The Summoning

Thirty-eight

SIMON DOUBTED RAE HAD supernatural powers. There were fire half-demons, but by fifteen she should have been doing more than leaving marks that barely qualified as first-degree burns. He didn't think she was lying. She was just too eager to believe.

I suspected he was right. Given up at birth, displaced by younger siblings, tossed into Lyle House with strangers and forgotten, it would mean so much to Rae to be special. I'd seen it in her face that morning, glowing with excitement.

The person slowest to dismiss the idea was Derek. He didn't say he believed Rae was a half-demon, but his silence said he was considering the possibility. Last night was still bugging him —and me—our failure to find or dismiss a connection between us, Samuel Lyle, and those supernatural bodies in the cellar. If Rae was a half-demon and Liz might be a shaman, then the possibility we were here by chance plummeted.

You could argue that a group home for disturbed teens isn't an unusual place to find teenage supernaturals, especially those who don't know what they are. Our symptoms could be massaged to fit known psychiatric disorders, and, since everyone knew it was impossible to contact the dead or to burn people with your bare hands or toss a kid aside and break his neck —the obvious solution would be that we were mentally ill. Hallucinating, obsessed with fire, uncontrollably violent . . .

But there was nothing paranormal about Tori's mood swings. Peter had apparently been in for some kind of anxiety disorder and that didn't fit the pattern either.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling I was missing something, that the connection was there and my brain was too distracted by other problems to see it. I suspected Derek felt the same.

Whether Rae was a supernatural or not, we all agreed, she should come with us. To Derek, it wasn't so much a matter of should we let her come as do we dare let her stay. What if she retaliated by telling the nurses? 1 couldn't see that, but after we were gone, if they came down hard on her, she'd cave before Derek did.

Derek's only condition was that we'd keep the details about our powers and our plans vague, at least for now.

I told Rae, and then Derek dropped the bomb none of us expected. We had to leave that night.

Since it was Saturday, we'd have all day to prepare, and chores gave us an excuse for poking around the house, gathering supplies. Tonight Miss Van Dop was off and the weekend nurse was much less likely to realize we were up to something. It was better to go now, before anything else went wrong.

Once 1 got past the initial "OMG, you mean tonight!" panic, I had to agree the sooner we left, the better.

So, while Rae stood guard cleaning the girls bathroom, I packed.

I'd packed for camp many times but, in comparison, this was agonizing. For every item I put in, I had to consider how badly I needed it, how much room and weight it would add, and whether I'd be better off picking it up on the road.

The brush was out, and the comb was in. Deodorant, definitely in. My iPod and lipgloss might not be essential for daily life, but they were tiny enough to keep. Soap, a toothbrush, and toothpaste would need to be bought later because I couldn't afford to have anyone notice them missing from the bathroom now.

Next came clothing. It was still cool, especially at night. Layering would be the key. I packed as Aunt Lauren taught me when we'd spent a week in France. I'd wear a sweatshirt, long-sleeved pullover, and T-shirt with jeans. In the bag, I'd have two more T-shirts, another pullover, and three pairs of socks and underwear.

Would that be enough? How long would we be on the run?

I'd been avoiding that question since I'd first offered to go. Simon and Derek seemed to think we'd find their dad pretty quickly. Simon had spells and just needed to travel around Buffalo, casting them.

It sounded easy. Too easy?

I'd seen the looks in their eyes. Derek's barely concealed worry. Simon's stubborn conviction. When pressed, they'd both admitted that, if they couldn't find their dad, there were other supernaturals they could contact.

If it took longer than a few days, I had a bank card and the money from my dad. Simon and Derek had a bank card, too, with emergency funds their dad had stashed for them, at least a thousand dollars each, they thought. We'd need to withdraw as much as we could immediately, before anyone knew we were gone and started tracking us. Derek would keep his card and cash in case he needed it, but we'd have Simon's money plus mine. That would get us through.

Whatever happened, we'd be fine. Another shirt, though, might not be a bad idea.

Shirt . . . That reminded me . . .

1 shoved my backpack under the bed, slipped down to Tori's room. The door was ajar. Through it, I could see that Tori's bed was empty. I gave a gentle push.

"Hello?" She sprang up from Rae's old bed, ripping out her earbuds. "Knock much?"

"I —I thought you were downstairs."

"Oh, so you were going to take advantage of that, were you? Set your little scheme in motion?"

I opened the door and stepped inside. "What scheme?"

"The one you and your gang have been planning. I've seen you skulking around, plotting against me."

"Huh?"

She wound the earbud wire around her MP3 player, yanking it tight, as if imagining it going around my neck instead. "You think I'm stupid? You're not as sweet and innocent as you seem, Chloe Saunders. First, you seduce my boyfriend."

"Boy — Seduce?"

'Then you bat your baby blues at tall, dark, and gruesome, and next thing you know, he's trailing you like a lost puppy."

"What?"

"And now, to make sure everyone in the house is against me, you pull in Rachelle. Don't think I missed your powwow this morning."

"And you think we're . . . plotting against you?" I sputtered a laugh and leaned back against the dresser. "How do you get that ego through the door, Tori? I'm not interested in revenge. I'm not interested in you at all. Get it?"

She slid to the edge of the bed, feet touching down, eyes narrowing. "You think you're clever, don't you?"

I slumped back against the dresser with an exaggerated sigh. "Don't you ever quit? You're like a broken record. Me, me, me. The world revolves around Tori. No wonder even your mom thinks you're a spoiled —"

I stopped myself, but it was too late. For a moment, Tori froze in mid-rise. Then, slowly, she crumpled back onto the bed.

"I didn't mean —"

"What do you want, Chloe?" She tried to put some bite in the words, but they came out quiet, weary.

"Liz's shirt," I said after a moment. "Rae says you borrowed a green hoodie from Liz."

She waved toward the dresser. "It's in there. Middle drawer. Mess it up and you can refold everything."

And that was it. No "Why do you want it?" or even "Did she call asking for it?" Her gaze had already gone distant. Doped up? Or beyond caring?

I found the shirt. An emerald green Gap hoodie. A personal effect.

I shut the drawer and straightened.

"You got what you came for," Tori said. "Now run along and play with your friends."

I walked to the door, grasped the handle, then turned to face her.

'Tori?"

"What?"

I wanted to wish her luck. I wanted to tell her I hoped she got what she was looking for, what she needed. I wanted to tell her I was sorry.

With everything that went on at Lyle House, and the discovery that at least three of us didn't belong here, it was easy to forget that some kids did. Tori had problems. Expecting her to behave like any normal teenage girl, then shunning and insulting her when she didn't, was like mocking the slow kids at school. She needed help and support and consideration, and she hadn't gotten it from anyone but Liz.

I clutched Liz's shirt in my hands and tried to think of something to say, but anything I did say would come out wrong, condescending.

So I said the only thing I could. "Good-bye."