All the Inside Howling (Hollow Folk #2)(68)

“You don’t look so good,” Becca said. “You’re all pasty and sweaty.”

“Thanks.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“I had a burger last night.”

“When was the last time you ate real food?”

“A burger is real food.”

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“My house, dummy. I guess we’ll have to walk.”

“On account of the wheel rolling off your car?”

Becca groaned. “When my dad kills me, please make it quick.” She turned and started walking the other direction, towards the foothills where her house sat. After a few yards, she looked back. “Well?”

“Becca, I don’t—”

“I swear to God, if you say you don’t need help, or you can look out for yourself, or you don’t want to inconvenience me, or anything like it, I’m going to . . .” She made a strangled sound of frustration. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m too tired to threaten you properly.”

Rocking on my heels, I looked back at the state highway that would take me to that dirty, sagging row apartments.

“Walk a girl home,” Becca said. “Or is chivalry dead?”

With a grin that made me forget, for a moment, all the aches I was carrying, I nodded and jogged after her. We made good time, in part because of the cool air and the stiff breeze and the unmistakably beautiful October day. Vehpese wasn’t a big city, and I was used to walking, but Becca started grumbling after about ten blocks.

“It’s faster in a car, isn’t it?” I said.

“Of course it is.” She glared at the street sign and then marched across, ignoring an oncoming Suburban. A horn blared as we cleared the street and the big green SUV soared behind us. “God, these people are morons.”

“Technically—”

“How are you going to stop him?”

“Huh?”

“If we talk about this stupid walk, and how far away my stupid house is, and my stupid car with its stupid wheel that rolled off like something out of the, I don’t know, out of the Flintstones, I’m going to bite your head off. So talk to me about something else.”

I thought about her question for a moment. “Do you mean DeHaven or Mr. Big Empty?”

Burying her hands under her arms, Becca shrugged. “Both, I guess.”

“I don’t know.”

“Great plan.”

“Well, I’m open to suggestions.”

For a minute or two, we kept walking. The sun had shifted behind us, warming my bruised back, and a truck rumbled past. A cloud of almost-sweet diesel exhaust drifted over us. Overhead, a flock of geese cut a jagged V across the blue, and their raucous honking echoed against the glass and brick storefronts. Becca followed my gaze to the birds and smiled.

“They go south so much later than you’d think.”

“Must be nice, being able to get away. And don’t look at me like that. I know you’re going to college and you’ll get some big fancy computer job and be out of here for good.”

Becca’s lips parted, but she gave a half-shake of her head and smiled again as we trudged on. “Can you fry them?”

“Geese? I guess so. Would it be any good?”

She laughed, and the sound bounced around inside me the way Frankie’s laughter had: so out of place, so clean and fresh. “No, not the geese. Luke. Mr. Big Empty, I mean. And DeHaven. Could you, you know—” She put her fingertips to her temples and screwed up her face in mock concentration.

“No. I mean, if I can, I don’t know how, but I don’t think it works that way. What I can do, I mean. It’s more like I’m catching stray signals. Lately, I can tune in a little better, but not much. But that’s all. I can’t set things on fire, I can’t control people’s minds, I can’t fly.”

“That’s too bad. You’d look good in tights and a cape.”

“Thanks.”

“I know Austin would appreciate it.”

“That’s great.”

“I mean, that boy would—”

“Yep. That’s enough.”

She laughed again. “Ok, so you can’t fry them.”

“Becca, I’m a goddamn radio. I can’t do anything but listen to bits and pieces of what they’re feeling, and that’s only if I’m lucky. What the hell is a radio good for when one of these guys can trap you in a dream, or take control of a killer, and when the other one turns into an invisible, unstoppable predator?”

“Well, he’s not unstoppable.”

“Why not?”

Becca chewed on her fuzzy pink sleeve for another minute. “We know there are limits to what they both can do. Mr. Big Empty can’t just take control of anyone. He can’t kill us in our dreams. So he’s a lot of smoke and wind. DeHaven—”

“Tore out Salerno’s throat, and Salerno had his gun out and ready.”

“DeHaven,” Becca repeated stubbornly, “has a limited reach. He can’t get anyone anywhere. It’s a few miles at best, but maybe it’s a lot less. Maybe it’s a hundred yards. Maybe it’s ten yards.”