Traps and Specters (2 page)

He smiled. It was too easy to fool the Secret Society.

Of course it helped that he knew their plan.

He waited a few more minutes, allowing time for the monkeys to get farther down the neighborhood, then slipped out the door. He headed across the backyard, keeping again to the shadows. He ran between two houses and ducked behind a hedge in a front yard. In all directions, the treetops were perfectly still—he hadn't been seen.

He ran from the bushes and dashed across the street. In the new yard, he set his back against a tree and scanned the treetops again. No movement of any kind.

He turned to the house. Two stories high and made of brick, it stood behind bushes that were groomed into different shapes. A porch lay beneath a wide picture window with closed curtains. He ran across the lawn and jumped onto the stoop. Leaning forward, he peered through a slit between the curtains. The flickering light of a television revealed a girl sitting on a couch, alone.

He smiled a wicked smile. Then he lifted his gloved hand and pecked with a fingertip against the glass.

CHAPTER 2

E
lla's eyes jumped from the TV to the front door. Had she heard something? Because her mom was playing cards at Mrs. Carson's, Ella was alone in the house.

The sound came again, a simple
tap
.

She swatted the television remote like a bug and the room fell into darkness. The new silence seemed to have an actual presence—a ghost that had crept in near her.

“Hello?” she asked.

Tap!

She looked out the picture window and realized the curtains weren't completely drawn. Peering through the gap, she saw nothing but a long sliver of the night. Was someone out there? Megan? Perhaps Marlo or another animal from the Secret Zoo?

She bounced off the couch, stepped into the front hall, and yanked the door open. The only thing separating her from the outside was a flimsy screen door. The cold air washed across her body.

“Meg—that you?”

No answer.

She took a deep breath and the cold rushed into her lungs. She cracked open the creaky screen door and peered across the porch. No one.

“Hello? Marlo?”

Wind rustled leaves on the ground.

As she stepped out, the screen door slamming behind her made her jump. The cold of the concrete rose through the rubbery soles of her fluffy pink slippers. The wind collected in the cavity of the porch, whipping her ponytail about. She wrapped her arms over her chest, moved to a place with a good view of her yard, and stared into the darkness.

“Hello?” she asked again.

Nothing. Just leaves tumbling and grass bending under the breath of the sky.

Across the street, a treetop began to shake. Ella peered at it but couldn't see much in its inky web of branches. Then something small shot through the air and disappeared into the tree's silhouette. The limb became still, then the
something small
flew back out and etched a path through the sky in the direction of the Clarksville Zoo.

Ella felt a fresh chill work across her body—a chill that this time hadn't been brought on by the cold. She knew the thing headed toward the zoo was an owl. And she knew what this meant.

As she turned to rush inside, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and she stopped. Someone had just stepped out from behind a tall evergreen, a man in a billowy trench coat with the collar turned up. He wore boots and gloves and a hat with a wide, circular brim.

The Shadowist.

After tapping on her window to lead her outside, he'd hidden behind the tree. Now he stood with his back to the street, his arms down, his legs braced far apart, his face masked in the deep shadows of his hat. In the wind, his open coat rolled and snapped.

Ella looked down her neighborhood. How long would it take for the owl to reach the zoo? For the guards and Descenders to arrive? She turned back to DeGraff. Her heart banged against her chest. She couldn't bear the silence any longer.

“What … what do you want?”

The Shadowist simply stood in the dark swirl of his coat, saying nothing. His open hands clenched. A gust of wind scattered hundreds of leaves, whirling some around his boots.

High above the street, a line of bats flew by. But they didn't stop, or slow, or move in a new direction. It was like their echolocation had failed to detect DeGraff.

Just as Ella thought this strange, the Shadowist suddenly broke into a run, straight at her. But before he could reach the porch, he fell headfirst into the bushes, his trench coat flapping over his head. Branches broke off and whirled through the air.

Ella looked down and saw what had happened. Prairie dogs. At least a dozen were scattered about. They'd tripped DeGraff after springing up from a tunnel somewhere beneath her yard.

Before DeGraff could push himself out of the bushes, the prairie dogs jumped onto him, sinking their teeth into his trench coat. When he finally stood, they slid off his coat, their teeth ripping through the leather, and struck the ground. They quickly found their bearings and lunged back at him, biting into his pant legs. DeGraff snatched a prairie dog by its stubby tail and threw it toward the street. He grabbed a second one by the scruff of its neck and hurled it aside. Ella stood frozen in place, unsure if she should help her animal friends or retreat into her house. DeGraff spun around and then stopped moving, his gaze locked on something in the distance on the street. Ella peered out and saw three figures charging toward her house: two zoo guards and Solana.

As DeGraff broke toward one side of the house, a prairie dog charged straight at him. Ella instantly recognized him as P-Dog, the chubbiest one in the small coterie. Before he could attack, DeGraff kicked out his foot and P-Dog flew through the air onto Ella's porch, his body crashing hard against the brick wall of the house.

“No!”
Ella screamed.

P-Dog lay perfectly still. Ella dropped to her knees and touched his side to ensure he was breathing. When her hand grazed his front left leg, he yipped in pain. He tried to get up and couldn't.

“It's okay, P,” Ella said as she stroked his side. “You're okay.”

She looked up to see DeGraff fleeing between her house and her neighbor's, the prairie dogs giving chase. Several houses away, Solana and the two guards veered onto the neighbors' yards, hopping hedges and dodging parked cars. When they reached Ella's property, they followed DeGraff and the other animals. Within seconds, everyone was gone.

Everyone but P-Dog.

She glanced all around. Had anyone seen anything? The windows of nearby houses were dark and empty.

P-Dog tried to stand and collapsed. He lay on the porch, his side rising and falling with each rushed breath. He was badly hurt, but Ella wasn't sure how to help him.

Headlights suddenly streaked across the houses on the opposite side of the street as a car rounded a turn. The moon revealed a white minivan—her mother's car, only five or six houses down.

In a panic, Ella scooped up P-Dog, opened the door a crack, and squirmed back into the house. Her mother's van pulled into the drive and light burst along the edges of the picture window curtain. The engine fell silent, then the driver's door squealed open and slammed shut. Her mother's heels clicked against the sidewalk, louder and louder until they finally stopped. Ms. Jones was on the porch.

Ella looked into her arms and locked stares with P-Dog. Then her gaze moved to the doorknob and she glimpsed a tiny image of her surprised self in the curve of its shiny brass—eyes wide, lips arched in a small oval.

She stood frozen in place, the upstairs staircase to her left, the living room to her right, and a long hallway leading to the kitchen directly behind her. As she heard the muffled clatter of her mother's keys, she retreated down the hall. When she tried to round the corner, her foot slipped, causing two things to go airborne: one of her fluffy pink slippers and P-Dog. Both sailed across the kitchen and banged into the base of the cupboards. Ella lay on her back, her limbs and emotions in separate tangles.

The doorknob rattled and spun and Ms. Jones stepped into the house, her greeting a strange sort of song:
“Elll—lllaa! I'm hooommme!”

CHAPTER 3

M
s. Jones didn't immediately see Ella. As the door closed, she continued her semi-song:
“Elll-lllaaa.”
Ella heard her mother drop her purse on a bench and strip off her jacket, which she flung over the staircase rail. As she turned to the hallway, she gasped and her shoes squeaked to a stop.

“
Oh my
… You scared me half to—What are you
doing
?” She seemed to realize Ella's predicament. “Are you hurt?”

Still on her back, Ella lifted her head and stared around the kitchen. Expecting to find P-Dog, she spotted only her fuzzy slipper. It lay like a half-squashed pink gerbil. She scanned the reaches of the room—beside the fridge and beneath the overhang of the cabinets. There was no sign of her animal friend.

“Ella—answer me!”

Ella looked up and saw her mother now looming above her. From Ella's vantage point, her mother's body was totally out of proportion. Even her nose looked strange, like something she could reach up and detach, set on the countertop beside her cell phone and car keys.

Ella jumped to her feet and dusted off her pajamas. “Just my feelings.” She turned and retrieved her slipper from the kitchen. As she sank her foot back into its fuzzy warmth, her mother started patting her down.