The Summoning (30 page)

“Knock you out?” I stared at it. “It’s a tranquilizer dart?”

“I think so. Never seen one outside a nature show.”

But we weren’t animals. People didn’t hunt kids with tranquilizer guns.

“I d-don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. Point is, they want us back.
Bad
. All the more reason to keep going.” He dropped the dart and moved past me to the edge of the bin and inhaled, making no effort to hide it now. “Simon’s here. He’s not close, but he’s been past recently.”

“You can find him?”

“Yeah. Right now, though, I’m going to trust he can look after himself and worry about us. He’ll lie low until he sees you. We should find a place to do the same until they move on.”

He strode to the delivery doors, but they were locked and solid, the handles on the inside. I crept along the bin and scanned the factory yard.

“It looks like a warehouse back there. You mentioned something about that Friday? That it’d make a good place to hide?”

He glanced over my shoulder. “That one’s too near the factory to be abandoned.” He studied it. “But it’ll do for now. I should be able to break in.”

He surveyed the yard, then he hustled me along the dark wall, and we dashed across to the warehouse. A sharp wrench on the door and we were inside.

Derek was right: it wasn’t abandoned. It was packed with rolls of steel, giving us lots of hiding places. I had to move slowly, feeling my way and following in Derek’s tracks, testing each footstep for noise.

When we’d gone about twenty paces, he found a crevice and wedged us inside. We barely got in when a voice outside boomed.

“Derek? I know you’re here. It’s Dr. Davidoff.”

I glanced at Derek, but he had his head turned toward the voice.

“Derek? I know you don’t want to do this. You want to get better. You can’t do that by running away.”

The voice was moving, as the doctor walked through the factory yard. Derek cocked his head, listening, then whispered, “Four—no, five sets of footsteps. All separate. Searching.”

Hoping we’d give ourselves away.

“Derek? You know you shouldn’t be out here. It’s not safe. We’ve talked about this, remember? You don’t want to hurt anyone. I know that, and you know you need our help to get better.”

I looked up. Derek’s jaw worked, his gaze distant.

“I could go,” he whispered. “Create a distraction so you can escape. Simon’s around. You just need to find—”

“You’re going
back
? After they shot at you?”

“Just tranquilizers.”

“Just?
Just
?” My voice rose and I fought to keep it down. “They’re hunting us, Derek. Dr. Gill knows what I am.”

“
She
knew. That doesn’t mean
they
do.”

“Are you sure?”

He hesitated, his gaze lifting toward the voice.

“Derek?” Dr. Davidoff continued. “Please. I want to make this easy for you, but you need to make it easy for us. Come out now and we’ll talk. That’s it. Just talk. No disciplinary action will be taken and we won’t transfer you.”

Derek shifted against me. Considering.

“You can’t—” I began.

“If you don’t come out, Derek, we will find you, and you
will
be transferred … to a juvenile detention center for kidnapping Chloe.”

“Kid—” I squawked.

He clapped his hand over my mouth until I motioned I’d be quiet.

Dr. Davidoff continued. “You already have a documented history of inappropriate behavior toward her. When the police see that, and hear our corroborating statements, you will be in a lot of trouble, Derek, and I know you don’t want that. Even if she defends you, it won’t matter to the police. You’re a sixteen-year-old boy running away with a fourteen-year-old girl.” He paused. “You do realize she’s only fourteen, don’t you, Derek?”

I shook my head vehemently and whispered, “He’s lying. I turned fifteen last month.”

Dr. Davidoff said, “To the police, it will be a clear case of kidnapping and interference, possibly even sexual assault.”

“Sexual—!” I squeaked.

Derek’s glare shut me up as effectively as his hand had.

“It’s your choice, Derek. Make this hard, and you’ll only hurt yourself.”

Derek snorted and with that, Dr. Davidoff lost him. Prey on Derek’s fears of hurting others, and he might be convinced to surrender. But threaten Derek himself? Like Simon said, it was a whole different matter.

“Stay here,” he whispered. “I’m going to find a way out.”

I wanted to argue, insist on helping, but I didn’t have his night vision. If I started stumbling around looking for an exit, I’d bring Dr. Davidoff and the others running.

I stayed put.

AFTER A FEW MINUTES, Derek returned and wordlessly led me to the back wall, where a window had been broken. It must have been boarded over, but the board was now resting on the floor.

“Hold on.”

He swept the broken glass from the lower sill, then laced his fingers into a step for me. As I crawled through, my sleeve snagged on a leftover shard.

A nearby door banged.

“Chloe? Derek? I know you’re in here. The door was broken.”

I yanked my sleeve free, feeling a sharp sting. The shard tinkled to the pavement below as I scrambled through.

I tumbled to the ground, recovered, and broke into a run, aiming for the nearest cover—a tarp over a lumber pile. I dropped and crawled under it, Derek shoving me in farther. I found a spot where the tarp tented and stretched out on my stomach. The moment I caught my breath, my upper arm started to throb, telling me the glass had done more than scrape my skin.

“You’re hurt,” Derek whispered as if reading my mind.

“Just a scratch.”

“No, it’s not.”

He grabbed my arm and pulled it straight. A stab of pain. I stifled a gasp. It was too dark to see, but the sleeve felt wet against my skin. Blood. He’d smelled it.

He gingerly rolled up my sleeve and swore.

“Bad?” I whispered.

“Deep. Gotta stop the bleeding. We need a bandage.”

He released my arm. A flash of white, and I realized he was pulling off his T-shirt.

“Hold on,” I said. “That’s all you’ve got. I’m layered up.”

He turned his head away. I stripped off all three shirts, gritting my teeth as the fabric brushed my wound. I reminded myself that I’d barely felt it before he told me it was bad.

I put the top two shirts back on and handed him my tee. He ripped it, the sound echoing. I must have looked alarmed, because he said, “No one’s around. I can hear them searching the warehouse.”

He wound the strips around my arm. Then his head lifted, tracking something, and I caught the faint sound of a voice calling, then an answer.

“They’re all in the warehouse now,” he whispered. “Time to move. I’ll try picking up Simon’s scent. Follow my lead.”

Derek zigged and zagged through the obstacle course of debris, never slowing. Luckily, I was behind him, where he couldn’t see how many times I rapped my knees or elbows swerving past some obstacle.

Finally, he slowed. “Got him,” he whispered, and jabbed a finger at the south side of the factory. We steered that way. When we neared the corner, a figure leaned from a recessed doorway, then retreated fast. Simon. A moment later, Rae stepped out and waved wildly before being yanked back, presumably by Simon.

We raced over and found them in a deep narrow alcove that reeked of cigarette smoke and looked like a main entrance.

“What are you doing here?” Rae whispered, staring at Derek as if in alarm. “You’re supposed to be—”

“Change of plans.”

“Good to see you, bro,” Simon said, slapping Derek’s back. “I was worried Chloe’d never find us. There’s a whole bunch of people looking for us.”

“I know.”

Simon moved to the edge, looked out, then walked over to me, handing me my backpack. “You okay?”

I nodded, keeping my injured arm out of sight. “They have guns.”

“What?” Rae’s eyes rounded. “No way. They’d never—”

“Tranq guns,” Derek corrected.

“Oh.” She nodded, as if tranquilizer guns were standard issue for tracking runaway kids.

“Who’ve you seen?” Derek asked Simon.

“Van Dop, Davidoff, and, I think, Talbot, but I’m not sure. No sign of Gill.”

“She’s back at the house,” I said. “But there are two more we didn’t recognize. A man and a woman.” I looked at Derek. “Undercover cops, you think?”

“No idea. We’ll worry about that later. Right now, we’re sitting ducks. We need to get out of here.”

As Derek moved to look out, Simon leaned down to my ear. “Thanks. For finding him. Was everything okay?”

“Later,” Derek said. “There’s another warehouse farther back, with broken windows. It’s probably abandoned. If we can get to that—”

“Chloe?” Rae said, staring down at my arm. “What’s all over your sleeve? It looks like…” She touched the fabric. “Oh, my God. You’re bleeding. You’re
really
bleeding.”

Simon ducked around to my other side. “It’s soaked. What—?”

“Just a cut,” I said.

“It’s deep,” Derek said. “She needs stitches.”

“I don’t—”

“She needs stitches,” he repeated. “I’ll figure something out. For now—” He swore and jumped back from the opening. “They’re coming.” He looked around, scowling. “This is the lousiest hiding place…”

“I know,” Simon said. “I wanted to find a better one, but…” A pointed look at Rae said she’d refused to leave.

“What’s wrong with here?” she said. She backed up against the wall. “It’s completely dark. They won’t see me.”

“Until they shine a flashlight on you.”

“Oh.”

Derek strode to the door, grabbed the handle, and gave it a test pull. Then he braced his feet, took the handle in both hands, and heaved until the tendons in his neck bulged. The door quivered, then flew open with a crack as loud as a gunshot.

He frantically waved us inside. “Find cover!” he whispered as I hurried past.

We raced through into a wide hall flanked with doors, some open, some closed. Rae headed for the first. Derek shoved her past.

“Keep going!” he whispered.

He loped by her and led us to a second hall. Then, he motioned for silence as he listened, but even without super senses, I heard the whoosh of the door and the clamor of footsteps.

“It’s open!” a man yelled. “They came through here.”

“We’ve got to get out,” Derek whispered. “Split up. Find an exit. Any exit. Then whistle, but softly. I’ll hear you.”

AROUND THE NEXT CORNER, we split up to search for an exit.

The first door I tried opened into a long, narrow room filled with worktables. No sign of a way out.

Back in the hall, I could hear voices, but distant, searching the rooms nearest the entrance, presuming we’d ducked into the first one we saw.

Hurrying toward the next door, I spotted a figure in the room across the hall. I stopped short, but too late. I was already standing in plain sight.

As I pulled my heart from my throat, I realized the man had his back to me. Dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, he was the same size as the man with the gun, and had the same dark hair. I didn’t remember the plaid shirt, but he’d been wearing a jacket.

He stood on a raised platform, gripping the railing, looking down at a big industrial saw. He seemed intent on whatever had caught his attention.

I took one careful step forward. When the man shifted, I froze, but he only seemed to be readjusting his grip on the railing. I lifted my foot. The man did the same—stepping onto the lower bar of the barrier.

He climbed onto the railing and crouched there, hands gripping the bar. Something moved below him and my gaze shot to the saw. The blades were turning—spinning so fast that the glint of a distant emergency light bounced off like a strobe. But there was no sound, not even the motor’s hum.

The man tested his grip on the railing. Then, suddenly, he pitched forward. I saw him hit the blades, saw the first spray of blood, and I fell back against the wall, my hand flying to cover my mouth but not before the first note of a shriek escaped.

Something—some part of him—flew from the saw, landing in the doorway with a splat. I ripped my gaze away before I could see what it was, staggering back as running footsteps sounded behind me.

Arms grabbed me. I heard Simon’s voice at my ear. “Chloe?”

“Th-there was a man. He—” I balled my hands into fists, pushing the image back. “A ghost. A man. He j-jumped onto a saw.”

Simon pulled me against him, his hand going to the back of my head, burying my face against his chest. He smelled of vanilla fabric softener with a trace of perspiration, oddly comforting. I lingered, catching my breath.

Derek wheeled around the corner. “What happened?”

“A ghost,” I said, pulling away from Simon. “I’m sorry.”

“Someone heard. We gotta go.”

As I was turning, I saw the ghost again, standing on the platform. Derek followed my gaze. The ghost stood in exactly the same position, gripping the railing. Then he stepped up.

“It’s r-repeating. Like a film loop.” I shook it off. “Never mind. We—”

“Have to go,” Derek said, pushing me. “Move!”

As we started down the hall, Rae let out a piercing whistle.

“Did I say softly?” Derek hissed under his breath.

We veered into Rae’s hall to see her standing at a door marked EXIT. She reached for the handle.

“Don’t!” Derek strode past her and cracked the door open, listening and sniffing before pushing it wide. “See that warehouse?”

“The one, like, a mile back there?” Rae said.

“Quarter mile, tops. Now go. We’re right behind—” His head whipped up, tracking a sound. “They’re coming. They heard the whistle. You guys go. I’ll distract them, then follow.”

“Uh-uh,” Simon said. “I’ve got your back. Chloe, take Rae and run.”

Derek opened his mouth to argue.

Simon cut him off. “You want distractions?” He whispered a spell and waved his hand, fog rising. “I’m your guy.” He turned to me. “Go. We’ll catch up.”

I wanted to argue but, again, there was nothing I could offer. My powers had already proved more hindrance than help.