Under a Spell

Chapter Seventeen

I could feel Nina’s eyes on me, and when I turned she had her arms crossed in front of her chest, one hip cocked, and an expression on her face that meant she was about to shake up the world. “You’re not planning on taking any kind of nap, are you?”

“Oh, so you’ve met me before.”

She grinned. “Okay, out with it. I need to know what harebrained scheme I’m going to have to pull you out of. You’re my commodity, you know.”

“Is this about my underwear again?”

Nina rolled her eyes and straightened her directorial beret. “No, this is about you being my star for the UDA commercial.”

I gave her a once-over, for the first time that night taking in her knee boots, jodhpurs, and the enormous ecru scarf knotted around her neck. “Nice outfit.”

“You’ve got to dress the part to be the part,” she said with a slick, fang-bearing grin. “Or fake it ’til you make it.”

I wrapped a piece of hair around my finger. “Fake it ’til I make it, huh? Yeah, yeah, Neens, you’re totally right. I don’t need to wait for Will. I don’t need to take a nap. And I sure as hell don’t need Alex. All I need are his files.”

Nina picked up the stack heaped on the dining room table. “These are the ones Vlad printed out for you.”

“These are the official files. They were good enough, but I need more. Alex keeps his notes—handwritten ones, stacked with info—in his office. But now that I don’t have him to rely on, I need to get a hold of those notes.”

Nina’s eyes lit up like a campfire, her heart-shaped mouth curving up, showing off her fangs. “Field trip?”

I took in my breathless, weightless, fingerprint-less best friend. “Absolutely.”

Nina’s face fell as quickly as it lit up. “Oh. Should we get Vlad?”

“Isn’t he with Miranda?”

“I guess they’re still together. She was dragging him out of here by the arm, but that was a couple of hours ago. He hasn’t called or anything.”

I shrugged. “We’ll leave a note. This is an all-girl mission. Besides, he’s big and burly and hard to hide.”

Nina cracked a grin. “And you’re so stealthy?”

I narrowed my eyes and poked her cold, hard chest. “Don’t cross me.” I grabbed my jacket and keys.

“Okay,” Nina said, following me out the front door. “But we’re running lines in between heists.”

I like to think I was making Batmobile-type progress, slicing through town while the reflection of the yellow streetlights bounced through the spitting rain. But in actuality, Nina and I were pinched in my Honda and stuck at a traffic light while we waited for the half-naked, half-leathered Folsom Street Parade to march through.

“I thought they banned public nudity,” Nina said, snarling.

“That’s why they’re marching,” I said.

We pulled into the police station, and Nina and I shared a look. My heart was pounding and bat wings were flapping fire in my stomach, but Nina was cool as a cucumber in a pair of half-glasses, marking a script with her red pencil.

“Are you ready?”

“Say, ‘No pulse, no breath, no problem!’” she asked, holding the eraser end of the pencil to her lips.

“No pulse, no breath, no problem,” I deadpanned. “Now can we get in there? I really prefer to commit my felony offenses before midnight.”

Nina blew out a sigh and crossed something off on her script. “It’s going to take a lot of work with this one,” she said to the car’s interior. “Take a note.” She put down her pencil and tucked her hair behind her ears, then went through a brief series of random vocal warm-ups.

“Nina?” I screamed, when she went into a frenzied series of “Toy Boat” enunciations.

“Watch and learn.”

Nina went into the police station first to get things rolling while I waited in the shadows of the parking lot. I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing as she went from a dainty walk through the parking lot to a spastic run into the station, screaming, crying, tearing at her long hair. I had to give it to my roommate: she played a splendid madwoman.

As every available officer raced to assist—and possibly subdue—Nina, I was able to sneak into the foyer.

“Excuse me—”

A pup officer whom I’m glad I didn’t recognize was about to stop me when I heard Nina’s feet stomping and her bellow, “Oh sweet Jesus, I got the devil inside me!” The pup’s eyes went wide and right over my head as Nina scratched and clawed, shouting things about Corinthians and her need for an “old priest and a young one.”

I was in Alex’s dark office before she launched into an impressively deep baritone and the first few lines of “Ol’ Man River.” As she hit the chorus, I hit the jackpot—Alex had never fully embraced file cabinets or any particular system of organization other than “put stuff in box,” and the Mercy file box was open on his desk. I had it under my shirt like an incredibly boxy pregnancy belly and was out free in the police station parking lot before Nina stopped, blinked, pressed the back of her hand to her head and made some excuse that left the five officers surrounding her open-mouthed and stunned enough to let her walk right out of the station.

I started the car and drove carefully out of the parking lot while every nerve in my body hummed.

“That was great. That was great! We really should do stuff like that more often; it makes me feel so alive,” Nina said, kicking her feet up on the dashboard.

“No way,” I said, flicking on my blinker. “We are only doing the sneaking-into-the-police-station thing when it is absolutely necessary. It might make you feel alive, but if Alex ever finds out, I’m the one he’s going to make dead.”

“Well, what’d you get?”

I wasn’t able to answer because the seat-belt warning starting pinging furiously as Nina unbuckled hers and started to climb into the backseat, her butt mashed against my ear as she tried to climb. “What’d we get? Ew, papers?”

“I told you, this is business. I had to get the police files for this case. I’m not going to dodder around on this stupid witch hunt when there’s a girl”—bile rose in my throat—“two girls in danger.”

“Okay, but why are you turning here?”

“I’ve got a theory.”

Nina’s eyebrows went up. “Ooh, a theory. Lay it on me, Sherlock.”

“Remember that girl I told you about, Fallon?”

Nina pursed her lips. “The pretty, mean one?”

“Yeah. I think—when Kayleigh disappeared, Sampson brought up the idea of a partner. Someone that Kayleigh—and maybe Alyssa and Cathy—knew.”

“And you think this Fallon girl is in on the act?”

I paused for a beat. “Maybe. Kayleigh was riding her bike when she went missing. When Will and I went over to Fallon’s house, she was riding her bike, just coming back from somewhere.”

Nina looked at me, clearly expecting more.

“It’s just a theory.”

“Because two girls were riding bikes?”

“Two girls who knew each other. One that went missing. One that, I know, was scared of the other. We found Fallon’s picture in with the other one’s at Bud’s place, but I’m not convinced she might be one of the victims. I think she might be a partner.”

Nina pursed her lips and scratched at her chin, considering. “I don’t know if I’m buying that. Don’t get me wrong, I know how evil we ladies can be, but . . . what else you got?”

I told Nina about Kayleigh coming in to my classroom, about the way her hands worked the strap of her bag as she struggled to get anything out of her mouth. I told her about Fallon interrupting.

Nina sat back, her jaws working as though she were tasting her thought. Finally, she looked at me. “Fallon’s a teenager who still rides bike. Girls are afraid of other girls in high school. Hell, you’re still afraid of high school girls.”

I shifted in my seat, my eyes tight on the road.

Nina leaned forward, hanging on to the two front seats as she pushed herself closer. “These girls go missing, Soph, and they die.”

I held up a single finger. “One of them. One of them died.” That little, niggling voice in the back of my head wanted to correct me, wanted to tell me that it wasn’t just Cathy—it was Gretchen Von Dow, too, and at least two other girls. And now maybe Alyssa and Kayleigh, as well.

I pushed the gas pedal down a little harder.

We had cleared the city and were closing in on Fallon’s exit when my phone bleeped out “God Save the Queen.” Nina picked up the phone and glanced at it.

“Will. Want me to answer?”

“No. Ignore it.”

She punched the button and the cheery song died away. Nina frowned. “He’s called three times.”

I gripped the wheel. “Let him call three more.”

I was still in my kick-ass, take-charge stance when I turned the corner onto Fallon’s street. My kick-assedness turned into a roiling stomach and sour saliva when the blue and red police lights washed over our car.

“Oh my God,” I murmured.

My heart started to thud as the car slowed down and my blood became ice as I pulled aside and swept the scene. A handful of police cars were parked at jagged angles, an open ambulance in between them. A fire truck was blocking the driveway, the hose, like the discarded skin of a snake, flopped and ignored on the driveway. A wisp of smoke came from somewhere and the smell of something charred hung in the air.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” Will bellowed the second my car door opened an inch. He was dressed for work—firefighting, not the Guardian stuff—and the entire scene stunned me.

“I was—what’s going on here?”

Every light in Fallon’s house was on, the warm light flooding into the front yard, mingling with the flashing lights of police cruisers and the steady headlights of the ambulance and fire truck.

Nina came around the side of the car and put her hand on my arm, the chill just shocking enough to shake me. “Why are you here? What’s going on?”

“Call came in about twenty minutes ago,” Will said, his voice low.

“Lawson!” Alex’s voice cut through the general din of idling motors, barking orders, and my pounding heart. My body stiffened as he marched across the street and clamped a hand around my wrist. “I need you for this.”

His eyes were stern and hard, in complete business mode. I stared at him blankly and started to move until I felt a hand on my other arm.

“Soph and I are working on this together. I need her to see something.”

Alex’s eyes went over my head and locked with Will’s. “This is official police business, Will.”

“And this is Underworld criminal activity. Sophie and I have been dealing with Fallon for a week.”

I knew I should have said something, but I was still in a weird stupor, leaning toward Alex, leaning toward Will. Finally, I felt a tight tug and heard Alex say, “Sorry about that, but police business trumps your stuff.”

Nina’s eyes cut to the house and then back to me. She shook her head and took a step back. I handed her my keys. As far as I knew, Nina had never broken UDA protocol. But adding a vampire—even an adherent one—to a crime scene, where there could be enormous amounts of blood and a plethora of warm cop bodies, was begging for a rule to break.

I stumbled aside and glanced over my shoulder long enough to see the anger flicker across Will’s face.

“Hang on, mate,” Will said, following us quickly.

“Soph.” Nina’s eyes were wide.

“Both of you, stop!” I shook my arms free and turned on my heel, going directly to the ambulance, where a paramedic was wrapping a heavy blanket around Fallon’s shoulders. I didn’t know if the guys were following me and I didn’t care.

“Fallon, what happened here?”

Fallon looked up at me, her eyeliner smeared, black rivulets of mascara laced with tears sliding down her cheeks. Her hair was still in pigtails, but they were lopsided now and somehow, she looked like a regular kid: vulnerable, sad—scared. She blinked up at me, her lower lip trembling.

“I—I’m not sure.”

“Miss?” The paramedic put an arm up between Fallon and me, his other hand pumping a blood pressure monitor. “Please don’t upset her. She’s had quite a scare.”

I was stunned to dead silence when Fallon looked from me to the paramedic and said, “That’s okay, she’s a friend.”

The paramedic finished his reading and backed away with a shrug. I sat down on the tailgate next to Fallon. We were silent for a full moment, the lights of the police cars washing over us, first responders rushing around, eventually getting in their cars or making notes.

“I went out to get something to eat. When I came back . . .” Fallon’s lip started to tremble again and her eyes filled with tears. I expected her to shake it off, to blink back the tears. The Fallon from school would have. This one just let the tears fall.

I put a hand on hers, squeezed gently. “What happened, hon?”

“Every light in the house was on. Blazing, like it is now.” She gestured absentmindedly toward the house. The doors were wide open. I went inside and—and—”

“There was a pentagram on the dining room floor.” It was Alex now, in front of Fallon and me, arms crossed in front of his chest, legs akimbo.

Fallon nodded and sniffed. “Someone had pushed aside all the furniture and drawn—drawn it in—in chalk or something. There were candles and—” Fallon closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip before whispering, “There was blood.”

I looked up at Alex and he nodded solemnly.

“I screamed and ran out. I guess I kicked over one of the candles because the curtains caught on fire.”

“Where are your parents?”

Fallon didn’t look at me. “Gone. My mom left for Portland tonight—that’s why I went out to get something to eat.”

“And your dad?”

“My dad is . . .” Her voice went thin again and I could almost see the wheels turning in her head, deciding what she should tell me. Exhaustion must have won over. “We don’t really know where he is. We haven’t for a while.”

My heart ached for her.

“Lawson?” I glanced up and Alex was right in front of me, eyes imploring. Will was twenty feet behind him suited up in his gear, soot streaked across his face, ax thrown over his shoulder. I felt my heart start to pound as Alex held out a hand. I saw Will shift behind him.

I swallowed hard, my stomach starting to roil. Finally, I stood. “I’m going to go in and check out what you saw, okay?” I was speaking to Fallon. She hugged the blanket tighter over her shoulders and frowned.

“What were you doing here, anyway?” She sniffed. “I mean, thanks, but you’re a substitute teacher. Why are you like, fighting crime?”

I sucked in a breath. “You have no idea what it takes to get teaching credentials in California. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Fallon nodded and rested her head on her knees.

The inside of Fallon’s house was opulent—more so than I expected—with a swirling staircase wide enough for my car and slick walnut carved everything. Pictures were spaced equidistantly apart, each one showing the same family of three in stiff familial poses, their surroundings and smiles imitating the perfect, happy family, while their eyes stared out vacantly. The kitchen had the same pristine, model-home feel, with glossy industrial ovens that looked like they had never been used and a bunch of fresh bananas that were the exact hue of the trim.

I wondered if Ms. Monroe would toss them once the color changed.

“It’s in here,” Alex said, ten feet in front of me. The dining room was the only room so far with its lights off, but there was enough light coming from the bouncing flames in the fireplace to give me a view of the whole room. I immediately started unbuttoning my jacket as the roaring fire ratcheted up the room temperature by fifteen degrees. An entire half-wall of the room was scorched, long fingers of soot crawling up to the ceiling. The remains of elegant drapery were gnarled rags on one side, Dupioni silk in a calming blue on the other. The window they were protecting was blown out and shards of glass littered both sides of the wall.

“What do you think?”

Alex was gesturing to the wood floor. Furniture hugged the walls, but the center of the room was bare. The pentagram that Fallon said was made of chalk had been ground into the lush wood, its luster covered by what looked like years of wear. A smear of red—blood, I supposed—was washed across the center circle. The candles set at the pentagram’s five points were out, and the one closest to the charred wall was still on its side, a little ripple of form in a pool of black melted wax.

“Anything significant?”

I snapped a picture and turned around, careful not to step on any of the dust. “I don’t see anything that screams out of the ordinary. Unless, of course, you count this giant pentagram on the floor.”

Alex let out a whoosh of air that let me know he was annoyed. “I mean, is this real?”

“It’s real.” I bent down and brushed across a white line with my index finger. “It’s here, isn’t it?” I tugged at my collar. “Did Fallon make this fire? Did she do it before she saw the pentagram?”

“There’s no way Fallon made that fire.” Will stepped through the broken window and shot the licking flames with an extinguisher.

“Hey, that’s evidence!”

“No,” Will corrected. “It’s a fire hazard.”

I coughed at the ash that kicked up and took a step back, realizing a second too late that I was standing in the center of the pentagram, my feet firmly planted on a smear of blood.

“Oh, God!” I jumped forward, feeling instantly nauseous.

I paused when Will turned on the overhead light and the whole room lit up like it was day.

“That blood looks awfully thin.” I grimaced. “I can’t believe I said that. I can’t believe I know that.”

Alex crouched down and pulled a Q-tip from the evidence pack he carried in his windbreaker. He rubbed the cotton tip over the stain and frowned. “It’s definitely not blood. Hey.” He glanced over his shoulder at Will. “Why do you think the girl didn’t make the fire?”

“You mean how do I know she didn’t make the fire?” He used the poker to push around the debris. “An accelerant was used. You can smell it. It wasn’t on Fallon’s hands or clothes, and there was no soot or residue. The container’s not here either.”

Alex stiffened. “She threw it away.”

“Not in any trash can in the house or the ones outside.”

I saw Alex press his lips together, still unconvinced.

“When this fire was started, it would have been a near fire ball.” Will pointed to spots on the fireplace façade with seeping black burn marks. “And I know the bird.” He fished something out of the fireplace. “If she was going to burn her clothes, she wouldn’t do it in her family fireplace.”

I felt my mouth drop open as Will laid out what remained in the ashes of the fire.

“It’s another Mercy uniform.”

Alex stepped forward. “Does it belong to the victim?”

“Fallon, her name is Fallon. And I’m going to find out.”

The second I walked out of the dining room, the cool night air broke over me and I realized I was sweating.

“Fallon.”

She was still sitting on the edge of the tailgate, still wearing the gray blanket. A few people—neighbors, I suspected—were huddled around her, looking on sympathetically. She looked up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and tired looking.

“Tell me the truth. Did you start the fire?”

She shrunk back into the blanket and the sympathetic eyes were turned on me—but they were angry now.

“Leave this girl alone,” someone said, shoving toward Fallon.

Fallon held the woman off. “It’s okay. Yeah, I told you I started the fire. I knocked over the candle. It was an accident—I was freaked out.”

“Imagine,” another woman said, “a Satanic cult breaking into this child’s house. Breaking into our neighborhood!”

“I mean the fire in the fireplace. Did you start that?”

Fallon frowned. “Of course not.” Her eyes were hardening, the old Fallon showing through now that she had her entourage—albeit a less stylish one. “I don’t even know how you make a fire in there. Isn’t there just some kind of switch? Maybe I did when I was running out, I don’t know.”

“So was the fire going when you went into the dining room?”

Fallon’s eyes rolled skyward. “Um, maybe. It was hot. Wait, yeah, yeah, I guess so.”

“You’re not sure?”

Now she rolled her eyes. “I was kind of in the middle of a major trauma. Someone broke into my house and made one of those Satan things and there was blood. I wasn’t paying attention to whether or not my potential killer wanted to make the room warm and cozy with a fire. One of my best friends just disappeared, you know.”

“So you didn’t know that someone was burning a Mercy High School uniform in your fireplace?”

Her eyes went wide, her surprise seemingly genuine. “What?”

“One of the firemen found the remains of a school uniform in your fireplace.”

Fallon clutched at her throat. “Mine?”

“I don’t know. Is your uniform up in your room? Would you allow us to check?”

Fallon sucked in a long, dramatic breath. “I suppose so. I mean, if there was a killer pawing through my things—oh my gosh.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “What if he’s still there? What if he’s in my closet, lying in wait? Maybe he didn’t even want Alyssa or Kayleigh—maybe he was after me the whole time!” She seemed to crumble as enormous tears rolled over her cheeks. The women closed in on her, soothing and clucking. I stepped away, grateful for a few moments alone.

I was on the front porch when Alex and Will caught up with me.

“What’d the girl say?” Alex wanted to know.

I glanced up. “She didn’t start the fire. She didn’t know anything about the uniform.”

I could see Will’s chest bolster a tiny bit.

“But I’m going to check her closet just to be sure.”

“I’ll go with you.” Both guys said it in unison and both immediately bristled.

“Grace!” one of the perimeter officers called out to Alex and I could see the annoyance in Alex’s eyes as they cut toward the officer, then to me, and finally narrowed and set on Will.

“Don’t let anything happen to her.” He turned on his heel and the cold air at his exit—and in his tone—highlighted the blaze of anger in my gut.

“Hey,” I yelled, pushing past Will. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

I could hear Will snicker behind me. “Anyone,” I said, turning on Will. “There are two girls missing right now and there could have been a third. I need you to stop beating your chests or measuring your balls or whatever it is you think you’re doing and start focusing on this case. Girls are missing. Girls are dead. Alex, go see what the officer wants and see what physical evidence your guys have come up with. Will, come with me.”

I could see Alex’s nostrils flare, the little muscle in his jaw that let me know he was angry, jumping. Will opened his mouth to say something—smart, I guessed—and I held up a finger. “And you shut your trap.”

I stomped up Fallon’s stairs, Will in tow, and was too angry to comment or stand in slack-jawed awe when I found Fallon’s bedroom. It was easily the size of my apartment, and likely as big as Will’s and mine combined, with an attached bathroom stuffed with more frilly scents and loofah sponges than an entire Bath and Body Works megastore.

“Damn.”

The walls were painted a pretty rose pink and glittery fairy wings hung from the four-poster bed. There were crowns trailing ribbons and silky ballet shoes and a heavy pile snow-white rug.

“It looks like My Little Pony exploded in here,” I said.

Will flicked a set of the fairy wings. “My Little Pony and her fairy friends.”

“Not exactly what I expected from Fallon.”

“What did you expect?”

“Something darker. More of a German dungeon type theme.”

“I hear that sells big at Pottery Barn Kids.”

I pulled open some dresser drawers and poked at the neat stacks of starched white blouses and a carefully folded navy-blue sweater. The drawers Will sifted through held little bits of neon and leopard-print skirts or tube tops or headbands—it was hard to tell.

“Well, it doesn’t look like she’s missing any shirts, and there wasn’t a sweater in the fireplace.” I bit my lip and went to the closet, pulling back double doors to expose the second-largest clothing collection (Nina’s being the first) that I had ever seen outside of a retail establishment. One whole section was a sea of blues—four navy jumpers, four regulation plaid skirts, every manner of high school booster wear, and the whole thing repeating in a sea of greys. I groaned.

“For all we know this could be every uniform she has and the one in the fireplace could be someone else’s, or this is all she has minus one.” I nodded in the general direction of the dining room.

“The one in the fireplace was a size two. At least the skirt part.”

“Yeah,” I said, glad my snarled lip was hidden amongst the plaid. “Just like mine.”

“Wait,” Will said, pausing. “Did you say she’s short a sweater?”

I shrugged. “There was only one in there. So, maybe yes, maybe no.”

“Didn’t your little stinky friend find—”

My eyes widened. “A sweater. Someone had tried to flush a sweater down the toilet.” I paused, my previous revelation falling flat. “Why would someone try to flush a sweater down the toilet?”

Will pursed his lips. “You didn’t think to ask that at the time?”

“Well, neither did you.”

He held his hands up in obvious surrender. “Touche.”

Alex came up the stairs and knocked on the doorframe. I stiffened when I saw him, immediately feeling the annoyance well up inside of me.

“We’re still working in here,” I said, going into my best CSI stance.

He crossed the room to me and held out a Ziploc evidence bag. “Do you recognize this?”

I took the bag, tentatively, somehow certain it was a trap. His fingertips brushed mine and I shuddered—I had never remembered his hands being so cold. When I looked up at him, I realized just how tired he looked—heavy bags under his eyes made the crystal blue of his irises seem washed out and dull. The usually rosy skin over his cheeks seemed papery and sallow. His lips were dry and cracked.

“Are you okay?” I whispered.

Alex just shook the bag in my palm. I snapped my attention to it.

“It’s a Lock and Key pin,” I said. “Where did you get this?”

“Romero found it. It was attached to the collar of the shirt in the fireplace.”

Will and I exchanged a glance. “Fallon wasn’t in Lock and Key,” I said. “But Kayleigh was.”

“Actually . . .” Both Alex and I looked to where Will was standing. A floor-to-ceiling bulletin board was in front of him. He plucked a single photo from the collage and held it out to me. I took it, and everything inside me stopped. “This is Lock and Key Club. From this year.”

“And Fallon’s in it.” Will squinted at the photo. “Alyssa, Kayleigh—that Miranda bird. And the advisor there, isn’t that the geezer from the principal’s office?”

“Heddy’s not a geezer. And Miranda told me she wasn’t in the club.” A cold stripe of fear shot down my spine. “The uniform downstairs could be hers. Fallon and she were constantly at each other’s throats.”

“I’m going to go downstairs to check on the girl.”

“Ask her where Bud is.”

Alex’s lips went into a pale straight line. “Lawson . . .”

“Do it, Alex. I don’t care if he was alibied or not. Fallon is in on this and she’ll know where Bud Hastings is.”

Alex eyed me. We were face to face, but I had my shoulders thrown back, my fists on hips, and was ready to shut down anyone who tried to placate me.

“You want us to go after Hastings on a hunch?”

“You want two girls to die because you were too proud to follow a hunch?”

I squared off my hips and kept Alex’s gaze. Finally, he broke. “Yeah. Okay.”

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket while Alex left Will and me alone in the bedroom.

Will’s eyes narrowed as he considered. “So you think Fallon did this? She made the pentagram, got nervous when the candle caught the drapes, then called the police?”

“She didn’t have to make the fire to toss in Miranda’s uniform.”

I dialed Miranda’s number and listened as it rang repeatedly. I frowned, hung up, and tried Vlad.

“Direct to voice mail.”

Will’s eyes locked mine. For the first time, there was real concern in them. “You can’t find Miranda?”

“Let me try Nina. I’m sure she’s talked to Vlad.”

Nina picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, it’s me. Is Vlad there?”

“I haven’t seen him all night. Your little friend came back though.”

My heart stopped. “Miranda, really? Is she there? Let me talk to her.”

“She’s not here anymore. She just forgot a coat or something and took off.”

“Without Vlad?”

“She said he peeled off for Poe’s or something. She got in a car downstairs. Some guy was driving, but it wasn’t Vlad. Although the car looked like something from our era.” She gave a small, snorting chuckle at her own joke. “Anyway, I wasn’t completely paying attention because I was on the phone with Scorsese’s assistant.”

“Wait—Martin Scorsese’s assistant?”

Because even in the midst of peril, I could be not only horny, but starstruck.

“No, Neil Scorsese. He runs the soundstage down by the Presidio. Werevamp. Nice guy.”

“Look, if either Miranda or Vlad come back, keep them there.” I hung up my phone.

“Miranda took off with some guy who wasn’t Vlad.”

“Young love burns fast and hot, but fades fast.”

“Nina said the car was old.” My skin started to prickle. “What if the guy was Janitor Bud?”

“So, Fallon is working in cahoots with this janitor bloke. She sets fire to her own house so the police are tied up here, so Bud can go out and get Miranda?” Will shook his head. “Something’s not adding up. The police had already cleared Bud.”

I paced, stringing a piece of hair around my index finger. “Maybe she sent Bud out to get Miranda while she set up the sacrificial altar downstairs. She really did knock over a candle and a neighbor called the police and fire department. She probably heard the sirens and intercepted Bud.”

“Kind of a stretch. What about Alyssa and Kayleigh? Why would he—or even Fallon—suddenly start collecting the girls rather than killing them? It can’t be easy to hide one teenage girl, let alone three.”

“Remember what Vlad said? Maybe he just hasn’t found the right girl.”

“But to deal with three?”

My stomach was leaded and my saliva bitter. “We don’t know that he hasn’t killed the other girls yet.”

I took the stairs two at a time, Will following close behind. I pushed the front door open only to see the taillights of the ambulance fading into the darkness, the squad cars falling into line behind that. Alex was leaning into the open window of a squad car, and Fallon was gone.

“Alex! Alex, where’s Fallon?”

Alex looked around as if just noticing his surroundings. “We were able to reach her mother. She gave permission for the girl to go with the neighbor.”

My heart started to thud.

“Which neighbor?”

“I’m not sure. Wasn’t my jurisdiction. What’s going on?”

“She’s the one you’re looking for,” Will spat.

Alex straightened, his eyes darkening. “Lawson, you need evidence to accuse someone of a crime. Especially of a crime like this.”

My frustration and anger were reaching boiling points. “I know. Bud Hastings has an alibi, and there is absolutely no reason that you should go after Fallon except for the fact that she is in on this. She and Bud are partners. She lures the girls, he carves them up in an attempt to open some portal or do some kind of witchcraft. And it’s going to happen tonight. No one broke in and made a pentagram on Fallon’s floor. She did it. She did it for him! Look at the moon! It’s the seventh phase. They’re trying to open a portal and they need to do it tonight.”

Alex leaned back and cocked an eyebrow. “Bud Hastings is some kind of warlock?”

“Warlock?” Will thumped me on the shoulder and rolled his eyes. “Can you believe this guy?”

“Bud Hastings is taking these girls and Fallon is involved. And I think I know what this”—I waved my arms, doing my crazy best to indicate—“is all about. I think I know who the next victim is.”

Alex crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Why?”

“What do you mean why? She’s crazy? She’s the—the bad seed? Why? She just is. You have to get her!”

“These girls are her classmates. What makes you think Fallon is involved or that she’s after another girl? That’s not this perp’s pattern.”

I gaped. “Not the pattern? Kayleigh has gone missing, too, Alex. That is not the pattern, but it happened. It’s just a matter of time—a matter of hours—until Alyssa’s body turns up. Her body, Alex. Bud’s gone off half-cocked—or Fallon has. We have to do something!” My whole body was thrumming and I tugged at the collar of my jacket, feeling hot again. I could feel the sweat trickle down my back and I squirmed, fisting my hands so I didn’t grab Alex and force him to go find Fallon.

“Will, find her!”

Alex shot out a hand and grabbed Will’s arm. “Wait a minute.”

Will started to shrug Alex off. “Don’t touch me. I’m not in your jurisdiction, either.”

“I’m going to go find Miranda and Bud.” I spun, then slapped my hands to my head. “Nina took my car.”

Will took my hand and folded his keys in my palm.

“Nigella?” I whispered.

“Just find the girl.”

My heart was slamming against my rib cage and tears were stinging at the back of my eyes. I furiously dialed Nina, Vlad, and Miranda at every stoplight, getting nothing but a busy signal, a direct to voice mail, and no answer.

“Where would he take her, where would he take her, where would he take her?” I mumbled to myself as tears flooded my vision.

“The Battery!”

Adrenaline shot through me, hot and pulsing, and I stamped my foot on the gas, blowing through a red light on Kearney, my tires squealing as I took a left on Columbus. I was trembling, using the back of my hand to push away tears as I gripped the steering wheel with one hand. I was focused on my mission, focused on getting to Battery Townsley before Miranda, Kayleigh, and Alyssa could become another set of bones, tossed like so much trash, forgotten in some godforsaken hole. The thought hit me with another round of sobs, which is why I probably didn’t notice the car inching up behind me. It may have been there when I rounded the corner, may have been waiting at the last intersection. I caught its lights—and its driver—in my rearview mirror just before I heard the metal crunch, the ear-splitting pop of windows shattering. I felt myself vault forward; my teeth chattered and my brain seemed to ramp against my skull. Something ripped across my chest and my flesh was on fire. I could taste fresh blood in my mouth, hear the squeal of tires and someone screaming.

And then everything went black.