Night School - Endgame Read Online Free Page A

them since she’d returned to the school. There was no one to shout at.
    After lunch, the others succumbed one by one to the lack of sleep, disappearing to their rooms. But Allie refused to follow them.
    The last time she’d slept she’d been lying in Carter’s arms in the safe house in London. The memory of that moment haunted her now.
    She didn’t want to be in her room. Didn’t want to be alone.
    She didn’t want to be safe when Carter wasn’t.
    By late afternoon, though, she was punch-drunk with exhaustion. She hadn’t slept properly in two days.
    She reeled through the tangle of hallways alone, trying to stay awake.
    ‘Someone to talk to,’ she muttered to herself as she turned into the common room. But it was empty, save for the cleaners, who were silently stacking used cups and plates on trays. The delicate clattering of the china echoed in the stillness.
    She walked along the formal hallway as far as the classroom wing, where a cluster of marble statues kept watch. Then she turned and paced back again, fingers tracing the grooves of the carved panelling.
    Eventually, she found herself standing outside the library, unable to remember exactly how she’d got there.
    The door swung open with a soft sound, like an intake of breath.
    This room was as familiar to Allie as her own bedroom. The long rows of tall bookcases with their tilted, rolling ladders. The dim, low light. It felt like refuge.
    She walked in slowly – the high-ceilinged space felt hollow and empty. There was no sign of Eloise, the librarian. Or of any students or guards. The big metal light fixtures hanging from chains had been left on, as they always were. Green-shaded lamps glowed on every empty table.
    Allie found herself walking slowly across the room. She was so tired her feet felt light. Like she was floating through the fiction section. Thick Persian carpets muffled her footsteps, adding to the sense of unreality.
    Maybe she was asleep right now, and dreaming this whole thing.
    When she reached the modern history section she turned. Her fingertips lightly brushed the gilded spines of the old books as she looked for one title. When she found what she sought, she slid it off the shelf and clutched it to her chest.
    It was a heavy book with a leather cover. The title was Conquering the World.
    Allie closed her eyes.
    A month ago, she’d stood right here with Carter, bickering about their history assignment.
    ‘Here’s a good one,’ he’d said, handing her this book.
    In science class she’d learned all objects constantly exchange electrons. If you sit in a chair long enough eventually the chair has all your electrons, and you have the chair’s.
    Jerry Cole had taught her that.
    She put her hands where Carter’s had been, trying to feel him in the book. Yet she could feel nothing beneath her fingertips but the hard, unyielding cover.
    Allie gave a muffled sob.
    Who knew where he was? She’d failed to keep him safe.
    Failed to protect him.
    I should have done something. But I lost him. 
    Still holding the book in her arms, she slid slowly down to the floor and lowered her head to her knees.
    Carter, please be alive. 
     
    ‘Allie Sheridan?’ The gruff voice was unfamiliar, dispassionate.
    Allie blinked awake. The world had tilted sideways. Her cheek was pressed against the rough weave of an antique Persian rug.
    Slowly she sat up and looked around blearily.
    The library. 
    She could only vaguely remember coming in here. She must have fallen asleep. She still cradled a book in her arms.
    One of Raj’s guards stood at the end of the row, his expression inscrutable. ‘Isabelle le Fanult would like you to come to her office.’
    ‘She would, would she?’ Fully awake now, Allie rubbed the back of her hand across her gritty eyes. ‘Well, maybe I’m not interested in talking to her right now.’
    The guard opened his mouth, then closed it again. Clearly he hadn’t expected that.
    ‘She said it was important?’ A touch of