Sixteen

THE BAT WASN’T DEAD. It was— I don’t want to remember it. By that point, I’d been so stressed out that I couldn’t concentrate, and freeing the bat’s spirit had taken … a while. But I did it. And I was glad I’d checked. Now I could relax … or so I thought.

“You should sleep,” Liz said after I’d lain there with my eyes open for almost an hour.

I glanced at Tori, but she was still snoring—hadn’t even stirred since I’d come back.

“I’m not tired,” I said.

“You need to rest. I can help. I always helped my nana sleep when she couldn’t.”

Liz never talked about her parents, only her grandmother, and I realized how little I knew about her.

“You lived with your nana?”

She nodded. “My mom’s mom. I didn’t know my dad. Nana said he didn’t stick around.”

Considering he’d been a demon, I supposed that was how it worked.

Liz was silent a moment, then said quietly, “I think she was raped.”

“Your mom?”

“I heard stuff. Stuff I wasn’t supposed to hear, Nana talking to her sisters, her friends, and later to social workers. She said Mom was wild when she was young. Not really wild, just smoking and drinking beer and skipping classes. Then she got pregnant, and that made her different. She got older. Pissed off. Things I heard—I think she was raped.”

“That’s awful.”

She pulled her knees up and hugged them. “I never told anyone that. It’s not the kind of thing you share. Kids might look at you funny, you know?”

“I’d never—”

“I know. That’s why I told you. Anyway, for a few years, everything was okay. We lived with Nana, and she looked after me while Mom worked. But then Mom had this accident.”

My gut chilled as I thought of my own mother, killed in a hit-and-run. “What kind of accident?”

“The cops said she was at this party, got drunk, and fell down the stairs. She hit her head really hard and when she got out of the hospital, it was like she was a whole different person. She couldn’t work, so Nana did and Mom stayed home with me, but sometimes she’d forget to feed me lunch or she’d get really mad and hit me and say it was all my fault. Blaming me because she wasn’t happy, I guess.”

“I’m sure she didn’t—”

“Mean it. I know. Afterward she’d cry and tell me she was sorry and buy me candy. Then she had my little brother, and she started getting into drugs and getting arrested for stealing stuff. Only she never went to jail. The court always sent her to a mental hospital. That’s why, at Lyle House, I was so scared—”

“Of being sent to one. I should have helped. I—”

“You tried. It wouldn’t have mattered. They’d already made up their minds.” She went quiet for a moment. “Mom tried to warn me. Sometimes she’d show up at my school, high on dope, going on about experiments and magic powers, and saying I had to hide before they found me.” Another pause. “I guess she wasn’t so crazy after all, huh?”

“No, she wasn’t. She was trying to protect you.”

She nodded. “Okay, enough of that. You need to rest up so you can find the guys. Nana always said I was good at helping people fall asleep. Better than any pills. You know why?”

“Why?”

She grinned. “ ’Cause I can talk your ear off. Now, let’s see, what can I talk about that’ll bore you to sleep? Oh, I know. Guys. Hot guys. I have this list, see? The ten hottest guys ever. Actually, it’s two lists, ten each, ’cause I needed one for real guys—guys I actually know—and one make-believe list, for guys in movies and bands. Not that they aren’t real guys, because of course they’re real …”

I finally drifted off and didn’t wake until the roar of a truck sent me jerking up, limbs flailing.

Light streamed through the windows. I checked my watch. Eight thirty. No sign of Liz. Was she on patrol? Or had she left already?

Tori was still sound asleep, snoring softly.

I shook her shoulder. “It’s morning. We need to search for the note.”

Tori opened her eyes, muttered that there probably wasn’t any note, the guys were long gone, and we were screwed. A ray of sunshine, our Victoria.

But after moaning about not having lifted breath mints or a hairbrush or breakfast she did rise and help me.

We’d been searching for about a half hour when Tori said, loud enough to be heard by anyone walking past the windows, “The taggers in this town really have too much time on their hands.”

I hurried over to shush her. “Taggers?”

She waved at the surrounding stacks of crates and I saw what she meant. A crate in every stack had been tagged with graffiti. “My dad’s store gets hit every month, but he never had one this fancy.”

She pointed to one almost hidden in shadow. Where the others were typical tags—nicknames and symbols—this was a sketch in black marker of a teenage guy with a paw print tattoo on his cheek, brandishing Wolverine-like claws.

I grinned. “Simon.” When Tori gave me a huh? look, I said, “It’s Simon.”

“Uh, no. It’s a guy with a paw on his face.”

“It’s Simon’s work. This is one of his comic-book characters.”

“I knew that.”

“Help me lift the crate.”

She didn’t move. “Why?”

“Because the note”—I heaved the top crate off by myself—“will be under it.”

“Why would he put—?”

Sure enough, under the crate was a folded piece of paper. We both grabbed for it. I won.

Simon had drawn three pictures. In the top left corner, like a salutation, was a ghost. The middle had a big sketch of Arnold Schwarzenegger as the Terminator. The third in place of a signature, was a lightning bolt surrounded by fog. Beside the drawing, someone had scrawled in inch-high letters 10 A.M.

Tori snatched it from me and turned it over. “So where’s the message?”

“Right there.” I pointed from picture to picture. “It says: Chloe, I’ll be back, Simon.”

“Okay, that’s just weird. And what’s that mean?” She pointed to the time.

“That would be Derek, making sure I know when they’ll be back.”

“Only once a day?”

“Every time they sneak in here, it’s a big risk. Anyway, the time isn’t really important. If I pick up the message, Derek will smell me. He can follow my trail.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Like a dog?”

“Cool, huh?”

“Uh, no.” She made a face. “So they weren’t kidding about him being a werewolf. Explains a lot, don’t you think?”

I shrugged and checked my watch. “We’ve got just over an hour to wait, so—” I swore under my breath, making Tori arch her brows in mock-surprise.

“We can’t let the guys come back,” I said, “not with that Edison Group guard patrolling.”

There wasn’t an Edison Group guard patrolling. There were two. I sent Liz to check all possible entry points. She returned, naming four: the main gate, the front delivery gate, the back delivery gate, and the entire surrounding fence.

I doubted Derek would climb the fence again. He’d be exposed up there where anyone could see him. If I were him, I’d pick the same entry point as the Edison Group had yester-day—that rear gate.

But I also knew Derek well enough to admit that I didn’t know him well enough to guess his strategy with any real confidence. So we had to split up and cover all three entrances. I needed to stay close to Liz, so she could communicate with me. That meant Tori got the back. I could only pray she’d actually remember to watch.

By nine thirty we were in position. The factory yard was at the edge of a residential area—a neighborhood of older homes including, a block away, Lyle House. Derek and I had come this way Saturday night when we escaped and I still remembered the general layout. The roads ran north-south, with the factory yard down at the southern end.

My spot was across the street from the factory, behind one of the end houses. No one was home—the driveway was empty and the windows dark.

I crouched behind a shed watching the front delivery gate, ready to whistle at the first sign of the guys. At 9:45 an SUV passed in front of the factory, moving at a crawl: it was the same Edison Group vehicle Derek and I had run from on Saturday night.

As it rolled past, I saw Mike in the driver’s seat. Beside him sat Tori’s mom, watching out the side window. The SUV continued to the corner, then made a right, heading for the back of the factory yard.

I waited until it was out of sight, then leaped up. As I moved, a shadow loomed over me. My fists flew up, but before I could turn, hands grabbed me, one clamping over my mouth, the other around my waist, yanking me back behind the shed.

“It’s me,” a deep voice rumbled.

The hands released me and I turned. There stood Derek, all six foot something of him. Maybe it was just the thrill of seeing him, but he looked better than I remembered. His black hair was still lank, and his face was still dotted with acne. But he looked … better.

“I am so glad to see you,” I said, grinning up at him.

His snort said the feeling wasn’t necessarily mutual. Maybe I should have been a little disappointed, but I was too relieved to care. At this moment, Derek’s trademark scowl was better than any smile.

“I am so glad—”

“Got that,” he said. “Stop bouncing, Chloe, before they notice you.”

“They’re gone. That’s why—” I looked behind him and my grin faded. “Where’s Simon? H-he’s okay, isn’t he?” I fumbled to pull out the insulin pouch. “I know he needs this. It was—”

“That’s his backup. He had another one in his pocket.”

“Oh. Right. Um, good. So where—?”

“Around back. I smelled Tori so I thought it was a trap and—”

“Tori! Her mom— The car— We have to warn her.”

“What?”

I wheeled, motioning for him to follow. I crossed the yard, darting from hiding place to hiding place as I headed for the road the SUV had taken. Derek tried to keep up, his harsh whispers of “Chloe, get back here!” mingled with harsher curses when I slid into spots he couldn’t fit.

Finally, as I dashed along a row of hedges, he caught me by the jacket collar and swung me off my feet, letting me dangle there like a puppy.

“I know a better route. I’ve been here for two days, checking things out as I waited for you.” He plunked me down but kept his grip on my collar so I couldn’t take off. “Now what’s this about Tori and her mom?”

“No time. Just— Liz. We need Liz.”

“Liz is alive?”

I hesitated, reminding myself how much he’d missed. “No. I mean … her ghost. I was right about her being dead. She’s been helping me, though, and we need her to scout the way.”

I broke from his grip and dashed to a break in the hedge. I slid sideways into it and peeked out. Liz stood in the middle of the road two blocks down. I gave a whistle that I thought was just fine, but Derek sighed, put his fingers in his mouth, and whistled loud enough to make my ears ring. I couldn’t tell whether it got Liz’s attention—he made me duck while he listened, in case it got anyone else’s attention. After a moment, he let me peek around the hedge.

“She’s coming,” I said.

Derek nodded. He scanned the yards around us, making sure all was clear.

“You wanted to lead,” I said. “So lead. She’ll catch up.”

He didn’t move. When I tried to walk away, he caught my sleeve.

“I gotta know what I’m walking into.”

“Two Edison Group guards discreetly patrolling the yard—”

“Edison Group?”

“And Tori’s mom, plus the guy who shot at you Saturday night. But of all of them, Tori’s mom is the one to watch.”

“Tori’s mom? Edison Group? What’s—?”

“Derek?”

“What?”

I looked up, meeting his gaze. “Do you trust me?”

I honestly had no idea what the answer would be, but he didn’t hesitate, just grunted, “Course.”

“Then, yes, I know you want details. But we don’t have time. Not if Simon’s back there and Tori’s mom’s on her way. She’s a witch, and she’s not afraid to use her spells. Good enough?”

He looked off across the yard. Maybe he did trust me, but for Derek, not having all the facts was like sticking a blindfold on him and telling him to follow.

“Stay behind me,” he said, and we took off.