“So not much has changed for you, has it, Dad?” said Beth.
Dad gave his new, defeated sigh. He didn’t put up much of a fight against Beth anymore.
Jessica ignored her. “Anyway, Dad, it’s not that far away. I think I’ll just bike it.”
The streets and houses from the night before were still there, recognizable in the daylight. She checked her watch. No chance of being late—she still had an hour to get to the Clovis Museum.
There were so many questions in her mind. What were darklings and slithers, and where did they come from? How had Dess scared off the giant panther with a hubcap? Why hadn’t Jessica ever seen the blue time before coming to Bixby? And how did Rex and his friends know any of this stuff, anyway?
Jessica rode slowly, retracing her steps to piece together where everything had happened the night before. The route from her house to the street where she’d first seen the panther was the fuzziest part of her memory. She’d been following the kitty-slither, dreamily looking around and not paying attention. But it was easy to find the corner of Kerr and Division and, from there, the spot where the frozen car had stood.
Of course, it was gone now. Jessica tried to imagine it jumping suddenly into motion as the secret hour ended, the driver calmly continuing down the road as though nothing had happened. There were no marks in the street, no burned hubcap, nothing to show that a battle had taken place there just eleven hours ago.
From there she traced her path backward, remembering all too clearly the way she had run while the panther was tracking her. She found the narrow alley and followed it to the backyard fence she had climbed over to escape it. Jessica wasn’t about to climb back over during daylight, and the thought of standing in that high grass still made her nervous, so she circled around to the street side of the house.
The old willow dominated the block, like a huge umbrella blotting out the hot sun. Jessica dismounted and walked her bike over the unkempt lawn to the tree. In the darkness below its shade she spotted the three gouges in the trunk, the claw marks of the giant panther.
Her skin crawled as she traced one of the cuts with a quivering finger. It was more than an inch deep, as wide as her thumb. Her finger came out sticky. She teased the trace of sap between her fingers, realizing that the tree had bled instead of her.
“Sorry about that,” she said softly to the willow.
“Hey!”
Jessica jumped, looking around for the voice.
“What’re you doing on my lawn?”
She spotted a face in the window of the ramshackle house, barely visible through the sunlight reflected from the mosquito screen.
“Sorry,” she called. “Just looking at your tree.” Okay, Jessica thought, that sounded weird.
She pulled her bike back to the main street and climbed onto it, shading her eyes with one hand for a moment as she looked back. The face had disappeared, but Jess recognized the thirteen-pointed star on a plaque mounted next to the door. Dess had been right: they were everywhere in Bixby.
An old woman emerged from the house, wearing only a wispy nightgown that clung to her frail frame in the light breeze. She was clutching something to her chest, a long, thin object that glimmered in the sun.
“Get away from my house,” the woman shouted in a voice that was bigger than her tiny body.
“Okay, sorry.” Jess started to pedal away.
“And don’t come back tonight either,” a final shout followed her down the street.
Come back tonight? Jessica wondered as she rode. What had the old woman meant by that?
Jessica shook her head, checking her watch. The marks on the tree proved that the secret hour was real. She had to face the fact that something really had tried to kill her last night. And she had to find out how to protect herself before the blue time came again.
Jessica rode fast toward downtown.
She hated being late.
12
11:51 A.M.
ARROWHEADS
As they drew closer to downtown Bixby, Rex could feel the car slowing. He glanced at Melissa, whose hands gripped the steering wheel.
“It’s okay, Cowgirl,” he murmured. He tried to think calm thoughts, hoping it would help.
It wasn’t a real downtown, like Tulsa or Dallas had, just a handful of five- and six-story buildings that included the town hall, the library, and a couple of office buildings. On a Saturday the workplaces were empty. There would be a few people at the expensive shops on Main and lining up for the first shows at the restored 1950s cinema. That was about it.
But crowded or not, downtown sat right in the center of Bixby, surrounded by rings of housing developments. As they drew closer, the densest part of the city’s population encircled them. It wasn’t nearly as bad as school, but it always took Melissa a minute or so to adjust to the accumulated weight of those minds.
Soon her knuckles relaxed on the wheel.
Rex took a deep breath and leaned back into his seat.
He stared out the window, pulling off his glasses to look for signs.
They were out there. Lots of them.
Usually it was pretty clean this far from the badlands. With his glasses off, the city should have been one big reassuring blur. But Rex could see marks of visitation everywhere—a house that stood out with strange clarity from its neighbors, a street sign that he could easily read with unaided eyes, a slithering path across the road that shimmered with Focus, the sharp edges that revealed the touch of inhuman hands.
Or claws, or wriggling bellies.
The signs of midnight were here, where they shouldn’t be, creeping closer toward the bright lights of downtown. Rex wondered what the darklings and their little friends were up to. Were they testing their limits? Growing in number? Showing a sudden interest in humanity?
Or were they searching for something?
“What do you think she is, Rex?” Dess asked from the backseat.
“Talentwise?” He shrugged. “Could be anything. Could be another polymath.”
“Nah,” Dess said. “I’m in trig with her, remember? She’s hopeless. Sanchez had to explain radian measures to her three times this week.”
Rex wondered what radian measures were. “Trigonometry isn’t really part of the lore, Dess.”
“It will be one day,” Dess said. “Sooner or later arithmetic has to run out of steam. Like obsidian did.”
“That’ll be a long time from now,” Rex answered. He hoped it would, anyway. Trig was beyond him too. “Anyway, Jessica only just got here. She could take a while to find her talent.”
“Come on,” Dess said. “You guys tracked me down when I was eleven, right? By that time my mom and dad were letting me do their taxes for them. Jessica’s fifteen, and she can’t handle high school trig? She’s no polymath.”
“She isn’t a mindcaster either,” Melissa said.
Rex glanced over at his old friend. Unlike the blurry dashboard and passing background, Melissa’s face was in perfect midnighter Focus. Her expression was grim, and her hands gripped the wheel hard again, as if the old Ford were passing a busload of brawling five-year-olds.
“Probably not,” he said mildly.
“Definitely not. I could taste it if she was.”
Rex sighed. “There’s no point arguing about it now. We’ll find out what she is soon enough. She could be a seer for all I know.”
“Hey, Rex, maybe she’s an acrobat,” Dess said.
“Yeah, a replacement,” Melissa joined in.
Rex glared at her, then put his glasses back on. Melissa’s face went a little blurry as the rest of the world sharpened, and he turned away to stare out the car window.
“We don’t need an acrobat.”