But he couldn’t say any of that. He could only sit in my living room and watch it on TV.
I sat on the sofa beside him and scratched behind his ears. It didn’t solve anything, I knew, but I’ve always found that a well-placed scalp massage makes everything seem better.
Mab had gone to bed; I’d insisted she stay in my room. This should be snuggling time for Kane and me, but, well, things weren’t the same right now. We sat on the sofa, his head pressed against my thigh, my fingers moving through his warm fur. A girl and her wolf. No, not the same at all.
Kane got up and stretched. He flicked his tongue against my cheek, then jumped down to the floor. He went to the front door and sniffed along its edge. Then he circled once and lay down. Protective, making sure the bad guys didn’t cross the threshold. But I didn’t want a guard dog, I thought as I turned out the light. I wanted Kane.
If Myrddin stayed true to his pattern, the Reaper would strike again tomorrow night. To prevent another murder—and to force Myrddin to change Kane back—we had to find Pryce. If the Old Ones were hiding him, Juliet was our best chance for rooting him out. She’d been involved with the Old Ones for weeks; she must know where they were holed up. But Juliet was in some kind of vampire coma, and unless Daniel’s lab guy came through with an antidote, I had no idea how to wake her up.
These thoughts circled my brain like sharks circling a shipwreck survivor in a rudderless boat. I would have sworn I didn’t sleep at all, but when the phone rang, it jolted me awake. I blinked against the daylight streaming through the windows. I remembered I was on the sofa and fumbled around on the end table until I found the phone.
“Yeah?” I croaked.
“Vicky Vaughn, please,” said an unfamiliar male voice.
“Speaking.” I rubbed my eyes, wondering what time it was.
“Are you related to a child named Maria Santini?”
I sat straight up. My pulse surged as terrifying words like accident and abduction leapt into my mind. “She’s my niece. Why, what—?”
“We’ve got her here at the Milk Street checkpoint, Boston side. She was trying to leave the city and enter Designated Area 1. To find you, she says.”
“Don’t let her through.” The idea of Maria wandering around Deadtown by herself terrified me.
“No, ma’am. That’s why I’m calling. She’s an unaccompanied minor without the proper paperwork.”
“What about her parents—shouldn’t you call them, let them know where she is?”
“She won’t give me her folks’ number, and I don’t have time to call all the Santinis in the phone book.”
“My sister’s number is unlisted, but I can—”
“Hang on.” His voice grew distant and muffled as he spoke away from the phone. “Well, this is highly irregular,” he said, coming back on the line, “but she wants to talk to you.”
I waited a moment as he passed her the phone. “Maria?”
“Aunt Vicky, please don’t call my mom. Please. I need to talk to you first.” Desperation pushed her voice to the edge of tears.
“Okay, I won’t. Not until we’ve talked. But you know she’s worried about you.”
Silence.
“Maria, stay right where you are until I get there. I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”
“Okay.” Her breath caught in a tiny sob. “Can you hurry?”
“I will, sweetie. I’ll be there as fast as I can. Put the man back on the phone.”
“Yes?” the guard said a moment later.
“I’m on my way. Please keep an eye on her until I get there.”
“Of course. Make sure you bring proper ID. You must prove you’re her aunt. I can’t release a child to just anyone.”
“You’d better not. I’ll be there in ten minutes. What time is it now?”
“Almost ten thirty.”
“Okay. Ten minutes.”
Kane sat in front of me, watching, his ears pricked up. I told him where I was going and scrawled a note for Mab. I didn’t want to disturb Mab in my bedroom, so I raided the bathroom hamper for clothes. I found a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt that weren’t too wrinkled and smelled okay—not that any of that mattered with Maria waiting, alone and frightened.
I grabbed my ID and my passport. In the living room, a bookshelf displayed a framed photograph of Maria and me from last summer. We’d spent the day at an amusement park near Springfield, and when we rode the roller coaster they snapped a photo at the steepest part. Maria and I sat together. She leaned forward, hair streaming back, her cheeks glowing pink, her eyes lit up with excitement. It was my favorite photo of her. I stuck it in my purse. It wouldn’t mean a thing to the border guard, but to me it showed Maria and I were family.
MARIA SAT ON THE CURB BESIDE THE WALK-UP CHECKPOINT booth. She huddled there, her chin resting on a pink backpack propped in her lap. I called her name. Her head snapped in my direction, and she jumped up and ran to me. She hugged me like she hadn’t seen me in years.
“Boston’s big,” she said, her face pressed into my shoulder. “It didn’t look so big when my class took a field trip to the aquarium.”
“No worries.” I kept my voice light. “I know my way around.”
As if suddenly remembering she was almost a teenager, not a scared little kid, she unwrapped her arms from my waist and stepped back. But she stayed close as I talked to the checkpoint guard.
“You live in DA-1?” the guard said, looking at my ID. “You can’t take her in there, you know. She doesn’t have the paperwork.”
“Fine with me.” I had no intention of escorting my niece through the zombie-filled streets, even though most of the zombies were home sleeping off the excitement of their protest. “We’ll stay on the human side.”
The guard swiped my card and squinted at his computer screen. He tapped some keys, then tapped a few more. I put my arm around Maria’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. She stood as stiff and rigid as a concrete pillar.
I thought the guard would insist on calling Maria’s parents, but he didn’t. He seemed more interested in getting the problem of an unaccompanied minor off his desk than in making sure she got home safely. When the database confirmed I was family, he printed out two papers and pushed them over for me to sign. One was an application for a permit to leave Deadtown under code-red restrictions. The other document stated that I was Maria’s aunt and accepted responsibility for her.
The guard stamped the application and printed out a permit, which he instructed me to keep with me at all times. He nodded at me, indicating we were free to go. The problem was out of his hair.
I hoisted Maria’s backpack over my left shoulder and hugged her close with my right arm. She was still stiff, but she relaxed a little against me.
“You must be hungry,” I said. “How about some ice cream?” It was one of those March days that made you think maybe winter would loosen its hold before too much longer. Not hot enough to be real ice-cream weather, but with enough promise of future warmth to make ice cream seem like a pretty good idea.
Maria started to shake her head, her eyes clouded with apprehension, but she changed her mind and nodded. Her lips curved a little, but the half-smile didn’t push away the worry.
I kept my arm loosely around her shoulders as we walked the block or so to the ice-cream parlor. Neither of us said anything, but my mind roiled with questions. Foremost among them: Why on earth had Maria skipped school to try to visit me in Deadtown? And why didn’t she want me to call Gwen?
Inside the shop, smells of coffee and vanilla greeted us. I moved toward the soda fountain–style counter. With its spinning stools, it was always the kids’ favorite place to sit. But Maria stopped in the middle of the room. “Can we sit over there?” she asked, nodding toward a booth.
“Sure. Wherever you’d like.”
When the waitress came over to take our order, Maria glanced at me, uncertain. So instead of getting a cup of coffee as I’d intended, I ordered a hot fudge sundae. Might as well pretend we were having fun until Maria was ready to open up. She ordered a sundae with chocolate ice cream and peanut butter sauce, yes to whipped cream, no to a cherry, her voice as serious as if she were giving a report at school.
“Hey,” I said. “Remember this picture from last summer?” I pulled out the roller-coaster photo. “I brought it in case I needed to convince the guard I know you. That was a fun day, huh?”
She studied the photo. Something in her face suggested she barely recognized the people it depicted. She nodded politely and handed the picture back to me. Then she folded her hands on the table, examining them as though she’d never seen anything quite so fascinating. All at once she looked up.
“Promise you won’t call Mom.”
I made my voice gentle. “Honey, I can’t promise that. If your mom doesn’t know where you are, she’ll worry.” I didn’t need to remind her of how frantic Gwen had been when Maria had been kidnapped and held in New Hampshire. I knew that was already on her mind. “But here’s what I can promise: We’ll talk first. You tell me what’s going on, and then we’ll figure out how to keep your mom from worrying, okay?”
She hooked a strand of pale blonde hair behind her ear. Her fingers trembled, but she nodded.
The waitress brought over our ice cream. Maria picked up her spoon and pushed it into her sundae, but she didn’t eat.
I got started on my own sundae, scooping up a spoonful of whipped cream, hot fudge, and melting ice cream. After a second, Maria tasted hers, too.
Maybe this was about Mab’s visit to her dream. “I was expecting you to call again,” I said, trying to open up the topic without pushing. “And here you surprise me with a visit instead. It’s not often I get to take an ice cream break so early in the day.”
“What did he mean, paperwork?”
