“Then tell me exactly what the gun and the dart looked like, and I'll say I saw it, too. No, wait! The dart. Derek pulled one out of his shirt, right? Do you know where it is?”

“I—I think so. ” I thought back, pictured him dropping it in the delivery bay. “Yes, I know exactly where it is. ”

“Then let's go get it. ”

* * *

It wasn't that easy. For all we knew, the factory yard was swarming with cops searching for two teen runaways. But when we looked out, the only people we saw were a half-?dozen factory workers, heading in to work Sunday overtime, laughing and talking, lunch pails swinging, takeout coffees steaming.

I took off my blood-?soaked sweatshirt and swapped it for Liz's hoodie. Then we crept out, moving from cover to cover. No sign of anyone looking for us. That made sense. How many teenagers run away in Buffalo every day? Even escaping from a home for disturbed kids wouldn't warrant a full-?out manhunt.

Last night, it had probably been only Lyle House employees chasing us. Maybe board members, like Tori's mother, more worried about the home's reputation than our safety. If they wanted to keep our escape quiet, they'd be gone before any factory employees arrived. By now they were probably in a meeting, deciding what to do and when to notify our parents—and the police.

I found the dart easily, and put it into my backpack. Then we headed for the business district, looping three blocks past Lyle House and keeping our eyes open. Nothing happened. We found a pay phone, I called for a cab, and gave the driver Aunt Lauren's address.

* * *

Aunt Lauren lived in a duplex near the university. When we walked up her steps, the Buffalo News was still there. I picked it up and rang the bell.

After a minute, a shadow passed behind the curtain. Locks clanked and the door flew open. Aunt Lauren stood there in a short bathrobe, hair wet.

“Chloe? Oh my God. Where—” She pulled the door open. “What are you doing here? Are you okay? Is everything all right?”

She tugged me inside by my injured arm and I tried not to wince. Her gaze shot to Rae.

“Aunt Lauren, this is Rae. From Lyle House. We need to talk to you. ”

* * *

As we went inside, I did a proper introduction. Then I told her the whole story. Well, the edited version. Very edited, with no mention of zombies, magic, or werewolves. The boys had been planning to run away and they'd invited us. We'd gone along just for fun—to get out, goof off, then go back later. Knowing Aunt Lauren didn't care for Dr. Gill, I included the part about her attacking me in the yard with her wild accusations. Then I told her about the gun.

She stared down at the dart, lying on her coffee table, on top of a stack of New Yorker magazines. She picked it up, gingerly, as if it might detonate, and turned it over in her hands.

“It's a tranquilizer dart,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

“That's what we thought. ”

“But—They shot this at you? At you?”

“At us. ”

She slumped back, leather squeaking under her.

“I was there, Dr. Fellows,” Rae said. “Chloe's telling the truth. ”

“No, I—” She lifted her gaze to mine. “I believe you, hon. I just can't believe—This is so completely…” She shook her head.

“Where did you find Lyle House?” I asked.

She blinked. “Find?”

“How did you find it for me? In the yellow pages? Through a recommendation?”

“It came highly recommended, Chloe. Very highly. Someone at the hospital told me about it and I did all my research. Their recovery rate is excellent and they had glowing reports from patients and their families. I can't believe this happened. ”

So I hadn't randomly arrived at Lyle House. It'd been recommended. Did that mean anything? I fingered Liz's hoodie and thought about us—all of us. No ordinary group home would track runaways with tranquilizer guns. The ghost had been right. There was a reason we'd been at Lyle House and now, withholding the truth from Aunt Lauren, I could be putting her into danger.

“About the ghosts . . . ” I began.

“You mean what that Gill woman said?” Aunt Lauren slapped the dart back onto the magazines with such force that the pile fell, magazines sliding across the glass table-?top. “The woman is obviously in need of mental help herself. Thinking you can communicate with ghosts? One whiff of that to a review board and her license will be revoked. She'll be lucky if she isn't committed. No sane person believes people can speak to the dead. ”

Okay, forget the confession…

Aunt Lauren rose. “I'm going to start by calling your father, then my lawyer, and he can contact Lyle House. ”

“Dr. Fellows?”

Aunt Lauren turned to Rae.

“Before you do that, you'd better take a look at Chloe's arm. ”

Forty-six

AUNT LAUREN TOOK ONE look and freaked out. I needed stitches, immediately. She didn't have the supplies at home, and I had to have full medical attention. Who knew what I might have severed or what filth or germs might have been on that glass? While she was rebandaging me, she made me drink a bottle of Gatorade to replace any fluids I'd lost from bleeding. Within ten minutes, Rae and I were in the back of her Mercedes, tearing from her garage.

I dozed off before we reached the first traffic light. I supposed all those sleepless nights had something to do with that. Being in Aunt Lauren's car helped, with its familiar smell of berry air freshener and its soft beige leather seats and the faded blue spot where I'd spilled a slushie three years ago. Back home. Back to normal.

I knew it wasn't that simple. I wasn't back to normal. And Derek and Simon were still out there and I was worried about them. But even that worry seemed to fade as the car bumped along, like I was leaving it behind in another life. A dream life. Part nightmare, part… not.

Raising the dead, escaping from the clutches of an evil doctor, tearing through abandoned warehouses with people shooting at me. It all seemed so unreal in this familiar car, the radio station tuned to WJYE, my aunt laughing at something Rae said about her choice of music, saying I complained, too. So familiar. So normal. So comforting.

And, yet, even as I drifted off, I clung to the memories of that other life, where the dead came to life and fathers disappeared and sorcerers conducted horrific experiments and buried the bodies under the house and boys could make fog appear from their fingertips or turn into wolves. Now it was over and it was like waking up to discover I couldn't see ghosts anymore. The feeling that I'd missed out on something that would make my life tougher but might also make it different. An adventure. Special.

* * *

I woke to Aunt Lauren shaking me.

“I know you're tired, hon. Just come on inside and you can go back to sleep. ”

I stumbled out of the car. She caught me, Rae diving in to help.

“Is she okay?” Rae asked my aunt. “She lost a lot of blood. ”

“She's exhausted. You both must be. ”

When the cold air hit, I yawned and gave my head a sharp shake. I could make out a building in front of me. I blinked hard and it came into focus. A yellow brick rectangle with a single, unmarked door.

“Is this the hospital?”

“No, it's a walk-?in clinic. I called Buffalo General and Mercy and their emergencies are packed. A typical Sunday morning. Between the Saturday night gunshot wounds and the drunk drivers, it's a zoo. I know a doctor here and we'll get you straight in. ”

Tags: Kelley Armstrong Darkest Powers Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net