Awakening (19 page)

I meant it as sarcasm. But when his answer was slow coming—much too slow—my heart hammered.

“Derek!”

He trashed the wet paper towel. “No, I don’t have a death wish, okay?”

“You’d better not.”

“I don’t, Chloe,” he said softly. “I mean it. I don’t.”

Our eyes locked and the panic buzzing in my head turned to something else, my heart still hammering, my throat going dry….

I looked away and mumbled, “Good.”

He backed up. “We gotta go.”

I nodded and slid off the counter.

I
GAVE DEREK MY jacket and he wore it without argument—it covered the blood spatter on his sweatshirt. As we left the bathroom, the people in the coffee shop finally noticed us, but only to call out that the bathroom was for paying customers only.

The coffee shop had a post-winter clearance on promotional thermoses, emblazoned with their name, so Derek got one filled with hot chocolate, plus two paper cups. Add a half-dozen donuts and we had dinner to go.

We couldn’t just waltz back to the bus station, though. Liam would still be hunting for us, maybe joined by Ramon. If they’d been following us earlier, they might know we’d gone to the bus stop and would wait for us there.

So we stayed downwind or behind buildings, then waited a half block away until we saw the bus coming. There was no sign of the werewolves. I’m sure it helped that it was just a bus stop, not a terminal—if they’d followed our trail to the flower shop, they probably hadn’t figured out that we’d been there to buy bus tickets.

Yet it was only after we were on and the bus pulled away that I finally relaxed. I was on my second cup of chocolate when my eyelids started to droop.

“You should get some sleep,” Derek said.

I stifled a yawn. “It won’t be that long, will it? An hour and a half?”

“Close to double that. We’re on the milk run.”

“What?”

“The route that hits all the little towns,” he said.

He took my empty cup. I shifted, trying to get comfortable. He balled up my discarded sweatshirt and put it against his shoulder.

“Go on,” he said. “I don’t bite.”

“And from what I hear, that’s a good thing.”

He gave a rumbling chuckle. “Yeah, it is.”

I leaned against his shoulder.

“In a few hours, you’ll be in a bed,” he said. “Bet
that’s
a good thing, huh?”

Had anything so simple
ever
sounded so amazing? But as I thought of it, my smile faded and I lifted my head.

“What if—?”

“Andrew isn’t there? Or he didn’t take them in? Then we’ll find Simon and we’ll splurge on a cheap motel. We are getting a bed tonight. Guaranteed.”

“And a bathroom.”

He chuckled again. “Yeah, and a bathroom.”

“Thank God.” I laid my head on the sweatshirt pillow again. “What are you looking forward to?”

“Food.”

I laughed. “I bet.
Hot
food. That’s what I want.”

“And a shower. I really want a shower.”

“Well, you’ll have to fight me for it. If that guy could smell my hair color, I didn’t do a very good job of rinsing it out. Which may explain why it feels so gross.”

“About that. The color. I didn’t mean—”

“I know. You just picked something that would make me look different. And it did.”

“Yeah, but it looks fake. Even those guys could tell. Wash it out, and we’ll get some of that red stuff you like.”

I closed my eyes. As I drifted off, Derek started humming, so softly I could barely hear it. I lifted my head.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve got this stupid tune stuck in my head. No idea what it is.”

I sang a few bars of “Daydream Believer.”

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “How’d…?”

“My fault. My mom used to sing it to me when I couldn’t sleep, so I was singing it last night. It’s the Monkees—the world’s first boy band.” I glanced up at him. “And I’ve just lost any scrap of cool I ever possessed, haven’t I?”

“At least you’re not the one still singing it.”

I smiled, rested my head against his shoulder, and fell asleep to his soft off-tune humming.

We got off at one of those small “milk run” stops. When Simon said Andrew lived outside New York City, I figured he meant in the Hudson Valley or Long Island, but the bus dropped us in a town whose name I didn’t recognize. Derek said it was about thirty miles from the city and about a mile from Andrew’s place.

Maybe it was because we knew the house was close, but that mile seemed to pass in minutes. We talked and joked and goofed around. A week ago, if someone had told me Derek
could
joke or goof around, I wouldn’t have believed it. But he was at ease now, stoked even, with our destination so near.

“It’s just up there,” he said.

We were on a narrow road lined with trees. It wasn’t really farm country. More like a rural community, with houses set way back from the road, hidden behind fences and walls and evergreens. As I squinted, Derek pointed.

“See the old-fashioned gas lamps at the end of that drive? They’re on, too, which is a good sign.”

We turned into the driveway—as winding and treed as the road, and seemingly just as long. Eventually we rounded a corner and the house came into sight. It was a cute little cottage, like something you’d see in an old English town, with stone walls and ivy and gardens that I’m sure would be beautiful in a month or two. Right now the most beautiful part was the light blazing from a front window.

“They’re here,” I said.

“
Someone’s
here,” Derek corrected.

When I hurried forward, he caught my arm. I looked back to see him scanning the house, his nostrils flaring. He tilted his head and frowned.

“What do you hear?” I asked.

“Nothing.” He turned to survey the dark woods surrounding the house. “It’s too quiet.”

“Simon and Tori are probably asleep,” I said, but I lowered my voice and glanced about, his anxiety contagious.

When we reached the cobblestoned walk, Derek dropped into a crouch. He lowered his head a foot from the ground. I wanted to tell him to come on, just knock on the door and we’d know whether they were here, stop being so paranoid. But I’d learned that what I would have once considered paranoia was, in this new life, sensible caution.

After a moment, he nodded and some of the tension went out of the set of his shoulders as he pushed to his feet.

“Simon’s here?” I asked.

“And Tori.”

He took one last slow look around, almost reluctantly, like he wanted to race to the front door as much as I did. Then we continued along the walk, the stones squeaking beneath our wet sneakers.

Derek was so busy looking out at the forest that I was the one who had to grab his arm this time. I pulled him short and directed his attention to our path.

The front door was ajar.

Derek swore. Then he took a deep breath, as if fighting off the first twitches of panic. He motioned for me to get behind him, then seemed to think better of it and waved for me to stand beside the door, against the wall.

When I was out of the way, he prodded the door open an inch. Then another. A third tap and he caught a smell, nostrils flaring. His eyebrows gathered in confusion.

After a moment, I smelled it, too. A strong bitter smell, familiar…“Coffee.” I mouthed. He nodded. That’s what it was—burned coffee.

He eased the door open wider. I pressed my back against the wall, resisting the urge to sneak a peek. I watched him instead as his gaze scanned the room beyond, his expression telling me nothing immediately caught his attention.

He motioned for me to stay put and stepped inside. Now I really fidgeted, tapping my thighs, scrunching my toes in my shoes, heart tripping. I wished I was the kind of girl who always carried a compact mirror. I could use it like they do in spy movies, to see what was happening around the corner.

When I leaned a little too close to the doorway, my inner voice piped up, telling me not to be stupid. The guy with bionic senses was better equipped for this.

Finally Derek backed out. He started to pantomime that he’d go in and look around while I stayed out here. Then, after a glance at the surrounding darkness, he seemed to think better of his first instinct. He pointed to my pocket and mimicked opening a switchblade. I took it out. He gestured for me to stay behind him, his emphatic jabs and accompanying scowl saying better than any words,
I mean it, Chloe
. I nodded.

We went inside. The front door led into a small foyer with a closet, then opened into the living room. A few pieces of mail were scattered in front of the closet door. I thought maybe it had been shoved through a mail slot, but there wasn’t one, and I remembered seeing a mailbox at the end of the long drive. A small table leaned precariously against the corner, and a piece of ad mail rested on top of it.

Derek was moving into the living room. I hurried to catch up before I got “the look.”

It was small and cozy, like you’d expect in a country cottage. The chairs and sofa were piled with mismatched pillows. Hand-knitted blankets were neatly folded over each back. The tops of the end tables were clear, but the shelves underneath bulged with magazines, and the two bookshelves were overflowing. One blazing lamp was the only electrical appliance—there was no TV, computer, or other techno gadget to be seen. An old-fashioned sitting room, for lighting the fire and curling up with a book.

Derek headed for the next doorway. When the floorboards creaked, he stopped short and I nearly plowed into him. He cocked his head. The house was silent. Eerily still and silent. Even if everyone had gone to bed, it shouldn’t be so quiet, considering both Simon and Tori snored.

We stepped into the kitchen. The stink of burned coffee was gag-inducing. I could see the coffeemaker on the counter, the red light still on, a half-inch of sludge in the bottom, like a full pot of coffee had been simmering for at least a day. Derek walked over and turned it off.

There was a plate on the counter. On it was a piece of toast with one bite gone. An open jam jar rested beside it, the knife still inside. A coffee mug sat on the table, on top of an opened newspaper. I looked in the cup. It was two-thirds full, the cream congealing in an oily white film.

Derek waved for me to fall behind him again and he headed for the back of the house.

T
HE HOUSE WAS BIGGER than it looked, with four doors off the rear hall.

The first led to a guest room, the bed covers pulled tight, towels folded on top of the dresser, no sign that anyone had used it recently. The next was an office with a futon couch—more room for guests, but again, no sign that any had been here in a while. Across the hall was a bathroom. It, too, looked unused, with wrapped soap and unopened shampoo on the counter, ready for guests.

At the end of the hall was the master bedroom. It was as tidy as the rest of the house, but the bed was unmade. A bathrobe lay crumpled on a chair. On one nightstand sat a half-filled glass of water and a paperback novel. There was an attached bathroom, with a rumpled bath mat and a towel draped over the shower stall. I squeezed the towel. Dry.

Back in the hall, Derek dropped again to sniff.

“They were here,” he said.

“Simon and Tori?”

He nodded.

“They didn’t sleep here last night, though,” I said. “No one’s used this room in a while.

He nodded again.

“Can you smell anyone else?” I asked.

“Just Andrew. I’ll check the front again.”

He walked off, apparently having decided that the house was empty, so it was safe to leave me behind. I met up with him back in the kitchen as I examined the toast. He bent to sniff it.

“Andrew?” I asked.

He nodded.

I walked to the table and looked at the newspaper. “It’s like he was reading this, drinking his coffee, and waiting for the toast to pop. He puts jam on it, takes a bite and then…”

And then
what
? That was the question.

I picked up the coffeepot. “It’s been on since at least this morning.”

He walked over and eyed the pot. “Rings show it was almost full. To evaporate that much, it’s been on since yesterday.”

“Before Simon and Tori arrived.”

Derek didn’t answer. He was staring out the window over the sink, his gaze blank.

“Is this…like your dad?” I asked. “When he disappeared?”

He nodded.

“Were there any other scents at the door?”

He turned slowly then, his attention shifting back to me. “Yeah, but there are lots of reasons why someone would come to the door. None seem to go past it. No recent trails, at least.”

“The table in the front hall looks like someone bumped into it and the mail fell off. From the looks of this place, Andrew doesn’t seem the type to leave a mess like that.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Something happened at the door, then. Someone came or someone called and Andrew left in a hurry.”

Like their dad. I didn’t say it again—I already knew he was thinking it.

I circled the kitchen, looking for more clues. Everything was so neat that any disruption would stick out, and I couldn’t see any.

“It’s definitely breakfast for one,” I said. “And there’s no sign that Simon or Tori used the spare bedrooms or guest bath. That would suggest that whatever happened here, it happened before they arrived.”

Derek nodded, like he’d already come to this conclusion.

I opened cupboards, all perfectly ordered inside. “It seems like Simon did exactly what we did—came in, walked around, realized something had happened and then…”

And then what? That question again.

“If they left, there’ll be a second trail outside,” Derek said as he strode to the kitchen door. “I’ll see if they went back to the road or—”

“Or maybe this will help.” I snatched a drawing hung among the bills and notes on the fridge. “This is Simon’s work, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t as obvious as the message he’d left in the warehouse—a comic-book character would stand out too much on Andrew’s fridge. Simon trusted Derek to recognize his work even when it was a simple sketch.

“Yeah, it’s his.”

“It’s someone swimming. I have no idea what it means but—”

“Pool house,” Derek called back, already striding toward the rear of the house.

I scrambled after him, but by the time I reached the door, it was already shutting. I stepped out into the pitch-black yard, huge trees closing in on all sides, blocking the moonlight. Derek popped from the shadows, making me yelp. He waved me back inside and shut the door.

“He’s not there?” I said.

“Running outside might not be such a smart idea.”

He took the picture again and studied it, like he was looking for any clue that Simon hadn’t drawn it willingly.

“Front door,” he said. “We’ll go the long way. Sneak up.”

With an impatient wave for me to stay close, he started off. I took out my switchblade again and followed. It was a slow trip to the pool house. Derek stopped every few feet to look, listen, and sniff. It was too dark for me to do anything except stay as close as I could. With his dark clothing and quiet walk, that wasn’t easy; and every so often I had to reach out and brush the back of his jacket to reassure myself he was still in front of me.

Finally we could see a clearing ahead and, in it, a pale building. Then came a shrill whistle.

“Simon,” Derek said.

He broke into a jog, leaving me scrambling after him. Before he reached the door, it clicked open.

“Hey, bro,” Simon whispered. He thumped Derek’s back, the nylon jacket crinkling. “Where’s Chloe?”

“Right behind—” Derek turned and saw me stumbling along. “Sorry.”

“Forgot not everyone has your night vision?” Simon thumped him again and strode past, greeting me with a one-armed hug and a whispered, “Good to see you.”

He squeezed my upper arm, then started to say something before Derek cut him off with a hissed, “Inside.”

We stepped through the door into the glow of a lantern. Noticing that, Derek looked around sharply.

“Relax,” Simon said. “No windows. You didn’t notice the light, did you?”

Derek grunted and walked farther in. As he’d said, it was a pool house, filled with neatly stacked and organized pool and yard supplies. Simon and Tori had set up two lawn chairs. Wrappers and Diet Coke cans covered a nearby table-top. I glanced around for Tori and found her asleep on an inflated raft.

“The longer she sleeps, the better,” Simon said. “It’s a good thing you two showed up because another day alone with her?” He pantomimed throttling.

“I saw that,” said a sleepy voice. Tori lifted her head. “Believe me, the feeling is mutual.”

She sat up and raked her hair back, stifling a yawn. “There’s nothing like spending a whole day alone with a guy to make a girl say, ‘What was I
thinking
?’”

“At least one good thing came of it,” Simon murmured.

Tori looked at me. “He
left
me here. Alone. Unarmed. At the mercy of whoever took his dad’s friend—”

“First, from what I hear of your spells, you’re a helluva lot better armed than I am,” Simon said. “Second. Left you? Excuse me? You refused to come along.”

“Because I didn’t see the point. Why go racing off looking for the bad guys? I’m sure if we stick around here, they’ll find us soon enough. The smart thing to do would have been to get as far from this place as possible. But no, poor Derek and Chloe might not find us. Hello?” She waved at Derek. “Human bloodhound. He’ll find us.”

Simon leaned down to me and whispered, “It was fun.”

“And then—” Tori continued.

I cut in, “And then we remembered that we called a moratorium on bickering and if we have any issues to discuss, we should wait until we’re someplace safe.”

“We need to discuss a game plan, too,” Derek said, “in case this happens again. Right now, the important thing is Andrew.” He turned to Simon. “What did you find when you got here?”

Exactly what we had, as Simon explained. The front door had been ajar, and they’d left it that way to warn us to enter with caution. They’d walked through the house, and when Simon realized it looked like when his dad had vanished, they got out of there quickly. Simon left the note, and found the keys, and they retreated to the pool house.

“Do you have the keys?” Derek asked.

Simon handed them to him.

Derek flipped through. “Looks like a full set. Is the car still in the garage?”

Simon swore under his breath. “Totally forgot to check.”

“We’ll look, but I’ll bet it is.”

“Car?” Tori walked over. “We have a car?”

“No, we do not—” Derek began.

“You’re sixteen, right?” Tori said.

“I turned sixteen two months ago, locked up in Lyle House, meaning I don’t have a license and even if I did—”

“But you can drive, right?” she said. “You look old enough that no cop would pull you over as long as you keep to the speed limit, don’t run a yellow—”

“I’m not stealing a car from a guy who has disappeared and may be reported missing at any moment. My only point about the car was that if it’s still here, Andrew didn’t drive off. Someone took him. We just don’t know whether it was with his permission.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“Presume he was kidnapped and get as far from here as we can, in case they come back.”

Tori turned to Simon. “See? We can get some sleep, then we’re taking
my
advice—”

“I mean right now,” Derek said.

He was right—the sooner we left, the better—but I couldn’t help feeling my shoulders slump at the thought of hitting the road again. Walking again. Eating energy bars and sleeping in alleys again. I tried not to picture the house, warm and cozy, with beds, food, showers…

Feeling Derek’s gaze on me, I straightened. “I’m good.”

“Of course she is,” Tori said. “Our perky little—” This time, she cut herself off. “Okay, sorry, but you know what I mean, guys. As long as Chloe can walk, she’s not going to admit she needs to rest.”

“I slept on the bus.”

“For about an hour,” Derek said. “And none last night.”

“What happened last—?” Simon stopped. “Later, I know. But Tori has a point. Chloe needs to rest and she’s not the only one. We’re beat. It’s already late. If we can rest here safely, we should all recharge our batteries. Otherwise they’re going to quit when we need them most.”

I could tell Derek wanted us to move out, but after a moment’s consideration, he waved us to the door. “We’re up at dawn, gone a half-hour later. If you aren’t ready, you stay behind. Any light that isn’t on, leave it off. Stay away from all the windows….”