by Cate Dean
“Alex.” Dad grabbed my hand and pulled me after him. “Thank you for the last minute rush job, Larry. It was time sensitive, and I’ll put in a good word with your supervisor for your dedication and service.”
The glare disappeared. “Thanks, Mr. Finch.” He hustled around the counter, keys jingling in one hand. “I’ll just lock up after you so no one thinks we’re still open.” I was barely out the door before he shoved it closed.
“You’re not going to actually reward his nasty attitude, are you?”
Dad let out a sigh and turned to face me. “I need to deal with these people, Alex. So yes, I am going to tell his boss he went above and beyond, because he did. I’m guessing his attitude has already been noted, more than once.”
“Sorry.” I wanted to say more, but I already spewed enough. And Sam heard every word. I forgot about him being here in the heat of my indignation.
Dad squeezed my hand and flashed me a smile. “Wouldn’t have you any other way.”
That made me feel better, if not any less mortified. I kept my eyes forward, to avoid accidentally seeing any reaction from Sam—and caught sight of Misty, bouncing up and down next to my car and waving her arms.
She danced over, her long braid flapping around her. “What did you find out? Where are you going that you need flashlights? Can I go with you?”
I glanced over at Dad, who held three flashlights, and shrugged at me. “Misty—how did you find me?”
“I followed you. How else would I find anything out? Please tell me I can go with you.” She grabbed my hand, looking so excited I couldn’t find it in my heart to refuse her.
“You may not want to, once you know where we’re going and why.”
Sam took pity on me, took Misty aside, and quietly explained to her. Dad distracted me by handing me one of the flashlights.
“I don’t expect to find much down there,” he said. “There was probably a good amount of backfill, to create the foundation for the new buildings.”
“We just need to find out if it’s possible for him to hide down there. Where are the sewers?”
“In relation to the old town?” He took my arm, led me over to Sam and Misty, who looked scared, but just as determined to join us. “Not sure, since I used the entrance near the library for my exploration. This sewer system has tunnels spreading out everywhere, some of them far beyond the town limits—”
“Dad.” If I didn’t stop him now, he would have gone on for hours. Trust me, I’ve been there.
“Right.” He winked at me, and I knew he forgave the interruption. “What I do know from studying the schematic is this—there is an entrance nearby. Just behind the McGinty house.”
I shuddered, not able to stop my reaction. Misty took my hand and gave it a squeeze, which oddly enough, made me feel better. She must have been just as freaked to be going back there, and after dark on top of it.
“We’re ready, sir,” Sam said. I met his eyes, and he raised his eyebrows. “Right?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed. “Ready.”
“Okay.” Dad flashed me a smile. “Let’s go find out where it leads.”
Uh, oh. I knew that tone—it was Dad’s “I’m ready to solve a mystery” tone. My heart pounded harder, this time with dread. He wouldn’t let go of this until he got his answers.
The McGinty house was in walking distance, in the neighborhood on the other side of the records office. One of the good/bads of small towns—everything was close together. Sometimes too close.
We headed out, clouds from over the ocean rushing in to gloom up the sunset. It added a little too much atmosphere for my taste.
I stayed with Dad, and Misty latched on to Sam. For some reason, I didn’t want to scratch her eyes out in irrational jealousy. They made the perfect couple; like the photo next to the entry in the dictionary perfect.
With my lack of jealousy came another revelation—one I hadn’t paid attention to in my worship/avoidance dance for the last ten years.
Sam didn’t date. Anyone. I figured I never heard his name linked with a girl because I traveled so far outside their circle I wouldn’t have heard a riot. But he never spent time with a girl, not in the relationship sense. Friends, yes—Sam was the most popular of the populars.
Looking at his left shoulder, I had a sinking feeling I knew why.
Dad stopping brought me back to our immediate goal.
The familiar, rusted wrought iron fence had me reminding myself to breathe. Dad opened the gate, and led us around back to a dirt-crusted bronze manhole—just feet from the window we used to escape.
“Here,” he said, as he crouched next to the once decorative cover, handing his flashlight up to me. “I’ll need your help, Sam.”
Together they shifted the heavy cover out of its home, and inched it across the dirt. Sam favored his left arm, which told me his shoulder still hurt. Or something else had happened to him, something he couldn’t tell me—
I really had to stop creating these scenarios in my head. I was going to give myself nightmares.
“I’ll go first.” Dad turned and lowered himself to the steel ladder, one hand reaching up for the flashlight. “Alex, you follow me, then Misty. Sam will take the rear. No one wanders past the ground right under this hole. Understood?”
I nodded, saw Sam and Misty do the same. Satisfied, Dad climbed down, slowly disappearing into the darkness. I clutched my flashlight, waiting for him to shout the all clear, praying it wouldn’t be a shout of alarm, or a scream.
“He’ll be okay, Alex.” Sam moved to my side, watching the hole. “Jake isn’t the most subtle attacker. But you already know that—”
“Wait.” Misty grabbed Sam’s arm. “The thing that attacked us—was Jake? Your cousin Jake?” His face drained of color. He was so used to talking to me freely, he obviously forgot Misty didn’t know all the details. “Your certifiable cousin Jake?” She started to sound hysterical.
“Misty.” She whirled, swinging her flashlight at me. I caught her wrist, got in her face. “Misty.”
She blinked, her eyes focusing. “I’m okay. Sorry.” She backed down, and I let her go. “I didn’t—that is so not processing, and I panicked. Especially since we’re standing right here.” She waved at the backyard, just feet away from our escape. Her gaze shot to the manhole. “We’re looking for him down there, aren’t we?”
I nodded, and glanced over at Sam. “What did you tell her?”
“That we were checking out a theory. And it could be dangerous.” He crossed his arms. “I couldn’t tell her any more than that.”
Dad’s voice filtered up from the hole. “Come on down!”
Unlike the famous game show, I didn’t think we were going to have the chance to win a fabulous prize.
Misty pushed past me, standing so close to Sam their noses almost touched. “This conversation is not over.”
“Misty—”
“Not. Over.” She moved to the hole. “I’m going first. I can’t promise I won’t punch him if we’re left alone.”
I looked down at her feet. Unlike most of her friends, who always tottered around on heels tall enough to make them look like they’d topple at any second, Misty traded off between the heels and flats. I let out my breath when I saw that she chose to wear flats today. Stylish and expensive flats, but she could climb down the ladder without killing herself.
She knelt, easing herself backward until her feet touched the rungs of the ladder, and disappeared into the darkness.
Sam let out his breath. “That could have gone better.”
“You weren’t ever going to tell her, were you?”
“The fewer who know, the better.” He looked at me, and I willed my skin not to flush. Dad knew almost everything, but he would never tell anyone else. I trusted him completely, and I didn’t regret telling him. I had a feeling Sam wouldn’t share my confidence. “After you, Alex.”
Swallowing, aware I narrowly dodged a bullet, I sat, stuck my flashlight in the pocket of my ho
odie and scooted to the edge of the hole, bracing my feet on the ladder as I turned around, gripping the curved sides.
Light flared below me, showing me the bottom of the ladder. Dad caught me around the waist when I was close and guided me to the ground. “Got your footing?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Sam appeared in the beam of Misty’s flashlight and stepped to the ground, flipping on his own light.
“This way,” Dad said. “I had a little time to do some exploring while you were—sorting things out.” Misty stared at the ground, and Sam pushed hair off his face. I just grinned at Dad; he wouldn’t say anything else about it. He wouldn’t need to. It was his best leave-me-squirming technique, and it worked every time. “Turn your flashlights off. All of you.”
We obeyed, and I sucked in my breath.
Gold, flickering light danced in lines down the twisting street. Old fashioned lamps stuck out from brackets next to the door of every building, hung on tall posts at the edge of a high boardwalk.
And two more posts stood on either side of a time-blackened sign, illuminating the carved words perfectly.
Welcome to Hyattown.
11
I expected rubble and broken, rotting wood—best case scenario, a path clawed into the packed dirt, leading to Jake’s secret lair.
What I didn’t expect was a fully intact ghost town. Underground.
We moved past the sign and I felt a rush of heat over my entire body, like I walked through some kind of barrier. And it wasn’t just me—Misty let out a gasp, and caught my wrist.
“Did you feel that?”
“Yeah.” I looked over at Dad. He nodded, worry clouding his eyes. Worry that wasn’t there before.
I shoved the fear to the back of my mind as we walked past buildings that looked like they belonged in a museum. The flickering light from the gas lamps danced off broken glass windows, fading store signs, and the boardwalk on each side of the street.
Closer inspection showed the consequences of being in a damp environment. The buildings may have been standing, but they were not safe. Rot crept up from the foundation, warping and softening the old wood. Only the brick buildings looked intact, mold spreading over what was once bright red and soft beige facades.
Moving to Dad, I slipped my hand in his, felt him squeeze my fingers. “How can this be here?”
He pointed straight ahead. “That’s how.”
Taking me with him, he headed for the end building. Now that we were on top of it, I saw the heavy wood beam. It looked like a railroad tie, with the black coating slapped on it. Probably to prevent what was happening to the wood structures.
The ceiling was low—less than eight feet, was my guess—and these thick pillars, set up in pairs, sprouted up in regular formation, like a grove of dead trees. Each one dovetailed into one of the heavy cross beams that turned the ceiling over our heads into a checkerboard.
This was well-planned, not a slapdash attempt. There was another freaking town over our heads. The thought that this had been under my feet all my life sent chills down my spine.
Dad’s quiet voice echoed around us. “I found the main shutoff for the gaslights in the first building. It looks like it was the public works. I honestly didn’t expect them to work, but they fired right up.”
“Like someone has been maintaining them,” I whispered. Dad nodded, tightening his grip on my hand.
“Who did this?” Misty’s awed voice filtered through my growing dread.
Sam had moved away, and was running his fingers over the closest porch post. “This might give us an answer.”
We hustled over to him. A symbol was carved into the wood. A symbol I knew I’d seen before—
“It’s a rune,” Dad said. He reached past me, touched the carving. It looked like an upside down peace sign—or my elementary school attempt at drawing a tree. “This one is Algiz. It represents protection, or what could be seen as a safe refuge, a safe haven. I had a quick and dirty introduction to runes at university.” He raised his eyebrows at my astonished look. “What? I can’t have a past?” He smiled at Sam and Misty, who looked even more surprised than me. “I did my undergrad studies at Cambridge. You can’t beat England for the glorious variety of architectural styles. I met a girl—”
“Dad!” I clapped my hands over my ears. “I so don’t want to hear this.”
He gently pried my hands away. “Who cast runes. She was a bohemian, and bashful, lumbering me thought she was the next best thing to a perfectly rendered Gothic arch.” His finger traced the rune. “We parted ways pretty quickly—I do like my women with a brain.” He winked at me. “But I became fascinated by the runes, and did some studying of my own. Not only are they a form of prediction, they are also a language.”
Sam’s quiet voice broke the stunned silence. “You think this is some kind of haven. A meeting place.”
“Exactly. Now,” he laid one hand on my shoulder. “How about we go find Jake?”
Oh, God.
Sam froze. I waited endless seconds for him to start yelling, and braced myself. He moved so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Not until I absolutely had to.”
He shocked me by smiling. “You never fail to surprise.”
I stared up at him, my breath clogging in my lungs. I couldn’t remember how they worked.
Misty snapped the connection. “This rune is supposed to mean this place is a safe haven.” Her usually bubbly voice was subdued.
“A good theory,” Dad said. He noticed the same thing I did—she kept jumping at every little sound. “If it’s true—”
“The next question is,” Misty looked at me, fear in her sky blue eyes. “A safe haven for what?”
~ ~ ~
Dad kept his arm around Misty as we searched the streets, checking for any sign of Jake. The layers of dirt on the boardwalks were untouched, and they squeaked with every step we took. I got off as soon as I could, already freaked out by the existence of the town.
Everywhere we went, we found the same tree rune—carved into doors, under windows, on porch posts. Every building told whoever came here that this was a safe place, a place of protection. It felt empty, like no one had walked here in a long time.
When we circled back to the town welcome sign, I noticed a larger version of the rune there, under the town name. Only this one had an angry black mark scorched across it, a warning that this haven was no longer safe.
The sewers spiked that sense of danger.
The closest entrance was down an alley halfway along the street. I sucked up my courage, and followed Dad down the ladder—before I froze on the third rung. Every hair stood at attention, and my primal survival instinct screamed for flight. So I listened.
Misty was right behind me as I scrambled back up the ladder, and we held hands as we ran for the exit leading to open ground. I swear I didn’t breathe until I saw the night sky.
We didn’t stay in McGinty’s yard—too much bad mojo. Instead we kept going, running until we got back to the records office.
Once we reached the parking lot my lungs were burning. Being a dancer, that pretty much never happened outside of class, so I knew I had been pretty well freaked out by everything. I bent over, hands braced on my thighs, taking in deep, gulping breaths. Misty dropped to the ground next to me, sucking air.
I never wanted to do that again.
Misty crawled over to me. “You okay?”
I held up one hand, took in a semi-normal breath. “I could be better.” Easing myself to the ground, I scratched absently at my still healing cut. She slapped my hand away. “Hey—”
“You’ll infect it.”
“Yes, Mom.” I smiled over at her. She was pale, but the fear had faded from her eyes. I imagined I didn’t look much better. “Do you think they found anything?”
“I hope not.” She rubbed her arms. “I can’t believe that giant, hairy nightmare was Jake. What happened to him?”
<
br /> I swallowed, focused on the cuff of my hoodie. “You’ll have to ask Sam.”
“But you know—”
“I can’t, Misty. I made a promise.” One I already broke, when I told Dad. I wondered what the penalty was for breach of confidentiality. And remembered the wicked weapons both Emmetts carried when they went after Jake. That image scared me almost as much as the thought of facing Jake again.
Dad and Sam showed up soon after, wet, filthy, and smelling like, well, the sewer. Dad shook his head at me, and they both joined us on the ground.
Dad laid one hand on Sam’s arm. “I’m sorry we didn’t find him. He may have left town altogether, with the number of people looking for him.”
“Thank you for trying, sir.” Sam sounded exhausted, and looked worse. Dad obviously noticed when I did. He stood, hauled Sam to his feet, and headed for his truck. “What—”
“I’m taking you home, son.” Dad used his “it’s useless to argue with me” tone. Sam didn’t; he just lowered his head, dirty, cobwebbed hair covering his face. “Did you need a ride, Misty?”
“I have my car here, Mr. Finch.” She stood, and to my shock ran over and hugged Dad. “Thanks for taking care of us down there.”
“My pleasure, beautiful.”
She blushed—Misty Corwin, the goddess of chess geeks, favorite of teachers everywhere, actually blushed. I wished I had my phone out.
I dragged myself up, moved next to her to watch Dad and Sam walk over to his truck. Dad had his arm around Sam’s shoulders, talking to him. Knowing my dad, he was telling Sam not to blame himself, for anything. Including my involvement in this mess. I agreed; it wasn’t Sam’s fault that Jake decided on an afternoon snack. He just picked the wrong girl to try and sink his teeth into.
“You okay to drive home, Alex?”
I could have stretched out on the parking lot and slept just fine, but I nodded. “It’s not far.” I met Misty’s eyes. “I don’t have to tell you—”
“Not to tell anyone? No.” She squeezed my arm, and slid into her Porsche. Yeah, different car. Her dad owned the biggest luxury car franchise on the West coast. “Besides, who would believe me?”
