Twenty-three
“IS HE GONE?” TORI asked as I approached.
I nodded and inhaled. The icy night air burned my lungs. I didn’t feel the cold, though—I was wearing my shirt, one of the new sweatshirts with the hood up, and the oversized jacket on top. Sweat dripped down my face as I struggled to catch my breath. I’d separated from the others a couple of blocks back, thinking that without a group, I might lose him easier. I’d been right.
We didn’t know who’d come to investigate the noises. Maybe cops like Simon thought, maybe street people—we hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out.
Now we stood in a parking lot, between a minivan and a pickup. Music boomed from a nearby club. That had surprised me—a packed parking lot and a busy bar so late at night on a weekday. Then I’d checked my watch and realized it wasn’t even midnight yet.
“You shouldn’t have taken off like that,” Derek said.
“I told you what I was doing. It worked, didn’t it?”
“You can’t—”
“Ease off,” Simon murmured. “We need to find a new place to sleep.”
“Thanks to someone,” Tori said.
“It isn’t Chloe’s fault.”
“Sure it is. Even Derek said so.”
“He didn’t mean—”
I held up my hands. “I take all blame. Can we please stop bickering? I know everyone’s on edge, but if we’re going to get through this—”
“If you start a speech about how we all need to overcome our differences and work together, I’m going to hurl,” Tori said.
“Well, I would, but I’m afraid this genetically modified supernatural would be eaten by a genetically modified shark.”
Simon burst out laughing. “Deep Blue Sea.” He looked at Derek. “You didn’t see it. Samuel L. Jackson is giving this group of survivors the speech about how they have to stop fighting and to work together. In the middle of it, the shark comes up behind him and eats him. Best death scene ever.”
“And a fitting one for anyone who makes that speech, which is why I’m not going to.”
“But you’re right,” Simon said. “Time to call a moratorium on the bickering.”
“Moratorium?” Tori said. “Oooh, big word. Showing off, Simon?”
We all turned to look at her.
“What?” she said.
“No bickering means no jabs, no insults, no snark, no baiting,” Derek said. “And it means we probably won’t hear another word from you for days.”
“As for this situation,” I said, “I take the blame, so I’ll fix the problem. Stay here and I’ll find us a place—”
Derek caught the back of my jacket. “You still have a pissed-off ghost looking for you and a huge reward on your head. Stay here with Tori. Simon and I will find a new spot.”
Before they took off, Derek turned back to me. “I mean it, stay right here.”
“Even if the owners of these”—Tori rapped the vehicles on either side—“come out?”
Derek ignored her. “She’s your responsibility, Chloe.”
When they were gone, Tori turned to me. “Why do you let him get away with that? He treats you like a little kid.”
I said nothing, just started walking away from the spot where Derek told me to stay.
She smiled. “That’s more like it.”
I led her to a strip of gravel between two buildings. Then I lowered myself to the ground. “This is safer, but still close enough.”
She stared at me. “You’re kidding, right?”
I pulled my jacket sleeves over my hands to keep them warm.
“You actually listen to him?”
“Only when he has a point.”
She towered over me. “You’re going to let a guy order you around like that? Make the girls sit on their butts while the men go hunt up a cave to sleep in, maybe drag back some food for us to eat?”
“Yep.”
“Well, I’m not. I’m going to show those guys that a girl can do this just as well as they can.”
I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. She stomped off. I opened my eyes, watching her get farther away.
Derek said to stay. And he said to look after her. Conflicting requests at the moment. I know he’d tell me to forget Tori and take care of myself. But I couldn’t do that.
“Hold up,” I said as I jogged behind her.
“If you’re going to whine at me about pissing off Frankenstein, save it.”
“I’m not here to give you crap. I’m helping you find a spot. As long as we don’t go far, Derek can track us.” As she stepped onto the sidewalk, I made sure my hood was still on, then hurried out and caught her sleeve. “We can take quiet roads, but I need to avoid people as much as I can.”
“I don’t. I’m not the one with stalker ghosts and a half-million bucks on my head.”
“Yes, but if the Edison Group wants us back badly enough, they might have gone public to flush us out. We both need to be careful.”
We reached the end of the street. As she started turning left, I stopped her again.
“This way,” I waved to the darker end of the street. “Look for a good spot in an alley. The wind’s coming from the north, so we need a northern barrier. A corner or alley end or recessed delivery door would be best, so we can see anyone coming. And the worse the lighting, the better. We want dark and we want secluded.”
“You’re as bossy as Derek, you know that? The only difference is you give your orders nicely.”
But, apparently giving orders nicely was a strategy that worked, because she made no attempt to take off or take over, just came with me as we checked spot after spot.
Behind a row of stores we found a long, narrow alley with a wall on one side and a solid six-foot fence on the other.
“This looks promising,” I said.
“Uh, yeah. If you’re Oscar the Grouch.” She waved at a row of trash bins.
I lifted a lid and pointed at shredded paper inside. “Recycling. There aren’t any restaurants around here, so the garbage won’t smell.”
I continued down the alley. It dead-ended at a wall.
“This is great,” I said. “Three sides, the bins block part of the entrance. We can shift boxes around and put paper down to sit on.”
“And maybe, if we’re lucky, find a cardboard box big enough to crawl inside so we can pretend we’re homeless people.”
“Right now, Tori, we are homeless people.”
That shut her up. I stopped near the end of the alley and let out a laugh.
“Come here.”
She sighed. “What now?”
I waved for her to come over.
“Oh.” She reached out to thaw her hands in the hot air blowing from the vent.
I grinned. “We’ve even got heating. How perfect is that?”
“Too perfect,” said a girl’s voice. “Which is why this spot is taken.”
Three girls were walking toward us down the alley. All were about our age. One was blond and dressed in oversized fatigues. Another had dreadlocks. The third girl wore a battered brown leather jacket, and when she stepped into a patch of moonlight, I saw a thick scar running from her eye to her chin.
“See that?” the dreadlocked girl pointed to a tag on the wood fence. “That’s our mark. That means this spot is ours.”
“We d-didn’t see it. Sorry. We’ll go.”
I started to walk away, but Tori pulled me back. “No, we won’t go. You can’t reserve an alley, mark or no mark. It’s first come, first served. You want this one? Be here earlier tomorrow.”
“Excuse me?”
The scarred girl pulled a switchblade from her pocket. It snapped open with a twang. Tori glanced at the knife but didn’t budge, her gaze locking with the girl’s.
“Check it out,” the scarred girl said to her friends. “This chick’s going to challenge us for our spot. How long you been on the streets, girl?” She looked Tori up and down. “Since about nine this morning, I’ll guess. What happened? Mommy and Daddy said you couldn’t see your boyfriend on a school night?”
The girls snickered. Tori flexed her fingers, preparing to cast. I caught her wrist. She tried to shake me off. I got her to notice the matching knives now in the hands of the other two, but her gaze returned to the scarred girl, and all her rage from the last twenty-four hours bubbled up. The boxes near the girls quavered and rustled. Papers swirled behind them. The girls never turned, dismissing it as the wind.
I clasped Tori’s wrist tighter and whispered, “Too many.”
To my surprise, her hand relaxed. Expecting a trick, I held on, but she shook me off, saying “Fine. We’re going.”
“Good idea,” the scarred girl said. “Next time, girls, if you see that”—she pointed at the tag—“steer clear. At least until you have the hardware to play.”
We started to pass, but the scarred girl’s hand flew out, smacking Tori’s chest and stopping her.
“Life out here isn’t what you girls think it is. You’ve got a lot of lessons to learn.”
“Thanks,” Tori grunted, and tried to keep walking, but the scarred girl stopped her again.
“The thing about lessons? If they’re going to sink in, they’ve gotta come with consequences. So I’m going to help you remember this one. Give me your jacket.”
She held out her hand. Tori stared at it.
“Mine’s getting old,” the girl said. “I like yours better.”
Tori snorted and tried to pass again.
The girl stepped in front of her, knife raised. “I said I want your jacket.”
“ And her shoes.” The girl with the dreadlocks pointed at me.
“Fine, the jacket and the shoes,” the scarred one said. “Take’em off, girls.”
The girl in fatigues stepped forward. “I want the little one’s jeans, too. Never had a pair of Sevens.” She smiled, flashing a jeweled tooth. “Gonna make me feel like a movie star.”
“Yeah, if you can get them on,” the dreadlocked girl said.
“Forget the jeans,” the scarred girl said. “Jacket and shoes. Now.”
Tori needed her jacket, and I definitely needed shoes. I bent to undo one of my sneakers, pretending to have trouble with my balance, hopping, then waving Tori over to help. To my relief, she came. I leaned against her, tugging at my shoe, and whispered, “Knock back.”
Tori frowned.
I flicked my fingers. “Knock back. One, two, three.” I nodded to each girl in turn.
Tori shook her head. “Binding.”
“Too many. Knock back.”
“Come on, girls,” the scarred girl said.
Tori gave an exasperated sigh and bent, as if helping me undo my shoe. Then she shot up, her hands flying out, hitting the scarred girl with—
The girl froze. So much for my advice.
At first the other two didn’t notice. They just looked at their leader impatiently, waiting for her to prod us again.
“On my count,” Tori whispered. “One, two …”
“Hey, what’s—?” the girl in fatigues began.
Tori’s hands shot up, but the girl kept coming. And the scarred girl stumbled, the spell breaking. She advanced, knife raised. Her friends fell into position, flanking her. Tori tried again, but apparently she’d used up all her juice because nothing was happening.
“Whatever trick that was,” the scarred girl said. “It was really dumb. You have three seconds to strip out of everything. Both of you.”
“I don’t think so,” Tori said. “Now, back off.”
Tori flicked her fingers. The girl didn’t even sway.
“I said, back off!”
She flicked again. The girls kept coming. I spun, only to discover the problem with a blind alley—if the entrance is blocked, you’re trapped. When the girl in fatigues lunged for me, I ran anyway, Tori at my side.
At the end, I deked fast, hoping to catch my pursuers off guard and dodge around them. It worked on the one in fatigues. But the dreadlocked girl saw my feint and blocked me.
I ducked her knife, but she kicked me in the back of my knee. My leg buckled, and I dropped. I scuttled out of her way. I caught sight of Tori, her hands raised as if in surrender. Then one hand shot out, grabbing for the scarred girl’s knife hand. The blade flashed and laid open the sleeve of Tori’s leather jacket.
Tori let out a strangled howl of outrage, as if it had sliced through her arm instead. Her hands flew up. The scarred girl jolted back to avoid a punch, but Tori’s hands went straight up over her head, then slammed down.
An invisible wave smacked me, and the next thing I knew I was lying on my back. Sneakers slapped the concrete and I looked up to see Tori running over.
“Are you okay?” Seeing I was conscious, she didn’t wait for an answer. “Get up!”
I wobbled partway up, my leg still throbbing from the dreadlocked girl’s kick. I looked around quickly. She lay a few feet away.
Tori yanked me all the way to my feet. The girl in fatigues lay crumpled at the foot of the wall. She let out a soft moan. The scarred girl was on all fours, conscious but dazed.
Seeing the dreadlocked girl’s blade on the ground, I snatched it up and ran to the girl in fatigues, telling Tori to take the scarred girl’s knife as I looked for this one’s. It had fallen a couple of feet away. I grabbed it. Tori was already running down the alley. I ignored the pain in my leg and raced to catch up.
“Did you grab her knife?” I asked.
“Why? You have two.”
“That’s not why I—”
“Hey!” a shout from behind us. “Hey!”
I glanced over my shoulder to see the scarred girl coming after us, knife in hand. That’s why I wanted all three.