Golem in My Glovebox (23 page)

The question of whether Katy was leading us or following us didn’t matter anymore. She had changed the rules. This time we were definitely following.

We grabbed our bags and got the hell out of Dodge. Art promised to do more research on Kathleen’s origins, and Bernice stood in the dirt, wringing her hands as she got smaller in our rearview mirror.

Two hours out, we stopped in Lincoln, Nebraska and got a room. Having already driven through the night without stopping, we’d never make it to Michigan, even if we continued to take turns napping. Besides, we had a passenger who needed to be dealt with.

We brought Crink into the room with us, and I called home. I didn’t get a chance to disconnect before Maurice came through the makeshift closet.

“What happened?” he asked, clutching his phone to a pointy ear.

We sat him down and told him everything, ending with Crink, who sat in a chair in the corner looking nearly invisible.

“So,” I said, “I know humans can’t comfortably move through your closet portals, but what about gremlins?”

Maurice grinned and knelt next to Crink’s chair. “Can you describe where you live, my friend? I can take you there right now if you’re ready.”

Crink’s green eyes sparkled through the beige and blue fabric colors he’d mimicked. “Crink can go home right
now
?”

Maurice held out his hand, and Crink took it. They moved toward the closet alcove, and the gremlin let go and ran to my side. “Crink will tell everyone of the kind lady.” He touched my leg. “Thank you, kind lady.” He returned to Maurice and, when the closet monster bent over, whispered into his ear. In a blink, they were gone.

Riley took me in his arms and kissed me without warning, making my toes curl and warmth spread through my entire body.

“What was that for?” I asked, breathless.

“Just because. Your whole world is crashing around you, we’re on a cross-country manhunt, and you stop to help one gremlin who didn’t even know he needed help.”

I shrugged. “Was I supposed to leave him there?”

He laughed, his gray eyes smiling. “Most people would have sent him off to find his own way home.”

“I didn’t think that would be a good idea.” I yawned. “I’m supposed to keep the Hidden safe. It’s my job.”

I kicked off my shoes and crawled under the covers, not bothering to get undressed. Shorts and a T-shirt were comfortable enough, especially after driving all night. Riley climbed in next to me, and I cuddled up against him.

“Mmmph mm,” I said.

I felt his breath brush my cheek. “Mmmph you, too.”

* * *

When I woke, Riley was gone, the television was on with the volume on low, and Maurice sat at the foot of the bed watching a rerun of
Three’s Company
.

I stretched and nudged him with my foot. “Is this the episode where there’s a big misunderstanding, hijinks ensue, and it all turns out okay in the end?”

“No. This is the episode where Crissy sleeps with the senator. Jack goes into a jealous rage and accidentally kills Janet with a sharpened spatula.”

“Classic. Where’s Riley?”

“Getting breakfast.”

I scrubbed my face with my hands and sat up, folding my legs under me. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Fine.”

“Since when are you just ‘fine’? What’s wrong?”

The dramatic sigh told me I was right. He flopped backward on the bed, sprawled across the space my legs had vacated seconds earlier. “Why did you have to bring Stacy back to the house? You could have given her a warning and sent her on her way. But noooooo. You had to make me work with her.”

I stroked the sparse hairs on the top of his head, trying not to giggle at his dramatics. Maurice was a showman. Sometimes he needed to burn off a little diva energy before getting to the root of a problem. “Sweetie, you can yell at me all you want, but you need to work this out with Stacy.”

His yellow, upside-down eyes grew wide. “But why? I was perfectly fine. I didn’t need closure.”

“No?”

“No!” He scowled. “I’d made my peace.”

“Had she?”

“Well, no. I suppose not.”

“Because she was the injured party, wasn’t she? You haven’t told me what happened because you’re ashamed. Am I right?”

He pressed his lips together, the perfect picture of a petulant child—if the child in question had ash-gray skin, pointy ears and large eyes the color of daffodils.

I rubbed the frown lines in his forehead with my fingertips, trying to coax them smooth. “Sweetheart, everybody makes mistakes. We all hurt each other from time to time without meaning to. And when love is involved, especially young love, we’re not always in control of ourselves.”

His chin quivered. “But I was such an ass. Zoey, you don’t know.”

“Did you break up with her to be with Pansy?”

He nodded, paused, then shook his head. “I never bothered to break up with her. I was just...mean. I guess I thought maybe she’d break up with me. And it wasn’t only Stacy. I ignored all our friends. Started dressing to look tough. Listening to different music. Pansy’s friends were different from mine. Cooler. I tried to be like them.”

“And Stacy got left behind.”

He nodded, miserable. “The last time we saw each other wasn’t pretty. We had a big fight. I said some nasty things.”

I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “It’s not too late to tell her you’re sorry.”

Maurice sat up. “I don’t blame her for hating me.”

“I doubt she hates you.”

“She should.”

“Well, then, talking to her can’t make it worse, can it?”

“True.” He scooched up the bed to sit against the headboard next to me, and we watched Jack trip and fall, and Crissy and Janet help him up, with nothing but the faint sounds of the laugh track accompanying them in our quiet room.

A dog food commercial came on, and I unfolded my legs, crossing one foot over the other. “I should go take a shower. I stink.”

He didn’t look at me. “Yes. You do.”

I hauled myself from the bed and looked in my bag. “My clothes are missing.”

“They’re in the washing machine back home. I’ll get you some clean clothes while you’re in the shower.”

I would never get comfortable with Maurice doing my laundry or digging around in my underwear drawer. Uncomfortable didn’t mean ungrateful, though. “Thank you. Fresh clothes would be nice. I’d expected to wash them at the compound, but we bugged out pretty fast.”

“Riley told me about it before he went for food. Go shower. He’ll be back soon.”

* * *

By the time I stepped out of the shower, Maurice had already been to the house, picked out some clothes for me, and left them on the bathroom counter for me. Ever thoughtful, he’d picked out all the comfiest clothes for me, knowing I had a twelve-hour drive ahead. My old jeans were soft from a million washes, and the oversized Tommy Pickles shirt was usually reserved for sleeping. I threw the clothes on, brushed my teeth, and tossed my wet hair in a loose bun on top of my head.

Riley and Maurice sat at a table, scarfing down burgers and milkshakes when I came out.

“That’s breakfast?” I asked.

Riley slurped through his straw. “It’s two in the afternoon. Nobody’s serving breakfast.”

I shrugged and joined them, dipping my fries in my chocolate shake. “You coming with us?” I asked, waving a dripping fry at Maurice.

He wrinkled his nose. “That is so nasty.”

“It’s delicious.” I shoved it in my mouth and smiled.

“I’m not going with you this time. I need to get back. Stacy and I have to talk, and I don’t want to risk being away overnight again, either.”

Riley wiped ketchup from the corner of his mouth. “The place isn’t going to fall apart at night without you, you know.”

Maurice shook his head. “It’s not that. I usually spend the nights at Sara’s, keeping an eye on her.”

I froze midbite, then put my burger down on its wrapper. “Is she worse?” I was a terrible friend. I hadn’t thought about Sara’s problem much at all while I’d been gone. Though, to be fair, I’d kind of had a lot going on. “She’s still not sleeping?”

“She’s sleepwalking. Nothing dangerous. She gets up and takes showers, mostly. Or gets on her treadmill.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding. That’s why she’s so tired? She’s up at night working out in her sleep?”

He nodded. “Mostly, yeah. Then she gets back in bed, tosses and turns for awhile moaning, screams and wakes up.”

My burger tasted like plastic, and the cheese stuck to my teeth. “We need to get her to a counselor. We have to find someone in the Hidden community or a human with powers.”

Riley crumpled his garbage and tossed it in the bag. “I’ll see if Art has access to a list.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of her.”

I gave him a weak smile as he walked to the other end of the room to call Art. “Maurice, thank you for taking care of her.”

“She’s my friend, too.”

“I know.”

We finished eating without talking. Riley hung up and grabbed our mostly empty bags to pack up the car. “Art’s going to see what he can do.”

I swallowed. “Thanks.”

Repeatedly through all these Hidden disasters, my best friend was the one who got overlooked while I tried to save everyone else. I made a silent promise to myself that once I made it back home, Sara would be my main priority. She deserved at least as much attention as I gave to strays I picked up off the street.

We said our goodbyes, and Maurice promised to bring us our clean clothes to wherever we ended up staying in Michigan.

We settled in, knowing we wouldn’t arrive at our destination until about one in the morning.

A few minutes into the drive, I accidentally knocked my knee into the glove compartment while trying to flip around in my seat to grab a drink. The compartment door popped open, and Gris peered out.

The depth of expression on his face was jarring—especially in light of how little he’d had in the way of emotional juice when I’d first met him. He’d been awfully quiet when we’d packed the car at the compound, and he’d declined coming into the hotel room with us. And now, here he was sitting alone in the dark glove compartment, his tiny face morose and despondent. I reached through my filters to check his emotional health and found his emotional campfire reduced to glowing coals—strong and hot, but not the happy blaze he’d had before.

I frowned in concern. “Gris, what’s wrong?”

His shoulders sagged. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

Curls of depression spun in slow, lazy circles around him, filling the nearly empty storage area he sat in. My heart ached for him. Without thinking, I sent a tendril of comfort toward him and used it to nudge his banked campfire of emotions into a small flame. His face brightened a bit with it, and he gave me a sad smile.

“You know, I can feel you do that,” he said. “Thank you. It helps.”

I felt my face grow hot with embarrassment. Influencing another person’s emotions was something I tried not to do, but here I’d done it with Gris without thinking. And I’d been caught.

“I’m sorry, Gris.” I dropped my gaze to my hands, ashamed to make eye contact. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No!” he said. The word was so emphatic that it startled me. “You’ve already done so much for me. I feel so much more now. I wanted that. I wanted more than knowledge and self-awareness. I knew there was more. I just didn’t know what it was until you gave it to me.”

I leaned toward him. “Gris, the very fact that you wanted something shows you already had that ‘something more’ inside you. I just sped up the process.”

He nodded, “Still, I value what you’ve given me. And I value the friendship you’ve both given me.”

I frowned. “We value you, too, Gris. So, what’s wrong?”

He sighed. “I’m afraid that if I tell you, you’ll cease to trust me. Even I don’t entirely trust myself, in fact.”

Riley reached across the car and pinched Gris between two fingers, then placed him on the dashboard between us. “I can’t drive and look at you all the way over there at the same time.”

Gris settled himself on the dash. He didn’t swing his legs the way he usually did.

“Gris,” I said. “Just tell us. It won’t change how we feel. You have to trust us, too.”

He nodded. “Very well.” He sighed again, steeling himself for the big reveal that he thought would make us hate him. “I did some eavesdropping on Mother while we were home.”

Riley and I exchanged a quick glance. If I’d thought of it, I’d have sent Gris in to spy on Bernice. It was genius, really. He was small and quick, and she was dismissive of him and distracted by the mess that was going on. Of course, he considered her his mother, so the thought never crossed my mind.

He shifted on the dashboard, sending a patter of guilt through my filters. “I also eavesdropped on you, Zoey.”

I raised an eyebrow, Sara-style. “Oh?” I sat up straighter.

He nodded. “I followed you to the prison and listened to you speak to the Gremlin. It upset me. In all the time I’d been reading everything I could find in the library, I never knew about him. How could I? I wasn’t allowed outside the main building. I put it all together and realized the prisoner was the very reason Mother... Bernice wanted me inside.”

I relaxed against my seat. “You weren’t eavesdropping on me. Not really. I’d have taken you with me if I’d known you wanted to listen.”

He gave me a weak smile. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “So, I decided I needed to follow Bernice to see what she was up to. Maybe I could confront her. Demand answers. She didn’t like being alone with me, usually, but I’m more, now, you know? I thought maybe she might accept me, now that I’m more like her and even less like my brothers and sisters.”

My heart hurt for him. I knew this story couldn’t have a happy ending, not with the unhappiness he was leaking all over the inside of Mabel, and the way he’d stopped calling Bernice “Mother.”

I tilted my head toward him, and my voice was quiet. “What did you hear, Gris?”

He examined his hands for a long moment before he spoke. “After you rescued the gremlin, I ran back to the house. It was early, so I went to Bernice’s room to wait. I wanted answers, and I wanted them the minute she woke up.”