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Description
                                           Chapter 1: Made Unbreakable
     Luke sat in the passenger seat of the Professor’s car, which the young boy affectionately called the Laytonmobile, listening to the gentle humming of the motor, his mind wandering. Only a few hours before, the Professor had announced that they were going to the heart of London.
     “Luke, my boy,” he had told him, “there’s something that has been bothering me.”
     “Is it puzzle, Professor?”
     Laughing, he replied, “Not quite. But I suppose you could call it a puzzle of sorts. And to solve it, we’ll need to return to London.”
     “Got a lead?” Luke had asked, his eyes shining with excitement.
     He had chuckled and nodded. “Go get Flora and pack your things. We will be leaving as soon as you two are ready!”
     Laughing eagerly, he replied, “Yes sir!”
     Layton had ruffled his hair and shooed him to the door. “That’s my boy,” he said, smiling gently.
     Collecting his thoughts, Luke stared out the window, letting them float out into the breeze flowing through the opening. Flora was being unusually quiet, giving off the air of being pensive and upset, and he had a pretty good idea of what was troubling her.
      He frowned and leaned his head on his fist. Although she wasn’t a typically loud girl, this silence was heavy and almost intimidating, quite unlike the serene feel it usually had. If he were unlucky enough, he might end up provoking her to the point where she might hit him. It had happened before.
     He decided to speak up. “Hey… Flora…?”
     “I’m not talking about it,” she snapped back, causing Luke to jump up in his seat in surprise.
     It was strange. More and more often it would seem as though she anticipated everything he was going to say before he said it. Only last week he had walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water while she was preparing some sort of meal. Luke had stared in shock as she pulled mayonnaise, jelly, cake batter, and fish, among other things, out of the pantry and refrigerator. He stayed silent.
     As if only noticing he was there just then, Flora turned and gaped at him. Within seconds, her face twisted into an angered grimace. “You think I can’t cook? Is that it?” she shrieked, slamming a jar of peanut butter on the table. Face red, she stormed out of the kitchen.
     It was indeed true. She couldn’t cook if her life depended on it. Though with all his years in his apprenticeship with Professor Layton, he knew it was ungentlemanly to think poorly of a lady—or at least let her know you were thinking poorly of her—so he tried his hardest not to let her know what he thought of her cooking, to keep on a straight face or an approving smile as not to upset her. It never worked.
     The Professor frowned slightly, not being particularly eager to step in. It wasn’t all that long ago that Luke came to him seeking an explanation for the girl’s odd behavior. But as much of an honest gentleman he was, he still preferred not to discuss what makes females act the way they do, particularly in this delicate stage of development.
     With as little detail as possible, he had told Luke that Flora was changing, and that it was really nothing to worry about. After all, everyone, regardless of gender, begins to change somewhere around her age. The mood swings would come and go, and eventually, she would be back to her usual cheery and gentle self.
     I only hope that time isn’t too far off, he thought to himself. I don’t know how long I can hold back Luke’s curiosity.
     As if on cue, the boy looked up at him. “How much longer till we get there, Professor?”
     His frown melting away at the reminder of Luke’s naturally sunny disposition, he looked over at him from the corner of his eye and chuckled. “Not much longer at all,” he replied, pulling into a parking area. Pushing the gear shift into park, he continued, “Our first stop is Gresham College.”
     Luke peered excitedly out the window at the large building. “Professor,” he said, unbuckling, “isn’t this where you teach when you’re not out on one of your adventures?”
     “The very same, my boy,” he responded. He left the car, and the boy joined him, leaving Flora to follow silently behind, her mood still clearly quite foul.
     As they were led through the halls, Luke stayed very close behind Layton, at times clinging to his jacket when a large group of students would pass by. Every now and then he would look back at Flora to see if she was still there, and every time, she shot him a frustrated glare, putting him even more ill at ease.
     I really don’t see what she’s so upset about, the boy thought to himself. I did see her diary, but I didn’t read a word of it! She snatched it back too quickly for that.
     At that point, Layton had begun talking to an older man, asking for the whereabouts of a certain Alan Scottsborough. Had he not been caught up in his own puzzle at the moment, Luke would have been more focused on asking the Professor why he was searching for this man.
     What is it that she needed to keep from me so badly? Luke looked back at a simmering Flora. I’m with her every day! What is there that I don’t know? He swallowed, turning his back to her once again. Unless it has… Luke’s heart skipped, and his cheeks felt significantly warmer. What if it’s got  something to do with me…? What if she—
     His thoughts were cut off by the sudden feel of cold air between his hat and his hair. Throwing his hands up to cover his head, he spun around to see a red-faced Flora wringing his blue cap between clenched fists.
     “What was that for?!” Luke protested, lunging toward her to grab the hat.
     She swiftly pulled it out of his reach. Flora stood there in a stubborn silence, her angered frown deepening as well as the color on her cheeks. In one firm motion, the girl pulled it onto her head, holding it securely by the brim.
     Luke continued to grab for his hat, reach over her shoulders and shout at her. It was safe for him to assume Layton wouldn’t want to discuss his rude behavior in front of his colleagues, but the boy was determined to retrieve the hat all the same.
     However, one thing caught his attention as he wrestled for it. Flora had appeared to be enjoying herself; an amused smirk had appeared on her lips, and for a moment, a quiet giggle escaped as he attempted to make another grab at the hat.
     Becoming slightly irritated by their misbehavior, the Professor tipped his top hat to the man he had been talking to. “Thank you. You’ve been of great help.” He turned to the still-arguing children behind him. “Luke, Flora,” he said, with a slight hint of impatience in his voice. The indication was enough to end the quarrel. Layton motioned for the two to follow him out of the building, and they guiltily trailed behind.
     Flora muttered to Luke under her breath, “This doesn’t mean you’re getting it back any time soon.”
     Answering with nothing more than an angry frown tinged with embarrassment, the boy remained silent and looked intently ahead, wishing for nothing more than for his precious hat to be returned to its rightful place: hiding his disheveled hat-hair.
     The group continued until they came to street vendor whose cart was stocked with colorful t-shirts and hooded sweatshirts bearing the words “I Love London” and similar designs, disposable cameras and exotically scented hand sanitizers among other things.
     “Excuse me, sir?” said Layton genially as he approached the vendor. “I was told that you might be able to help me. I’m searching for a man named Alan Scottsborough.”
     “You mean Scotty?” the man laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Old Barnes must’ve sent you!” Within moments, the two were engaged in conversation.
     Luke saw this as the perfect opportunity to attempt to reclaim his hat. Looking over at Flora out of the corner of his eye, he quickly thought out a plan. He slowly and inconspicuously reached his hand behind her head, his fingers practically feeling the comforting sensation of the fabric beneath them. In his mind’s eye, he could already see it back on his head.
     With a single deft movement, Flora removed his cap from her head and held it out of his reach once more. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Luke,” she said, giving a disappointed sigh. “Much better.”
     He was taken aback by how quickly she had reacted.
     “There’s no way you saw that coming!” he claimed, mouth gaping. Regaining his composure, he continued with a sigh, “What’s it going take to get my hat back?”
     She twirled the hat thoughtfully on one finger and after a moment looked back at him. “You’ll have to earn it back,” she said firmly.
     “What?” he groaned. “How am I supposed to do that?”
     Flora shrugged. “I don’t know,” she replied, placing the hat securely on her head once more. “The Professor’s teaching you how to be a gentleman, isn’t he? Do something that’ll make me want to reward you.”
     “You’re no fair, Flora!” he moped.
     “You’re the apprentice to the great Professor Layton,” she said, turning and walking away. “You’re a smart boy; I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
     He quickly rummaged through his mind for ideas. “Wait!” he cried. “I’ll do your chores for a month!”
     She stopped in her tracks, and her eyes lit up as she turned back towards him. “Yes,” she said slowly, a crafty smile finding its way across her lips. “Go on.”
     “I’ll… I’ll…” He shook his head slightly, hoping for another idea. “I’ll never set eyes on your diary again! On purpose or on accident!”
     She nodded. “Continue.”
     Throwing his hands into the air in desperation, he said, “And I’ll make you breakfast in bed, too!”
     “For a week?”
     He nodded firmly. “For a week.”
     “Well,” she said, pensively tapping her lower lip.
     “Well?” he echoed, eager for her to continue.
     “It’s a nice thought, but it doesn’t quite cut it.”
     “Flora!” he whined. “You’re being ridiculous!”
     “Well,” she said, playfully tugging the brim of her prize, “you’re not really in a position to be making demands, now are you?” She headed towards the vendor’s cart again. “Try again when you’ve got more bargaining chips.”
     Luke crossed his arms and scowled. “Girls and their stupid diaries,” he grumbled to himself. He watched the other pedestrians strolling up and down the streets, some flitting from vendor to vendor, as he tried to come up with other things that would soothe the fiery wrath of a girl.
     As he went about his pondering, he watched certain individuals, studying their movements and their patterns of walking, his mind wandering to thoughts of what they might be doing. It wasn’t long before he was completely taken in by his new game. I’ll be willing to bet that portly old gentleman is heading home from some large corporation after he goes to dinner, he thought, amused. And that woman has an awful lot of bags. It looks like there are toys in them, too. I’ll bet she’s a tourist gathering souvenirs for her family!
     A slender young woman with glasses who looked to be about the Professor’s age was the next to catch his eye. She’s very pretty, he mused. I’ll bet she’s out to dinner, too. Probably does something very mentally engaging for a living and has a nice family at home. She looks like the kind who’d have a few kids running about. Probably loves them, too.
     Smiling brightly, she looked over in his direction, her wavy light brown hair spilling over her shoulders as she did so. Locking gazes with him, she gave a friendly wave. Luke, seeing as no harm could come from being polite, waved back. He watched as her eyes slowly drifted back behind him. Her smile was quickly melted into a look of uneasiness mixed with disbelief as her gaze fell back on him. As suddenly as she had come, she disappeared back into the crowd.
     Luke, now terribly confused, looked around, trying to find the source of her distress. Coming up with no solid reasoning, he shrugged it off. “She probably just saw her boss or something,” he said quietly to himself, and he returned to Layton.
     Tipping his hat politely, the Professor thanked the vendor for his help and after gathering Luke and Flora, headed in the direction of his next destination.
     As they walked, Luke would occasionally glance over at Flora, thinking that perhaps some aspect of her appearance would tip him off as to what to offer for his hat. But as he returned his gaze to the path in front of him, he noticed something strange. It was that woman again, following them in the cover of the crowd.
     He swallowed nervously. He knew what it felt like to be pursued, and he also knew that very rarely did people follow in secret for a good reason. “Professor?” he asked anxiously, tugging on the back of Layton’s coat. “Remember when you told me about stalkers?”
     Surprised, Layton looked over his shoulder. “Yes, of course,” he replied, lowering his voice. “Why do you ask?”
     “I think we’ve got one,” whispered Luke. “She saw us a few minutes ago and disappeared. And now she’s behind us.” He whimpered. “Is this going to turn out like it did with Don Paolo? Because I really didn’t like him.”
     “Of course not,” Layton said resolutely. “We will simply make a few odd turns, lose her and be on our way.”
     Luke smiled slightly, feeling comforted already. This was one of the things that he liked best about the Professor; he was almost what the boy imagined a father to be like in the way he was constantly looking out for himself and Flora, always seeking to do what was in their best interest or what would make them most comfortable.
     “I’ve got an idea, Luke,” he continued. “Why don’t you lead us? You know where she is, after all.”
     The boy nodded uncertainly. “Alright.” He looked around for any possible way to escape the strange woman. “Left!” he said. “Past that upcoming group and behind that huge line of carts!”
     “Don’t get lost,” said Layton as he led them in the direction Luke had indicated.
     Had the boy been less focused on escaping from the stalker, he would have noticed how unusually tense Flora became when he firmly grasped her hand and piloted his way through the crowd behind the Professor. “Hold on!”
     After reaching the relative safety of the caravan of carts, the group returned to their normal pace. “Did we lose her?” asked Flora softly, unnerved at the thought of being followed.
     Luke peeked out between two of the racks of merchandise, only to make eye contact with the strange woman once more. A chill ran down his spine. “Not yet.”
     “Perhaps if we take one of the smaller, older roads,” Layton thought aloud.
     “Great idea, Professor!” Grabbing onto his sleeve, Luke pulled him toward the side of the road.
     Slipping into an alley, the children kept close to Layton. “I doubt she would follow us here,” the Professor commented quietly.
     Flora nodded in agreement. “I sure hope so.”
     Luke stood in awe of the space’s dark, foreboding atmosphere, slowly moving backwards step by step, taking it all in. This would be a perfect place to start a horror movie. Creepiest place I’ve ever been, he thought.
     His heart leapt into his throat as he backed into something warm. He spun around and came face-to-face with the very same woman who had been following them on the street. She seemed just as surprised as he was.
     “Professor!” he squeaked as he took cover behind his mentor. “It’s her!”
     Holding out a protective hand in front of the children, Layton turned to face the intruder. He took a quick, shallow breath and his heart skipped a beat as she stepped into a beam of light. “Claire?”

Description
                                           Chapter 1: Made Unbreakable
     Luke sat in the passenger seat of the Professor’s car, which the young boy affectionately called the Laytonmobile, listening to the gentle humming of the motor, his mind wandering. Only a few hours before, the Professor had announced that they were going to the heart of London.
     “Luke, my boy,” he had told him, “there’s something that has been bothering me.”
     “Is it puzzle, Professor?”
     Laughing, he replied, “Not quite. But I suppose you could call it a puzzle of sorts. And to solve it, we’ll need to return to London.”
     “Got a lead?” Luke had asked, his eyes shining with excitement.
     He had chuckled and nodded. “Go get Flora and pack your things. We will be leaving as soon as you two are ready!”
     Laughing eagerly, he replied, “Yes sir!”
     Layton had ruffled his hair and shooed him to the door. “That’s my boy,” he said, smiling gently.
     Collecting his thoughts, Luke stared out the window, letting them float out into the breeze flowing through the opening. Flora was being unusually quiet, giving off the air of being pensive and upset, and he had a pretty good idea of what was troubling her.
      He frowned and leaned his head on his fist. Although she wasn’t a typically loud girl, this silence was heavy and almost intimidating, quite unlike the serene feel it usually had. If he were unlucky enough, he might end up provoking her to the point where she might hit him. It had happened before.
     He decided to speak up. “Hey… Flora…?”
     “I’m not talking about it,” she snapped back, causing Luke to jump up in his seat in surprise.
     It was strange. More and more often it would seem as though she anticipated everything he was going to say before he said it. Only last week he had walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water while she was preparing some sort of meal. Luke had stared in shock as she pulled mayonnaise, jelly, cake batter, and fish, among other things, out of the pantry and refrigerator. He stayed silent.
     As if only noticing he was there just then, Flora turned and gaped at him. Within seconds, her face twisted into an angered grimace. “You think I can’t cook? Is that it?” she shrieked, slamming a jar of peanut butter on the table. Face red, she stormed out of the kitchen.
     It was indeed true. She couldn’t cook if her life depended on it. Though with all his years in his apprenticeship with Professor Layton, he knew it was ungentlemanly to think poorly of a lady—or at least let her know you were thinking poorly of her—so he tried his hardest not to let her know what he thought of her cooking, to keep on a straight face or an approving smile as not to upset her. It never worked.
     The Professor frowned slightly, not being particularly eager to step in. It wasn’t all that long ago that Luke came to him seeking an explanation for the girl’s odd behavior. But as much of an honest gentleman he was, he still preferred not to discuss what makes females act the way they do, particularly in this delicate stage of development.
     With as little detail as possible, he had told Luke that Flora was changing, and that it was really nothing to worry about. After all, everyone, regardless of gender, begins to change somewhere around her age. The mood swings would come and go, and eventually, she would be back to her usual cheery and gentle self.
     I only hope that time isn’t too far off, he thought to himself. I don’t know how long I can hold back Luke’s curiosity.
     As if on cue, the boy looked up at him. “How much longer till we get there, Professor?”
     His frown melting away at the reminder of Luke’s naturally sunny disposition, he looked over at him from the corner of his eye and chuckled. “Not much longer at all,” he replied, pulling into a parking area. Pushing the gear shift into park, he continued, “Our first stop is Gresham College.”
     Luke peered excitedly out the window at the large building. “Professor,” he said, unbuckling, “isn’t this where you teach when you’re not out on one of your adventures?”
     “The very same, my boy,” he responded. He left the car, and the boy joined him, leaving Flora to follow silently behind, her mood still clearly quite foul.
     As they were led through the halls, Luke stayed very close behind Layton, at times clinging to his jacket when a large group of students would pass by. Every now and then he would look back at Flora to see if she was still there, and every time, she shot him a frustrated glare, putting him even more ill at ease.
     I really don’t see what she’s so upset about, the boy thought to himself. I did see her diary, but I didn’t read a word of it! She snatched it back too quickly for that.
     At that point, Layton had begun talking to an older man, asking for the whereabouts of a certain Alan Scottsborough. Had he not been caught up in his own puzzle at the moment, Luke would have been more focused on asking the Professor why he was searching for this man.
     What is it that she needed to keep from me so badly? Luke looked back at a simmering Flora. I’m with her every day! What is there that I don’t know? He swallowed, turning his back to her once again. Unless it has… Luke’s heart skipped, and his cheeks felt significantly warmer. What if it’s got  something to do with me…? What if she—
     His thoughts were cut off by the sudden feel of cold air between his hat and his hair. Throwing his hands up to cover his head, he spun around to see a red-faced Flora wringing his blue cap between clenched fists.
     “What was that for?!” Luke protested, lunging toward her to grab the hat.
     She swiftly pulled it out of his reach. Flora stood there in a stubborn silence, her angered frown deepening as well as the color on her cheeks. In one firm motion, the girl pulled it onto her head, holding it securely by the brim.
     Luke continued to grab for his hat, reach over her shoulders and shout at her. It was safe for him to assume Layton wouldn’t want to discuss his rude behavior in front of his colleagues, but the boy was determined to retrieve the hat all the same.
     However, one thing caught his attention as he wrestled for it. Flora had appeared to be enjoying herself; an amused smirk had appeared on her lips, and for a moment, a quiet giggle escaped as he attempted to make another grab at the hat.
     Becoming slightly irritated by their misbehavior, the Professor tipped his top hat to the man he had been talking to. “Thank you. You’ve been of great help.” He turned to the still-arguing children behind him. “Luke, Flora,” he said, with a slight hint of impatience in his voice. The indication was enough to end the quarrel. Layton motioned for the two to follow him out of the building, and they guiltily trailed behind.
     Flora muttered to Luke under her breath, “This doesn’t mean you’re getting it back any time soon.”
     Answering with nothing more than an angry frown tinged with embarrassment, the boy remained silent and looked intently ahead, wishing for nothing more than for his precious hat to be returned to its rightful place: hiding his disheveled hat-hair.
     The group continued until they came to street vendor whose cart was stocked with colorful t-shirts and hooded sweatshirts bearing the words “I Love London” and similar designs, disposable cameras and exotically scented hand sanitizers among other things.
     “Excuse me, sir?” said Layton genially as he approached the vendor. “I was told that you might be able to help me. I’m searching for a man named Alan Scottsborough.”
     “You mean Scotty?” the man laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Old Barnes must’ve sent you!” Within moments, the two were engaged in conversation.
     Luke saw this as the perfect opportunity to attempt to reclaim his hat. Looking over at Flora out of the corner of his eye, he quickly thought out a plan. He slowly and inconspicuously reached his hand behind her head, his fingers practically feeling the comforting sensation of the fabric beneath them. In his mind’s eye, he could already see it back on his head.
     With a single deft movement, Flora removed his cap from her head and held it out of his reach once more. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Luke,” she said, giving a disappointed sigh. “Much better.”
     He was taken aback by how quickly she had reacted.
     “There’s no way you saw that coming!” he claimed, mouth gaping. Regaining his composure, he continued with a sigh, “What’s it going take to get my hat back?”
     She twirled the hat thoughtfully on one finger and after a moment looked back at him. “You’ll have to earn it back,” she said firmly.
     “What?” he groaned. “How am I supposed to do that?”
     Flora shrugged. “I don’t know,” she replied, placing the hat securely on her head once more. “The Professor’s teaching you how to be a gentleman, isn’t he? Do something that’ll make me want to reward you.”
     “You’re no fair, Flora!” he moped.
     “You’re the apprentice to the great Professor Layton,” she said, turning and walking away. “You’re a smart boy; I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
     He quickly rummaged through his mind for ideas. “Wait!” he cried. “I’ll do your chores for a month!”
     She stopped in her tracks, and her eyes lit up as she turned back towards him. “Yes,” she said slowly, a crafty smile finding its way across her lips. “Go on.”
     “I’ll… I’ll…” He shook his head slightly, hoping for another idea. “I’ll never set eyes on your diary again! On purpose or on accident!”
     She nodded. “Continue.”
     Throwing his hands into the air in desperation, he said, “And I’ll make you breakfast in bed, too!”
     “For a week?”
     He nodded firmly. “For a week.”
     “Well,” she said, pensively tapping her lower lip.
     “Well?” he echoed, eager for her to continue.
     “It’s a nice thought, but it doesn’t quite cut it.”
     “Flora!” he whined. “You’re being ridiculous!”
     “Well,” she said, playfully tugging the brim of her prize, “you’re not really in a position to be making demands, now are you?” She headed towards the vendor’s cart again. “Try again when you’ve got more bargaining chips.”
     Luke crossed his arms and scowled. “Girls and their stupid diaries,” he grumbled to himself. He watched the other pedestrians strolling up and down the streets, some flitting from vendor to vendor, as he tried to come up with other things that would soothe the fiery wrath of a girl.
     As he went about his pondering, he watched certain individuals, studying their movements and their patterns of walking, his mind wandering to thoughts of what they might be doing. It wasn’t long before he was completely taken in by his new game. I’ll be willing to bet that portly old gentleman is heading home from some large corporation after he goes to dinner, he thought, amused. And that woman has an awful lot of bags. It looks like there are toys in them, too. I’ll bet she’s a tourist gathering souvenirs for her family!
     A slender young woman with glasses who looked to be about the Professor’s age was the next to catch his eye. She’s very pretty, he mused. I’ll bet she’s out to dinner, too. Probably does something very mentally engaging for a living and has a nice family at home. She looks like the kind who’d have a few kids running about. Probably loves them, too.
     Smiling brightly, she looked over in his direction, her wavy light brown hair spilling over her shoulders as she did so. Locking gazes with him, she gave a friendly wave. Luke, seeing as no harm could come from being polite, waved back. He watched as her eyes slowly drifted back behind him. Her smile was quickly melted into a look of uneasiness mixed with disbelief as her gaze fell back on him. As suddenly as she had come, she disappeared back into the crowd.
     Luke, now terribly confused, looked around, trying to find the source of her distress. Coming up with no solid reasoning, he shrugged it off. “She probably just saw her boss or something,” he said quietly to himself, and he returned to Layton.
     Tipping his hat politely, the Professor thanked the vendor for his help and after gathering Luke and Flora, headed in the direction of his next destination.
     As they walked, Luke would occasionally glance over at Flora, thinking that perhaps some aspect of her appearance would tip him off as to what to offer for his hat. But as he returned his gaze to the path in front of him, he noticed something strange. It was that woman again, following them in the cover of the crowd.
     He swallowed nervously. He knew what it felt like to be pursued, and he also knew that very rarely did people follow in secret for a good reason. “Professor?” he asked anxiously, tugging on the back of Layton’s coat. “Remember when you told me about stalkers?”
     Surprised, Layton looked over his shoulder. “Yes, of course,” he replied, lowering his voice. “Why do you ask?”
     “I think we’ve got one,” whispered Luke. “She saw us a few minutes ago and disappeared. And now she’s behind us.” He whimpered. “Is this going to turn out like it did with Don Paolo? Because I really didn’t like him.”
     “Of course not,” Layton said resolutely. “We will simply make a few odd turns, lose her and be on our way.”
     Luke smiled slightly, feeling comforted already. This was one of the things that he liked best about the Professor; he was almost what the boy imagined a father to be like in the way he was constantly looking out for himself and Flora, always seeking to do what was in their best interest or what would make them most comfortable.
     “I’ve got an idea, Luke,” he continued. “Why don’t you lead us? You know where she is, after all.”
     The boy nodded uncertainly. “Alright.” He looked around for any possible way to escape the strange woman. “Left!” he said. “Past that upcoming group and behind that huge line of carts!”
     “Don’t get lost,” said Layton as he led them in the direction Luke had indicated.
     Had the boy been less focused on escaping from the stalker, he would have noticed how unusually tense Flora became when he firmly grasped her hand and piloted his way through the crowd behind the Professor. “Hold on!”
     After reaching the relative safety of the caravan of carts, the group returned to their normal pace. “Did we lose her?” asked Flora softly, unnerved at the thought of being followed.
     Luke peeked out between two of the racks of merchandise, only to make eye contact with the strange woman once more. A chill ran down his spine. “Not yet.”
     “Perhaps if we take one of the smaller, older roads,” Layton thought aloud.
     “Great idea, Professor!” Grabbing onto his sleeve, Luke pulled him toward the side of the road.
     Slipping into an alley, the children kept close to Layton. “I doubt she would follow us here,” the Professor commented quietly.
     Flora nodded in agreement. “I sure hope so.”
     Luke stood in awe of the space’s dark, foreboding atmosphere, slowly moving backwards step by step, taking it all in. This would be a perfect place to start a horror movie. Creepiest place I’ve ever been, he thought.
     His heart leapt into his throat as he backed into something warm. He spun around and came face-to-face with the very same woman who had been following them on the street. She seemed just as surprised as he was.
     “Professor!” he squeaked as he took cover behind his mentor. “It’s her!”
     Holding out a protective hand in front of the children, Layton turned to face the intruder. He took a quick, shallow breath and his heart skipped a beat as she stepped into a beam of light. “Claire?”