The Summoning (29 page)

I glanced at Derek, his face still deformed. Dr. Gill couldn’t find him like this.

I grabbed the shoe of his that I’d dropped, and kicked off one of my own, and that confused him enough for me to wrench from his grasp and dart to the side fence, squeezing between it and the shed. At the last second, he scrambled up and lunged at me, but I was wedged in too far to reach, and he couldn’t follow.

“Chloe! Get back here! Don’t you dare—”

I kept going.

I SQUEEZED THROUGH THE gap between the fence and shed, with Derek’s shoe clutched in one hand, while the other tugged the shirt from my jeans, and mussed my hair. When I reached the end of the shed, I peeked out. Dr. Gill had her back to me, her flashlight scanning the other side of the yard.

I darted behind the shrubs and continued along the fence until I reached the porch. Then I crouched in the bushes there, daubed dirt on my cheek, and stumbled out, twigs crackling.

“D-Dr. Gill.” I fumbled to shove my shirt back into my jeans. “I—I was just out g-getting some air.”

I hopped on one foot, trying to put on Derek’s shoe.

“I don’t think that’s yours, Chloe,” she said as she approached, flashlight in my eyes.

I shielded my face from the light and lifted the shoe, squinting at it. Then I let out a nervous laugh. “Whoops. Guess I grabbed the wrong one when I came outside.”

“Where is he?”

“Who?” I squeaked.

She pointed at the shoe. “Derek.”

“Derek? Is this his?” I cast a surreptitious glance over my shoulder, into the bushes, drawing her attention there. “I—I haven’t seen Derek since dinner. Is h-he out here, too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he is. Long gone, I suppose, with Simon and Rae. Making their escape while you stand guard and provide a diversion.”

“Wh-what?” That time the stammer wasn’t faked. “E-escape? N-no. Derek and I were…” I gestured at the bushes. “He knew the code so we came outside to be alone and … you know.”

She stepped closer, beam right in my eyes. “Pick up where you left off Friday afternoon?”

“Right.” I tugged down my shirt and tried to look embarrassed.

“Do you really think I’m going to buy that, Chloe? Girls like you wouldn’t give boys like Derek Souza the time of day, much less roll around in bushes and crawl spaces with them.”

My head shot up. “B-but you caught us. Friday. You’re the one who said—”

“I know what I said, Chloe. And I know what you were really doing in that crawl space. I found your new friends.”

I stood, feet rooted, unable to believe what I was hearing.

“What did they tell you?” Her fingers went around my arm. “They were his, weren’t they? Samuel Lyle’s subjects.” She leaned toward me, eyes glittering, as feverish as Derek’s but with a glimmer of madness behind them. “Did they tell you his secrets? His discoveries? I’ll make sure no one knows you ran away. I’ll say I found you asleep in the TV room. Just tell me everything those ghosts said.”

“I—I can’t talk to ghosts.”

I tried to pull away, but her fingers clamped down tighter. I went limp, as if giving in, then threw myself in the other direction. Her hand fell from my arm, but I’d pulled too hard and stumbled, off balance. She plunged toward me. I dove, hitting the ground. As I clambered out of her way, a dark shape vaulted over the deck railing.

Dr. Gill only had time to see a shadow passing over her. She turned, mouth opening. Derek landed right in front of her. Her arms flew up, and she let out a shriek, falling back, but she was still in mid-turn and tripped over her own feet. As she went down, she fumbled for something in her pocket. Derek dove and pinned her arm as she pulled out a two-way radio. It flew onto the grass. Her skull smacked into the cement pad.

I ran forward. Derek was already crouching at her side, checking her pulse.

“She’s fine,” he said, exhaling with relief. “Just unconscious. Come on. Before she wakes up.”

His fingers closed around my arm. Dirty, but very human fingers, his face and hands back to normal, the ripped and sweaty shirt the only sign of his ordeal. I brushed him off, jogged over to his shoe and picked it up, then turned to see him holding the sneaker I’d discarded.

“Trade?”

We pulled our shoes on.

“Simon’s waiting at the factory,” I said. “We have to warn him. They know about the escape.”

He pushed me toward the side fence. “The road won’t be safe. Cut through the yards.”

I glanced over my shoulder.

“I’m right behind you,” he said. “Now go!”

***

At the first fence, I started climbing, but I was too slow for Derek, who grabbed me and swung me over, then vaulted like it was a hurdle. Two doors down, the wail of a siren sent us diving behind a child’s playhouse.

“Police?” I whispered.

“Can’t tell.”

After a moment, I said, “Dr. Gill knows about the bodies. When I raised them, she must not have been holed up in her office like we thought. She knows I can contact the dead, and about Samuel Lyle, and—”

“Later.”

He was right. I squeezed the thought from my head and concentrated on the siren. It whipped past, heading back the way we came, then disappeared.

“Did it stop at the house?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I can still hear it. Now go.”

According to Derek, there were seven backyards between Lyle House and the end of the block. Trust him to have counted. We were racing through the fifth when his hand shot out like a railway guard and I plowed into it. When I turned, he had his head cocked, listening. Ten seconds passed. I plucked at his shirt, but he ignored me for another ten. Then he lowered his head and whispered, “I hear a car idling. Someone’s out there.”

“Where?”

An impatient wave. “
There
. On the street we need to cross.” He held up a finger. “Footsteps. Someone’s talking. A woman. She’s whispering. I can’t make it out.”

“Do you recognize the voice?”

He shook his head. “Stay here. I’ll get closer, see if that helps.”

He loped closer to the house, stopping behind a cluster of bushes.

I looked around. I was standing in the middle of the yard, exposed to anyone who heard a noise and glanced out the window. His spot looked a whole lot safer. When I approached, he whirled, pinning me with a glare.

“Sorry,” I whispered, and moved slower, quieter.

He waved me back. When I didn’t stop, he glared again, then turned away. I crept up behind him and went still. His head moved slowly, tracking the voices, I presumed. But when his head swiveled my way, I noticed the lift of his chin, the flare of his nostrils, and realized he was sniffing the air.

When he noticed me watching, I got a full-blown scowl.

“Can you recognize the, uh …?”

“Scents.” He spat the word. “Yes, I can track scents. Like a dog.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever.”

He looked away again, scanning the fence line. “I suppose you figured out what I am.”

“A werewolf.”

I tried to say it casually, but I wasn’t sure I succeeded. I didn’t want to sound freaked out because that was exactly what he expected—why he hadn’t told me the truth. I told myself it was no different than being a necromancer or a sorcerer or a half-demon. But it was.

As the silence stretched, I knew I should say something. If he’d told me he was a half-demon, I’d be peppering him with questions, and when I didn’t now, my silence damned him as something different than us, something less natural, something … worse.

“So what … happened back there? You were, uh…”

“Changing.” He stepped to the right, leaning out for a better listen, then pulled back. “It’s not supposed to start until I’m at least eighteen. That’s what Dad thought. Last night, the itching, the fever, the muscle spasms—that must have been a warning. I should have figured it out.”

His head tilted as a breeze fluttered past. He took a deep breath, then shook his head. “No one I recognize.” He pointed to the back of the yard. “We’ll climb the back fence, go through that way, and loop around. Hopefully, they’ll have driven off by then.”

We dashed over the rear fence, and through the next yard to the drive. Derek scanned the street, looking and listening and, I guess, sniffing, then waved me across the street. We slipped into the first yard and continued heading east, cutting through yards.

When we reached the road, I saw the car he’d been talking about. It was a silver SUV, a block down. The headlights were off, but someone stood at the driver’s window, leaning in, as if talking.

“We’ll have to make a run for it,” Derek said. “Hope they don’t notice us.”

“You think they’re looking for us?”

“No, but—”

“Then if we run, it’ll look suspicious.”

“It’s three-thirty in the morning. We’re going to look suspicious anyway.” He looked at the car for a moment. “Fine. But any sign of trouble? Follow my lead.”

“Yes, sir.”

WE CLIMBED THE FENCE under a weeping willow, letting its branches and shadows hide us. Then Derek positioned me on his left, away from the car. From this distance, they’d only see what looked like a grown man and maybe a woman beside him.

“We’re going to walk and talk, okay? Normal couple, late night walk. Not hiding anything.”

I nodded, and his hand closed around mine. We moved quickly to the sidewalk, then slowed as we cut to the curb.

“Okay, talk,” he murmured.

“So when you … change…”

A short laugh, this obviously not being what he’d had in mind. But I was keeping my voice low, and if I couldn’t hear them talking, they wouldn’t hear more than the murmur of my voice.

“You change into…” I struggled to think of the right word for the image that came to mind—a Hollywood werewolf, half human, half beast.

“A wolf.” He steered us to the left, away from the car.

“Wolf?”

“You know. Large wild canine. Commonly seen in zoos.”

“You change into …? But that’s not—” I stopped myself.

“Physically possible?” Another short laugh. “Yeah, my body was screaming the same thing. No idea how it works. I guess I’ll find out later. Much later, if I’m lucky. We’re heading for the street to the left. The factory is just up—”

He stopped short, turning sharply at the same moment that the headlights from the idling car flicked on. His hand tightened around mine and he broke into a run, dragging me along.

“They spotted us,” he said.

“But they aren’t looking for us.”

“Yes, they are.”

He yanked my arm, propelling me toward the next yard. As we neared the fence, he grabbed me around the waist and threw me over. I hit the ground on all fours, leaped up, and ran for the nearest cover—a metal shed.

Derek dove in behind me and, for a moment, I just stood there, leaning my blazing cheek against the cool metal, gulping the icy air. Then I straightened.

“How—?”

“I heard them say ‘It’s them’ and ‘Call Marcel.’ ”

“Marcel? Isn’t that Dr. Davidoff’s name?”

“Yeah, and something tells me it’s not common enough to be a coincidence.”

“But how—”

He clamped his hand over my mouth and I tasted dirt. He leaned down to my ear. “They’re circling the block. I hear voices. They must have the windows down, listening for us.”

But who were they? Where had they come from? Simon and Rae hadn’t been gone more than forty minutes. How had they gotten here so fast?

“Tori,” I whispered.

“What?”

“Tori found out about our escape. That’s why she was so quiet. She didn’t give up; she was—”

“Doesn’t matter. They’re heading down that road,” Derek said, pointing. “Come on.”

He prodded me in the opposite direction.

“The factory is at the end. We just need to make it that far. Run on the grass—it’s quieter.”

We raced along the strip between the sidewalk and the road, our shoes slapping the driveway pavement, then silent on the grass between. We were three houses from the end, the factory looming, when Derek let out a curse. Within three strides, I knew why: there was an eight-foot-high chain-link fence around the factory parking lot, and the gate was padlocked.

“Up,” he said.

I grabbed the links and started to climb. He tried to boost me, but I waved for him to forget that and follow. I was almost to the top when the side of the factory lit up in two circles of light. I glanced over my shoulder. The SUV’s engine roared as it accelerated.

“Go, go, go!” Derek whispered.

The car slammed to a halt, brakes squealing. I flipped over the top and started scrambling down. Beside me, Derek crouched on the fence top, then jumped. He landed square on his feet and wheeled as the car door was flung open.

“Jump! I’ve got you.”

I was already halfway down, but I let go. He caught me and spun me around onto my feet with a push toward the factory.

“Derek! Chloe!”

It was a woman’s voice. I kept running, but had to glance back, hearing my name. A small gray-haired woman gripped the links. A stranger.

A man hurried around the front of the car. He carried a long, dark object, and as he lifted it, my heart stuttered.

“Gun!” I shouted, still running.

Derek glanced over at me, eyes wide.

“They have a—”

He tackled me just as something whooshed past. We slid into a pile of wooden pallets. They clattered down around us, bouncing hard off my back and shoulders. I scrambled up and dove behind the next stack, then ran, hunched over, until we reached the factory wall.

We raced along the north side and ducked into a delivery dock bay. Derek pulled me behind a rusted metal bin.

“Th-they sh-shot at us,” I whispered, barely able to get the words out. “No. I m-must have—A radio maybe. Or a cell phone. I made a mistake.”

“You didn’t.” He twisted, reaching around his back.

“B-but they
sh-shot
at us. They tried to kill us. Th-that doesn’t make any sense.”

He plucked something from the bottom folds of his T-shirt. A long narrow metal tube with a pointed end.

“It caught in my shirt. It nicked me, but it shouldn’t matter. It’d take a lot to knock me out.”