"Hey!" a young man's voice shouted. "Hey, that's mine!"
Three giggling girls streaked past, nearly knocking me--the woman, Lily--flying. They kept going without so much as a "Sorry," not surprising, considering they were about thirteen and being chased by a boy their age.
Bitches. Stuck-up little bitches, just like their mommies. Too good to say "Excuse me." Why bother? It's only the hired help. The cleaning lady.
I squirmed free of Lily's thoughts. The three girls ran shrieking down the hall, plowing past the two women without an apology, either, but Lily didn't notice that, didn't care about that. One of the girls lifted something and waved it like a flag as she ran. A boy's bathing suit.
"Give me that!" her pursuer yelled.
They threw open a door and zoomed through. The barest whiff of chlorine wafted back.
As the boy skidded after them, my gaze went back to those distant sheets on the wall. I honed in on them, concentrating, but was only able to invoke half my usual power, just enough to make out a few of the headings. SPRING FLING. TUTORS WANTED. MARCH BREAK MADNESS.
Two men strode in front of the bulletins, coming toward us. Both were in their early twenties, both dressed in sweat-drenched shorts and tank tops, both damned fine-looking. My pulse quickened, heart tripping, a slow burn of longing plunging through me--pretty creepy, considering these boys were about half my age. Fortunately, since I had neither a pulse nor a heartbeat, I knew this lust attack wasn't mine.
Brett. The name fluttered through Lily's mind. Her gaze lingered on the shorter of the two, following him up the hallway.
"Next week is going to be my week," Brett said to his companion. "You just watch. I will beat you so badly, you'll--"
"Die of shock?"
Brett cuffed the other man and they bounced down the hall like overgrown puppies.
Look at me, Brett. I'm right here.
The two men passed Lily without a glance her way.
I'll make you look, Brett. I'll make you see me. Just wait--
An alarm wailed. Lily shot up, blinking fast, heart racing. The bedside clock-radio continued to screech. She slammed the Off button, then stared at the blurry red digits. Seven-thirty.
"I owe, I owe, it's off to work I go," she muttered.
"Oh, but today will be different," the Nix whispered.
Lily chortled and reached for her glasses. "Oh, yeah, today will be much different."
With her glasses in place, the room came into focus. She leaned over and opened the nightstand drawer. Inside were a few dog-eared magazines. She reached underneath, fingers closing on metal. She pulled out her prize. A semiautomatic.
The scene faded to black.
After a few minutes, Trsiel pulled me out.
"Is that it?" I said. "I need more. Did you see the flyers on the wall?"
"I saw papers, but I couldn't get a good look. I'm restricted to what she sees."
I started to pace. "So was I, but I could zoom in a bit. It was a community center. Indoor pool, ball courts, bulletins for a dance and March Break activities--she works in a community center. And that's where she's headed now. With a gun."
As I passed Trsiel, he grasped my shoulder, forcing me to stop pacing.
"Eve, we need to--"
"Slow down and think. I know that. But I think better when I'm moving."
He let me go. I wheeled and strode across the cell.
"Let's see what we have," Trsiel said. "Her name is Lily and she works at a community center as part of the cleaning staff."
"Yeah, yeah." Still walking, I rubbed my hands over my face. "Okay, she just woke up, so it'll take her a while to get to work. It was seven--Wait. What time is it now?"
Trsiel walked through the cell bars and looked around. "This clock says just past nine-thirty."
"Then we've got a two-hour time difference. That means she's somewhere west of Colorado. American accents, so definitely in the country."
"Upper West Coast accents," Trsiel said. "North of California."
"Right. Thanks. I'll talk to Jaime. We'll search the Internet for community centers on the upper West Coast with mentions of a Spring Fling and March Break Madness. Once we've narrowed it down, she can see whether any have a janitor named Lily." I stopped pacing. "A game plan. Good. But it'll take some time. With any luck, that guy she's after won't be heading to the community center for a while today."
I paused, then looked at Trsiel. "So she wants to kill this guy because he doesn't notice her. Besides the seriously fucked-up logic behind that, there's one thing I don't get. What is this boy to me?"
Trsiel frowned.
"The Nix is doing this for my benefit, right? A demonstration of her power. A lesson for me. So--" I stopped and met his gaze. "Look, if she succeeds in killing this kid, I'll feel bad. Anyone would, right? But it won't--well, I don't know him. If this is a lesson, either I'm missing the point or this Nix has me pegged all wrong, thinks I'll fall apart over the death of a stranger."
"She knows you're working on something usually reserved for angels--"
"So she probably assumes I'm typical angel material--protect the innocent no matter who they are. Makes sense." I glanced at Sullivan. "Should we check in her skull one last time? If I could get a better look at the flyers in that hall--"
As I said the words, I pictured the flyers again and my words froze in my throat. The pink poster. TUTORS WANTED. I'd seen that before. Months ago. My memory pulled up an image--a soft, pretty hand reaching for the tabs along the bottom of the flyer, ripping one off, silver rings flashing. A deep sigh sounded somewhere to the left.
"Literacy tutors? Oh, please. Don't you do enough of that crap already?"
"It's not crap. And it's only an hour a month."
"Like you've got an hour to spare! Geez, Paige--"
I spun on Trsiel. "Portland. The community center is in Portland. My daughter--oh, God, Savannah goes there."
27
I RECITED A TRANSPORT INCANTATION. AT THE LAST second, Trsiel realized what I was doing and grabbed my hand. We landed a few blocks from Paige and Lucas's house. The community center was a couple miles in the opposite direction.
"Can you get us any closer?" I asked.
"I'd need to find out exactly where we're going. A map, a street address--"
"No time."
I started to run. Trsiel shot up beside me.
"She's not going after your daughter, Eve," he said. "She can't."
"Can't?" I said, still running. "Can't how?"
"The Nix can't choose her partner's victims. They make the choice. They pull the trigger. She can give them the resolve to pull it, but she can't aim it for them."
I rounded a corner, not slowing.
"This Lily is going after that young man," Trsiel said. "He must have a connection to your daughter. That's how she's going to hurt you. By hurting Savannah--emotionally."
I eased down to a jog, giving my brain a chance to digest this. Could this Brett guy have a connection to my daughter? Sure. He played basketball--so did Savannah. Had he coached her? Maybe played some one-on-one with Savannah and her friends? Or had she just seen him around the courts, thought he was good-looking, developed a crush?
There had to be a connection, but it did no good to stand around pondering the possibilities. We still had two miles to go, and no idea what time Lily started work.
We arrived at the community center just past nine. The massive two-story building was filling fast. A steady stream of cars and minivans drove through the drop-off circle, disgorging kids toting knapsacks and duffel bags. As the children and teens climbed the stairs, they merged with the current of adults flowing in from the parking lot, heading to the gym, a class, or a club. A typical Saturday for an urban family--twice as busy as any weekday.
We hurried up the front steps, through the congestion, and into the bright foyer. I looked around. We were at the junction of four hallways and a double set of stairs. Ribbons of people wended their way in every direction.
"We should start with the janitor's room," I called back to Trsiel, yelling to be heard over the cacophony of laughs, shouts, and greetings.
"Good idea. Where is it?"
"I have no idea. I've only been here once, and only to the basketball courts. Maybe we should check there instead. Brett was coming off the courts."
"Which doesn't mean that's where he is today. Better to find Lily. Then it won't matter where her target is."
"Right. So where--"
"Just a sec."
Trsiel disappeared.
"Hey! What--"
He zipped back before I could finish. "There's a basement."
"Then that's where we'll start."
We found a suite of janitorial rooms downstairs, everything from storage closets to an office to a lunchroom. All were empty. Two jackets hung in the office. A man's and a woman's.
We spent the next two hours combing the building. The problem was that, in a place like this, nobody stayed still. Kids raced from swimming lessons to the lunchroom to model-building classes. Adults hurried from the treadmills to their child's floor-hockey game to the coffee shop. Walk into any room, then return an hour later and ninety percent of the faces had changed.
Eventually, we found one of the janitors--an elderly man. But there was no sign of his female counterpart.
After our fourth sweep of the building, we stopped in the second-level child-care center, by the window overlooking the front entrance. Below, the flow of traffic dropping off children had slowed as noon approached. A brief break for lunchtime, then it would start all over again.
"So is Lily not here?" I said to Trsiel. "Or do we just keep missing her?"
"We haven't seen a female janitor yet. And that was definitely a woman's jacket downstairs."
"But is it from today? It's spring. Come to work in a winter coat and by afternoon it can be hot enough that you forget to take it home. Damn it! What if--"
I caught a glimpse of a motorcycle pulling out of the drop-off circle, and turned for a better look, invoking my long-range sight. One glance, and I was flying out the door.
"What is it?" Trsiel asked, hurrying after me.
"That bike. The motorcycle. It's Lucas's. Lucas Cortez. Savannah's guardian. She's here. Savannah's here."
Trsiel grasped my shoulder, but I shrugged him off, plowing through people as I made my way to the stairs.
"Don't panic, Eve," Trsiel said, jogging at my heels.
"Maybe it looks like his motorcycle--"
"It is his motorcycle. It's an antique. Very rare. He restores them."
"Maybe he was dropping off his wife, Paige. You said she comes here--"
"There was no helmet on the back of the bike."
"What?"
"Paige would have left her helmet. Savannah's fifteen. She'd carry it inside with her."
From Trsiel's silence, I knew this didn't answer his question, but I wasn't wasting my breath explaining the adolescent coolness quotient of toting around a motorcycle helmet. I cut through the solid wall of kids heading up to the lunchroom, and bounded down the stairs so fast I tripped. Trsiel grabbed me. I righted myself, shook him off, and kept going. A few steps from the bottom I stopped. I peered out over the sea of heads. People kept walking through me, blocking my view. I climbed onto the railing for a better look.
"Eve," Trsiel said, laying his hand on my leg to steady me. "If we find Lily, she can't hurt anyone, including Savannah."
"You go after Lily, then. I'll find--"
"I need your eyes, Eve."
A shape shimmered below, on the other side of the railing. Kristof appeared, looking up at me.
"Oh, thank God," I whispered. "Kris! It's Sav--"
"I know," he said, putting out his arms to help me down. "I'll find her." He lowered me onto the floor. "You find the Nix."
I squeezed his hand. "Thank you."
Trsiel wheeled through the crowd, grabbed my elbow, and tugged me away.
"The basketball court," I called back to Kristof. I gestured to the north end of the building. "It's that way."
Kris nodded and jogged off.
We started our search where we'd begun--in the janitorial rooms below. As we hurried down the hall toward the lunchroom and office, something clattered to the floor in one of the storage rooms, like a broom or mop falling over. I veered toward it. Then, from the end of the hall came the muffled sound of a phone ringing. Someone answered after the first ring, with a reedy, feminine-sounding "Hello."
Trsiel changed course. I darted ahead of him and ran through the closed office door. On the other side, back to us, stood a slight, pale-haired figure. Tinny music wafted from a cheap radio on the desk, the rise and fall of the music cutting into the phone conversation. I took a step closer, then saw the gnarled hand clutching the receiver. The elderly male janitor.
As I turned to leave, the song on the radio ended, and the janitor's words became clear.
"...exit door shouldn't be locked. I opened them all myself this morning." Pause. "Which room is it?" Pause. A sigh. "I'll send Lily." He hung up, then muttered, "If I can find her. Damned girl is making herself scarcer than usual today."
He lifted the walkie-talkie. Trsiel and I stayed where we were, hoping to catch the room number so we could head off Lily there. The janitor pushed the Call button four times, but only static responded.
"Lazy kids," he grumbled.
He stalked to the door and yanked. It didn't open. Another pull, but it stayed shut.
"Goddamn it!" he said as he yanked on the door.
I stepped through to the other side. A broom had been jammed through the handle. Trsiel and I looked at each other, then dashed for the stairs.
On the main level, doors all along the corridor banged open and slammed shut as kids raced out of classes. We headed for the gym. As we turned the corner, a shriek cut through the din. I leapt through the wall and came out in the boy's changing room. Two ten-year-olds were whipping each other with wet towels, dancing out of the way, and screeching with laughter.
We walked through the next wall and found ourselves in the men's shower room.
"Circle around back to the hall," Trsiel said. "But keep your eyes open in here for that young man Brett."
As we stepped into the changing area, a loud pop sounded. A man leaning into a locker jumped, head clanging against the metal shelf.
"Damn it!" he said. "Did those boys get hold of caps again?"
"Nah, that came from the classrooms. Science club, I'll bet," another man said with a laugh. "Those kids. Remember when they made that--"
Three more pops. Then a scream. As Trsiel and I ran for the hall, one of the men shouted, "Someone's shooting. Oh, my God! Brooke! Brooke!"
We raced through the wall, into the women's changing area. Inside, women were shouting their children's names as they ran, half-dressed, for the door. Others grabbed their cell phones to call 911, while more raced to a rear emergency exit, only to find it locked.
"Fire alarm!" someone yelled. "Pull the fire alarm!"
A teenage girl dove into our path, racing for the alarm, but it sounded before she reached it.
The hall was now jammed with people, all trying to get to the front door. I thought I heard a shot, but the screams and shouts all around us were too loud for me to tell, much less pinpoint a direction. I soon lost sight of Trsiel. I didn't stop to look, just kept plowing forward through people.
Trsiel's hand grabbed mine, tugging me backward.
"This way," he said. "The first shots came from over here."
One of the distant screams took on a shriller note, filled with more than panic. Screams of pain.
We followed the sounds into a room of stationary bikes. A woman lay huddled in the corner, screaming as an elderly woman tied a tourniquet around her thigh, trying to stanch the flow of blood. Jaunty music played, then a man's chipper recorded voice came on, enjoining listeners to "pedal faster, but not too fast--save your strength for the big hill at the end."
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Across the room a woman my age still sat on a bike, pedaling erratically, stopping, then restarting, eyes wide with shock. Blood dribbled from a bullet nick under her arm. More blood, mixed with flecks of gore, spattered her face. That blood came not from her, but from the man in front of her. He lay backward over his bike, feet still trapped in the pedal straps, a hole through his eye socket.
Behind them, a young woman lay on the floor, convulsing, as a young man in sweats hunched over her, telling her, "It'll be all right, honey, just hold on, honey, help's on the way."
As I looked around the room, I remembered those newspaper clippings I'd seen in Lily's memory. Not single murders, but killing sprees. Lily said she wanted to be noticed. She wanted to be remembered. This wasn't about killing one man who ignored her. It was about killing everyone who ignored her, and that meant everyone she met, everyone she could hit.
"Savannah!"
Trsiel grabbed my arm.
"No!" I said, trying to yank free.
His grip only tightened, as firm and unyielding as the Nix's. "Go and make sure Savannah is safe. Then start hunting. If you see Lily--if you even think you see her--call me. Don't try to stop her. You can't."
"I know."
He released my arm and I tore off in the direction of the gym.
28
THE HALL HAD CLEARED AS EVERYONE JAMMED INTO the section near the narrow front doors. The panicked screams had given way to sobbing and angry shouts of "Move!" and "Get out of my way!" Through the commotion, though, the sound I heard loudest was the softest--the whimper of frightened children. I tried not to think about them, packed into that seething mob. People knew there were kids here--they wouldn't let panic override caution. Or so I told myself. It was the only way I could keep going in the opposite direction.
"Eve!"
I was almost at the gym when Kristof hailed me. I looked across the scattering of people to see his blond head cutting through them.
"Savannah," I said, rushing to him. "Where is she?"
"I can't find her."
"Here, I'll--"
He grabbed my arm as I raced past, toward the gym. "She's not there, Eve. The courts are empty. They closed for lunch hour. She must be in the cafeteria. Where is it?"
"No, Lucas just dropped her off. If her class was after lunch, she'd have eaten at home. She--Art! She has art class on Saturdays. They were downtown last year, but they must be here now. The studios are up the hall."
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