Traps and Specters (23 page)

Solana said, “Who else has sight on the target?”

“I got him,” Hannah said as she touched down on a new rooftop beside a chimney, smoke twining around her body. She dropped to her rear and pressed her back against the cold stack of bricks. Directly across Jenkins Street was Clarksville Elementary. Hannah peered at the foggy bell tower for Tameron, but couldn't see him.

“I'm across from the school,” she said.

“By me?” Tameron asked.

“Yep.”

“Give me a visual.”

“See the two-story house blowing smoke?” Hannah asked.

“Yeah.”

Hannah lifted her hand high and waved it in the streaming white vapor. “Hola.”

“Perfect,” said Sam. “We have him on all sides.”

Hannah peered down Jenkins Street and watched the fog continue to break around DeGraff. “Sam,” she said, “how you want to play this?”

“I'm working on it,” Sam answered. He was still crouched low on the rooftop, his silver feathers blanketing the shingles around him. “Hannah—you seeing anyone in the street?”

“Negative.”

“Tameron—anyone on your end yet?”

“Nope.”

“Then I'm going to take him,” Sam said.

“In the middle of the
street
?” Tameron asked.

“We can do this right now,” Sam said. “We can
end
this.”

Silence passed across the channel, then Ella's voice came on: “He's right. Let's bring this guy down. If we get spotted, so what; we'll deal with it.”

Sam stood and scanned both ends of the street. Most of the porch lights were out. He charged down the rooftop, jumped over its edge, and snapped open his wings. After steering around a few tall trees, he coasted out above Jenkins Street.

As he passed over the scouts, DeGraff came into full view. He was running. About fifty feet in front of Sam, Clarksville Elementary rose from the fog.

One of Sam's wings whapped a branch, and DeGraff swung his shadowy face around. Seeing Sam, he lowered his head and picked up speed.

“He's headed for the west entrance of the zoo!” Tameron shouted into the airwaves.

“Sam!”
Hannah shouted.
“Do it now!”

Sam swept toward the street. With a thrust of his legs, four steel hooks sprang from each shoe. He sailed down, his talons aimed at DeGraff's shoulders. But just as Sam struck, DeGraff dove off the street and landed in a roll on the front lawn of Clarksville Elementary. Sam swung around in a wide circle, steering through the tall oaks along the curb and then crossing over Hannah. He saw DeGraff charge toward the school, away from the zoo wall.

“You guys seeing this?” Sam said.

After his friends answered yes, Solana asked, “What do you want us to do?”

“Descend,” Sam instructed.

CHAPTER 44

T
ank stared at the engraving above the mouth of the tunnel: “Clarksville Elementary.” Was it possible that this passage actually connected to the scouts' school? The thought filled him with dread.

A deep growl came from behind him, and before he could react, something struck the side of his head. He collapsed to the ground and lay there, pain pushing through his temples, light flashing across his sight. The ring in his ears was deafening. As the side of his face slowly sank into the mud, a large, spiny insect squirmed onto his neck, leaving a trail of slime. The world-gone-sideways began to blur as he teetered on the edge of consciousness.

Something moved into his vision. A foot—a foot the size of a child's torso. Mangy hair fell off its heel, sprouted between its toes, and dragged through the mud. Its nails were like swollen claws. A sasquatch.

Tank tried to move and couldn't. The world continued to gray, and the ringing became a low drone.

He heard a voice behind him—a deep, gravelly voice that seemed to come from something less than human: “Now bring me the others.”

Something clutched Tank's ankles and hoisted his legs. A second later, he was being dragged backward. Mud oozed into his clothes and packed into his ear. Too stunned to resist, he watched a sasquatch move into the tunnel marked Clarksville Elementary, its shoulders slumped to fit beneath the low ceiling. The beast was followed by another, and another, and another. Before Tank could count their number, the drone in his ears stopped and the world went black.

CHAPTER 45

A
s Noah veered off Jenkins Street and led the scouts onto Clarksville Elementary's courtyard in pursuit of DeGraff, something appeared on the edges of his vision. He swung his head to see Solana running toward the school, her long, flat quills bouncing on her arms and torso and swinging from the backs of her hands. Just beyond her, Tameron dove from the school rooftop, thin bands of armor spreading across his body, his tail releasing from his canvas bag. As he landed, he lowered his shoulder and rolled on the ground, his armor protecting him. Then he ran after DeGraff, who had just charged off the courtyard and headed toward the back of the building.

Noah glanced at the other scouts. Ella's jaw hung open, Megan's lips moved with soundless words, and Richie's eyes seemed to swim behind his taped-up glasses. The three of them couldn't believe what was happening any more than Noah could.

As the four friends chased after DeGraff, Sam flew over them, the wind from his wings wagging Ella's cape and tossing Megan's pigtails. Hannah lunged from the peak of a nearby house and touched down briefly in the courtyard before springing up and out again. She passed over Sam and then touched down on top of the school's west wing.

DeGraff disappeared behind the corner of the building.

“Keep on him!” Sam said.

As Tameron and Solana rounded the corner, Sam swooped over the rooftop and Hannah jumped down to the other side. The scouts turned the corner after them and Noah watched as Hannah, in the air again, came down in front of DeGraff, who dodged left, then charged out into the playground. He only got a few feet before being blocked by Sam, who'd landed with his arms out to his sides, his wings open like a feathery wall. As DeGraff ran in a new direction, Solana plucked a handful of quills and threw them. More than a dozen barbs studded DeGraff's backside. The Shadowist fell forward and tumbled through the wood chips. His hat fell off and rolled on its circular brim to a stop ten feet away.

The Descenders quickly surrounded him, and then so did the scouts. Facedown, DeGraff writhed in pain, quills sticking from his back and hamstrings like needle-thin daggers. Noah tried to see his face but could only make out a glimpse of his profile—his cheek, ear, and jawline. He looked human.

It was Sam who spoke first: “Get up.”

No response. DeGraff continued to squirm, his sweeping limbs piling the wood chips at his sides. Around him stood the play equipment, its beams and bars looking like fresh frameworks of puny buildings.

Tameron kicked DeGraff's leg. “Get up before I make you get up.”

The Shadowist said nothing. With his face still down, he reached around, grabbed a fistful of quills, and ripped them from his flesh. He howled in agony and tried to crawl away from the pain, his arms and legs slipping on the ground. After a few seconds, he stopped and lay there, his arms spread out in front of him, the soles of his black boots overturned. Then he did something that Noah doubted anyone would have imagined. He began to whimper. His broken cries were barely audible, but they were clear.

“Get up!”
Tameron said. He reached down, seized a few of Solana's quills, and tore them from DeGraff's back.
“Up!”

Noah grimaced as the Shadowist howled a second time. After a few seconds, his howl softened to a whimper.

“Guys,” Noah said, “maybe we should—”

Tameron held up a finger at Noah—an unmistakable message for him to keep quiet. As Tameron reached down to grab more quills, Sam seized his wrist, stopping him.

“Hold up,” Sam said.

Through the eyeholes in his thin helmet, Tameron stared at his friend.

Sam said nothing else. In his silence, DeGraff's sounds became louder, more distinct. DeGraff wasn't whimpering—he was
laughing
.

“You got to be kidding me,” Tameron said. Then, to DeGraff: “What could you
possibly
be laughing at?”

His laughter grew louder and stronger. Then he slowly rolled over, the remaining quills in his back bending flat. As his face turned up, his full identity was revealed for the first time.

“This,” he said. “I'm laughing at
this
.”

Lying before them was a man the Crossers had seen before. He had a thin face and sunken cheeks covered in splotchy freckles. And even in the darkness and fog, the color of his hair was visible. Red.

“Charlie …” Noah breathed.

Charlie Red squinted his already-squinty eyes and bawled laughter. His breath wafted off his lips like smoke from the mouth of a dragon. The Crossers stood there, too stunned to speak.

Ella took a step forward. “Wait a minute—was it you in my front yard that night?”

A sudden peak in Charlie's wicked laughter confirmed that it was.

“But …” Megan said. “Why?”