Shadows (Ashes Trilogy 2)

“What?”

“I think there are two kids. Like, you know, old enough to be Chuckies.”

She could hear Luke’s eyes go wide. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Up till now, she’d never seen any normal kids walking into that mine—and now here were two. They were still too far away for her to make out much detail, but she thought one was a girl. The other kid wasn’t walking right. Hurt? Maybe.

“What’s up?”

She jumped, then looked over her shoulder at Tom, who was staring down at both of them. God, he was quiet as a cat. “Nothing,” she said, hoping Luke would keep his trap shut. Mellie said Tom needed to focus: Don’t make him feel worse about this than he already does. Telling him about two normal kids suddenly being on the Chuckies’ dinner menu would not be cool. “I mean . . . you know.”

A frown crept over his face. “You okay, Cindi?”

“She’s okay,” Luke said. “We were just looking at the wolfpeople. They’re this tribe into wearing wolf skins. We think something happened to the lead guy, that’s all.”

“And there are more Chuckies than we thought,” she added. “Like they hooked up with some friends and all came here together, you know?”

“Oh.” Tom was quiet a second, then said, “Luke, we better get going. I want to be in position by the time the moon rises. See you soon, Cindi.”

“You bet, Tom.” Okay, if she was honest, she knew that the fluttery feeling she got whenever Tom was near was incredibly lame. Like, hello, she was twelve. But Tom was so hot, with those dark blue eyes and wavy hair that was this incredible shade of brown with a lot of red, like really expensive cinnamon. And muscles. Like, real guy muscles. And he was so brave. No way she’d make things worse for him. “Be careful, okay?” She cringed as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Of all the things I could’ve said, that’s, like, complete girl.

“You, too.” Tom’s expression remained serious. “Things go bad, you get out of here, okay? Don’t let Mellie talk you into sticking around.”

“Nothing’s going to go wrong,” she said. “Good luck.”

Something swept through his face, fleet and fast. “Yeah,” he said, but the tight smile looked more like a grimace. “Luck.”

Much later, Cindi saw something that changed her mind about those two new kids. The one she’d thought was a girl definitely was, and probably a junior or senior. Nice hair, too: long and red. She’d kill for hair like that. Anyway, the girl, Red, was helping this seriously good-looking blond guy. But what got Cindi’s attention was when Red suddenly pulled up at just about the same moment as the wolf-girl, the one with the messed-up face and blonde hair.

That was when Cindi knew for sure: Red wasn’t a prisoner. She was a Chucky.

Well, thank goodness she hadn’t said anything to Tom. The knot in Cindi’s gut unraveled. If Tom had found out, he might not have gone through with bombing the mine. But there was no doubt in Cindi’s mind now. Only Chuckies acted like dogs catching a scent. So Tom and Luke and Weller blowing Red and her friends into eensy-weensy pieces was fine.

Oh, Red, Cindi thought, and smiled. Sucks to be you.

69

The mine complex was like a ghost town or something out of a news report on Iraq or Afghanistan, cluttered with decayed and bombed-out-looking buildings that were mostly broken shells of native stone and red brick. In the distance, south and east, the rusting girders of a steel headframe reared. But it was when she caught her first glimpse of the entrance to the mine that Alex was certain. She’d seen this before in all those photographs on the display table in that lake house. Why the Changed would gather together in the first place was anyone’s guess, but if they kept to the familiar, then coming here made sense. This must’ve been a favorite hangout, not only for the kids from Rule but for those of surrounding villages and towns. Actually, the scene reminded her, crazily, of a huge high school courtyard mobbed with students just before that final morning bell.

End of the road. She trudged along, following the sashaying sway of Spider and Leopard in their wolf skins. She should’ve been frightened, but she was too tired. Her shoulders ached from Daniel’s weight, and she was drenched in a hard sweat. She’d practically carried him, semiconscious and feverish, these last ten miles. He’d only dragged along, his boots scraping over snow, like a malfunctioning robot. The closer they got, the more the heavy smog-stink of boiled roadkill clogged the air, churning into a general fug. She could feel her throat trying to close against the oily stench. She spat, working to clear her mouth, but the fetor was stubborn and had glued itself to her tongue.

Then she caught something new. The contact was very brief, the product of the merest shift in a light breeze. Considering Daniel’s sickness, the fume of sewage, and the salt grime of her own skin, it was a wonder she snagged any stray scents at all. But she did, and when she caught it, just that little whiff, she went instantly rigid, Daniel’s nearly dead weight around her neck forgotten for the moment.

No, it can’t be. Alex threw a wild glance to the west. The moon wasn’t up yet, but the horizon was a wash of scarlet and neon orange. The day was dying and the breeze, too, and yet the scent feathered her nose, just for an instant: an aroma that was earlymorning mist spread across the dark shadows of a mirrored lake, and just as evanescent.

Chris? The realization coalesced in her throat as a hard lump. An image of the last time she’d seen him—unconscious in a startling splash of blood that stained the snow—floated from memory. Chris was alive and he was here? No, that couldn’t be right. She sucked in another breath, but the breeze must’ve shifted, because that fleeting odor was gone. She worried what was left, letting the smell ball and roll around her mouth. No, it wasn’t quite a match, was it? There were elements of Chris there, though. Maybe it was the general fug of the Changed, but the smell reminded her of—

No. The idea was so stunning she sucked in a sharp gasp. He’s dead. It can’t be—

Spider suddenly stiffened. A moment later, a hot, noxious odor, sharp as a quill, needled Alex’s nose. The stink was bitter with fury and frustration and reeked of dread. At his place by Spider’s side, Leopard had also gone very still. Their heads were thrown back and their mouths hung open as they drank in that strange scent. Then Spider swiveled. Her silver eyes, glittery with hate, pinned Alex with a glare. Alex stumbled back a half-step as if struck, and she felt herself drawing in, trying to grow small like a geeky kid anxious to avoid the notice of a class bully. Spider’s wound was better, probably because they’d taken their sweet time getting here. Leopard and the gang kept the larder stocked, so Spider had eaten well for over two weeks, when she wasn’t screwing her brains out. (Being Daniel’s roommate had been a mixed blessing, considering. But the way Leopard’s gaze continually scraped over her, Alex was just as happy that Spider kept him busy. God help her if Leopard ever got her alone.) But the rip in Spider’s cheek would never heal completely. Honestly, Spider looked a little bit like the villain in that Batman movie, the one who’d gotten half his face eaten away so you could see naked teeth and bone and muscle. Two-Face?