“Which is more than we can say for your wardrobe. Like another wrap, Rachelle? You’ve only had two so far.”
Rae lifted her hand, fingers splayed at Tori. “Like third-degree burns, Queen Victoria? You’ve only had first-degree so far.”
“Girls, that’s enough. Victoria—”
“And when my mom locked me away at Lyle House, she made me a deal. If I got better, she’d buy me a new laptop. Best on the market.”
“Why?” Rae said. “So you can IM your friends faster?”
“No, so I can work on my entrance package for software design camp at MIT.”
Rae laughed, and Tori glared. She was serious. Tori the computer geek? I tried to picture it, but even my imagination wasn’t that good.
Tori turned to Dr. Davidoff. “Obviously I can’t get better, and my mother knew it when she made that promise. So she owes me a laptop.”
Dr. Davidoff frowned, as if trying to follow her logic. Then he shook his head. “All right, Victoria. We’ll order you—”
“I know what I need and I’ll pick it out myself.”
Dr. Davidoff stood. “As you wish. Tomorrow we’ll—”
“Today. And I want a spring wardrobe, too.”
“Fine. I’ll ask someone to take you—”
“You think I’m letting some middle-aged dweeb help me choose clothes? I’m going today so Chloe can give me a second opinion.”
“You want Chloe to help you shop?” Rae said.
“Well, I sure don’t want you, skater girl. Chloe may be a loser, but she’s a loser with money, and someone has taught her some small degree of fashion sense.”
“No, Victoria,” Dr. Davidoff said. “You are not going—”
She walked over to him, rose onto her tiptoes, and whispered in his ear. A look passed over his face, one part shock, two parts sheer terror.
“I see,” he said. “Yes, now that I think about it, perhaps you could help us find the boys.”
“I thought so.”
She sauntered back to her chair. Blackmail? Two weeks ago, I’d have been horrified. Today, I was impressed.
It’s a classic movie moment. Our hero, trapped in a jungle prison, plots and schemes until finally he breaks free…to find himself miles from civilization with no idea how to get home. Likewise, my ploy to “help” find Simon and Derek had paid off, and I had only the faintest notion of how to use the opportunity.
And Dr. Davidoff didn’t give me time to plot my next move. He called Sue and told the others to meet us at the front door. I asked for a pit stop at my room, to grab something warmer, but he said they’d do it for me. I had the foresight to specify which sweatshirt I wanted—Liz’s green Gap hoodie.
As Tori and I waited up front with Sue, I felt a now-familiar warm current tickling across the back of my neck.
“Leaving without saying good-bye?” the demi-demon whispered in my ear. “And leaving me trapped here, after all I’ve done for you?”
There was no menace in her voice, just a teasing lilt.
“I’m sorry,” I said automatically.
“An apology? My, my, such a polite child. No need to apologize. I didn’t expect you to free me now. You’ll be back when you’re ready, and when you are, I’ll be waiting.”
“Girls?” Dr. Davidoff said, striding toward us. “Our car is here.”
As we followed him out, that warm breeze ruffled my hair. “Good-bye, child. And do be careful, you and your little band of magic makers and monsters. Keep those lovely powers of yours in check. I’d hate for the apocalypse to start without me.”
Ten
WE RODE IN A minivan with Dr. Davidoff, Tori’s mom, and a driver I didn’t recognize—a blond security guy. Behind us, in another car, was Sue, a balding driver, and the dark-haired man who’d had the gun the night we’d escaped Lyle House.
There was a fourth person in that car: Aunt Lauren. I hadn’t seen her—I knew only because Dr. Davidoff said she would be. When he did, I’d scrambled into the van as fast as I could, so I wouldn’t see her come out.
How was I going to face Aunt Lauren? Even thinking about it made my stomach ache. I’d spent the last twenty-four hours trying hard not to think about her, about what she’d done.
My mom died when I was five. Aunt Lauren was her younger sister. In all the years of moving around with my dad, who was always away on business, leaving me with a succession of nannies and housekeepers, Aunt Lauren had been the one sure thing in my life. The person I could count on. So after I escaped, when I got hurt, and Rae and I were separated from the guys, we’d gone to her for help.
And Aunt Lauren took me back to Dr. Davidoff. If she’d thought she was sending her delusional niece back to the nice folks who could help her, then as angry and hurt as I’d have been, I’d have understood. But Aunt Lauren hadn’t been tricked by these people. She was one of them.
She’d put me—or my mom, I guess—in their experiment. She’d let them kill Brady and Liz and the other girl, had maybe even helped them do it. And now, knowing all this, I had to face her and pretend it was okay.
The minivan had a middle seat that could turn around, and that’s where Tori’s mom sat. For the first part of the trip, she read her Wall Street Journal, gaze lifting now and then to be sure we hadn’t vanished. Tori and I rode, staring out our respective side windows, as if they weren’t too darkly tinted for us to see more than shapes outside.
There’d been no chance to grab my backpack. Even Tori hadn’t been allowed to bring her purse, as much as she’d argued. At least I had money. I’d arrived at Lyle House with my wad of twenties and my bank card stuffed in my shoe, and they were still there. I wore jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and sneakers. A change of underwear and socks would have been nice, but right now, my bigger concern was how thin my shirt was.
“Dr. Davidoff?” I leaned as far as my seat belt would allow. “Did you get that sweatshirt for me?”
“Oh, yes. And you’ll need it. It’s chilly out. Diane? Could you pass this to Chloe?”
When I saw the green hoodie coming over the seat, I let out a sigh of relief.
“Isn’t that Liz’s?” Tori said.
“I don’t think so.”
“No?” She snatched it from me and read the tag. “Since when do you wear a ladies’ medium? I bet you aren’t even out of the kid’s department yet.”
“Very funny. Yes, I usually wear a small—”
“Extrasmall.”
“But I like my sweatshirts big, okay?”
“You think I’m stupid? This is the same hoodie I borrowed from Liz—the one you came into my room and asked about the other day.”
Tori’s mom lowered her newspaper.
“I—I thought Liz might want it back. Rae mentioned that you still had it so—”
“So you appointed yourself keeper of my friend’s stuff?”
Tori’s mom folded the paper onto her lap, her long red finger nails ironing the crease. “Is that Liz’s sweatshirt, Chloe?”
“M-maybe. When we left Lyle House, I grabbed clothes in the dark. I have one that looks like it. I’ll wear it today, then give it to you, so you can get it to Liz.”
“You better.” Tori started handing it back to me.
Her mother plucked it from Tori’s fingers and folded it onto her lap. “I’ll see that Liz gets it.”
“C-can I wear it today? Dr. Davidoff said it’s c-cold—”
“You’ll be fine.”
Tori rolled her eyes. “It’s no big deal, Mom. Just give it to her.”
“I said, no. What part of that isn’t clear, Victoria?”
Tori grumbled under her breath and turned back to her window.
Her mom looked at me, her expression unreadable. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine without it.”
When the driver dropped us off on the street behind the factory complex, my teeth were chattering, and not just from the cold. Tori’s mom knew why I’d had that sweatshirt—and that I had realized Liz was dead. Why else wou
ld a necromancer make a point of getting a personal article from her?
First Dr. Davidoff, now Tori’s mom. Did anyone not see through my schemes?
Maybe one person. The one who might still see me as sweet little Chloe. The one who thought I hadn’t really meant to run away from Lyle House but just got caught up in the plots of those boys.
“Aunt Lauren?”
I walked over as she got out of the car with Sue. I felt like I was looking at a stranger who’d taken my aunt’s form.
“You’re freezing.” She rubbed my arms, being careful with the injured one. “Where’s your coat?”
I saw Tori’s mom watching. If I tattled to Aunt Lauren, she’d tell her why I wanted Liz’s hoodie.
“I forgot it. It was warmer last week.”
She looked around. “Does anyone have an extra—?”
The dark-haired man from Saturday night climbed from the front seat and held out a nylon jacket.
“Thanks, Mike,” Aunt Lauren said, and helped me into it.
The sleeves dangled six inches past my fingertips. I rolled them up, hoping the extra folds would keep me warmer, but the jacket was so thin it didn’t even seem to stop the wind.
“Do you have the insulin?” I asked.
“I do, hon. Don’t worry.”
As the group prepared for the search, I stayed close to Aunt Lauren. She liked that, and kept her arm around me, rubbing my shoulder, as if to keep me warm. I gritted my teeth and let her.
“Now, Chloe,” Dr. Davidoff said when everyone was ready, “tell us where to look.”
The real rendezvous point was the warehouse nearest the factory. So the goal was to keep them as far from that as possible, in case the guys decided now was a good time to check in.
“We started in the warehouse where you guys tracked us and I did this—” I lifted my injured arm.
“Climbing out the window,” Dr. Davidoff said.
I nodded. “I didn’t know I’d hurt myself, so we ran. Derek wanted to get us as far from that warehouse as possible. We seemed to run and run, going around all these storage buildings, trying to find a good hiding spot. I—I wasn’t paying much attention. It was dark and I couldn’t see. Derek could, so I followed him.”
“A werewolf’s enhanced night vision,” Dr. Davidoff murmured.
“We finally found a spot that Derek said would make a good place to hide and we should stay there until you guys left. But then he smelled the blood—”
Aunt Lauren’s hand tightened on my shoulder, as if imagining me seconds away from being devoured.
“So he helped me,” I continued. “He bandaged it up. But he said it was bad and I needed stitches. Then he smelled Simon. That’s why we left—because of my arm and Simon—but before we did, he said the spot would make a good hiding place, that we should remember it.”
“And you didn’t,” Tori said. “Nice going.”
“It was dark and I was confused. I figured he meant he’d remember it—”
“We understand, Chloe,” Dr. Davidoff said. “And you’re right. It certainly sounds more promising than your other suggestions. As for whether you’ll know it when you see it, though…”
“We had to rip up my T-shirt to bandage my arm. The rest of my shirt should still be there.”
“All right, then. Chloe, you go with Mrs. Enright—”
Aunt Lauren’s hands gripped my shoulders. “I’ll take Chloe.”
“No, you’ll take Victoria.”
“But—”
Tori’s mom cut her off. “Do you have blur spells, Lauren?”
“No, but—”
“Do you have any powers at all?”
Aunt Lauren’s grip on my shoulder tightened. “Yes, Diane. I have the power of medicine, which is why I should be the first on the scene when Simon is found—”
“You’ll be nearby,” Dr. Davidoff said. “I need Chloe to have an escort, but we can’t let the boys see her escort. Diane will take care of that.”
Eleven
A BLUR SPELL TURNED out to be like something you see in sci-fi movies, where the villain all but disappears, camouflaged behind a magical force field. As an effect, it’s easily done. Apparently, it’s just as easy in real life, if you’re a witch.
Tori’s mom walked right beside me, nearly invisible. With no chance to take off, I had to play my role, searching for the rendezvous spot, which gave me the excuse to look for an escape opportunity. Maybe a hole in the wall too small for Tori’s mom to follow me through or a precarious stack of boxes I could topple onto her head or an abandoned hammer I could brain her with.
I’d never “brained” anyone in my life, but with Tori’s mom, I was willing to try.
From the front road, the place looked like a regular factory with a few outbuildings. Once you got back here, though, there were buildings everywhere, a lot of them not even being used. Prime real estate. Or it would be…without the smog-spouting factory to bring down the neighborhood.
Those spewing stacks were the only sign the factory was operational. Probably running well below capacity, barely hanging on, like a lot of industry in Buffalo. I had no idea what they made. Metal stuff, it looked like from the stock in the warehouses. Once, when we were darting between buildings, we had to duck behind some barrels as a trucker drove through the lot, but that was the only employee we saw.
The third building we checked was open, so Tori’s mom didn’t need to cast a spell to unlock it. As we stepped in, I thought, This looks promising. The last two had been filled with equipment and rolls of metal. This one seemed unused, and was scattered with crates. They weren’t stacked precariously, but there was a whole warehouse to search.
As we moved in deeper, I saw what looked like an off-balance stack. Near it was a pile of small metal pipes, the perfect size for braining someone.
I headed toward the pipes, my gaze on the ground, as if searching for my torn shirt.
“I think we can stop this charade now, Chloe,” Tori’s mom said.
I turned slowly, taking a moment to plaster on my best wide-eyed look.
“There’s no shirt here,” she said, “or rendezvous point. Perhaps there is, somewhere in this complex, but not here.”
“Let’s try the next—”
She caught my arm as I walked past. “We all know you’re trying to escape again. Marcel only hopes the real rendezvous point is nearby and that you’re laying a trail right now, one that will entice Derek back to investigate once he thinks we’re gone.”
Laying a trail? Oh, no. Why hadn’t I thought of that? I didn’t need to be here to get Derek’s attention. If he smelled that I’d been near the factory…
“I-I’m not trying to escape. I want to help Simon. We need to find—”
“The boys don’t interest me. You do.”
“Me?”
Her grip on my arm tightened. “All those kids had been at Lyle House for months, behaving themselves, working so hard to get better. Then you arrive and suddenly we have a full-scale mutiny on our hands. Within a week, four residents are on the run. Quite the little instigator, aren’t you?”
I’d been the catalyst, not the instigator. But it wouldn’t win me any brownie points to correct her.
She continued. “You took action while the rest swallowed our lies and prayed for rescue. My daughter didn’t even have the guts to join you.”
Umm, because you crushed any fight left in her? Because you made her think she had to play perfect patient to please you?
“The Fates played us a nasty twist, Chloe Saunders. They stuck you with dear Aunt Lauren, always fretting and wringing her hands. A perfect match for my spineless daughter. But where fate wrongs us, free will can make things right. I think you and I can reach an agreement that will benefit us both.” She released my arm. “Dr. Gill tells me you contacted spirits from Lyle’s early experiments.”
I said nothing, my gaze steady.
“I know she confronted you,” Tori’s mom continued. “Something of a f
anatic, our Dr. Gill, as I’m sure you noticed. She’s obsessed with Lyle’s secrets. Ambition is healthy. Obsession is not.” She eyed me. “So what did these spirits tell you?”
“Nothing. I’d accidentally raised them from the dead, so they weren’t too interested in chatting with me.”
She laughed. “I suppose not. But for you, at your age, to raise the dead…?” Her eyes glittered. “Remarkable.”
Okay, that was dumb. I just confirmed I’d raised the dead. A lesson in playing it cool—don’t.
“Could you contact them again?” she asked.
“I could try.”
“Resourceful and reasonable. That’s a combination that will take you far. Here’s what we’ll do, then. I’ll tell Dr. Davidoff we found the spot here. The shirt was gone, likely taken by the boys. But they left this.” She pulled a page from her pocket. It was from Simon’s sketch pad, carefully torn out. On one side was a partial drawing, clearly Simon’s work. On the other side, she’d written in block letters: BSC CAFE 2 PM.
“Meet at the Buffalo State cafeteria at two,” I said. “The page is too clean, though. They’ll know it wasn’t left here.”
I took it, walked over by the metal pipe, crouched, and brushed the note across the dirty floor. Then I paused, still hunched over, and looked up at her.
“What about the insulin?”
“I’m sure those boys have already found some.”
“Can we leave it here, just in case?”
She hesitated. She didn’t want to bother, but if it would win my trust…
“I’ll get the vials from Lauren later and bring them back,” she said. “Now, though, we need to report that note.”
She turned to leave. I wrapped my fingers around a metal pipe, then sprang up, swinging it at the back of her head.
She spun, fingers flicking. I sailed backward into a stack of boxes, the pipe flying from my hands and clanging to the floor. I scrambled for it, but she was faster, snatching it up and brandishing it.
Her mouth opened, but before she could get out a word, a crate shot from the stack over my head. She sidestepped as it whizzed past. Behind it stood Liz.
The Awakening dp-2 Page 5
