“Odetta!” Bennet called, hurrying in behind him. He immediately started coughing, his eyes streaming. “Is she here? I can’t see her! I can’t see anything!”

“I’ll check,” Sebastian said, guiding him back to fresh air. “Stay here.”

He had finished the search in less than thirty seconds, and joined Bennet outside.

“She’s not here,” he said.

Bennet was on his knees, blinking madly. “As soon as her kidnappers find out someone’s been here, they’ll kill her. They’re going to kill her and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Hold on a second,” Sebastian said. “Whoever’s been storing those Hollow Men here, they have to be the ones behind this. You’re a connected guy, Bennet – who do you know who can find out who owns this house?”

“None of my old connections will speak to me any more.”

“Surely there’s someone? Surely you still have friends who could check around for you?”

Bennet stopped snivelling. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe I know someone who can help.” He took out his phone.

While he made some calls, Sebastian gave the small house another search. He found plates in the kitchen cupboard, and a single cup. There was a small amount of food – enough for one person.

“I might have something,” Bennet said when Sebastian stepped out. “This house is being rented by someone. I can’t find out the name, but whoever it is is renting a second house here, somewhere in Roarhaven. Maybe Odetta is there?”

“Maybe,” said Sebastian.

“We’ll have to wait a few hours before I can get the address, but you’ll help me? When I have it, you’ll help me?”

“Of course,” said Sebastian. “That was our deal, right? I help you, and then you help me.”

“Thank you,” Bennet said, grabbing Sebastian’s hand and shaking it. “Thank you so much for all of this. I’ve got such a good feeling. We’re going to get her back. I just know we are.”

30

Omen’s hands were shaking.

This was normal, he supposed, in the aftermath of a near-death experience – that and the chattering teeth were to be expected. He’d had a dose of adrenaline dumped into his system and now what was left of it was sloshing around in his bloodstream, causing all kinds of tics.

Someone had tried to kill him. Someone had actually tried to kill him.

A few younger boys came into the bathroom, chatting and calling each other names. One of them tried Omen’s cubicle. The lock rattled in its bracket and the kid said, “Sorry,” and went into the next one. Omen waited until they were all gone before holding up his hand again.

Yep, still shaking. That was probably going to last a while.

His knee hurt. It throbbed, actually. He must have injured it when he’d slammed into the wall under Peccant’s balcony.