Devil's Advocate (The X-Files: Origins #2)(31)

When they went looking for Sunlight, they learned that he had already left for the day. So Dana and Melissa had walked home, talking about everything but getting nowhere they hadn’t already reached. It was so maddening that they eventually lapsed into a shared and troubled silence that pursued them all the way to their door.

Dana went to her room and was doing homework when the phone rang, and a moment later she heard her mother call her name. “Dana! It’s for you.”

There was a phone on a small table at the top of the stairs, and Dana hurried out to take the call. She didn’t have her own phone, but almost no one ever called her. She had no real friends here and none of any depth back in San Diego. Sometimes her dad asked to speak to her if he was away, but he usually asked for both girls. She lifted the receiver.

“Yes?”

“Hey,” said a familiar voice. “Got a sec?”

It took her a moment to place the voice.

“Ethan…?”

“Yeah, I was thinking—”

Dana covered the mouthpiece and yelled very loudly, “I got it, Mom!”

After a moment there was a discreet click as the downstairs phone was laid back in its cradle.

“I didn’t interrupt dinner or something, did I?” asked Ethan.

“No,” she said quickly. “I was studying.”

“Frogs?” he asked.

“Frogs,” she agreed, and leaned back against the wall.

“Best thing to think about before bed. Frog guts.”

“How’d you get my number?” she asked abruptly.

“Huh? Oh, I got it from Eileen, who got it from Dave, who got it from your sister. Is it cool that I called?” asked Ethan. “I’m not like … overstepping or anything?”

“It’s totally cool,” she assured him. “What’s up? Is this about the dissection essay?”

“No,” he said, his voice suddenly becoming more confidential. “I’ve been thinking about what we were talking about over lunch. About Maisie and the others.”

“What about them?”

“You seemed interested.”

“I am.”

“In the accident reports and police files, I mean.”

“Ah,” she said, getting it. “And?”

“They’re here at the house,” said Ethan. “My uncle has his own master case file. It’s in his desk.”

“So?”

“So, I have the key.”

Dana stared into space, wrapping the phone cord around her finger.

“You still there?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“When Uncle Frank is at work tomorrow,” said Ethan, “we could … I don’t know … maybe take a look?”

“Yes,” she said again, and the intensity in her voice surprised her.

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. But what about your parents?” she asked.

There was a brief pause. “Mom’s gone and Dad works a lot. He’s never home.”

“Oh,” she said, because there didn’t seem to be anything else to say. Ethan’s tone had not invited comment on that.

“So, tomorrow,” he said. “We have a half day, but I can get the guys in the science club to hang around for a bit. If you want to meet them, I mean.”

“Definitely,” Dana assured him.

“We’ll all meet in the chem lab after last bell. We won’t have long ’cause they’ll be closing the whole school down, but we can probably get half an hour or so to talk with them.”

“That works,” said Dana. “I’ll meet you there. And, Ethan…?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” she said.

“For what?”

“For not treating me like I’m some kind of freak.”

“Not a chance,” he said, and hung up.

Dana walked slowly back to her room, thinking about everything that had happened today. That night she did not dream of angels or of devils. She had another ugly dream, though.

Dana dreamed that her heart was on fire.

In the dream, she lay on the cold and bare floor of a deserted building. A church. The high, arched stained-glass windows were smashed, and there were spiderwebs strung between the shattered remains of wooden pews. Dana lay on the floor with her arms stretched out to either side and her ankles pressed together. For a horrible moment she thought she was about to be crucified like Maisie. But that was when she felt the burn deep inside her chest. It was white hot and heavy, as if someone had stabbed her with a spike of pure fiery light. The weight of it pinned her to the floor.

She could feel the fire burning inside her, but when she raised her head, there was no smoke, no visible flames. Her pajama top was undamaged and there was no blood.

But the pain …

It was worse than anything Dana had ever felt, awake or in nightmares. It was so huge, so intense, that she did not even scream. No scream could be loud enough to express that searing agony. She lay there, teeth clenched, muscles rigid, mind burning along with her heart.

And then the burning sensation seemed to pulse, to expand with the intensity of a sun going nova. It overwhelmed her and consumed her and charred every last bit of her down to hot ash.