With a jump, I climbed over the lip of the roof and down the ladder. We ended up in the shrubs. Artemis brushed herself off and pushed me toward the driveway and her car.
If you had told me two weeks before that Artemis Wake would tell me to shut up, push me around, and refuse to let me walk into danger by myself, I would’ve laughed in your face. I would’ve told you she didn’t have the spine for it, and I didn’t know anyone who would do that for me.
But I’d have been wrong.
Masrell’s house hadn’t changed. No one had cleaned it up yet, and I doubted anyone would. This side of town wasn’t known for its money, and the money side of town wasn’t known for its caring. The neighbors had gone about their business, and a clear line of demarcation showed where they’d cut their grass and Masrell’s had kept growing.
We’d met up in the cemetery and brought Mads’s SUV. Sadie and I were the only two who’d left the car for this first part of the plan. Sadie had worn her combat boots. I’d almost hugged her when I noticed.
“I almost hugged you,” I whispered as we crept up to the house.
“Ew,” she whispered back, the ire already up. Good ol’ boots.
Sadie and I ducked through the ruined front door of Masrell’s house and navigated a scarred linoleum floor littered with debris.
“So how do we do this?” Sadie asked, scanning the room. The sharp anger in her voice only became more pronounced as she fought her dislike of the dark and creepy. “Is he—is he here now? I can hear someone breathing.”
“He’s here somewhere. The first thing Mom taught me was not to be scared of the ghosts. They can’t hurt us, and they know when we’re trying to help them.”
“What else did she teach you?”
“I’ll tell you all of it.” She stilled beside me. “You should have learned it, too.”
“Thanks,” she said, after a moment. Then, “Later. My brain’s in freak-out mode right now.”
I couldn’t blame her. The smell of char made the hair on the back of my neck rise. We stepped between the doors to thekitchen and the living room. The wall had fallen where the sink had once been, and the lights of the junkyard were visible in the distance.
George Masrell stood in the fire-blackened living room.
“Hi, Mr. Masrell,” I said as calmly as I could. Sadie gripped my arm. Masrell stood in the clothes he had been wearing when he died, white T-shirt and underwear. Eyes out. Face expressionless. “I—we need your help.”
Still no response. “Is he saying anything?” I asked Sadie.
“Uh—I don’t—he’s kind of muttering.” She paused, head cocked. “It’s like someone trying to talk through layers of blankets.” She frowned. “He sounds sad. A lot of them do, but this is like... it’s like begging.” Her grip loosened on my arm. “He stopped.”
If Mom had known Sadie was capable of this, she never would have ignored her, and not just to teach her so Sadie didn’t have to be angry all the time. If she could have heard what the dead were saying, she could have learned so much more. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to go searching for answers in the woods.
I stepped forward. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Mr. Masrell.” I kept my voice clear but not too loud, my gaze fixed on the empty sockets of his eyes. “I’m sorry I made your life harder. I’m sorry my dad stole from you. And I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry you have to be like this.”
He floated forward. I made myself remain where I was, Sadie shuffling uneasily beside me. This was my responsibility. It wasn’t my fault, but it was my responsibility.
“The thing that killed you is named Ludwig,” I said. “I’m going to get him out of this town before he can kill anyone else. We need your help. You told me where he was before. Could you do that again?”
He took another step toward me. Sadie’s hand landed on my shoulder. It felt shockingly like Mom’s. Bracing, understanding.
Masrell’s arm rose. He pointed past me, to the lights in the sky.
“Gates,” Sadie whispered. “He said ‘Gates.’”
30
Gates Automotive Scrapyard sat north of the mine. Ten years ago, Buster invested in a set of stadium floodlights, a bright glow of pollution for the northeast sky. Several buildings sat on the property—squat, warehouse-like structures with windows that reflected the gleam of Mads’s SUV as we coasted along the edge of the parking lot, headlights off. A dirt area littered with cars and machinery stretched behind these buildings and past two layers of chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. The main building, a white one-story garage with a small suite of offices built into the side, sat out front, guarding everything. The ghosts who stayed here were mostly scrapyard workers who had died in machine accidents. They were all gone tonight.
Mads parked on the far edge of the lot. I figured it didn’tmatter much if Ludwig saw us—he’d wait for me to come inside. We’d gone over the plan ten times on the way here, not because it was complicated, but because I had to make sure we got in and out as fast as possible after Ludwig left.
Artemis’s phone screen lit up the back of the SUV. “Two minutes.”
Through the fence north of the main building were the impounded cars. Buster kept them close to the front so their owners could look at them with longing. There was a red Toyota, a busted-up old Ford, and a Honda Civic. No Chevelle. A flush of anger washed over me. No one touched my mom’s car.
