Wicked Sense (34 page)

Drake shakes his head, frustrated. “I mean, who knows how her mind works?”

I say, “That’s exactly
my point: we need to know more a
bout her. I’m done
googling
her: nothing comes up.
But I looked up the school’s directory, and her address
is listed.
”

He squints. “Wait a minute. How?”

“I saw they had the admin password taped onto a drawer at the office. It was easy,” I explain, ignoring his half-admiring, half-perplexed look. “
I knew she had a valid address in the system; she needed one to enroll, right?
The point is, w
e could track her. A
nd
,
at the same time, make it clear to her that we’re not afraid of her tricks.”

“Do you
really
want to follow her?”

“
Or
Brianna. You could easily get close to Brianna.”

He groans. “Skye, don’t ask me this.”

I slap the dashboard. “Do you have a better idea? Because I don’t. And I’m tired
of waiting
for things to happen to me. I want to
make
things happen! I want to be the one in control of this mess.”

Skye’s in James Bond mode, and she won’t let it go. She convinces me to go to Jane’s house and try to find out what I can. First, we have to figure out
whether
Jane’s address is really her own
:
Jane might have faked her school documents.

Skye offers a sensible solution. “We’ll wait
until the school bell rings and
then beat her to the address. If she goes there, we know we got it right.”

The uniqueness of my car is a huge problem. Parking
it
on the street as if I’m in some bad cop movie is ridiculous.
My old Volvo calls attention
anywhere. Also, I can’t figure out how the cops pull that off
. I
t’s clear that a stranger sitting in a car for hours will make residents call 911. Even if the Volvo had tinted windows (and I thought my car couldn’t look worse than it does), that would be even more suspicious. And I’m not budgeted for a disguised service van with fake plates and the latest in surveillance equipment.

Skye and I are still in a weird place. I don’t have the guts to kiss or even touch her since our discussion in the car. We mostly talk about our plan.

I can see many flaws with her plan
:
chiefly, what if Jane makes a detour? But with Skye’s plan at least I wouldn’t have to wait hours and hours and be arrested for loitering or worse.

So we follow our best bet. As soon as the bell rings, I join my
almost-
estranged girlfriend in my car, parked strategically at the lot’s exit, and drive to Jane’s presumed address.

I
stake out
Jane’s
house
while Skye waits in the car
. We don’t want to
trig
ger
any witch alarms. Skye
is
parked
a block
west
,
on
Dayton Ave
,
working like a human radar.
We’ll be in touch via cell.

We know t
his might not even be Jane’s real address after all
. But i
f it is, I’m willing to break in and find everything I can about her
and about her progress in the s
earch for the Singularity
. Skye is right: we can’t be passive about it anymore.

The house I’m watching is typical
North
Seattle
, except more rundown
: a long, narrow fixer-upper squeezed between similar
one-story houses
, with a raised front yard
. S
teps lead to the front door,
and tall hedges grow
unchecked
on
each side of the small stairs.

The street has no people traffic
, which make
s me
an oddity just
by
being
there.
I decid
e
to walk as if I’m just passing by. I expect Jane to show up soon, or I’ll have to think of a better plan.

The cloudy skies above me
turn
a darker shade of gray
.
I hope it doesn’t start raining.

My cell rings.

“She is close,” Skye
warns me
.

Three
minutes later I see J
ane approach
ing on her bike. I hide behind the
hedge of a house close to the street corner.  Jane doesn’t
notice me
. She parks in front of
the
house we’re stalking and goes inside.

I call Skye. “That’s it. We got it.”

“Did you see anyone else?
Brianna
?”

“No, and no
other cars
. I think she
l
i
ve
s
alone,” I say.
She’s
over eighteen
;
it makes sense if she l
i
ves
by herself
.

“Could she afford rent?” Skye asks.

“
I guess.
I mean, she’s got one expensive motorcycle, right? Wait!” I say.

Jane leaves the house.
She climbs on her bike and goes back the way she came
.

That was quick. I tell Skye about Jane’s departure.
“I’ll take a look,” I say.

“Be careful,” Skye says.

“
I’ll leave my phone on vibrate
, just in case someone
’s
there. Let me know if you sense Jane coming back,” I add.

I cross the street and approach the house. I
try to act natural
, but I don’t know how. Well,
as long as I don’t ti
ptoe around the house, I won’t
look suspicious.
I walk up the stairs and
ring the doorbell.
I have a story planned, if anyone
answers the door
.

Nobody
does
. I
see no lights
through gaps in the battered curtains. I go around the house, checking
the
windows,
all the way
to the kitchen door.
I
told Skye I would try to break
in from the back of the house.

I peek inside
. The house is
bare. I ca
n
see
utensils in the kitchen. A half-eaten sandwich
on a rectangular table in
the nook.

The other side of the house has no windows, so I c
o
me back to kitchen’s door and try the
doorknob. It turns and clicks.
I hesitate for a second, but then I remember the fourth-and-one pledge.

Betting
this old house has
no alarm
system
, I open the door and walk inside, confident.

Two steps in,
I feel a
dull
pain i
n my right temple
,
and everything goes black.

Jane’s energy
fades
as she
rides
her bike away.

I
was afraid that she would come i
n my direction,
and get
close enough
for her t
o sense
my
energy. That’s why Drake parked away from the natural route from school to her address.
W
e’re lucky she left the house
heading west away from
me.

So far, so good.

My fingers
drum
on
the steering wheel.
I’m glad Drake’s car is automatic.
I keep glancing at the cell, waiting for
his
call. I imagine he
got
inside the house.

I expect her to have a computer, or better, an external hard drive that we can steal. I don’t feel bad or guilty about it at all. She may have info on the Singularity, and that’s all that matters.

An uneasy sensation
bothers me
, and I suddenly realize it’s my True Sight.

The tingling is back.
Jane
i
s back.

I immediately speed-dial Drake, almost fumbling the phone.
It rings—or vibrates—five times, but he doesn’t pick it up.

It means he can’t answer. He’s with someone. And it’s not Jane.

The tingling increases. I have to beat Jane to the house. I turn the key in the ignition, and the Volvo’s engine
rumbles
.
I hit the gas and
drive
up
to Jane’s.
No use being discreet now: I
park in front of the hedges
.

Still
no sign of Jane or her bike, but her signature is increasing. I get four blue plastic flasks
from my purse
before
I leave the car. I don’t
bother closing the Volvo’s door.

I
climb the stairs,
ignore the
front doo
r
,
and head straight to the back, where Drake
told m
e
he would try to break in
.
I open the first of the flasks while
rushing
alongside the length of the house. I can’t see anything through the windows.

Before I turn the corner, I stop and sneak a peek. The kitchen’s door is closed. I walk slowly and look through the window.

A heavily
tattooed
,
bare-chested
guy
has
his back to me. Beyond him, I see another guy, about my age, but creepily skinny and pale. In front of him, Drake sits
i
n a chair, his face all bloody.

My heart beats like crazy. Goddess, this is going too far.

The tingling sensation is overwhelming; Jane must have arrived.

N
o time
to think
. I put two flask
s i
n my jeans’ back pocket
, open the other two,
and
keep one i
n each hand.

I try the kitchen door
, balancing
the flask
s
.
The door makes a creaking noise when it opens
. As soon as the tattooed guy turns,
I throw the flask’s liquid in
his face.

He’s startled by the
attack
, but he doesn’t make a noise.
H
e brushes his fingertips
quickly
against his face and looks at the
m. Then he collapses in a heap, unconscious.

My mind registers I used the sleep potion. Drake and the skinny guy don’t move; they both watch me with glazed eyes. Then Drake tries to get up
to divert
the guy’s attention.

I use this moment to throw
the
contents
of the second flask
on
the guy’s
gaunt
face. I hope it do
esn’t spill on Drake
.

The potion’s effect is immediate.
The
skinny guy
starts to flail about. The second potion was
s
hivers
.

I glimpse a silhouette against the front window. Jane. Ignoring Drake, I race to the front door. I reach for another flask from my pocket
.

Jane
, no doubt already sensing me, opens the door
,
switchblade
in hand, trying t
o figure out the scen
e
inside. I don’t wait. In one motion, I pop up
the lid and throw the
potion
on her
.

She ducks.

My potion misses her and goes out through the front door. Jane straightens herself and smiles. Without looking back, she closes the front door behind her.