“Climbing out the window,” Dr. Davidoff said.

I nodded. “I didn’t know I’d hurt myself, so we ran. Derek wanted to get us as far from that warehouse as possible. We seemed to run and run, going around all these storage buildings, trying to find a good hiding spot. I—I wasn’t paying much attention. It was dark and I couldn’t see. Derek could, so I followed him.”

“A werewolf’s enhanced night vision,” Dr. Davidoff murmured.

“We finally found a spot that Derek said would make a good place to hide and we should stay there until you guys left. But then he smelled the blood—”

Aunt Lauren’s hand tightened on my shoulder, as if imagining me seconds away from being devoured.

“So he helped me,” I continued. “He bandaged it up. But he said it was bad and I needed stitches. Then he smelled Simon. That’s why we left—because of my arm and Simon—but before we did, he said the spot would make a good hiding place, that we should remember it.”

“And you didn’t,” Tori said. “Nice going.”

“It was dark and I was confused. I figured he meant he’d remember it—”

“We understand, Chloe,” Dr. Davidoff said. “And you’re right. It certainly sounds more promising than your other suggestions. As for whether you’ll know it when you see it, though…”

“We had to rip up my T-shirt to bandage my arm. The rest of my shirt should still be there.”

“All right, then. Chloe, you go with Mrs. Enright—”

Aunt Lauren’s hands gripped my shoulders. “I’ll take Chloe.”

“No, you’ll take Victoria.”

“But—”

Tori’s mom cut her off. “Do you have blur spells, Lauren?”

“No, but—”

“Do you have any powers at all?”

Aunt Lauren’s grip on my shoulder tightened. “Yes, Diane. I have the power of medicine, which is why I should be the first on the scene when Simon is found—”

“You’ll be nearby,” Dr. Davidoff said. “I need Chloe to have an escort, but we can’t let the boys see her escort. Diane will take care of that.”

Eleven

A BLUR SPELL TURNED out to be like something you see in sci-fi movies, where the villain all but disappears, camouflaged behind a magical force field. As an effect, it’s easily done. Apparently, it’s just as easy in real life, if you’re a witch.

Tori’s mom walked right beside me, nearly invisible. With no chance to take off, I had to play my role, searching for the rendezvous spot, which gave me the excuse to look for an escape opportunity. Maybe a hole in the wall too small for Tori’s mom to follow me through or a precarious stack of boxes I could topple onto her head or an abandoned hammer I could brain her with.

I’d never “brained” anyone in my life, but with Tori’s mom, I was willing to try.

From the front road, the place looked like a regular factory with a few outbuildings. Once you got back here, though, there were buildings everywhere, a lot of them not even being used. Prime real estate. Or it would be…without the smog-spouting factory to bring down the neighborhood.

Those spewing stacks were the only sign the factory was operational. Probably running well below capacity, barely hanging on, like a lot of industry in Buffalo. I had no idea what they made. Metal stuff, it looked like from the stock in the warehouses. Once, when we were darting between buildings, we had to duck behind some barrels as a trucker drove through the lot, but that was the only employee we saw.

The third building we checked was open, so Tori’s mom didn’t need to cast a spell to unlock it. As we stepped in, I thought, This looks promising. The last two had been filled with equipment and rolls of metal. This one seemed unused, and was scattered with crates. They weren’t stacked precariously, but there was a whole warehouse to search.

As we moved in deeper, I saw what looked like an off-balance stack. Near it was a pile of small metal pipes, the perfect size for braining someone.

I headed toward the pipes, my gaze on the ground, as if searching for my torn shirt.

“I think we can stop this charade now, Chloe,” Tori’s mom said.

I turned slowly, taking a moment to plaster on my best wide-eyed look.

“There’s no shirt here,” she said, “or rendezvous point. Perhaps there is, somewhere in this complex, but not here.”

“Let’s try the next—”

She caught my arm as I walked past. “We all know you’re trying to escape again. Marcel only hopes the real rendezvous point is nearby and that you’re laying a trail right now, one that will entice Derek back to investigate once he thinks we’re gone.”

Laying a trail? Oh, no. Why hadn’t I thought of that? I didn’t need to be here to get Derek’s attention. If he smelled that I’d been near the factory…

“I-I’m not trying to escape. I want to help Simon. We need to find—”

“The boys don’t interest me. You do.”

“Me?”

Her grip on my arm tightened. “All those kids had been at Lyle House for months, behaving themselves, working so hard to get better. Then you arrive and suddenly we have a full-scale mutiny on our hands. Within a week, four residents are on the run. Quite the little instigator, aren’t you?”

I’d been the catalyst, not the instigator. But it wouldn’t win me any brownie points to correct her.

She continued. “You took action while the rest swallowed our lies and prayed for rescue. My daughter didn’t even have the guts to join you.”

Umm, because you crushed any fight left in her? Because you made her think she had to play perfect patient to please you?

“The Fates played us a nasty twist, Chloe Saunders. They stuck you with dear Aunt Lauren, always fretting and wringing her hands. A perfect match for my spineless daughter. But where fate wrongs us, free will can make things right. I think you and I can reach an agreement that will benefit us both.” She released my arm. “Dr. Gill tells me you contacted spirits from Lyle’s early experiments.”

I said nothing, my gaze steady.

“I know she confronted you,” Tori’s mom continued. “Something of a fanatic, our Dr. Gill, as I’m sure you noticed. She’s obsessed with Lyle’s secrets. Ambition is healthy. Obsession is not.” She eyed me. “So what did these spirits tell you?”

“Nothing. I’d accidentally raised them from the dead, so they weren’t too interested in chatting with me.”

She laughed. “I suppose not. But for you, at your age, to raise the dead…?” Her eyes glittered. “Remarkable.”

Okay, that was dumb. I just confirmed I’d raised the dead. A lesson in playing it cool—don’t.

“Could you contact them again?” she asked.

“I could try.”

“Resourceful and reasonable. That’s a combination that will take you far. Here’s what we’ll do, then. I’ll tell Dr. Davidoff we found the spot here. The shirt was gone, likely taken by the boys. But they left this.” She pulled a page from her pocket. It was from Simon’s sketch pad, carefully torn out. On one side was a partial drawing, clearly Simon’s work. On the other side, she’d written in block letters: BSC CAFE 2 PM.

“Meet at the Buffalo State cafeteria at two,” I said. “The page is too clean, though. They’ll know it wasn’t left here.”

I took it, walked over by the metal pipe, crouched, and brushed the note across the dirty floor. Then I paused, still hunched over, and looked up at her.

“What about the insulin?”

“I’m sure those boys have already found some.”

“Can we leave it here, just in case?”

She hesitated. She didn’t want to bother, but if it would win my trust…

“I’ll get the vials from Lauren later and bring them back,” she said. “Now, though, we need to report that note.”

She turned to leave. I wrapped my fingers around a metal pipe, then sprang up, swinging it at the back of her head.

She spun, fingers flicking. I sailed backward into a stack of boxes, the pipe flying from my hands and clanging to the floor. I scrambled for it, but she was faster, snatching it up and brandishing it.

Her mouth opened, but before she could get out a word, a crate shot from the stack over my head. She sidestepped as it whizzed past. Behind it stood Liz.

I lunged for the pile of pipes, but Mrs. Enright hit me with another spell. My feet sailed out, my outstretched hands hitting the floor, pain blasting through my injured arm. As I looked around, I caught a glimpse of Liz’s nightshirt behind the stacks of crates.

“Elizabeth Delaney, I presume.” Mrs. Enright moved back against a wall, her gaze flitting from side to side, ready for the next flying object. “So it seems, in death, you’ve finally mastered your powers. If only it had been sooner. Such a waste.”

Liz froze between stacks, her face stricken as Mrs. Enright confirmed her death. Then she squared her shoulders and, eyes narrowing, fixed them on a stack of crates.

“Even in death, you can be useful, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Enright said. “A poltergeist is a rare find, one that will help Dr. Davidoff overcome his disappointment at losing dear Simon and Derek.”

The crates shuddered and cracked as Liz pushed, tendons popping with the strain. I frantically motioned for her to concentrate on just the top one. She nodded and pushed it…but Mrs. Enright simply stepped out of range.

“Enough of that, Elizabeth,” she said calmly as the crates crashed behind her.

Liz grabbed a loose board and hurled it at her.

“I said, enough.”

She hit me with another spell, this one a jolt of electricity that left me on the floor, gasping and shaking. Liz crouched over me. I whispered I was okay and pushed up until I was sitting. My whole body throbbed.

Mrs. Enright looked around, unable to see Liz unless she was moving something. “I can’t hurt you, Elizabeth, but I can hurt Chloe. If so much as a scrap of wood flies, I’ll hit her with another energy bolt. Is that clear?”

I struggled to my feet, then raced for the door. I made it five feet before I froze. Literally.

“It’s called a binding spell,” Mrs. Enright said. “Very useful. Now, Elizabeth, you are going to behave while Chloe and I—”

The spell broke. I stumbled, twisting to regain my balance, and looked up to see her frozen instead. A dark figure stepped from the shadows.

“A binding spell?” Tori strolled over. “Is that what you call it, Mom? You’re right. It is useful.”

She walked in front of her mother’s still form. “So I’m a disappointment, am I? Chloe is the daughter you wish you’d had? You know, I’d be really hurt by that…if I thought you actually knew her. Or me.” She stepped closer. “Shopping, Mom? I’m locked in a cell, my life is falling apart, and you really believed I wanted to go shopping? You don’t know me any better than she does.” She waved at me. “You—”

Tori staggered back with a gasp as her mother broke free and hit her with a spell.

“You’ve got a lot of learning to do, Victoria, if you think you can hurt me.”

Tori met her mother’s gaze. “You think I came here for revenge? This is called an escape.”

“Escape? So you’re going to run off and live on the streets? Daddy’s princess sleeping in alleys?”

Tori’s eyes flashed, but she only said calmly, “I’ll be fine.”

“With what? Did you bring money? A bank card?”

“And how would I get that, when you locked me up?”

“I bet Chloe has some. I bet she never left her room without it, just in case.”

They both looked at me. I didn’t say a word, but my answer must have shown on my face. Mrs. Enright laughed.

“Oh, I’m going to get money, Mom,” Tori said. “I’ll take it from you.”

She slammed her arms down and a wave of energy smacked into her mother and me, tottering us backward. Tori waved her hands over her head. Sparks flew, caught in a gust of wind that wailed around us in a whirlwind of dirt and sawdust. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my nose and mouth.

“You call that powerful magic, Victoria?” her mother shouted over the wind. “It’s a temper tantrum. You haven’t changed at all. Only now, you call on the forces of nature to howl and stomp for you.”

“You think that’s all I can do? Just watch—”

Tori froze in a binding spell. The wind stopped. The dust and sparks fluttered to the floor.

“I’m watching,” Mrs. Enright said, “and all I see is a spoiled brat with a fancy new car, tearing around, not caring who gets hurt. As selfish and inconsiderate as ever.”

Tori’s eyes glistened with tears. As her mother advanced on her, I eased back toward the pile of metal pipes.

“Now, Victoria, if you’re done throwing tantrums, I’m going to call Lauren to come and get you, and hopefully she can manage to keep you this time.”

Liz was circling toward Mrs. Enright, her gaze on another pile of crates. I shook my head. The angle was wrong and she’d see it falling. I bent and lifted a bar.

“Lauren Fellows won’t be the only person reprimanded for this little escapade,” Mrs. Enright continued. “You’ve just earned yourself a week in your room, alone, no classes, no visitors, no MP3 player. Just a lot of time to think about—”

I swung the pipe. It hit the back of her head with an ugly thwack. The weapon flew from my hands. She teetered and I thought I hadn’t hit her hard enough. I tripped over my feet to get to the pipe, now rolling away.