Summoning the Night (Arcadia Bell #2)(82)

Lon wasn’t listening. He was shoving the chest of drawers away from the door; Bob stood by in shock.

“Wait—oh!” I said as a loose thought congealed. “Ms. Forsythe’s house is being tented for termites. Remember? She told us when we picked up Jupe from school. What if the termites aren’t real? Think about it—if the Æthyric magick in the cannery could produce gigantic magical cockroaches, magical termites would be a breeze. And it would keep Ms. Forsythe out of her home.”

He heaved away the drawers just far enough to get the door open.

“Don’t you get it?” I said. “They could be keeping the kids there!”

Lon’s hand paused on the door’s lock.

“Where does she live in Morella?” I asked. “Bob?”

“No idea, but I can call and find—Cady!” Bob said, his voice panicky. “What’s that?”

He pointed at a fine thread of light stretching across the room. It shimmered in the air and languidly floated out the window like a single strand of spiderweb spun from gold. Lon approached it and hesitantly reached out. His finger passed through the thread. It wasn’t solid; like a laser beam, it didn’t break when he waved his hand back and forth across it. His eyes followed the wispy line, looking for the source. He picked up my left hand. Right there, the golden thread was spooling out of the tip of my index finger.

“What the hell?” Lon continued to hold my hand up like it was science experiment ready to boil over and positioned me toward the window. He unlocked it and pushed it up; stuck our heads out and leaned over the sill. He waved my hand in the air. The thread moved with a corresponding ripple. I could see it better now, especially in places where it glinted in the streetlights. It shimmered over the road, across the rooftops, stretching in the same direction that the demon had floated away with Jupe.

The realization struck me like lightning.

“The tattoo on Jupe’s hip—my sigil!”

He’d marked himself as mine. He was in danger—and magick linked us. I’d never seen anything like it, but when I concentrated, I could feel my Heka draining and funneling into the thread.

“Does it go through any object?” Lon asked, tugging me back inside and shifting me in front of a wall. He looked through the window. “Right through the damn house,” he said. “We don’t need Hajo. We can track him through you.”

Lon slammed the window and locked it. “Bob, change of plans,” he said as we raced out of the bedroom and down the stairs. “Stay here at Cady’s and watch my dog. Call that bastard junkie and tell him we don’t need him. We’ll call you if we need backup.”

Bob was sweating again. “What if the demon returns?”

“Tell Foxglove ‘Squirrel.’ That’s her command to attack. Don’t feed her, and stay out of Cady’s underwear. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“Right. Keep your phone turned on,” Lon said as he grabbed his coat on the way out. “If we make it back with my boy, I’ll cook you dinner.”

And with that, we raced across the driveway and loaded into Lon’s SUV.

“Keep your hand on the dash so I can see which way it’s pulling,” he said as he slammed the car into gear. We both fixated on the taut line of gold that passed through the windshield and pointed upward into the night sky. It was astounding.

“Is it part of your Moonchild power, or what?” Lon asked as he sped down my street fast enough to get pulled over. Luckily no one was around to stop him.

“No idea, but it if leads us to Jupe, I don’t care.”

“Agreed.”

Lon ran a four-way stop and swerved around a corner, following the thread.

“You watch the road,” I suggested. “I’ll watch the thread and call Dare.” I continued to hold my hand over the dash as I dialed Dare one-handed and updated him. He didn’t say much. Only that he would send people to Ms. Forsythe’s address in Morella and an instruction to call him if we ended up somewhere else. Good enough. I hung up the phone and gave Lon Ms. Forsythe’s address, 623 Monte Verde Street in the Rancho District.

“The Rancho District is out this way, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” I didn’t want to assume anything, so I just watched the thread. I was really noticing the loss of Heka now. I wasn’t outright nauseous, but I was starting to feel a little low-blood-sugary. I kept the complaint to myself. If I passed out, Lon could just prop me up and continue to use me as a GPS.

After a few blocks flew by my window, Lon mumbled, “I think someone’s following us.”

He pointed out a dark sedan trailing a few car lengths back on the four-lane. When a white compact changed lanes to move behind us, the sedan went out of its way to speed up, weave around the small car, and slide into place again at our tail.

“Looks like an older model. Seventies or something. Dark green.” If Jupe was with us, he’d be able to identify it. My chest tightened.

“Can you see the driver?”

“No,” I admitted. “Too far away. Would Dare have sent someone local in Morella? Someone he’s hired?”

“Don’t know.”

We were on the outskirts of downtown, and traffic wasn’t heavy here, so I suggested he run the red light up ahead. Why not? He’d already violated a kajillion traffic laws and the intersection was clear. Almost. He slowed down, feigning a stop as he let a lone car cross, then slammed on the gas and ran the light. I gripped the armrest and briefly closed my eyes as someone honked at us.