Shadow Train (3 page)

“Besides, kids from my neighborhood are called Flatliners—”

“Yes, your little gang,” Hackett interrupted with a derisive chuckle. “Way out here in the boonies . . .”

Nass ignored the insult. “We have a law we live by,” he went on. “The Wu-De. We're not supposed to lie.”

Hackett eyed him shrewdly. “Okay—that makes my job a lot easier,” he said. “Tell me about your interaction with the guys you call the Obies.”

“They were looking for something. A treasure that was hidden in Middleburg. It was this big crystal ring about the size of a dinner plate. But it got destroyed—it exploded—when Raphael disappeared. I mean, at the
exact moment
he disappeared.”

“And have you seen the two Chinese men since that night?”

Nass shook his head. Hackett reached into a manila folder, pulled out another photo, and held it out to him.

“You recognize this man?”

Nass stared at the picture. It was a Chinese man, about sixty years old. His neck looked thick, muscular. He had short, slicked-back hair, a pencil-thin moustache, a small goatee that had been slicked into a knifelike point, and pale eyes that Nass could only describe as scary. Even in a photo, the man's piercing gaze was enough to make him shiver.

“No, I never saw him before,” Nass said. “Who is he?”

Hackett sniffed and snatched the photograph from Nass's hand.

“I'll ask the questions,” he said brusquely. He stuck the picture back in his folder, stood, and headed for the door.

“You're letting me go now, right?” Nass said hopefully.

Hackett turned back to him with a slow, smug smile.

“I think we'll let you hang out in here for a while and think about whether or not you have anything else to tell me that might be helpful. I'm sure your girlfriend won't mind. What's her name again?” He glanced in his folder. “Oh yes, Dalton.” As he closed the folder, the picture of the sinister looking Asian man slipped out and fluttered to the floor, face down, at Nass's feet. As he stooped to pick it up, Nass saw that there was writing on the back:

Name: Feng Xu, Deputy Director of China's Ministry of State Security Leader, Order of the Black Snake

Last Suspected Location: Middleburg, Kansas

Nass picked up the photo and as Hackett approached he quickly offered it to him. Wordlessly, Hackett took the photo and headed back to the door. As he left, he shut off the lights, leaving Nass locked away in complete darkness.

* * *

At seven that evening, a stretch limousine pulled up in front of the Kain's apartment building and the driver honked its horn twice. Savana Kain, still putting one earring on, hurried from the bathroom vanity to look out the window. Despite the misery that weighed her down ever since her son, Raphael, had disappeared, the sight of the limo made her smile.

“Oh, Jack,” she said. Then, grabbing her coat off the back of her couch, she hurried out the door. He had called to let her know he was sending a car, but she hadn't expected anything so lavish.

Instead of taking her to Spinnacle, the nicest restaurant in town, or to Jack Banfield's house, the limo driver surprised Savana by stopping downtown, just outside the front entrance of Jack's office building. Even though the driver opened her door for her and helped her out of the car, her distended belly almost caused her to lose her balance. She was still a couple of months from her due date, but the pregnancy seemed to be wearing on forever, and she felt as big as the Goodyear Blimp and twice as unstable. The baby was kicking and moving often now; he was so active she often thought of him as her little Olympic gymnast.

The joke just made her sad, though, because the person who would have laughed the most, the person she normally shared her jokes with, was gone. Every time she thought of Raphael, her firstborn, she felt like someone had twisted a length of barbed wire around her heart and was squeezing it tighter and tighter. Raph had been doing so well, too. He had lots of friends, and a girlfriend. He was even starting to accept the idea of Jack and the baby. Well, at least the baby. It didn't make sense that he had just up and run away—and the explanations his friends offered made even less sense.

No
, she thought as she pushed through the glass doors and into the opulent lobby of Jack's building. She was not going to allow herself to get all morose again and ruin the night. She had to be strong. The police were doing everything they could to find her son, and she had to believe that they would and that Raph would be okay. She knew he wasn't dead. She was as sure of that as she was sure of the strong, new life she was carrying. She had to stay positive. Jack reminded her of that every day, and he'd even talked about hiring a private detective if the police didn't turn up something soon.

She took the elevator up to the top floor, and when it opened she found a trail of red rose petals on the carpet, leading to a stairwell on the far side of the office. She waddled up it as best she could, feeling the growing weight of her baby even more, and pushed her way out the exit door she found there. It opened onto the rooftop. Violin music greeted her instantly, and she found Jack sitting at a small, candlelit table, wearing a charming grin and one of his customary charcoal-gray suits. There was a string quartet set up behind him, playing a soft, romantic melody. The night was unseasonably mild, but Jack even had a portable heater set up near the table, just in case.

She cupped her hands over her mouth, amazed. “Jack! Oh my God!” she exclaimed, as a server in a white tuxedo approached and escorted her to the table. Jack rose, kissed her, and held her chair for her as she sat.

“This is too much, really. You didn't have to do all this,” she chided.

“Oh, I've done way more than this, sweetheart. I told you I'd move heaven and earth for you, didn't I?” He reached under the table, brought out a black lacquered box and placed it on the table. On top of it, he set another box, a smaller one. A ring box.

Savana felt her eyes filling with tears.

“Pedro, pop the champagne,” Jack commanded the waiter, then turned his attention back to Savana. “Don't worry; it's just sparkling grape juice,” he said with a wink.

She laughed. In all the time she'd known him, she'd never seen him so happy and playful. He gestured down to the gifts on the table. “Go ahead, baby. Open it.”

With trembling hands, she picked up the smaller box. Inside, she found exactly what she'd been hoping for—and dreading. The ring was stunning, perfect. She was no diamond expert, but she was pretty sure a rock like this could buy a whole block of the Flats. When she looked up from the sparkling stone, she found Jack on his knees before her, a tender smile gracing his handsome features.

“Marry me,” he said. Without waiting for an answer, he took the ring out of its box and took Savana's left hand in his. Just as he slipped the ring onto her finger, she pulled away.

“What about Emily?” she asked.

Jack's smile faded a little, but not much. He nodded at the box still on the table.

“Open the other one,” he said.

Slowly and carefully, she opened the black lacquered box. Inside, she found a single folded piece of paper. She unfolded it and read only the first few words before it slipped out of her hands.

Smith County, Kansas

Death Certificate

Emily Banfield

Suddenly, Savana's heart felt like it was galloping in her chest. Jack's wife had been gone for months now, but somehow Savana had never imagined that she was dead.

“What? They . . . they found her body?” she asked, holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

Jack shook his head. “Oh, no. Nothing like that. But she's been gone for so long and no one's heard a word from her. So, I filed some papers and took care of it.”

Horrified, Savana asked, “But—doesn't it take seven years or something like that?”

He nodded. “Three years if there's some kind of disaster, like a tornado. But I pulled a few strings at the state Office of Vital Statistics.” He chuckled and squeezed her hand comfortingly. “Don't worry, if she turns up—which she's not likely to do—we'll get it straightened out with a quick divorce. I love you, Savana, and I need to move on. I want you to move on with me. So what do you say? Don't you love me?”

“Jack—you know how I feel about you, but it's not that simple—”

“Sure it is,” he interrupted. “You know, I bought that condo on Black Lake just for you and me, for weekend getaways. I know how much you like it. I can give you all the things you like, my darling. Everything you need. Everything you want.”

She fought back her tears, but she had to say it. “Can you give me back my son, Jack?”

Jack's smile wavered for an instant and then returned. “I promise you—just like I promised after he went missing. We're going to keep looking for Raphael. We'll find him and bring him home. You have my word on that. In the meantime, let me take care of you. Let me give you the kind of life you deserve.”

She was staring down at the paper that had slipped from her fingers, back into the box. All she could see now were the words:
Death Certificate
. And she dreaded to see Raph's name on such a document.

Jack kissed the finger with his ring on it. Then he held her hand up and pointed to the ring. “Look at it,” he said. “It's just a symbol of the wonderful life I'm going to give you.” But she could hardly see it through her tears.

Suddenly, a cascade of beautiful fireworks lit up the Middleburg sky.

Chapter 2

Aimee Banfield sat in the flickering candlelight
that threw weird shadows against the wall of Orias Morrow's dining room, gazing down at her plate. Orias had prepared the meal himself, and as usual it was exquisite: a delectable piece of bloody-rare filet mignon, garlic mashed potatoes, sweet-potato medallions, and lemon-sautéed green beans. But as usual, Aimee wasn't hungry. She took a sip of Orias's delicious tea, the one he made from tea leaves that grew on his family's plantation in India.

“You told me once that there is a secret ingredient in your tea,” she said.

He nodded, his eyes glinting with uncharacteristic emotion. “Yes,” he said softly.

“What is it again?”

“A drop of water from the River Lethe,” he replied.

“Oh yeah,” Aimee said. “It's really good. Comforting.” She took another sip. “Where is it? The river?”

Orias smiled, and she loved how the candlelight made him even more handsome. “South. Way South.”

“We should go there sometime. Slip there, I mean.” By slip, of course, she meant teleport. Using Aimee's newfound ability, they'd slipped all over the world the last few months, going everywhere from Bangladesh to Antarctica. By now, Aimee's powers of teleportation had grown so strong that it was as easy for her to slip to Paris as it was to hop on one foot.

But they hadn't been traveling much lately. On all their journeys, Aimee had an unsettling feeling that she was supposed to be looking for something she'd lost, and it haunted her. It wasn't her mom—she remembered that she still had to look for her, as soon as her powers were strong enough. It was something else. She had a feeling it was incredibly important, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember what it was, and wherever she looked, she couldn't find it. It was so frustrating that after a while she'd gotten sick of traveling. These days, she preferred to stay in Orias's beautiful, old-fashioned, luxurious home with the shades drawn.

Her father and her brother seemed to have less time than ever for her now, and she was less and less able to tolerate their company. Anyway, Jack Banfield seemed delighted that she was spending so much time with Orias. Orias had even allowed Jack to partner with him in the renovation and reopening of Hot House Strip Club as Elixir, a tea and coffee shop that featured all kinds of natural herbal beverages, and Jack credited Aimee with helping him close the deal. She'd finally been able to do something that pleased her dad. Since then, she'd had a blank check to hang out with Orias as much as she wanted—which was basically all the time.

Tonight, Orias had styled her hair (at his urging, she had dyed it from the rebellious shade of raven black back to its original blond). She loved having him fuss over her and was fascinated by his stories about how his ancestors—his Nephilim brothers—had been the first to teach human women to adorn their faces with powders and rouge and their hair with flowers and jewels. He had also gotten her a lovely dress for Valentine's Day—a crimson ball gown that looked like something a princess would wear. It was stunning, and once she'd put it on and Orias had helped her with her makeup, she had to admit that she looked as amazing as he told her she did.

But it didn't change her mood. She felt restless and apathetic. Lately, Orias even had to insist that she go to school. To her, it seemed much nicer to sit in his parlor in front of the fire, dozing, making out with him, and occasionally sipping his specially brewed tea.

“I have something for you,” he said, and from somewhere beneath the table he produced a long jewelry box. He popped it open to reveal a gorgeous necklace of white gold and diamonds set around a ruby the size of a baby's fist.

“Wow. Thanks,” she said. “It's really pretty.”

It was probably the most beautiful piece of jewelry she'd ever seen, and a year ago if someone had given her a gift like that she would probably have freaked out with sheer joy. Now, she accepted it as easily as she would a Target gift card. Looking at the dazzling jewels, she knew she should be thrilled, but she couldn't get past the feeling that something was missing—something important—and she wouldn't be able to get excited about anything until she figured out what it was.

“Here, let me put it on you,” Orias said eagerly, getting out of his chair to stand behind her and drape the gold and diamond band across her chest. His fingers tickled the back of her neck as he did the clasp, and it instilled in her the sweet, familiar longing she felt whenever he touched her. “Happy Valentine's Day, my love,” he whispered in her ear.

But her thoughts had already drifted away, like a slip of teleportation.

“I had the dream again,” she said.

“What dream?”

“About the man. The blind man in the tower. He's been locked in a room up there, and he wants me to let him out. But he's furious, you know? He's so angry that I'm afraid of him. But in my dream I let him out anyway . . .” Her voice trailed off briefly, as she remembered the feeling of terror the dream always gave her. “What do you think it means?”

Orias didn't answer. Instead, he took her hand, helped her to her feet, and led her to a big gilded mirror that hung on one wall near the window. He stopped her in front of it.

“Don't you look stunning?” he asked as they both gazed at her reflection.

She stared at herself in the mirror, looking like the princess her little-girl self had always imagined she would grow up to be. And Orias, standing behind her, was every inch the prince, with his perfectly sculpted face, his long dark hair, and those startling blue eyes. She should be the happiest girl in the world.

A flash caught her eye, and she went to the window.

“Oh, look! Fireworks. Aren't they beautiful?” She tried to sound enthusiastic, but the words came out tonelessly. She watched as the sky lit up with spirals, stars, pinwheels, and spinners that fizzled, then crackled and sparked to life again and again above the treetops of Middleburg.

“Yes, it's beautiful,” Orias said, gazing first at the fireworks and then at her.

“Where did you say it comes from?” she asked vaguely. “The water for the tea?”

“The River Lethe,” Orias said, and he levitated her gently off the floor and floated her toward him. She laughed softly, and when she was close enough he reached out and pulled her into his arms.

“I've never heard of it. Where is it?” Aimee asked.

“In my father's homeland. The Dark Territory,” Orias answered. “Perhaps we'll go there one day.”

“Oh,” Aimee said. Then another gorgeous multicolored pinwheel went crackling and reeling across the sky, like a scattering of diamonds. As its sparks faded, her uneasiness disappeared, too.

“Lovely,” Orias said, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke.

She nodded in agreement and took comfort in having his arms around her, the missing element that troubled her slipping away from her mind.

* * *

As Zhai Shao approached Lily Rose's door, he adjusted his tie. He was dressed in the new clothes he'd asked Lotus to pick up for him on her last shopping trip to New York, and in his hand he held a special bouquet of exotic flowers from his stepmother's florist. Before the door opened, he went through a quick mental checklist to make sure that all his preparations for the evening had been completed, and by the time Lily Rose was greeting him, he was feeling a little more relaxed. Besides, the old lady's eyes were utterly unique: one was a rich hazel color that bordered on amber, the other a clear pristine blue, and when she looked at him with them, it was impossible to stress out.

“Well, hello, Zhai. Don't you look nice?” Lily Rose said warmly, the dark skin around her mouth crinkling into a smile. “Come in, come in. Go on back—they're almost ready.”

He followed the sound of laughter to Dalton's bedroom door, which was ajar.

“Knock, knock,” he said, slipping inside.

He found Dalton and another Flats girl, Myka, standing in front of a broad mirror. Next to them was Kate—and she looked spectacular. She was wearing a beautiful green velvet dress that Zhai guessed Lily Rose had made for her and her fiery red hair, which Dalton had probably styled, looked fantastic. She'd lost a little weight while recovering from the wound she'd suffered during the battle at the tracks, but the color had returned to her cheeks. Lily Rose, Master Chin, and the local doctor all agreed that she had healed wonderfully. Miraculously, in fact.

“Zhai!” she said when she saw him, and hurried over.

“You look gorgeous,” he told her. He summoned up the courage to take her hand and give her a kiss on the cheek as he handed her the bouquet.

“You can't steal her away yet, Romeo,” Myka teased, her trademark edge of sarcasm in her voice. “I still have some finishing touches to put on her makeup.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Zhai joked as he sat down on the bed. “I'll wait quietly. Don't mind me.”

Myka, as usual, was dressed as Goth as possible. She wore a torn black T-shirt with a faded red image of an anatomically correct heart on it, paired with a puffy black skirt, high black leather boots, and livid-red lipstick. Her nails were painted black and her hair was streaked with red; her nose and one eyebrow were pierced. Before he got to know her Zhai thought she was a little scary, but his attitude toward a lot of the Flats kids had changed since Raphael's disappearance.

Zhai had spent a lot of time with all of them as they combed the woods around Middleburg looking for his former best friend. Sometimes at the end of a long afternoon of searching he'd spring for pizza, since he knew money was tight for the Flats kids. He also spent a lot of blissful time at Lily Rose's, hanging out with Kate while she recovered from the injury those monstrous Black Snakes had inflicted on her. In the process, he'd ended up spending a lot of time with the Flatliners, too. And gradually, a strange thing happened: they all started becoming friends.

“Where are Emory and Nass?” Zhai asked, breaking his promise to sit quietly.

“Nass was supposed to be here an hour ago. The boy is late as usual,” Dalton said with a sad shake of her head that Zhai knew was meant as a joke. She would definitely give Nass a hard time about it when he showed up, but that was just the way they were—always teasing each other. Their comic banter cracked Zhai up, and it gave him hope that one day he'd be comfortable enough with Kate to joke with her that way.

“Emory should be here any minute,” Myka said, as she carefully applied Kate's eyeliner.

“What about Aimee? Has she hung out with you guys lately?” Zhai asked. He'd always been closer to Rick than to Rick's little sister, but like the Flatliners, he was worried about her new choice of companionship.

“Nope. I've barely seen her since the gym got demolished at homecoming,” Dalton said. “We don't have as many classes together since we started the new schedule. Besides, she doesn't come to school much these days—and she hardly talks to me at all when she does. It's like she's a totally different person.”

“Still spending all her time with Orias?” Zhai asked.

“I guess,” Dalton replied with a frustrated shrug.

“I don't know how,” Myka said as she brusquely applied blush to Kate's cheeks. “I work for him, you know, and he freaks me out. Always running around all perfect and gorgeous and always saying the right stuff. I watch him in meetings all day—he's cold, like a snake charmer. I'm telling you, Aimee is in way over her head.”

Dalton nodded and sat down heavily in an old Papasan chair in the corner, as if the whole conversation depressed her.

Just then, the doorbell rang. “That's probably Emory,” Myka said.

They could hear Lily Rose's muted greeting to the new guest, and a second later Emory poked his head into the room. He was wearing a black stocking cap, a pair of black pinstriped dress pants, and a black leather motorcycle jacket. He and Myka were the perfect couple, Zhai thought—they were the two most emo-looking kids at Middleburg High.

“I'm sorry,” Emory whispered as soon as he was in the door.

“What?” Myka asked. His sudden, unexplained apology seemed to worry her.

“She begged me to let her come,” Emory whispered. “And I can't say no to her. Ever since she almost got killed—” He shut his mouth the moment he realized Zhai was in the room. After an awkward pause, he looked back at Myka. “I just couldn't leave her at home,” he finished.

“You have fun with the big kids!” they heard Lily Rose say from down the hall, and then a drumroll of quick, excited footsteps thumped toward them and a young girl appeared in the doorway. From the resemblance, Zhai knew she had to be Emory's little sister, and he guessed she had to be about ten. He didn't remember seeing her before, but for some reason she seemed slightly familiar.

“Hi, Myka!” the girl said, and she ran over and fiercely embraced her brother's girlfriend.