The lesson passed in a blur. Debbie tried hard not to pay special attention to me, but our eyes kept meeting and we were unable to stop smiling. The others kids noted the remarkable bond between us and it was the talk of the school by lunchtime. If the students had been suspicious of me at the start of the day, now they were downright wary, and everyone gave me a wide berth.

I breezed through the later classes. It didn't bother me that I was out of my depth and ignorant of the subject matter. I no longer cared or tried to act clued up. Debbie was all I could think about. Even when Mr. Smarts threw my maths copy at me in science and bawled furiously, I only smiled, nodded and tuned him out.

At the end of the day I rushed back to the hotel. I'd been given the key to a locker, where I was supposed to leave my books, but I was so excited I didn't bother with it, and carried the full bag of books home with me. Mr. Crepsley was still in bed when I arrived, but Harkat was awake, and I hurriedly told him about my day and meeting Debbie.

"Isn't it wonderful?" I finished breathlessly. "Isn't it incredible? Isn't it the most…" I couldn't think of any way to describe it, so I simply threw my hands into the air and yelled, "Yahoo!"

"It's great," Harkat said, wide mouth spreading into a jagged smile, but he didn't sound happy.

"What's wrong?" I asked, reading the unease in his round green eyes.

"Nothing," he said. "It's great. Really. I'm thrilled for you."

"Don't lie to me, Harkat. Something's bugging you. What?"

He came out with it. "Doesn't this seem a bit… too coincidental?"

"What do you mean?"

"Of all the schools you could have gone to… all the teachers in the world… you end up at the one where your… old girlfriend's teaching? And in her class?"

"Life's like that, Harkat. Strange things happen all the time."

"Yes," the Little Person agreed. "And sometimes they happen… by chance. But other times they're… arranged."

I'd been unbuttoning my shirt, having slipped off my jumper and tie. Now I paused, fingers on the buttons, and studied him. "What are you saying?"

"Something smells rotten. If you'd run into Debbie in the street, that… would be something else. But you're in her class at a school where… you shouldn't be. Somebody set you up to go to Mahler's, someone who… knows about Murlough, and about your past."

"You think the person who forged our signatures knew Debbie was working at Mahler's?" I asked.

"That's obvious," Harkat said. "And that in itself is cause for worry. But there's something else we… must consider. What if the person who set you up didn't… just know about Debbie — what if it was Debbie?"

CHAPTER SEVEN

I COULDN'T believe Debbie was in league with the vampaneze or Mr. Tiny, or had played any part in setting me up to go to Mahler's. I told Harkat how stunned she'd been to see me, but he said she might have been acting. "If she went to all the trouble of getting… you there, she'd hardly not act surprised," he noted.

I shook my head stubbornly. "She wouldn't do something like this."

"I don't know her, so I can't voice… an opinion. But you don't really know her either. She was a child when you… last saw her. People change as they grow."

"You don't think I should trust her?"

"I'm not saying that. Maybe she's genuine. Maybe she had nothing to do with faking the… forms, or with you being there — it could be a… huge coincidence. But caution is required. Go see her, but keep an eye… on her. Be careful what you say. Put some probing questions to her. And take a weapon."

"I couldn't hurt her," I said quietly. "Even if she has plotted against us, there's no way I could kill her."

"Take one anyway," Harkat insisted. "If she's working with the vampaneze, it may not be… her you have to use it on."

"You reckon the vampaneze could be lying in wait there?"

"Maybe. We couldn't understand why… the vampaneze — if they're behind the fake forms — would send you… to school. If they're working with Debbie — or using… her — this might explain it."

"You mean they want to get me at Debbie's alone, so they can pick me off?"

"They might."

I nodded thoughtfully. I didn't believe Debbie was working with our foes, but it was possible that they were manipulating her to get to me. "How should we handle this?" I asked.

Harkat's green eyes betrayed his uncertainty. "I'm not sure. It would be foolish to walk into… a trap. But sometimes risks must be taken. Perhaps this is our way to flush out… those who would ensnare us."

Chewing my lower lip, I brooded upon it a while, then followed the most sensible course of action — I went and woke Mr. Crepsley.

I rang the bell for 3c and waited. A moment later, Debbie's voice came over the intercom. "Darren?"

"The one and only."

"You're late." It was twenty past seven. The sun was setting.

"Got stuck doing homework. Blame my English teacher — she's a real dragon."

"Ha-flaming-ha."

There was a buzzing noise and the door opened. I paused before entering and looked across the street at the opposite block of apartments. I spotted a lurking shadow on the roof — Mr. Crepsley. Harkat was behind Debbie's building. Both would rush to my rescue at the first sign of trouble. That was the plan we'd hatched. Mr. Crepsley had suggested beating a hasty retreat — things were getting too complicated for his liking — but when I pulled rank, he'd agreed to make the most of the situation and attempt to turn the tables on our opponents — if they showed.

"If a fight develops," he warned me before setting out, "it may not be possible to choose targets. You are not prepared to raise a hand against your friend, but I am, if she is working with the enemy. Do not get in my way if that happens."

I nodded grimly. I wasn't sure I could stand by and let him harm Debbie, even if it turned out that she was conspiring against us — but I'd try.

Trotting up the stairs, I was painfully aware of the two knives I was carrying, strapped to my calves so as not to show. I hoped I wouldn't have to use them, but it was good to know they were there if needed.

The door to 3c was open, but I knocked before entering. "Come in," Debbie called. "I'm in the kitchen."

I closed the door but didn't lock it. Quickly scanned the apartment. Very tidy. Several bookcases, overflowing with books. A CD player and stand; lots of CDs. A portable TV set. A cover poster of The Lord of the Rings on one wall, a picture of Debbie with her parents on another.

Debbie stepped in from the kitchen. She was wearing a long red apron and there was flour in her hair. "I got bored waiting for you," she said, "so I started to make scones. Do you like yours with currants or without?"

"Without," I said and smiled as she ducked back into the kitchen — killers and their cohorts don't greet you with flour in their hair! Any half-doubts I had about Debbie quickly vanished and I knew I'd nothing to fear from her. But I didn't drop my guard — Debbie didn't pose a threat, but there might be vampaneze in the room next door or hovering on the fire escape.

"How did you enjoy your first day at school?" Debbie asked, as I wandered round the living room.

"It was strange. I haven't been inside a school since… Well, it's been a long time. So much has changed. When I was…" I stopped. The cover of a book had caught my eye: The Three Musketeers. "Is Donna still making you read this?"

Debbie poked her head through the doorway and looked at the book. "Oh," she laughed. "I was reading that when we first met, wasn't I?"

"Yep. You hated it."