bagels was warm in her gloved hands, and it smelled delicious. She was on the point of dashing through the

Academy’s glass doors when she spotted a familiar figure lounging against a limousine on the corner of the block.

Richard – she’d recognise his silhouette anywhere.

He saw Cassie at the same moment and straightened up. The way the streetlight shone, it was impossible to make out his expression,

but the car instantly drew away from the kerb, seeming to purr with malevolent satisfaction as it passed her.

Cassie froze. The windows were tinted, but one of them was rolled down – the one Richard had been bent to – and the car’s occupant

was in no hurry to raise it again. As the glass slid upwards, Cassie stared. A face smiled back at her with absolute chilling coldness: a pale,

lovely face. One hand lifted lazily to push back silvery-blonde hair, revealing the familiar brutal scar. Then the black window shut, silently,

and the car was gone into the East Side night.

‘Cassie!’ Richard’s call was panicked.

Dropping the bag of bagels, Cassie stormed towards him, red mist shrouding her vision in an instant.

‘Cassie, look, it’s not what you think—’

‘Just when I think you can’t disgust me any further, Richard,’ she snarled, ‘you find some new low to sink to.’

Cassie felt the heat prickling up her neck as the peculiar shimmering feeling spread out from her, just like at Carnegie Hall.

Yes, Cassandra, it’s been too long since you let us play …

‘Cassie?’ Richard’s voice was uncertain now, but his stance was wary, poised for defence.

She knew that if she looked at Richard a moment longer, she would do something they would both regret. With a massive effort, she