Falling by Debbie Moon Read Free Book Online

her fears.
    Sucking air like a drowning woman, Jude pushed her way between stalls, back onto the lank, trampled grass of the official path.
    Where Schrader was waiting for her.
    â€˜Thought we’d lost you,’ he said, in a voice more disappointed than worried.
    This seemed to be the quiet end of the festival; mostly thin, earnest-looking men with handfuls of leaflets offering Heaven On Earth Here And Now. They weren’t making much of an effort to entrap even the few foolhardy souls drawn down here by the fortune tellers and a noisy machine-weaving display. They just sat there, staring into the crowd, leaflets fanned in their outstretched hands. Waiting for the fish to bite.
    â€˜I took the short cut.’
    â€˜Hmmm. Right.’
    He didn’t seem to be making much effort to blend in. No shopping, none of the rusty-pinned badges or printed sashes the campaigners and cultists were handing out. She tried to imagine Sour-face Schrader draped in pink silk declaring ‘Save Hunting Hounds’ or ‘Ban The Combustion Engine’, and found her imagination wasn’t up to the task.
    â€˜What have you done with your Germans?’
    â€˜Don’t call them that,’ Schrader growled.
    â€˜So what am I supposed to call them? Italians?’
    â€˜Well, “our guests” would do nicely.’
    â€˜Guests, Germans, whatever. Where are they?’
    Schrader nodded at the two furthest booths. Under the neatly drawn curtains, she could see the turn-ups of their immaculate trousers, already splattered with mud.
    â€˜Right. I could have told their fortunes. They’ll buy up whatever they came here for, dirt cheap, and go home rich men. Because – any country, any commodity – their sort always do.’
    Schrader’s scowl deepened. It suited him. He never looked quite right smiling.
    â€˜They came here,’ he said, ‘to research the Hurst system. With a view to emptying their country towns. If that works, the cities follow.’
    Them too. Then France, maybe, and Switzerland – they’re halfway there already. The Scandinavians next…
    Until there are no more cities left. Anywhere.
    Jude shrugged, aware of how forced the gesture looked. ‘That’s their business. I’m just here for the local colour, remember?’
    â€˜I think not,’ the third fortune teller said.
    She leant forward into the light: a young woman, her thin face and roughly-cropped auburn hair giving her the appearance of a Victorian street urchin. Deliberate, Jude decided. All calculated to gain sympathy. But hell, it works. It’s working on me, anyway. I always did have a soft spot for redheads.
    â€˜I don’t need my fortune told. I don’t believe all that mumbo-jumbo. I make my own fortune.’
    â€˜You make your own past, ReTracer. That’s all.’
    Jude looked to Schrader, to see if he’d said something that had given them away. He just looked uneasy, like he expected the crowd to round on them any second.
    â€˜I’m willing,’ the redhead said, ‘to tell you how to make your own fortune.’
    Sighing defeat, Jude fished a coin from her pocket and laid it on the table.
    â€˜Let me see your hand.’
    Jude extended it slowly. Left hand; always keep your right free for emergencies. The girl’s fingers closed around hers, squeezing. Hot fingers, greasy with sweat. Probably on something. Like everyone else within a quarter mile. Beautifully manicured nails, though. A coat of lightly tinted polish, pink, smoothed to a neat curve, so unlike Fitch’s –
    A shudder ran through her, and she pulled her hand free.
    â€˜She loves you,’ the redhead said, as if it was obvious. ‘Ask yourself: does the difference between you really matter?’
    Aware of Schrader right behind her, Jude realised she’d made a terrible mistake. Swallowing, dry-mouthed, she managed, ‘Aren’t all telepaths supposed to be