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She nodded. “My mom’s mom. I didn’t know my dad. Nana said he didn’t stick around. ”
Considering he’d been a demon, I supposed that was how it worked.
Liz was silent a moment, then said quietly, “I think she was raped. ”
“Your mom?”
“I heard stuff. Stuff I wasn’t supposed to hear, Nana talking to her sisters, her friends, and later to social workers. She said Mom was wild when she was young. Not really wild, just smoking and drinking beer and skipping classes. Then she got pregnant, and that made her different. She got older. Pissed off. Things I heard—I think she was raped. ”
“That’s awful. ”
She pulled her knees up and hugged them. “I never told anyone that. It’s not the kind of thing you share. Kids might look at you funny, you know?”
“I’d never—”
“I know. That’s why I told you. Anyway, for a few years, everything was okay. We lived with Nana, and she looked after me while Mom worked. But then Mom had this accident. ”
My gut chilled as I thought of my own mother, killed in a hit-and-run. “What kind of accident?”
“The cops said she was at this party, got drunk, and fell down the stairs. She hit her head really hard and when she got out of the hospital, it was like she was a whole different person. She couldn’t work, so Nana did and Mom stayed home with me, but sometimes she’d forget to feed me lunch or she’d get really mad and hit me and say it was all my fault. Blaming me because she wasn’t happy, I guess. ”
?
?I’m sure she didn’t—”
“Mean it. I know. Afterward she’d cry and tell me she was sorry and buy me candy. Then she had my little brother, and she started getting into drugs and getting arrested for stealing stuff. Only she never went to jail. The court always sent her to a mental hospital. That’s why, at Lyle House, I was so scared—”
“Of being sent to one. I should have helped. I—”
“You tried. It wouldn’t have mattered. They’d already made up their minds. ” She went quiet for a moment. “Mom tried to warn me. Sometimes she’d show up at my school, high on dope, going on about experiments and magic powers, and saying I had to hide before they found me. ” Another pause. “I guess she wasn’t so crazy after all, huh?”
“No, she wasn’t. She was trying to protect you. ”
She nodded. “Okay, enough of that. You need to rest up so you can find the guys. Nana always said I was good at helping people fall asleep. Better than any pills. You know why?”
“Why?”
She grinned. “’Cause I can talk your ear off. Now, let’s see, what can I talk about that’ll bore you to sleep? Oh, I know. Guys. Hot guys. I have this list, see? The ten hottest guys ever. Actually, it’s two lists, ten each, ’cause I needed one for real guys—guys I actually know—and one make-believe list, for guys in movies and bands. Not that they aren’t real guys, because of course they’re real…”
I finally drifted off and didn’t wake until the roar of a truck sent me jerking up, limbs flailing.
Light streamed through the windows. I checked my watch. Eight thirty. No sign of Liz. Was she on patrol? Or had she left already?
Tori was still sound asleep, snoring softly.
I shook her shoulder. “It’s morning. We need to search for the note. ”
Tori opened her eyes, muttered that there probably wasn’t any note, the guys were long gone, and we were screwed. A ray of sunshine, our Victoria.
But after moaning about not having lifted breath mints or a hairbrush or breakfast she did rise and help me.
We’d been searching for about a half hour when Tori said, loud enough to be heard by anyone walking past the windows, “The taggers in this town really have too much time on their hands. ”
I hurried over to shush her. “Taggers?”
She waved at the surrounding stacks of crates and I saw what she meant. A crate in every stack had been tagged with graffiti. “My dad’s store gets hit every month, but he never had one this fancy. ”
She pointed to one almost hidden in shadow. Where the others were typical tags—nicknames and symbols—this was a sketch in black marker of a teenage guy with a paw print tattoo on his cheek, brandishing Wolverine-like claws.
I grinned. “Simon. ” When Tori gave me a huh? look, I said, “It’s Simon. ”
“Uh, no. It’s a guy with a paw on his face. ”
“It’s Simon’s work. This is one of his comic-book characters. ”
“I knew that. ”
“Help me lift the crate. ”
She didn’t move. “Why?”
“Because the note”—I heaved the top crate off by myself—“will be under it. ”
“Why would he put—?”
Sure enough, under the crate was a folded piece of paper. We both grabbed for it. I won.
Simon had drawn three pictures. In the top left corner, like a salutation, was a ghost. The middle had a big sketch of Arnold Schwarzenegger as the Terminator. The third in place of a signature, was a lightning bolt surrounded by fog. Beside the drawing, someone had scrawled in inch-high letters 10 A. M.
Tori snatched it from me and turned it over. “So where’s the message?”
“Right there. ” I pointed from picture to picture. “It says: Chloe, I’ll be back, Simon. ”
“Okay, that’s just weird. And what’s that mean?” She pointed to the time.
“That would be Derek, making sure I know when they’ll be back. ”
“Only once a day?”
“Every time they sneak in here, it’s a big risk. Anyway, the time isn’t really important. If I pick up the message, Derek will smell me. He can follow my trail. ”
Her nose wrinkled. “Like a dog?”
“Cool, huh?”
“Uh, no. ” She made a face. “So they weren’t kidding about him being a werewolf. Explains a lot, don’t you think?”
I shrugged and checked my watch. “We’ve got just over an hour to wait, so—” I swore under my breath, making Tori arch her brows in mock-surprise.
“We can’t let the guys come back,” I said, “not with that Edison Group guard patrolling. ”
There wasn’t an Edison Group guard patrolling. There were two. I sent Liz to check all possible entry points. She returned, naming four: the main gate, the front delivery gate, the back delivery gate, and the entire surrounding fence.
I doubted Derek would climb the fence again. He’d be exposed up there where anyone could see him. If I were him, I’d pick the same entry point as the Edison Group had yesterday—that rear gate.
But I also knew Derek well enough to admit that I didn’t know him well enough to guess his strategy with any real confidence. So we had to split up and cover all three entrances. I needed to stay close to Liz, so she could communicate with me. That meant Tori got the back. I could only pray she’d actually remember to watch.
By nine thirty we were in position. The factory yard was at the edge of a residential area—a neighborhood of older homes including, a block away, Lyle House. Derek and I had come this way Saturday night when we escaped and I still remembered the general layout. The roads ran north-south, with the factory yard down at the southern end.
