I turned away from the battle and dashed down the tracks, running back toward Union Square Station. As I passed the gash in the tunnel, a storm of rats spilled out, headed back toward the fight. I danced like a barefoot kid on hot asphalt as they swept past.
Finally the lights of the station glimmered in front of me. I leaped up onto the platform and kept running, climbing stairs and slanting tunnels until I’d dashed into the open air.
My pockets were heavy, jingling with enough change to catch a taxi out to Brooklyn. I had to tell Min what I’d seen. The enemy was just like she’d said: something monstrous. There really were angels, and they were recruiting, taking infected people away to… New Jersey?
Whatever. The struggle was real.
I hailed a cab and gave the driver Minerva’s street name. When he said he didn’t go to that part of Brooklyn anymore, I leaned forward and bared my teeth, asking him to reconsider. He turned, met my demented rock-star gaze, and changed his mind.
Once the cab was speeding up the Williamsburg Bridge, climbing away from the earth, my nerves began to calm. I was headed toward Minerva, to safety. I’d escaped the angels, and as long as I stayed out of the subways, they’d never find me again…
Then I remembered that my guitar case and amp were back there, underground. I sank down into the vinyl seat, eyes squeezing shut.
The amp didn’t matter—I didn’t need it anymore—but the case. If the angels came looking for me, they’d find it on the tracks. Inside was a polite note, asking anyone who found this guitar to please call Moz at this number. Big Reward!
And, of course, the note gave my address as well.
21. THE RUNAWAYS
— MINERVA-
I pulled out Astor Michaels’s birthday present right before midnight, just like he’d told me to.
It was wrapped in silver foil, my own face gazing back at me in the candlelight, blurry and twisted. Zombie jumped up onto the bed and sniffed the package, then looked up at me, his little face worried.
Astor Michaels wasn’t family to me and Zombie—and now Moz. He was more like a distant relative, part of the clan who spelled their last names differently. It made him smell funny.
“It’s okay, Zombie. Astor’s going to make Mommy a rock star.”
When I pulled on the red ribbon, its knot only tightened, so I lifted the box to my mouth. The ribbon tensed for a moment as my teeth closed, then relaxed, like a chicken when Luz broke its neck.
Teeth were useful for all sorts of things these days. Mozzy could open beer bottles with his.
I slid the box out from its wrapping, checking the clock. Ten seconds.
I counted down, hoping the present wasn’t something heart-shaped. Eww. Astor Michaels knew I was with Mozzy. He’d spotted it faster than anyone else, except maybe smelly Alana Ray—and Zahler, of course, who Moz had told before he’d even called me. (Okay, really it was only Pearl who didn’t know. Poor little Pearl.)
My fingernails slit the box open, and I smiled.
It was a cell phone, shiny and microscopic. Lifting it up, hefting the insubstantial weight, I felt its shape fitting into my palm. What a very excellent idea…
Zombie, who’d been batting at the red ribbon, came over for another sniff, and at that moment the phone buzzed silently against my palm, like a housefly trapped in my fist. Zombie looked up at me and meowed.
“Must be for me,” I said.
I kept Astor Michaels waiting for three vibrations before I pushed the big green button.
“Aren’t you clever?”
“It’s my job to keep the talent happy.”
“Mmm.” I was already wondering when Mozzy would be home from playing down in the subway. He was supposed to call me exactly at one; I could phone him right before and give him a little surprise… I giggled.
“Sounds like I’ve succeeded,” Astor Michaels said.
“Very much so.” Then I frowned. “Why didn’t Pearl ever give me one of these?”
“Maybe she thought you’d get yourself into trouble.”
“Hmph.” Pearl probably liked being the only one with my number. Showed what she knew. “It’s about time. Luz stole my buttons, you know.”
“So you said. You needed a real phone, Min. In fact, it’s about time you had a real life.”
Zombie stared up at me, as if listening.
“What do you mean by that, Astor Michaels?”
“Why don’t you move out, Min?”
“Move… out?” My eyes swept the candlelit darkness around me.
“Red Rat has a few apartments set aside for our special artists, for when they come to town to record. Nicely furnished and in Manhattan. You could move in anytime.”
I swallowed, reaching out to stroke Zombie. His fur had the shivers. “But what about—”
“Your parents?” He made a disappointed noise. “You’re eighteen in two weeks, Min. You can disappear for that long, can’t you? Do you think the police will spend much time looking for a runaway who’s about to turn legal?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t care about the police, or my parents much either. But I wasn’t sure how long I could go without Luz. She could be a total pain, but she’d cured me, more or less.
And Mozzy needed her even more than I did. I was splitting Luz’s medicines with him, making sure he got through the first stages of the illness. So far, he was keeping it together just fine, but I didn’t want him to turn all bitey.
“Min?”
I covered up the microphone. “What do you think, Zombie?”
His eyes opened wide, glistening, nervous but… excited.
Mozzy needed to get well, but we needed things too—to breathe the air outside at night, sucking in the smells and the moonlight. To go down in the subway, like Mozzy got to every night.
I wanted to learn more… to make my songs stronger.
In a couple of weeks I could call up Luz and have her come to my new place. She could make birthday mandrake tea for both of us. Once I was eighteen, it wouldn’t matter if she told my parents where I was.
Me and Moz could make it for that long, couldn’t we? We knew to eat lots of garlic. Probably all those other smelly herbs were just for show.
Zombie meowed, still staring at me with gleaming eyes. In our own place, he could go play with his little friends whenever he wanted.
Astor Michaels was talking again. “Once you’re out of that room, the band can rehearse every day. Think what that would do for you, especially with your first gig coming up.”
I bit my lip. Pearl had been complaining about having only one more Sunday to rehearse. Zombie stared at me, tail twitching, anxious.
“Okay. I’ll move.”
“I thought you might say that,” Astor Michaels said, and I could hear his smile. It slid through the airwaves like a needle. “Go pack.”
“What, right now? But it’s midnight.”
“Best time to run away, don’t you think? I’m on the road as we speak, coming over to collect you.”
“Um, but Moz said he was going to call later.”
He filled my ear with a little sigh. “You can call him instead, Min. Remember my little present? The one we’re talking on?”
“Oh, right.” I giggled. “Clever Astor Michaels.”
“I’ll see you in twenty minutes. Pack light.”
Pack light? Puh.
I needed lots of dresses—all my black ones, for wearing onstage. All my necklaces and rings too, even though my old jewelry box was pink and tattered. Only a few pairs of shoes, because I really had to buy all new ones; none of mine were very rock star. I packed every bit of the underwear me and Pearl had bought the day we’d gone to Red Rat Records, but no pajamas, because I was so bored of lying around all day. Bored of sleeping.