End of Days (27 page)

“Why?” Charlie asked.

Mr. Entwistle took a detour around a patio party. Someone had a stereo blasting, so Charlie had to repeat his question.

“Silver doesn't corrode like other metals. It gives it an aura of purity. It's all poppycock, of course. If I shoot you with silver, steel, lead, or Botox, it's going to do some damage.”

In the next backyard he stopped. A large addition to a two-story house was in front of us. He took off his top hat, flattened it to pancake dimensions, and stuck it inside his coat. His hair looked fresh from a Jell-O mold. He rubbed his fingers through it, then wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his coat. He started scowling and his head swung back and forth in disbelief.

“What is it?” I asked.

He was looking down at the ground. I could see a deep footprint. Then he nodded toward the roof of the house. “I think he must have taken this in one stride.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he jumped straight up onto the roof.” He looked at me with his eyebrows high on his head, as if I ought to be impressed.

I was. “You having second thoughts?”

“No. I'm way past that. More like tenth or eleventh?”

Charlie looked at me. He was incredulous. All of us were.

“Think happy thoughts,” said Mr. Entwistle, then he started up again.

“Happy thoughts,” Charlie repeated, shaking his head. “Where did you find this guy?”

I hadn't found him. He'd found me—in a mental institution. That was before Hyde. Before Vlad. Before
that night.
Those years at the Nicholls Ward were starting to look like the glory days.

We were moving east down Parkhill Road by this time, away from the city and into an area with lots of farms. Mr. Entwistle picked up the pace. With no cars on the road, we really dropped the hammer. I bet we broke the speed limit. I spent the whole time thinking about Luna and what she would think if she could see me. I looked like the Michelin Man. My shirt was puffed up like an air balloon. It was the only thing that kept it from catching fire. We were that fast. After a few miles, Mr. Entwistle slowed. We were far out of town. I couldn't smell the Quaker Oats factory anymore.

“Why are we stopping again?” Charlie asked.

Mr. Entwistle was bent at the waist. His breathing was heavy. I was panting, too, and I wasn't running in body armor. He was so smooth and fast, I often forgot he had it on under his overcoat. It was a wonder he hadn't melted.

“Why? Because if we catch up to Hyde panting like overweight geriatric patients, he's going to slice us into small pieces.” Mr. Entwistle was looking at the ground. “And because he stopped here himself.” The old vampire started hopping from foot to foot. He looked like a drunk sailor trying to master an awkward version of hip-hop. Then I realized he was putting his feet in Hyde's footprints.

“What is it?” Charlie asked.

“He left the road here,” Mr. Entwistle said.

I wondered why. “To avoid a car maybe?”

“Maybe.”

We followed the trail off the road and into a pasture. There we found another set of tracks. These ones led back into town. Mr. Entwistle bent down to inspect them. His nostrils flared. “The ones heading back in are fresher. The scent on them is stronger.”

“Did he turn around here?” Charlie asked.

Mr. Entwistle shook his head. “No. He continued that way.” He pointed in the direction we'd been running—out of town. “He must have done an about-face somewhere ahead.”

“So what do we do?” I asked.

Mr. Entwistle peered skyward. A few hours of night remained. He paused for a moment to think. “If we follow the first trail, we might find his lair. Or at least where he turned around. But, obviously, if we're out here, and he's back in town . . .”

“We need to find out where he lives. Where he hides,” said Charlie.

“Yes, we do. Eventually. But these tracks won't disappear overnight. We can follow the first set again if we have to and see where they lead.”

Charlie nudged me on the shoulder. “What are you thinking, boy genius? I can see the gears grinding.”

I was thinking that Hyde knew he was faster than us. Maybe he planned for us to follow him out here. Then he could double back and do whatever he wanted in town because we were wasting our time chasing shadows. I looked at Charlie, then at Mr. Entwistle. The old vampire seemed to know what I was thinking. I heard his teeth grind. So we turned and took off in the direction of home.

“Do you think the others are all right?” Charlie asked.

“I'd better call.” Mr. Entwistle pulled out his cell phone. “Thank God for technology. Can you imagine how easy life would have been for the Hardy Boys if they'd had these things?”

Charlie looked at me and mouthed,
Hardy Boys?

I shrugged. I had no idea who they were. Pioneers maybe.

The old vampire slowed to talk. I heard Ophelia's voice on the other end. “Yeah, it's John. We're turning around. We followed tracks to Douro, but found another set heading back into town. They're fresher, so we're following those. Keep your eyes open. Hyde might be heading your way. Are Agent X and Baddon there?”

I heard Ophelia say no. They were at the hospital. I remembered what my uncle had told me. That his last radiation treatment was in
the morning. He must have gone in early with Baddon so the detective could be with his son.

“Call if there's trouble,” Mr. Entwistle said, then hung up. “They're alone. Let's motor.”

“Why did Agent X leave?” Charlie asked.

“He was taking Baddon to the hospital. My guess is, they'll both be staying there.”

Charlie shook his head. We hurdled a farm fence. Mr. Entwistle sped up and we followed. I was starting to falter. I hadn't recovered from my visit to the hospital. I loved few things more than running at night, but my gas tank was down to fumes.

“I had a bad feeling about him,” Charlie said.

“Who?”

“Agent X. Who did you think I meant? Did anyone else shoot me with a tranquilizer? How do you trust a guy when you don't even know his name?”

I didn't have an answer for this. I looked over at Mr. Entwistle. He was listening, his eyes busily scanning for the next footprint.

“When you get to be my age, boys,” he said, “you discover there are reasons not to trust everybody. You can twist your mind into a pretzel thinking about it. Trust, I wouldn't get too hung up on it.”

I was surprised to hear this. The way Ophelia made it sound, trust was one of the founding principles of the universe. Trust and order.

“You mean you don't trust anybody?” Charlie asked.

Mr. Entwistle shook his head. “It isn't about trust. It's about understanding. Should I trust you?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Okay. Imagine this scenario. Hyde has Suki as a hostage. He asks you to betray me, or he'll kill her. Should I still trust you?”

Charlie started to answer.

Mr. Entwistle cut him off. “Think. Is your first loyalty to her or to me? Now what about Baddon? You know how he feels about his son. What do you think he might do if something happened to the
boy, if the Coven took him, for example? Would the detective sell your soul to get his son back? Count on it.”

The old vampire looked at us and laughed. “See what I mean? You could go nuts worrying about all the possibilities. All the reasons not to trust people. Me, Baddon, Agent X.”

I was pleased he didn't add Ophelia to that list. Or Luna or Suki for that matter.

“So don't focus on trust,” he told us. “Focus on understanding everyone's situation. Everyone's point of view. And what they want. Hyde. Baddon. Dr. Abbott. Agent X. When you know what people want, and how they plan to get it, you can stop thinking about trust and focus on what you need to do to help them, if it's the right thing, or how to stop them, if that's the right thing.”

“What does Agent X want?” Charlie asked.

“To stay alive,” said Mr. Entwistle. “He's part of the Underground, so his interests are our interests. You can count on that.”

The old vampire looked up at the sky, then sped up. He definitely had more fuel to burn than me. I did my best to follow. The pace he kept made it impossible to talk. Maybe that's what he wanted. The sun would soon be up. We were running out of night.

Eventually, Hyde's trail took us around to the south side of the city.

“This is good,” said Charlie.

I agreed. It meant Hyde wasn't heading for the apartment.

We entered the land of sidewalks and roads and it got more difficult to follow the trail. At Hyde's speed, he didn't leave much of an odor behind. All we had to go on were his footprints, and with all the pavement, clear ones were often half a block apart. It was slow going. Eventually, we wound up on Neal Drive. Mr. Entwistle pointed to a set of Dumpsters sitting beside a long building. It looked like a series of miniature garages sitting side by side. The sign in the driveway said Peterborough Multiple Storage. He made his way over, crouched in the shadows, and stared at the building.

“What are we doing?” Charlie whispered.

“Thinking. Now quit stealing all my oxygen.”

I tried to quiet my breathing. It was just starting to settle when Mr. Entwistle stood up and crept along the back of the storage units. He stopped outside one in the center of the row, number 6.

“Is he in there?” I whispered.

Mr. Entwistle nodded. He put a finger over his mouth and quietly tested the knob. It was locked. He paused. His eyes rolled up slightly while he considered what to do. Then he drew out the knife—the one Maximilian had given me—and kicked the door in.

The doorframe buckled under the force of Mr. Entwistle's boot. Pieces of cinder block scattered as the housing for the dead bolt tore loose from the wall.

“Well, there goes the element of surprise,” Charlie muttered.

The old vampire laughed. “The way you two breathe, he could hear you through six feet of concrete.” He stuck his head in the doorway. “Honey, I'm home.” His voice was remarkably steady.

I listened, but heard nothing but the sound of dust settling on cardboard. The room was full of packing boxes and not much else.

“Well, let's see what Old Yeller was up to.” Mr. Entwistle moved carefully into the room.

I stopped in the doorway. There was nowhere else to go. The room had cardboard boxes piled floor to ceiling along each wall. The only place to walk was a path down the center that ended at the far side.

“You sure he's gone?” Charlie asked.

“Unless he taped himself inside a box,” Mr. Entwistle replied.

I started forward. He stopped me with his hand. He was inspecting the floor. Then he turned his attention to the labels on the boxes.

“Sorry. You can come in. I just didn't want you walking all over his footprints until I had a chance to check them out.” Mr. Entwistle reached up and pulled a box down. It said
CLOTHES
on it. He started picking at the tape. Then he shook his head. “Here. Let's get those ones down.”

“What are we doing?” I asked. I thought if Hyde was gone, we should be hightailing it. He might have been anywhere in town by now, including the apartment.

“I want to know what he came here for.”

“Is all of this his?” Charlie asked.

“Not unless his name is Nancy.” Mr. Entwistle pointed to a box. “That's our winner, right there.” On one side the words
NANCY
—
COSMETICS
were written in black marker. The tape wasn't sticking to the cardboard properly, as if it had recently been pulled loose. Mr. Entwistle lifted the box down and opened the top, then he whistled as if he'd struck gold. Charlie and I stuck our heads closer to see inside. It was packed with makeup cases, lipstick rolls, mascara, perfumes. Enough to keep Kiss in costume for a decade. Sitting on top were a bunch of yellow flowers. They'd dried somewhat, but were still fragrant. Mr. Entwistle was staring at them.

“What are they?” I asked.

“Monkshood,” he said.

The name fit. The flowers looked like tiny hoods.

“Why would he want these?” Charlie reached in.

Mr. Entwistle stopped him. “You mean you've never heard of monkshood?”

“What, like I work for FTD?”

“A simple
no
will suffice.”

“Well then,
no,
” Charlie said. “I've never heard of monkshood.”

“It has another name. Wolfsbane. You heard of that?”

Wolfsbane.
I had heard of it. Charlie and I used to play Dungeons & Dragons. I wasn't sure if I should admit to this or not. But poisons were part of the game. Wolfsbane was right up there with hemlock and belladonna.

“You mean you never played D & D as a kid?” Mr. Entwistle asked. “Too bad. Great game. I guess you two didn't hang out with the cool kids in the neighborhood. If you had, you'd know that wolfsbane is lethal. Back when I was your age, people nailed it to their doors to keep wolves and lycanthropes away. It's deadly stuff.”

“I'll try to remember that when I roll up my next half-orc assassin,” Charlie said.

“I prefer human wizards, myself.” Mr. Entwistle stared down inside the box, then started humming to himself and scratching at the whiskers on his chin.

“What is it?” I asked.

“More questions . . . What is this stuff doing here? What does Hyde want it for? Whose storage unit is this?” Mr. Entwistle glanced around at the other boxes. “We should call in the morning and see if we can find out. I wonder . . .”

“You wonder what?” Charlie asked.

“Well, if this is registered to a man, it might be his alter ego.”

“The man he turns into?” I said.

“Yeah, his Dr. Jekyll.”

“What do you mean, Dr. Jekyll? Like the guy from that horror movie?” Charlie asked.