As I pulled my heart from my throat, I realized the man had his back to me. Dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, he was the same size as the man with the gun, and had the same dark hair. I didn't remember the plaid shirt, but he'd been wearing a jacket.
He stood on a raised platform, gripping the railing, looking down at a big industrial saw. He seemed intent on whatever had caught his attention.
I took one careful step forward. When the man shifted, I froze, but he only seemed to be readjusting his grip on the railing. I lifted my foot. The man did the same —stepping onto the lower bar of the barrier.
He climbed onto the railing and crouched there, hands gripping the bar. Something moved below him and my gaze shot to the saw. The blades were turning —spinning so fast that the glint of a distant emergency light bounced off like a strobe. But there was no sound, not even the motor's hum.
The man tested his grip on the railing. Then, suddenly, he pitched forward. I saw him hit the blades, saw the first spray of blood, and I fell back against the wall, my hand flying to cover my mouth but not before the first note of a shriek escaped.
Something —some part of him—flew from the saw, landing in the doorway with a splat. I ripped my gaze away before I could see what it was, staggering back as running footsteps sounded behind me.
Arms grabbed me. I heard Simon's voice at my ear. "Chloe?"
"Th-there was a man. He —" I balled my hands into fists, pushing the image back. "A ghost. A man. He j-jumped onto a saw."
Simon pulled me against him, his hand going to the back of my head, burying my face against his chest. He smelled of vanilla fabric softener with a trace of perspiration, oddly comforting. I lingered, catching my breath.
Derek wheeled around the corner. "What happened?"
"A ghost," I said, pulling away from Simon. "I'm sorry."
"Someone heard. We gotta go."
As I was turning, I saw the ghost again, standing on the platform. Derek followed my gaze. The ghost stood in exactly the same position, gripping the railing. Then he stepped up.
"It's r-repeating. Like a film loop." I shook it off. "Never mind. We —"
"Have to go," Derek said, pushing me. "Move!"
As we started down the hall, Rae let out a piercing whistle.
"Did I say softly?" Derek hissed under his breath.
We veered into Rae's hall to see her standing at a door marked EXIT. She reached for the handle.
"Don't!" Derek strode past her and cracked the door open, listening and sniffing before pushing it wide. "See that warehouse?"
"The one, like, a mile back there?" Rae said.
"Quarter mile, tops. Now go. We're right behind —" His head whipped up, tracking a sound. "They're coming. They heard the whistle. You guys go. I'll distract them, then follow."
"Uh-uh," Simon said. "I've got your back. Chloe, take Rae and run."
Derek opened his mouth to argue.
Simon cut him off. "You want distractions?" He whispered a spell and waved his hand, fog rising. "I'm your guy." He turned to me. "Go. We'll catch up."
I wanted to argue but, again, there was nothing I could offer. My powers had already proved more hindrance than help.
Rae was already twenty feet across the lot, dancing in place like a boxer, waving for me to hurry up.
As I turned to go, Derek shouldered past Simon. "Get in the warehouse and don't leave. For one hour, don't even peek out. If we don't come, find a place to hole up. We'll be back."
Simon nodded. "Count on it."
"Don't stay in the warehouse if it's dangerous, but that'll be our rendezvous point. Keep checking in. If you can't stay, find a way to leave a note. We will meet you there. Got it?"
I nodded.
"They must be back here," someone called. "Search every room."
Derek shoved me through the doorway.
Simon leaned out, mouthing "I'll see you soon," with a thumbs-up, then he turned to Derek. "Show time."
I started to run.
Forty-five
WE WAITED IN THE WAREHOUSE for one hour and forty minutes.
"They caught them," I whispered.
Rae shrugged. "Maybe not. Maybe they saw their chance to get away and they took it."
A protest rose to my lips, but I swallowed it. She was right. If they had the opportunity to escape and no easy way of alerting us, I'd want them to take it.
I lifted my numb rear off the ice-cold cement. "We'll wait here a bit longer, then we'll go. If they got away, they'll hook up with us later."
Rae shook her head. "I wouldn't count on it, Chloe. It's like I said, the way they act, the way they behave, it's always us against them, and 'us' means the two of them. No one else, except maybe that missing dad of theirs." She shifted into a crouch. "Did they even give you any idea where they think he is? Or why he hasn't come for them?"
"No, but —"
"I'm not arguing, I'm just saying . . ." She crawled to the opening and peeked out. "It's like last year, when I went out with this guy. He was part of a clique at school. The 'cool kids.'" She added the quotes with her fingers. "And, sure, I kinda liked getting to hang with them. I thought it'd make me one of them. Only it didn't. They were nice enough, but they'd been friends since, like, third grade. Just because I had an in didn't mean I'd ever be one of them. You've got these superpowers. That gives you cred with Simon and Derek. But . . ." She turned my way. "You've only known them for a week. When push comes to shove . . ."
"Their first priority is each other. I know that. And I'm not saying you're wrong, just —"
"Simon's nice to you and all, sure. I see that. But —" She nibbled her lip, then slowly lifted her gaze to mine. "When you were back there, looking for Derek, it wasn't you Simon was worrying about. He didn't even mention you. It was all about Derek."
Of course he was worried about Derek. Derek was his brother; I was some girl he met a week ago. But it still stung a little that he hadn't mentioned me at all.
I'd been about to tell Rae about the part of the plan she missed, to make this our permanent rendezvous point, and keep checking back. But now it would sound like I was trying to prove the guys hadn't turned their backs on me. How pathetic was that?
I still thought they'd come back after things died down. It had nothing to do with whether Simon liked me or not. They'd come back because it was the right thing to do. Because they said they would. And maybe that makes me a silly girl who's watched too many movies where the good guy always comes back to save the day. But it's what I believed.
That did not, however, mean I was sitting here like an action-flick girlfriend, twiddling her thumbs waiting for rescue. I might be naive, but I wasn't stupid. We'd set a rendezvous point, so there was no need to stick around any longer.
I crawled from our cubbyhole, looked, and listened. I waved Rae out.
"First thing I need to do is get money," I said. "I've got my dad's but we might need more. There's a daily withdrawal limit, and that's probably all I'll get, so I have to act fast, before they put a trace on it or freeze the account. Derek said the nearest ATM was —"
"What are you doing?" Rae asked.
"What?"
She took hold of my arm and pointed at the blood. "You don't need money; you need a doctor."
I shook my head. "I can't go to a hospital. Even if they haven't put out an APB on me yet, I'm too young. They'd call my Aunt Lauren —"
"I meant your Aunt Lauren. She's a doctor, isn't she?"
"N-no. I can't. She'd just take us back —"
"After they shot at us? I know you're mad at her right now, but you've told me how she's always worrying about you, always looking out for you, defending you. If you show up at her front door and say that Davidoff and his buds shot at you, even with tranquilizers, do you really think she'll march you back to Lyle House?"
“That depends on whether she believes me. A week ago, yes. But now?" I shook my head. "When she was talking to me about Derek, it was like I wasn't even Chloe any
more. I'm a schizophrenic. I'm paranoid and I'm delusional. She won't believe me."
"Then tell me exactly what the gun and the dart looked like, and I'll say I saw it, too. No, wait! The dart. Derek pulled one out of his shirt, right? Do you know where it is?"
"I —I think so." I thought back, pictured him dropping it in the delivery bay. "Yes, I know exactly where it is."
"Then let's go get it."
* * *
It wasn't that easy. For all we knew, the factory yard was swarming with cops searching for two teen runaways. But when we looked out, the only people we saw were a half-dozen factory workers, heading in to work Sunday overtime, laughing and talking, lunch pails swinging, takeout coffees steaming.
I took off my blood-soaked sweatshirt and swapped it for Liz's hoodie. Then we crept out, moving from cover to cover. No sign of anyone looking for us. That made sense. How many teenagers run away in Buffalo every day? Even escaping from a home for disturbed kids wouldn't warrant a full-out manhunt.
Last night, it had probably been only Lyle House employees chasing us. Maybe board members, like Tori's mother, more worried about the home's reputation than our safety. If they wanted to keep our escape quiet, they'd be gone before any factory employees arrived. By now they were probably in a meeting, deciding what to do and when to notify our parents —and the police.
I found the dart easily, and put it into my backpack. Then we headed for the business district, looping three blocks past Lyle House and keeping our eyes open. Nothing happened. We found a pay phone, I called for a cab, and gave the driver Aunt Lauren's address.
* * *
Aunt Lauren lived in a duplex near the university. When we walked up her steps, the Buffalo News was still there. I picked it up and rang the bell.
After a minute, a shadow passed behind the curtain. Locks clanked and the door flew open. Aunt Lauren stood there in a short bathrobe, hair wet.
"Chloe? Oh my God. Where —" She pulled the door open. "What are you doing here? Are you okay? Is everything all right?"
She tugged me inside by my injured arm and I tried not to wince. Her gaze shot to Rae.
"Aunt Lauren, this is Rae. From Lyle House. We need to talk to you."
* * *
As we went inside, I did a proper introduction. Then I told her the whole story. Well, the edited version. Very edited, with no mention of zombies, magic, or werewolves. The boys had been planning to run away and they'd invited us. We'd gone along just for fun —to get out, goof off, then go back later. Knowing Aunt Lauren didn't care for Dr. Gill, I included the part about her attacking me in the yard with her wild accusations. Then I told her about the gun.
She stared down at the dart, lying on her coffee table, on top of a stack of New Yorker magazines. She picked it up, gingerly, as if it might detonate, and turned it over in her hands.
"It's a tranquilizer dart," she said, voice barely above a whisper.
"That's what we thought."
"But — They shot this at you? At you?"
"At us."
She slumped back, leather squeaking under her.
"I was there, Dr. Fellows," Rae said. "Chloe's telling the truth."
"No, I —" She lifted her gaze to mine. "I believe you, hon. I just can't believe— This is so completely . . ." She shook her head.
"Where did you find Lyle House?" I asked.
She blinked. "Find?"
"How did you find it for me? In the yellow pages? Through a recommendation?"
"It came highly recommended, Chloe. Very highly. Someone at the hospital told me about it and I did all my research. Their recovery rate is excellent and they had glowing reports from patients and their families. I can't believe this happened."
So I hadn't randomly arrived at Lyle House. It'd been recommended. Did that mean anything? I fingered Liz's hoodie and thought about us —all of us. No ordinary group home would track runaways with tranquilizer guns. The ghost had been right. There was a reason we'd been at Lyle House and now, withholding the truth from Aunt Lauren, I could be putting her into danger.
"About the ghosts . . ." I began.
"You mean what that Gill woman said?" Aunt Lauren slapped the dart back onto the magazines with such force that the pile fell, magazines sliding across the glass table-top. "The woman is obviously in need of mental help herself. Thinking you can communicate with ghosts? One whiff of that to a review board and her license will be revoked. She'll be lucky if she isn't committed. No sane person believes people can speak to the dead."
Okay, forget the confession . . .
Aunt Lauren rose. "I'm going to start by calling your father, then my lawyer, and he can contact Lyle House."
"Dr. Fellows?"
Aunt Lauren turned to Rae.
"Before you do that, you'd better take a look at Chloe's arm."
Forty-six
AUNT LAUREN TOOK ONE look and freaked out. I needed stitches, immediately. She didn't have the supplies at home, and I had to have full medical attention. Who knew what I might have severed or what filth or germs might have been on that glass? While she was rebandaging me, she made me drink a bottle of Gatorade to replace any fluids I'd lost from bleeding. Within ten minutes, Rae and I were in the back of her Mercedes, tearing from her garage.
I dozed off before we reached the first traffic light. I supposed all those sleepless nights had something to do with that. Being in Aunt Lauren's car helped, with its familiar smell of berry air freshener and its soft beige leather seats and the faded blue spot where I'd spilled a slushie three years ago. Back home. Back to normal.
I knew it wasn't that simple. I wasn't back to normal. And Derek and Simon were still out there and I was worried about them. But even that worry seemed to fade as the car bumped along, like I was leaving it behind in another life. A dream life. Part nightmare, part . . . not.
Raising the dead, escaping from the clutches of an evil doctor, tearing through abandoned warehouses with people shooting at me. It all seemed so unreal in this familiar car, the radio station tuned to WJYE, my aunt laughing at something Rae said about her choice of music, saying I complained, too. So familiar. So normal. So comforting.
And, yet, even as I drifted off, I clung to the memories of that other life, where the dead came to life and fathers disappeared and sorcerers conducted horrific experiments and buried the bodies under the house and boys could make fog appear from their fingertips or turn into wolves. Now it was over and it was like waking up to discover I couldn't see ghosts anymore. The feeling that I'd missed out on something that would make my life tougher but might also make it different. An adventure. Special.
* * *
I woke to Aunt Lauren shaking me.
"I know you're tired, hon. Just come on inside and you can go back to sleep."
I stumbled out of the car. She caught me, Rae diving in to help.
"Is she okay?" Rae asked my aunt. "She lost a lot of blood."
"She's exhausted. You both must be."
When the cold air hit, I yawned and gave my head a sharp shake. I could make out a building in front of me. I blinked hard and it came into focus. A yellow brick rectangle with a single, unmarked door.
"Is this the hospital?"
"No, it's a walk-in clinic. I called Buffalo General and Mercy and their emergencies are packed. A typical Sunday morning. Between the Saturday night gunshot wounds and the drunk drivers, it's a zoo. I know a doctor here and we'll get you straight in."
She looked up as a small, gray-haired woman rounded the corner. "Oh, there's Sue. She's a nurse here. Rae, Sue's going to take you over to the waiting room, get you some breakfast, and check you over."
I peered at the woman as I struggled to focus. She looked familiar. When she stopped to talk to my aunt, I realized she must be her friend. But even after she walked away, it niggled at the back of my foggy brain, some connection I wasn't getting.
It wasn't until we were inside that I remembered where I'd seen her. Just last night, clutching the chain
-link fence, calling my name.
I wheeled on Aunt Lauren. "That woman —"
"Sue, yes. She's a nurse here. She'll take good care of—"
"No! I saw her last night with the man who shot at us."
Aunt Lauren's face crumpled and she put her arm around me. "No, honey, that's not the same woman. You've been through a lot and you're confused —"
I pushed her away. "I'm not. I saw her. Is she the one who recommended Lyle House? We need to get out of here."
I ducked out of her grasp and raced back to the door. I grabbed the handle, but she caught up, holding it shut.
"Chloe, listen to me. You need to —"
"I need to get out." I pulled on the door with both hands, but she held it fast. "Please, Aunt Lauren, you don't understand. We have to get out of here."
"Would someone please help Dr. Fellows?" a voice echoed down the hall. I turned to see Dr. Davidoff striding toward us.
A man hurried past him, coming at me with a syringe.
"That won't be necessary, Marcel," Aunt Lauren snapped. "I've already given her something."
"And I can see it's working very well. Bruce, sedate Chloe, please."
I looked up at Aunt Lauren. "Y-you drugged me?"
Her arms went around me. "You'll be okay, hon. I promise."
I lashed out, hitting her so hard she stumbled back. Then she turned on Dr. Davidoff.
"I told you this wasn't the way to handle it. I told you to leave it to me."
"Leave what to you?" I said, taking a slow step back and hitting the door.
She reached for me, but my hands flew up, warding her off.
"Leave what to you?"
The man with the syringe caught my arm. I tried to yank away, but the needle went in. Aunt Lauren stepped toward me, mouth opening. Then a woman hurried down the hall, calling to Dr. Davidoff.
"The team just called in a report, sir. There's no sign of the boys."
"Surprise, surprise," Aunt Lauren said, turning to Dr. Davidoff. "Kit taught them well. Once they're gone, they'll keep running. I warned you."
"We'll find them."
The Summoning dp-1 Page 24
