I shrugged. “Yeah. He got here first. Why?”
She motioned to the headstone. I went to stand beside her. Carved on its front was Michelle Garrington.
“She was one of the teenagers who died in the Maple Hills cabin,” Artemis said. “The Firestarter Murders. Your mom had pictures of his car here. He’s been coming to see them all this time.”
She sounded so surprised. As if everyone who did bad things was a sociopath without thought for what they’d done and who they’d hurt. Classic Artemis. I knew guilt. I knew how it could hit you years later like a sucker punch. I knew how it could drive you to do things you normally wouldn’t, to try to make amends for your past. Or for your family.
I knew how to exploit it, and if I had to exploit Bach’s guilt to finish Mom’s work and get rid of him and Forester, I was damn well going to do it. It was the Novak way: by any means necessary. I was done flying my own guilt flag in the hopes Addamsville would take mercy on me.
I was taking mercy on myself.
29
I had two options for getting out of Hillcroft House that night.
One: I try to explain to Dad what was going on and why I need to leave, and hope he doesn’t do something reasonable like lock me in a room.
Two: I sneak out when it is time and hope I don’t get caught, because I’d never be allowed to leave the house ever again.
I didn’t want to have to lie to Dad again, but I didn’t know if right now was the best time to tell him the truth, either.
Around five Dad got back with everything he could salvage from the trailer. It had landed where the waves lapped the shore, so it was technically flooded, but not underwater. He brought clothes, phone chargers, hygiene supplies, and framed pictures from the trailer. None of Mom’s secret notes or pictures, but he wouldn’t have known to look for them. Sadie nearly burst into tears when she found out Dad had saved her old combat boots.
Grim had come back to the house with her, and Aunt Greta didn’t seem to mind him hanging around; when he offered to help her prepare dinner, she accepted with a genuine smile and let him taste test her potato salad. After nine thirty, when Sadie and Grim had to make up an excuse to leave the house so Sadie didn’t fall asleep, I said good night to Dad and followed Artemis up to her room, where we barricaded ourselves in.
A terrible feeling roiled in my stomach. From a distance, every light was a small fire, and sweat had already started beading on my forehead. I had gotten tired enough of my guilt to free myself of it, but freeing myself of fear wasn’t that simple. This fear wasn’t a rational fear. It was bone-deep; it had wormed its way so far into me that prying it out would cause even more damage. It had to be coaxed away. Soothed. And it would take a lot longer than we had now.
“You don’t have to do this,” I told Artemis. She was opening one of the many windows in her room and peering out onto the roof. She turned to me.
“What are you talking about?”
I stood in the middle of the room, fully dressed, with the Chevelle’s keys in my pocket and nothing else. “You don’t have to come,” I said. “He wants me, not you. You might get hurt. None of you guys have to come.”
She dropped her arms to her sides. “Please. Enough with the altruism.”
“Shut up, I’m being serious. I should call everyone right now and tell them to stay home—”
“I know you’re being serious. You heard everyone earlier. We’re doing this so you won’t be alone.”
“I won’t be alone. Bach will be there.”
She leveled a sharp look at me. “You might trust Bach, but that doesn’t mean I do. And I don’t care if I’m just a human, I’m going with you. You’d get yourself into too much trouble.”
“Artemis—this isn’t like playing pranks on a TV crew.” I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead, where a headache had begun. “Do you know what being hurt feels like? Really hurt, amputated-fingers hurt? It isn’t fun. You don’t do it to prove a point, or—hey!”
She’d climbed out the window, onto the roof. I hurried out after her. The night chill bit my nose. I pulled the window shut behind me before I followed Artemis across the shingles.
“Hey, hey! Listen to me!” I hissed.
She crept across the roof to a flat area where we’d stored a ladder earlier. Artemis carefully levered it over the side of the roof, struggling to keep it from scraping. I scrambled to help her.
“You’re being stupid!” I whispered.
“Shut up, Zora.” She grunted. The ladder slid into place. She rounded on me. Her eyes flashed. “I’m part of this. I’m your cousin, and I’m going with you. So be quiet, climb down that ladder, and get into my car before someone realizes what we’re doing. Go. Go!”
With a jump, I climbed over the lip of the roof and down the ladder. We ended up in the shrubs. Artemis brushed herself off and pushed me toward the driveway and her car.
If you had told me two weeks before that Artemis Wake would tell me to shut up, push me around, and refuse to let me walk into danger by myself, I would’ve laughed in your face. I would’ve told you she didn’t have the spine for it, and I didn’t know anyone who would do that for me.
But I’d have been wrong.
Masrell’s house hadn’t changed. No one had cleaned it up yet, and I doubted anyone would. This side of town wasn’t known for its money, and the money side of town wasn’t known for its caring. The neighbors had gone about their business, and a clear line of demarcation showed where they’d cut their grass and Masrell’s had kept growing.
We’d met up in the cemetery and brought Mads’s SUV. Sadie and I were the only two who’d left the car for this first part of the plan. Sadie had worn her combat boots. I’d almost hugged her when I noticed.
“I almost hugged you,” I whispered as we crept up to the house.
“Ew,” she whispered back, the ire already up. Good ol’ boots.
Sadie and I ducked through the ruined front door of Masrell’s house and navigated a scarred linoleum floor littered with debris.
“So how do we do this?” Sadie asked, scanning the room. The sharp anger in her voice only became more pronounced as she fought her dislike of the dark and creepy. “Is he—is he here now? I can hear someone breathing.”
“He’s here somewhere. The first thing Mom taught me was not to be scared of the ghosts. They can’t hurt us, and they know when we’re trying to help them.”
“What else did she teach you?”
“I’ll tell you all of it.” She stilled beside me. “You should have learned it, too.”
“Thanks,” she said, after a moment. Then, “Later. My brain’s in freak-out mode right now.”
I couldn’t blame her. The smell of char made the hair on the back of my neck rise. We stepped between the doors to the kitchen and the living room. The wall had fallen where the sink had once been, and the lights of the junkyard were visible in the distance.
George Masrell stood in the fire-blackened living room.
“Hi, Mr. Masrell,” I said as calmly as I could. Sadie gripped my arm. Masrell stood in the clothes he had been wearing when he died, white T-shirt and underwear. Eyes out. Face expressionless. “I—we need your help.”
Still no response. “Is he saying anything?” I asked Sadie.
“Uh—I don’t—he’s kind of muttering.” She paused, head cocked. “It’s like someone trying to talk through layers of blankets.” She frowned. “He sounds sad. A lot of them do, but this is like . . . it’s like begging.” Her grip loosened on my arm. “He stopped.”
If Mom had known Sadie was capable of this, she never would have ignored her, and not just to teach her so Sadie didn’t have to be angry all the time. If she could have heard what the dead were saying, she could have learned so much more. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to go searching for answers in the woods.
I stepped forward. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Mr. Masrell.” I kept my voice clear but not too loud, my gaze fixed on the empty sockets of his ey
es. “I’m sorry I made your life harder. I’m sorry my dad stole from you. And I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry you have to be like this.”
He floated forward. I made myself remain where I was, Sadie shuffling uneasily beside me. This was my responsibility. It wasn’t my fault, but it was my responsibility.
“The thing that killed you is named Ludwig,” I said. “I’m going to get him out of this town before he can kill anyone else. We need your help. You told me where he was before. Could you do that again?”
He took another step toward me. Sadie’s hand landed on my shoulder. It felt shockingly like Mom’s. Bracing, understanding.
Masrell’s arm rose. He pointed past me, to the lights in the sky.
“Gates,” Sadie whispered. “He said ‘Gates.’”
30
Gates Automotive Scrapyard sat north of the mine. Ten years ago, Buster invested in a set of stadium floodlights, a bright glow of pollution for the northeast sky. Several buildings sat on the property—squat, warehouse-like structures with windows that reflected the gleam of Mads’s SUV as we coasted along the edge of the parking lot, headlights off. A dirt area littered with cars and machinery stretched behind these buildings and past two layers of chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. The main building, a white one-story garage with a small suite of offices built into the side, sat out front, guarding everything. The ghosts who stayed here were mostly scrapyard workers who had died in machine accidents. They were all gone tonight.
Mads parked on the far edge of the lot. I figured it didn’t matter much if Ludwig saw us—he’d wait for me to come inside. We’d gone over the plan ten times on the way here, not because it was complicated, but because I had to make sure we got in and out as fast as possible after Ludwig left.
Artemis’s phone screen lit up the back of the SUV. “Two minutes.”
Through the fence north of the main building were the impounded cars. Buster kept them close to the front so their owners could look at them with longing. There was a red Toyota, a busted-up old Ford, and a Honda Civic. No Chevelle. A flush of anger washed over me. No one touched my mom’s car.
“Thirty seconds,” Artemis said, counting down to midnight. The leather seats creaked under Lorelei’s white-knuckled grip. Hal’s gaze stayed fixed on the junkyard. Beside me, Grim was holding both of Sadie’s hands in his own, as if he had to stop her jumping out of the SUV right then. I gripped the haft of Dad’s axe; the blade was balanced between my feet.
“Here we go,” Artemis said, and turned to look south.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Addamsville was quiet. Bach could have gotten held up. Or he could have lied to us.
Then a plume of fire erupted far on the south side of town. It spread up and out, tongues of flame licking at the dark sky, roaring in challenge.
The first plume died, but a flickering light appeared over the south side. Another plume, then a third, down by the Goldmine. Bach must have been setting trees on fire. My hand tingled. My fingers ached.
“Zora!” Artemis yanked on my jacket. The front doors of the junkyard had burst open and Tad Thompson came sprinting out, his eyes two glowing red embers, his lips curled back from his teeth. He didn’t bother with any of the cars in the lot; he was running fast enough to meet the speed limit, anyway.
“Go, go, go!” I yelled.
We spilled out of the car and ran for the main building. Lorelei’s keys got us in. Inside was an auto parts shop—aisles of wiper blades, seat covers, and detailing supplies. A long front desk housed a register, lines of file folders along the back wall, and a large sign that said, WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO DENY YOU SERVICE. Beside the sign was a door with a plaque that read, OFFICE—EMPLOYEES ONLY.
Lorelei, Sadie, Grim, and Mads made for the desk to search for the impound records. Hal, Artemis, and I went for the junkyard.
Past the desk was a hallway that led outside. The scrapyard could have fit the high school football field inside its fences. Rows and rows of cars covered huge dirt lots. To the south, old tractors lined up next to three-tiered racks of cars with wheels stripped off and engines picked apart. To the north, rows of cars stood gutted and left to rust, motionless yet strangely animate, like sleeping animals. Before us, a pile of multicolored scrap metal loomed, underneath a floodlight at the center of the junkyard. No ghosts.
“He must have moved the Chevelle,” I said as we hurried toward the Toyota, the Ford, and the Honda at the fence. We stopped several feet away, at the edge of two long, thick ruts gouged into the dirt. They were the width of tire tracks, but there were no treads visible in them.
The bastard had dragged my car.
We followed the tracks to the scrap mountain. Walls of metal surrounded an empty clearing; the floodlights burned away every shadow. The Chevelle sat in the dead center of it all, alone.
I huddled behind a truck with Artemis and Hal on either side.
“You both saw Ludwig run out of here, right?”
“Could we have missed him?” Hal asked.
“All right. If I catch on fire, just kill me. I don’t care how, but make it fast.”
“I’ll throw a bar of soap at you,” Artemis said.
“Fuck off.”
I hopped out from behind the truck and jogged to the Chevelle. Ludwig must have known this was an obvious trap, but how could I resist it? It was the Chevelle. It was Mom. My skin crawled as I neared it. I was banking on the hope that Ludwig still thought I’d be useful to him. The car wasn’t even turned on, but I could already hear the purr of the engine, the big old panther pleased that I’d found it.
I popped the door. Nothing happened. Sank into the driver’s seat. Everything was quiet. Cranked the ignition. The Chevelle roared to life, its headlights flooding Hal and Artemis’s hiding spot. Sweet relief.
I picked up Artemis and Hal and drove around to the back of the shop, where Mads was standing at the gate, fighting with a mass of keys on a key ring. “It’s going to take me a minute to find the right one,” she said. Behind her, a thick chain held the gate shut.
“I could try breaking the chain with the axe,” Hal suggested.
“Not doubting your physical strength here, Hallybear,” Mads replied through gritted teeth as yet another key failed. “I just don’t think the laws of physics are going to be on your side.”
“Try the gold one,” Artemis said quietly. “That’s a key for a Master Lock.”
The key worked; Mads said, “Oh, nice eye, Arty,” and Artemis’s face lit up. Mads yanked the chain off and Artemis helped her push the gate open wide enough for the Chevelle to drive through. Gate closed; chain wrapped; lock back in place. Mads ran back inside to return the keys to Lorelei, who would put them back in the lockbox held shut with a six-digit code: Buster’s birthday. The two of them returned with Sadie and Grim not far behind. Grim carried a thick file folder under one arm; Sadie was practically vibrating with excitement as she hopped past me.
“We’re going to need a shovel,” she said.
“What? Why?”
“Because Buster’s office was full of dirt!” She cackled and threw herself into Mads’s SUV after Grim.
“We weren’t here to screw over Buster!” I hissed as I climbed into the Chevelle with Artemis. She was still smiling, just as jazzed as Sadie. “I hate everyone in this family.”
“Oh my gosh,” she said. “We pitted two firestarters against each other. We might get rid of Sam Forester. And we just robbed Buster Gates.”
I pulled out onto the dirt road toward town. “Don’t get too excited, criminal.” I leaned forward to peer out the windshield at the fires brightening the sky. “Bach and Ludwig are still going at it. Look.” Plumes of flame burst upward every few seconds. And they were moving north, past town center, in the direction of the high school. “That can’t be good. Bach’s having problems.”
“Maybe it just takes a long time.” Artemis’s smile had faded. She, too, followed the progression of the fire. Mads’s headlights glared in
my rearview mirror as we turned south. “It’s good that he’s going north, though, isn’t it? We can get home without anyone seeing us.”
It was good for us right now, but Bach had never made any guarantees he could beat Ludwig. If Ludwig got the upper hand, then Addamsville would really be hosed. As far as I knew, Bach had been the only thing keeping Ludwig semi-controlled this whole time. I certainly hadn’t been doing anything to help.
The Chevelle grumbled along the road, Mads on our tail. Fires leaped on the west side of town, snaking north like a dragon on a rampage. Sirens had gone up. Artemis’s phone ping ping pinged with notifications.
“There are videos of it,” she said, the light from her phone washing her face a pallid blue. “You can see both of them. Bach and Ludwig.” Tinny screams came from the phone speakers. “Neither of them look good. Oh my god—Bach’s arm—”
My hands shook on the steering wheel. I could save myself, but what was the point if Ludwig destroyed Addamsville? This was my home. It had been Mom’s home, too. She’d worked so hard for so long to keep it safe, not just to give her time to find her answers, but to keep her family safe. To keep everyone who lived here safe. She was able to help, so she helped.
For all her training, she’d never told me what I had to do or be. She’d helped me see what abilities I had and how to use them, and she’d let me decide.
Death or hunting.
“Artemis,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice steady, “do you want out of the car?”
She glanced at me. “No. Why would I want out of the car?”
“Because I’m about to turn around and help Bach.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want out of the car?”
“I told you I wasn’t going to let you go alone.”
“Cool,” I said, and swung into the wide dirt lane. Artemis screamed and grabbed her seat; the Chevelle’s engine snarled as I floored the gas coming out of the turn. Then we were speeding north, leaving Mads and the others floundering behind us. Within seconds one of them had texted Artemis. “You can tell them what we’re doing,” I said, “but they’ll have a hard time keeping up.”
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