by Simon Holt
Reggie shivered.
“They were so brazen—they just stormed in, guns blazing. Completely unconcerned about any innocent bystanders.”
“That’s how they operate. Quick, dirty, brutal. They don’t fear repercussions because, like the Vours, actually, they have members in high places. FBI, CIA, even Congress—they’d never face prosecution.”
“Were you like that?” Reggie asked.
Machen’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Yes, I suppose I was.”
“And you just… changed?”
Machen contemplated Reggie for a moment, then crossed the room to a cabinet near the entrance to the kitchen. From it he withdrew a small bottle of bourbon and a glass, and poured himself a slug. He returned to the sofa and sat down. Reggie and Aaron followed suit, both watching him carefully.
“My story is different from yours, Reggie. It wasn’t that someone close to me became a Vour.” He took a long sip of his drink. “I was a reporter in my former life. I found out that Vours existed and was trying to figure out a way to expose them, and to discredit me, they murdered my family and framed me for it. I spent two years in prison before the Tracers came to me. When they did, I was in a rage. I didn’t care what happened to me, I just wanted revenge, and they gave me the window to do it. They got me out of jail, erased my identity, trained me, and in exchange I joined their ranks. I first tracked down the Vours that had killed my family, and I made them pay. And the bloodlust… it fueled me for years. Until I first met you. Until I saw what you could do.”
“Why?”
“Killing Vours contains the problem—it’s not a solution for it. We don’t know how yet, but I truly believe that your ability will lead us to that solution, to the complete destruction of the Vour world. How could I sabotage something like that? I always thought that my role was a necessary and righteous one, but the truth is, killing Vours is cowardly. It’s easy. My anger was all about me; it wasn’t about helping others, and it wasn’t going to bring my family back. And I saw you, a fifteen-year-old girl, making the choice to stand and fight, to sacrifice yourself. I did change, Reggie. What happened to me changed me for the worse and turned me into a monster as bad as the Vours. When I met you, I wanted to change back.”
“I wish the rest of the Tracers felt that way.”
“So do I. And it concerns me that they actually saw you,” Machen went on. “They know you’ve escaped Vour custody and are out in the open. They’ll be hunting you—all of us, possibly.”
“What can we do?” Aaron asked.
Machen put his hands on his knees and stood.
“First, we need to find a place to hide Reggie. I think it’d be a mistake for you two to go on the run now. I want you someplace close so I can keep an eye on you. Aaron’s is out—that’s the first place they’ll look.”
“I… I have an idea,” Aaron said, though he spoke so slowly it was like the words wanted to stay in his mouth.
“What is it?” Reggie asked.
“It’s remote, and spacious, and the last place someone will expect you.”
“Sounds great. What is it?”
Aaron could not have looked less enthused.
“Quinn’s house.”
14
The Waterses’ place was on the other side of Cutter’s Lake, a sprawling old farmhouse set on several acres of land. Mr. and Mrs. Waters had apparently made their money in New York real estate some years earlier and, upon moving to Cutter’s Wedge, had become one of the wealthiest families in town. Reggie had never been to Quinn’s house, but she’d certainly heard the stories; the parties Quinn’s older brothers, and then Quinn himself, had thrown over the years were legendary. Neither Reggie nor Aaron, of course, had ever attended one, but Aaron had been over a couple of times since teaming up with Quinn.
“Are you sure it will be okay if I stay here?” Reggie asked as Aaron took the drive past the lake. “His parents won’t have a problem with a known psych case shacking up with their son?”
Aaron seemed to choke a little at the words shacking up.
“I think we won’t exactly tell them.”
“Their house is so big they won’t notice another person living in it?”
“You’ll see.”
Aaron turned the car onto a gravel driveway that wound through rolling fields. After about a mile, they came upon the house, a charming old home with a wraparound porch, painted gray with lavender shutters and surrounded by flower beds. Reggie guessed the gardens were lovely in the spring and summer, but now they were browned and emptied. Still, the scene was like a Winslow Homer landscape. But Aaron didn’t stop the car; instead, he followed the driveway back around the house to a similarly painted barn situated on the opposite side of a swimming pool. Aaron parked behind the barn so that the car was out of view of the main house.
“They converted the barn into a guesthouse, but it’s mostly where Quinn lives,” Aaron explained.
“He has his own house?” Reggie asked, incredulous.
“It’s nice to be a Waters,” said Aaron, somewhat ruefully.
The dashboard clock flipped to 6:00 AM, and the sky was growing lighter. Aaron and Reggie got out of the car and walked to a side door. Aaron knocked, waited a bit, then knocked again, louder this time.
“Quinn! Quinn, it’s Aaron! Open up!”
After another several minutes, the knob clicked and Quinn opened the door, clad only in plaid flannel boxers. His hair was tousled, and his eyes were still half-closed with sleep.
“Aaron, what are you doing here?” he mumbled, then noticed Reggie standing a few feet behind. “Reggie! What—”
“Can we come in?” Aaron didn’t wait for an answer but pushed past Quinn. The surprise of seeing Reggie woke him up more fully, and he suddenly seemed aware of his half-nakedness as he stood aside to let Reggie pass. She herself was quite aware of it.
Turning back into a human had done nothing to lessen Quinn’s fairly amazing physique. He still looked leaner than he had a year ago, but this only seemed to emphasize his muscular arms and chest. Even so, his skin was very pale, and Reggie thought she saw a few faint black etches crisscrossing his pectorals—scars that remained from injuries he’d received as a Vour.
Don’t stare, she screamed at herself. For God’s sake, stop staring at him, you perv.
Seeing him like this, Reggie couldn’t help but think of the day they’d gotten trapped in the culvert, back when he was still a Vour. Back when he was evil, playing her. The things he’d said to her that day—she hated to admit it, but they’d stuck with her. Even then, though it had all turned out to be a con, she had felt some spark between them, and it both thrilled and repulsed her. He had told her that he was the only one who really knew what she was going through, what she was dealing with, and that hadn’t been a lie. And now here he was before her, the same but different. Once her enemy, now her teammate. She didn’t quite know how to feel about it.
Quinn shut the door, and the three of them stood awkwardly for a moment. Reggie tore her eyes from Quinn’s chest and glanced around the room: It was a neat little house that preserved much of the feeling of the original barn, including the vaulted ceilings and loft rooms at either end. They were currently in the main space of the barn, which had been converted into a living/rec room complete with a large flat-screen television and multiple video game consoles.
“Uh, come on in,” Quinn said quickly, gesturing to a couch. “Just give me a sec.” He crossed to a ladder leading up to one of the lofts and disappeared up it. Reggie and Aaron sat down, and Quinn reemerged shortly, wrapped in a robe.
Aaron cut to the chase.
“Things didn’t go quite as planned with Reggie’s mom,” he said, and jumped into an account of the past twenty-four hours.
“God, Reggie, I’m so sorry,” Quinn said when Aaron was finished. “Of course you can stay here.”
Reggie flushed.
“I know it’s a terrible thing to ask. I really don’t want to dra
g you back into all of this, but we… well, we just don’t have any other place to turn.”
“Reggie, are you kidding? You’re not dragging me anywhere—I’m already up to my neck in this. It’s like I told Aaron: I want to help.”
“No one can know she’s here,” said Aaron. His tone was cool and businesslike. Reggie knew that he was not pleased with the arrangement, even though he’d been the one to think of it. “Not your parents, not anyone.”
“My parents never come in here. I go up to the main house for meals and everything, so they have no reason to. And that loft there is another bedroom.” Quinn pointed to the other side of the room. “So if someone does happen to pop in, you can just stay up there and they won’t see you.” He paused. “We will have to share a bathroom, though.”
“I think I can manage,” Reggie said.
“So we know you’ll be safe here,” said Quinn. “What’s the rest of the plan?”
“Figure out what the Vours are plotting, stop it, save the world,” said Reggie.
“So no biggie, then.”
They were all quiet, but the silence was soon broken by an alarm sounding from Quinn’s room.
“Crap, I’ve got to start getting ready for school,” Quinn said.
“Yeah, I guess since I’m not going to be on the lam anymore, I should head home, too.” Aaron stood reluctantly. “Quinn, it’s important that you and I keep up the appearance of leading normal lives. We can’t miss school or be seen talking to each other. The only way this will work is if it seems like you have no connection to me, or Reggie, or the Vours. Hang out with your usual friends, do your usual thing. It’s too bad you quit all sports, really….”
Quinn stared quizzically at Aaron.
“Maybe I wouldn’t have if you’d been straight with me from the beginning and I knew it was going to be an issue.”
Tension suddenly seemed to descend upon the room. Aaron hadn’t told Reggie much about how Quinn had come to be part of the group, and now she realized there was more to it than she knew. She could guess, though.
“I’ve got to shower,” Quinn said at last. Giving Aaron one last, cool look, he went into another room at the far end of the barn and closed the door. They heard running water a few minutes later.
Aaron and Reggie walked to the door. Aaron hesitated on the threshold, obviously reluctant to leave.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked.
“This was your idea, remember?” Reggie smiled at him.
“I know, but I don’t have to like it,” Aaron grumbled.
Reggie hugged him tightly.
“Of course I’ll be all right.”
“Just be careful. No going outside, no matter how stir-crazy you get. No one can see you here.”
“Believe me, I’m not going to stick my neck out.”
“I’ll check in tonight.”
“I’ll be fine, Aaron, I promise.”
Reggie watched Aaron pull away from the barn, then crossed over to the far loft. She climbed the ladder and surveyed her new room: It looked comfy, with a double bed, nightstand, dresser and dressing table, and a plush armchair in one corner. A skylight in the ceiling let in the morning light, which shone brightly off the whitewashed walls and hardwood floor. After the nightmare of the Home Institute, she could not imagine a more perfect place to make her new home, even if it was temporary.
“Reggie?” Quinn called from downstairs.
“Up here. Hang on, I’m coming down.”
She swung herself down the ladder and met Quinn in the middle of the main room. He was dressed in dark jeans and a button-up, his hair shaggy and wet. He smelled wonderful.
“So, what do you think?” he asked.
“It’s perfect,” she said. “Seriously, Quinn, thanks so much for this. I really owe you one.”
“I swear, it’s no trouble. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He reached out and put a hand on her arm. Reggie flinched automatically, and he pulled away uneasily.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I guess I’m still a little jumpy.” What she didn’t say was that the last time he had touched her like that, he had been a Vour.
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—I should probably get going. Mom expects me for breakfast about now.”
“Yeah, of course, go. I’ll be fine.”
“I put out some extra towels. And there’s a small kitchen on the other side of that wall.” Quinn gestured to a doorway beneath his loft bedroom. “It’s stocked with some basic food, bread and peanut butter, chips, snack stuff. I’ll try to smuggle some better things over after school.”
“I’m sure whatever’s there is just fine. A peanut butter sandwich sounds like heaven after the gruel they fed me at Home.”
She saw the pity fly across Quinn’s face.
“I can’t believe what you had to go through,” he said.
“It’s not like your life’s been some kind of picnic.” Reggie forced a smile. “But we heal, right?”
“Right.”
Neither of them sounded particularly convinced.
Reggie stood in the middle of the room for several minutes after Quinn had left. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself, embracing the silence. She was alone. For the first time in months, truly alone. At Home, even when she wasn’t being pricked and prodded, when she was left by herself in her cell, someone was always watching. She had lived in a constant state of trepidation and anxiety, wondering what new nightmare she’d be thrust into, what new pain would be inflicted on her, how she could possibly survive this. There, silence was the calm before the storm, filled with anticipation of the horrors to come.
But now, here—well, she wasn’t safe exactly, what with both demons and assassins after her—but it was the closest she’d felt to it in a long time. Here, the quiet was just that—quiet.
And yet, the peace couldn’t last long. There was still the mystery of what the Vours wanted. There was still the question of what she was.
She opened her eyes and shivered. The barn was cool. Clouds were rolling in overhead, and the air had the tinge of snow in it. It suddenly occurred to Reggie that what she wanted most right now was a hot, relaxing bath. Maybe for just a little bit she could wash the present away.
Reggie went to the bathroom and turned on the tub faucet full blast. In minutes the small room was filled with steam. Reggie undressed and was careful not to look at herself in the mirror; she didn’t want a reminder of how altered and scarred her body was, a physical embodiment of how she might be changed on the inside, too.
She found some body wash under the sink—presumably for when guests stayed here, for she didn’t think “lily of the valley” was Quinn’s scent of choice—and poured a few drops into the water. As the soap bubbled up, she lowered herself into the tub and breathed in the aroma of flowers. The water was scalding, but to Reggie it felt wonderful. It was like melting a chill that had been growing inside her for months.
She lay back, the suds hugging her, the pounding of the running water in her ears. She was so sleepy, and her eyes dropped shut as she exhaled all the air from her lungs.
If only she could forget everything, even for just a little while. It was almost laughable that she had once been a normal teenage girl whose biggest drama was making a fool of herself in front of heartthrob Quinn. Worry meant wondering if she was going to pass her geometry final, not if demonic fear monsters were going to take over the world. What a difference a year made.
Now that blessed feeling of aloneness was transforming into a darker loneliness. Yes, Machen had pledged to help her, and Quinn had sheltered her, and Aaron, of course, would do anything for her, but there was nowhere she belonged anymore. One by one, her family had been stripped from her. She was a threat to her brother, her father didn’t trust her, and her mother…
Mom. Reggie had been willfully pushing the encounter with Mom from her mind, but now her hurt and anger propelled themselves to the surface, mingling with the sweat a
nd steam that coated her skin. Mom had left. Reggie had thought she had come to terms with that long ago, but now it was apparent she had just been waiting for an excuse to justify her mother’s actions. She had been so ready to accept that her mother was a Vour. It made everything fit; it tied everything up with a little bow and erased all of the doubt and regret and pain that Reggie had tried to ignore for so long. But now there was a crack in those defenses; Mom wasn’t a Vour. Her choices had been her own. She had gone off to find a new life because she couldn’t take the one she’d had.
Reggie had no time for self-doubt or self-pity, but it took only one crack to bring down a dam. All of the questions that had plagued her when Mom first disappeared came flooding back. Had it really been so terrible? Were she and Henry really so difficult to care for? Why didn’t Mom love them enough to stay? There were no satisfactory answers.
There were no answers to any of it. What did Unger want with her? How did she figure into the plan? Was her own blood turning against her?
Her skin began to prickle in the sweltering heat, and her head swam. Sorry Night was in a few weeks, but she wanted it all over with now.
Suddenly the water went frigidly cold as a hand slapped down on her forehead, and Reggie felt herself plunge down into the bath. The hand held her firmly, and she felt another wrap around her throat, keeping her underwater. She thrashed about but could get no purchase on the slippery porcelain tub. She had little breath in her lungs and in her panic felt herself exhaling even more. Her hands found the ones that held her, and she yanked fruitlessly at them as she kicked her legs to and fro, arching her back and trying to wriggle out of the viselike grasp.
She knew she had only a few seconds before her aching lungs forced her to inhale, but at this point time seemed to slow. Instead of her life flashing before her eyes, she thought how humiliating it was that her body would be found drowned and naked, that Quinn, and maybe Aaron, would see her this way. Either a Vour or a Tracer had located her. She wondered which it was, and if she’d even be able to tell the difference.