Heroes 'Til Curfew (Talent Chronicles #2) (30 page)

“How many people know it?”

“When I was at Dog-Eared, Marco said
something about Angie opening the safe. Decoding or cracking stuff
like that—that’s probably her Talent.”

“Bitch.”

Dylan said it like a girl would. I smiled a
little in spite of myself and his hand stroked down my hair,
squeezed my shoulder.

“We need to get to the back room, see if we
can get some lights on.”

We couldn’t really see anything, and the
gloom got deeper as we neared the back of the store. As I got
colder. We had to move slowly, picking our way through all the
stuff we couldn’t see on the floor.

I had to shove at the door to the store
room. There were piles of boxes behind it. They must have gone out
through the back. It was completely dark back here.

“Hang on, I’ve got a lighter.”

I could feel Dylan behind me, reaching into
his pocket. I touched his arm. “Not yet, you’ll ruin your night
vision. I can find the box.”

“Be careful.”

At the light box I let him flick on the
lighter so I could find the right switches and just put on the few
lights we usually kept in the shop at night. Just in case the cops
decided to actually patrol the mall. When they flickered on in the
stockroom, I couldn’t help but suck in my breath.

Everything
was trashed. I mean, from
what we walked through to get back here, I figured out that they
trashed the place, but I mean they really went to town on it. Water
pooled on the floor in the door of the bathroom like they’d even
tried to flush some of the stuff down the toilet until it couldn’t
take anymore. There was hardly anything left on the shelves. There
were boxes everywhere, and most of them had been hacked into. I
doubted there was a single piece of saleable merchandise left.

“The GOOD packs are gone.”

“What?”

“There were three backpacks at the back of
that shelf, behind some of these boxes. Get Out Of Dodge bags. They
had first aid kits, extra clothes, disposable cell phones, a little
cash…That kind of thing. I don’t see them anywhere.”

“Anything like…fake IDs, weapons?”

“Multi-tool pocket knife kind of things. No
guns. No ID.”

“Okay, let’s move on then. Check out the
front room.”

He squeezed my shoulder and propelled me
back toward the front of the store.

It was pretty much the same story there. The
knife cases were smashed and empty of anything but price cards and
broken glass. The cash register wasn’t there; it must have been
dumped on the floor behind the counter somewhere, even though we
always left it open and empty. Remnants of clothing, shredded by
knives, still hung on some of the hangers. Books ripped to shreds,
packages trampled all over the floor.

The pegboard wall Dad had reset last week
was practically empty. Higher up on the walls, all the posters had
been scribbled over with black spray paint.

“What the fuck?”

I followed Dylan’s gaze to the wall above
the doors to the stockroom. A giant heart was spray-painted there
and inside it read “DM + JM 4ever.”

If I’d needed any proof that this was all
about me, there it was.

“I need to go home.”

Dylan didn’t say anything, just put his arm
around my shoulders and walked me out of the store.

The twins were still waiting outside. They’d
been watching us through the window and they started with the
questions as soon as we opened the door.

“Whole store’s trashed,” Dylan told them.
“Just leave it at that. I need to get Joss home.”

“We’ll drive you,” Maddy offered.

We heard sirens approaching. I should have
thought that Vivian would send us over and then tip off the cops.
But I wasn’t thinking so great right now.

“Let’s move it,” Dylan said, taking me by
the elbow and starting to jog across the mall.

I went along pretty much in a fog. I felt
like I couldn’t get too worked up about the fact that the police
were on their way and that we were at the crime scene. Even my
headache felt distant and unreal. I was just…hollow.

Dylan sat right up next to me in the
backseat, rubbing my cold hands between his. His knuckles were red
and swelling, and one was cut open, a consequence of having to
punch someone without the benefit of my Talent.

I didn’t even realize that we were in my
driveway until Matt was standing in the open door, holding out his
hand like I was getting out of a coach or something.

“Come on, Joss.”

Dylan gave me a little nudge and I ignored
Matt’s hand as I climbed out. Dylan slid out behind me and put his
arm around my shoulders.

“Want us to come in with you?” Matt
asked.

When I didn’t say anything right away, Dylan
said, “Nah, probably better to keep it to a minimum. Thanks for the
ride.”

Matt chuckled. “Thanks for pulling my ass
out of the freezer.” He turned to Joss. “I’m really sorry
about…everything.”

I just kind of shrugged and moved away from
him up the walk. I dug my keys from my pocket, but dropped them
when I tried to fit one in the lock. Dylan scooped them up and got
the door open.

We weren’t even in far enough to close to
the door when Jill came barreling down the stairs, shrieking my
name. She must have been looking out her window and seen us. She
collided with me, knocking me into Dylan, and wrapping her arms
around my waist.

“Hey,” I said lamely.

“You’re back!”

“Yeah, looks like.” I didn’t know what to
say to her. Jill could be pretty huggy, but I really wasn’t and she
usually left me alone. I didn’t know how to detach her without
hurting her feelings, so I just left her there.

“Where have you been? Hi, Dylan.”

“Hey there, Warrior Princess. What’s
up?”

“Joss?”

My mom stood in the hallway for a second
with a dishtowel in her hands, then she dropped it and raced down
the hall to fling herself on me too.

“Mom, you’re squashing me,” Jill
complained.

“Think how I feel,” I muttered.

They both let me go. I felt guilty.

Mom looked at Dylan. “You’ve been fighting
again?” she asked me. “Are you okay? Jocelyn, where on Earth have
you been?”

“I’d like to know the answer to that.”

Dad stood at the top of the stairs with
full-on Dad Look. Everyone took a step back as he started down.
Dylan finally shut the door, and I had to be pretty impressed that
he didn’t put himself on the other side of it.

“Wait, Dad, there’s something I need to tell
you first. About the shop.” Now that I was here at home, looking up
at Dad, it felt harder to talk. It felt kind of hard to
breathe.

“We heard it on the scanner, sweetheart,”
Mom told me as Dad came down the stairs.

“The police called; I was just going out to
see what’s what,” he said, reaching the bottom.

“It’s pretty—”

My report was cut off in a bear hug.

“It can wait, Joss,” he told me, his voice
rough. “First things first. Are you okay?”

I wrapped my arms around him and buried my
face in his shirt, mortified that I was crying. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
Except for feeling like there’s a hand wrapped around my throat
and I can hardly talk.

“That’s what’s important, little girl. I’m
glad you came home.”

I hadn’t been “Daddy’s little girl” for a
really long time. The tears came harder as he ran a hand down my
hair and kissed the top of my head.

“I’m so sorry. It’s bad—the store—it’s
really—”

“Don’t worry about the store. That’s my
business.”

“But it’s my fault!”

“Jocelyn,” he ground out, clearly losing
patience, “the damned store is insured. Tell me what’s going on
with you.” But I didn’t know what to answer. “I see
you
haven’t learned to duck yet,” he said to Dylan over my head. “What
did you two get mixed up in this time?”

Dylan gave Dad a pretty truthful rundown of
what went on in the mall. Not a play-by-play, but just the basics.
I managed to stop crying at some point, but Dad didn’t let me
go.

“Dylan, let’s go in the kitchen and clean up
that cut on your head,” Mom suggested. “Jill, go bring me the first
aid kit.”

“How come every time you bring my sister
home I gotta get the first aid kit?”

“It’s a damned good question,” Dad muttered
as they left the room.

“Dad…”

“Don’t you ‘Dad’ me.” But there wasn’t much
bite to it. He pushed me back from him and tilted my chin up
because I didn’t really want to look him in the eye. “Are you sure
you’re all right?”

“Yeah, I’m not hurt.” I shrugged. “Headache,
few bruises...”

“The usual, huh? You think you should have a
usual level of being beat up?”

“I didn’t get beat up,” I said testily,
swiping at my cheeks. “That guy could change
gravity
. We
actually did really well. Dylan, especially, did—”

“Just…spare me the account of that kid’s
heroic deeds. So where are we now? If I go to the store and talk to
the police, are you going to be here when I get back?”

“I’ll be here, Dad.”

“You’ve made a point, Joss. I don’t think
it’s a good point, but you’ve made it. We’re still going to talk
about this. With the Syndicate involved…Jesus,” he said, running a
hand into his hair, “it’s a whole different ballgame.”

I was checking him over without being
obvious about it. He was tense, but maybe no more than usual, and
not even the tick. It was almost like he wasn’t agitated enough.
Was he really
that
relieved that I was home?

“We can talk about it later. I’ll be here.
You need to go see about the store.”

“Yeah.” He leaned down and kissed me on the
cheek. “I’m glad you’re home, sweetheart,” he said softly, rubbing
his thumb over the spot. I wondered if he was trying to erase the
kiss or rub it in.

He turned from me and walked out the
door.

“Gene, don’t forget—” Mom came out of the
kitchen with something small in her hand.

“What is it?”

“Your dad forgot his pills.”

“Oh, well I’ll catch up with him.

I took the bottle from Mom and went out the
front door, but by the time I got there, Dad had already backed
down the driveway and was pulling away. He didn’t see me.

“I don’t recognize these,” I told Mom when I
got back inside.

“They’re new.” She took them from me and put
them on top of the fridge. Which made no sense anymore. Jill was
eight now, not about to mistake medication for candy, and could get
whatever she wanted off the top of the fridge. “Jayce started him
on these a few weeks ago. I think they’re really helping.”

Dylan was sitting at the table, a fresh
butterfly bandage over his eyebrow, Band-aids on a few knuckles,
drinking a soda and pretending like he wasn’t listening to us.

“Jayce is Dad’s doctor,” I told him, sliding
into the seat next to him. Not because I thought he couldn’t put
that together, but because I didn’t want him to feel embarrassed
hearing what we were talking about. I trusted him, and if he was
going to be around, he could know stuff. It was cool that Mom
seemed to think so too. “You know, you could have gone with
Dad.”

Mom tilted her head, as if that hadn’t
occurred to her. “I guess I could have. He was going over by
himself while I stayed home with Jill. I just…” She shrugged. “Too
much going on, I guess. Joss, you look terrible.”

“Oh, thanks, Mom.”

“Tired. You look tired. And so does Dylan.
You’ve both been through a lot tonight. I think we should say
goodnight to Dylan and you should get to bed. Do you need a ride
home?” she asked him.

“Aw, Mom, he just got here,” Jill
complained.

“Jillian, have you suddenly forgotten how to
tell time? Why are you not in your bed?

“I heard a car and then I saw Joss. And no
one told me to go back to bed.”

Mom pinned her with the Mom Look.

Parental looks rely a lot on brow
positioning. Whereas the Dad Look involves the lowering of the brow
as a whole, the Mom Look takes advantage of the power of the
single, raised brow. Of Doom.

“Goodnight!” Jill told us, and fled the
room.

“So, Dylan, do you need a ride?”

“Um, no thanks, Mrs. Marshall,” he said,
getting up and pushing his chair in. I took his soda can and put it
in the sink.

“Are you sure? Of course, Gene took the car,
but if you want to wait I’m sure he’ll drive you home when he gets
back.”

“Yeah. I mean no! I mean, no thanks, I’ll be
fine.”

“Well okay. Joss, why don’t you see Dylan to
the door and I’ll pretend to be busy in here for the next…” she
looked at her watch, “two minutes. And…go!”

We more or less bolted out the kitchen and
out the front door as she expected.

“Are you okay?” Dylan asked, stroking my
cheek.

I could feel my face turning red. Now that I
thought about it, I was embarrassed about losing it with Dad in
front of him. I looked down at my boots, kicking at a leaf that had
made its way onto the porch. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“And things with your Dad…?”

“Mmmm…not fully resolved. But a lot better
than I would have thought. Mom’s right, he does seem to be
better.”

He smiled, pulling me into his arms. “I’m
glad. I’ll sleep better.”

“You’re not staying?”

He pushed me back to look down at me. “Am I
staying?”

My cheeks burned. It wasn’t really
like
that, but I was still asking a guy to come up to my
room to sleep with me. Sometimes I didn’t even recognize my life
anymore. “Well, just ’cause there’s still that person running
around, tapping into our dream space, and we don’t know who it is.
So I figure we’re safer together. I mean—”

“Marshall,” he whispered, “you don’t gotta
talk me into it. Just leave the window open.” He kissed me quickly
and said, “I gotta go…disappear,” before skipping down the steps
and starting off down the street.