Devil's Advocate (The X-Files: Origins #2)(61)

Finally, Saturo struggled to sit up. Blood streamed down his chin and onto his chest, staining his white gi with dark red. He looked at her with eyes that were filled with pain.

But he said, “Okay.”

Just that.

She bowed again.

He nodded. It was the best he could do.

She turned and ran into the changing room, changed as fast as she could, and then hurried out of the dojo before they could see her cry.

“Dana,” called Sensei, “wait.…”

She didn’t wait. She ran.





CHAPTER 53

Hale Residence

8:47 P.M.

“Jeez,” said Ethan when he opened the door, “you look awful.”

Dana pushed past him and went into the house.

“Your uncle’s not coming back, is he? He’s not going to leave early ’cause he’s sick?”

“No, we’re good,” said Ethan, closing the door.

Dana glanced at him. “Lock it.”

“What? Why? He has a key.”

“No. Just … just lock it, okay?”

Ethan did it, then paused and also turned the dead bolt.

“Thanks,” she said, greatly relieved.

She followed him into the kitchen, where he poured them each a glass of chocolate milk from a half-gallon jug. He handed her one. “My aunt Louise always said that chocolate was the first line of defense against any case of the heebie-jeebies, and you look like you’ve got them in spades.”

He smiled and then searched her eyes. His smile turned into a frown. “You’re high,” he said.

“No, I’m not,” snapped Dana. “I never do that stuff.” She saw the doubt on his face.

“Then what’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you sick? Your color sucks, and your eyes are weird. All red and bloodshot, and your pupils are huge.”

“How many times do I have to say it?” growled Dana. “I. Am. Not. High.”

“Okay, okay, don’t bite my head off. I’m a friend, remember?”

Dana turned away and looked out the kitchen window at the black night. “It’s been a really bad day, okay?”

“No,” he said, “it’s not okay. You need to tell me what’s going on.”

He led her to the small office and they sat down on the overstuffed chairs, balancing their glasses on their knees. Ethan closed the door to that room, too, and for the first time all day, Dana felt like she was safe. Or at least as safe as possible.

Ethan wore a black T-shirt and jeans, and it somehow made him look older. Stronger. More solid, which mattered because the rest of the day seemed to have been made up of different levels of trippy transparencies. Nothing until now seemed quite real.

Dana sipped her chocolate milk, then set the glass down and held out her hand. After only a tiny hesitation, Ethan took her hand, held it. His fingers were warm and real.

She told him everything that had happened. It took a long time, and he never let go of her hand.





CHAPTER 54

Sycamore Street

8:59 P.M.

A lone figure stood, hands in pockets, in the utter blackness under the heavy boughs of a maple tree.

The street was empty except for a yellow dog that walked a crooked path from front lawn to front lawn, pausing every now and then to pee as if replying to messages left by friends. When the dog reached the maple tree, he froze, then backed away slowly, growling. The figure under the tree said nothing, did not move, merely waited for the dog to turn and run away.

Overhead, the clouds were rolling in, blotting out the stars, intensifying the darkness.

There were lights on inside each of the houses along Sycamore Street. From a few came the tinny sounds of muffled television. At one house, the one directly across from the big maple, a light burned in the window of a side room on the first floor. It was that window that the figure stood and watched with dark, intense eyes. He could see the silhouettes of two teenagers— a tall boy and a short girl.

When a cold wind blew down from the storm clouds, the figure shivered but did not move away. He barely moved at all, except for the slow clenching and unclenching of the folded knife in his pocket.





CHAPTER 55

Hale Residence

9:35 P.M.

Her curfew was up by the time Dana was finished with her story, and she and Ethan sat in silence for almost five minutes, each of them absorbed in the details. While he was still thinking, Dana went into the kitchen to phone home and apologize for being late, but it was Melissa who answered.

“Hey, nice of you to call to tell us you’re not dead.”

“Don’t joke. It’s been a very, very weird day. I’ll tell you about it when I get home.”

“Where are you now?” asked Melissa.

“Ethan’s, and—”

“Ooooooh. Nice.”

“It’s not like that, Missy, and you know it,” said Dana.

“Sadly, I do. It’s tough being the sister of Dana the Pure Light of Virtue.”

“Oh, shut up and cover for me, Missy. Tell Mom I’m still at the dojo or something.”

“This late?”

“Tell her it’s some kind of ancient samurai thing and I’ll be home by ten. No, ten thirty. Tell her Sensei will drop me off.”