Thirteen (Otherworld 13)

Only it wasn't. We were in a room with dead people. Dead people who'd been carved up and ripped up and chewed on, and at any moment someone was going to come through the station door and find blood and entrails decorating the chief's office.

Jaime was right. We had to get out of here. And, yes, that meant that after nine years, I couldn't stop to hug my mother, even though she might disappear back to the afterlife at any moment. But that's how it was. Life isn't fair. Not when there are bodies to dispose of.

It took about thirty seconds to realize that we couldn't do it. Hiding the bodies was useless, given the sheer amount of blood. All we could do was take the first-aid kit--which we'd touched--look around and determine that we hadn't touched anything else except the baton in the door. Take that, too. Smear our footprints in the blood. Hope that my blood would go undetected. Pray we hadn't shed hairs--rather, pray they weren't found. Really, in general, we just prayed that the Cortezes could cover this up.

Could even a Cabal cover it up? I wasn't so sure. Didn't want to think about that.

Next we went into the locker room to find clean shirts for Mom and me. We grabbed a blouse and a gym top from Medina's locker. Jaime changed into Medina's sneakers. They weren't a great fit, but they'd do, though she insisted on taking her heels, too--they were her favorites. My jacket was back in the cell, remarkably clean. My wallet and Jaime's purse were in the front room. Mom found our processing papers hidden inside Medina's desk. We took those, too.

Last and maybe most important was video surveillance. But we got lucky there. The camera was an old tape one that monitored only the reception room. We'd never been in there. I grabbed the tape anyway.

Before we left, I borrowed Jaime's phone--which had been in her purse--and texted Adam. A simple we're fine, don't come after us. Last thing we needed was to have Adam and Jeremy show up right as the authorities discovered the bloodbath within.

I didn't even have time to put the phone away before he texted back. Can u call?

Mom leaned over to read the screen and shook her head. "Later."

I texted back soon.

SEVEN

As I noted earlier, the station house was on a regional highway surrounded by swampy fields. So no easy escape. If a vehicle went missing from a house near the massacre scene, the cops wouldn't rest until they found it.

That meant heading back toward New Orleans on foot, through marshy fields of thigh-high grass, our shoes squishing in the mud. The sun beat down and humidity rose from the moist ground like a steam bath. When we made it to a strip of moss-laden cypress, I called Adam.

"Are you okay?" he said in lieu of a greeting.

"I'm fine. How's Bryce?"

"Holding up. The jet's almost here. He's going to Miami--at least temporarily. But about you . . . ?"

"Yeah, sorry for the cryptic text, but we wanted to make sure Jeremy didn't try to track Jaime down."

"He hasn't yet. Lucas called and said you two had been arrested and that he didn't want us going after you. He was very calm about the whole thing."

"Lucas is very calm about everything."

Adam chuckled. "Yeah, well, I wasn't. Even Jeremy was getting antsy. But Lucas insisted we hang tight until there was a cause for panic. So everything's okay now? You guys are out?"

"We are. As for okay . . ."

I stumbled over a vine. Mom caught my arm and whispered, "Watch your step, Savannah."

"Who's that?" Adam said.

"Uh . . ." I looked at my mother. "Long story. Anyway, um, yeah, about the jail . . ."

"You broke out?"

"Er, not exactly. The officer who arrested us said we were free to go. After the rampaging werewolf episode."

"Rampaging werewolf?"

"He was drugged."

"Which explains everything." Adam took a deep breath. "Okay, full story later. Short version: rampaging werewolf and impromptu jail release. Which will take some council work to fix, but the main point is that you're out and--"

"There's . . . more."