"Can you get us any closer?" I asked.
"I'd need to find out exactly where we're going. A map, a street address—"
"No time."
I started to run. Trsiel shot up beside me.
"She's not going after your daughter, Eve," he said. She can't.
"Can't?" I said, still running. "Can't how?"
"The Nix can't choose her partner's victims. They make the choice. They pull the trigger. She can give them the resolve to pull it, but she can't aim it for them."
I rounded a corner, not slowing.
"This Lily is going after that young man," Trsiel said. "He must have a connection to your daughter. That's how she's going to hurt you. By hurting Savannah—emotionally."
I eased down to a jog, giving my brain a chance to digest this. Could this Brett guy have a connection to my daughter? Sure. He played basketball—so did Savannah. Had he coached her? Maybe played some one-on-one with Savannah and her friends? Or had she just seen him around the courts, thought he was good-looking, developed a crush?
There had to be a connection, but it did no good to stand around pondering the possibilities. We still had two miles to go, and no idea what time Lily started work.
We arrived at the community center just past nine. The massive two-story building was filling fast. A steady stream of cars and minivans drove through the drop-off circle, disgorging kids toting knapsacks and duffel bags. As the children and teens climbed the stairs, they merged with the current of adults flowing in from the parking lot, heading to the gym, a class, or a club. A typical Saturday for an urban family—twice as busy as any weekday.
We hurried up the front steps, through the congestion, and into the bright foyer. I looked around. We were at the junction of four hallways and a double set of stairs. Ribbons of people wended their way in every direction.
"We should start with the janitor's room," I called back to Trsiel, yelling to be heard over the cacophony of laughs, shouts, and greetings.
"Good idea. Where is it?"
"I have no idea. I've only been here once, and only to the basketball courts. Maybe we should check there instead. Brett was coming off the courts."
"Which doesn't mean that's where he is today. Better to find Lily. Then it won't matter where her target is."
"Right. So where—"
"Just a sec." Trsiel disappeared. "Hey! What—"
He zipped back before I could finish. "There's a basement."
"Then that's where we'll start."
We found a suite of janitorial rooms downstairs, everything from storage closets to an office to a lunchroom. All were empty. Two jackets hung in the office. A man's and a woman's.
We spent the next two hours combing the building. The problem was that, in a place like this, nobody stayed still. Kids raced from swimming lessons to the lunchroom to model-building classes. Adults hurried from the treadmills to their child's floor-hockey game to the coffee shop. Walk into any room, then return an hour later and ninety percent of the faces had changed.
Eventually, we found one of the janitors—an elderly man. But there was no sign of his female counterpart.
After our fourth sweep of the building, we stopped in the second-level child-care center, by the window overlooking the front entrance. Below, the flow of traffic dropping off children had slowed as noon approached. A brief break for lunchtime, then it would start all over again.
"So is Lily not here?" I said to Trsiel. "Or do we just keep missing her?"
"We haven't seen a female janitor yet. And that was definitely a woman's jacket downstairs."
"But is it from today? It's spring. Come to work in a winter coat and by afternoon it can be hot enough that you forget to take it home. Damn it! What if—"
I caught a glimpse of a motorcycle pulling out of the drop-off circle, and turned for a better look, invoking my long-range sight. One glance, and I was flying out the door.
"What is it?" Trsiel asked, hurrying after me.
"That bike. The motorcycle. It's Lucas's. Lucas Cortez. Savannah's guardian. She's here. Savannah's here."
Trsiel grasped my shoulder, but I shrugged him off, plowing through people as I made my way to the stairs.
"Don't panic, Eve," Trsiel said, jogging at my heels. "Maybe it looks like his motorcycle—"
"It is his motorcycle. It's an antique. Very rare. He restores them."
"Maybe he was dropping off his wife, Paige. You said she comes here—"
"There was no helmet on the back of the bike."
"What?"
"Paige would have left her helmet. Savannah's fifteen. She'd carry it inside with her."
From Trsiel's silence, I knew this didn't answer his question, but I wasn't wasting my breath explaining the adolescent coolness quotient of toting around a motorcycle helmet. I cut through the solid wall of kids heading up to the lunchroom, and bounded down the stairs so fast I tripped. Trsiel grabbed me. I righted myself, shook him off, and kept going. A few steps from the bottom I stopped. I peered out over the sea of heads. People kept walking through me, blocking my view. I climbed onto the railing for a better look.
"Eve," Trsiel said, laying his hand on my leg to steady me. "If we find Lily, she can't hurt anyone, including Savannah."
"You go after Lily, then. I'll find—"
"I need your eyes, Eve."
A shape shimmered below, on the other side of the railing. Kristof appeared, looking up at me.
"Oh, thank God," I whispered. "Kris! It's Sav—"
"I know," he said, putting out his arms to help me down. "I'll find her." He lowered me onto the floor.
"You find the Nix."
I squeezed his hand. "Thank you."
Trsiel wheeled through the crowd, grabbed my elbow, and tugged me away.
"The basketball court," I called back to Kristof. I gestured to the north end of the building. "It's that way."
Kris nodded and jogged off.
We started our search where we'd begun—in the janitorial rooms below. As we hurried down the hall toward the lunchroom and office, something clattered to the floor in one of the storage rooms, like a broom or mop falling over. I veered toward it. Then, from the end of the hall came the muffled sound of a phone ringing. Someone answered after the first ring, with a reedy, feminine-sounding "Hello."
"I'd need to find out exactly where we're going. A map, a street address—"
"No time."
I started to run. Trsiel shot up beside me.
"She's not going after your daughter, Eve," he said. She can't.
"Can't?" I said, still running. "Can't how?"
"The Nix can't choose her partner's victims. They make the choice. They pull the trigger. She can give them the resolve to pull it, but she can't aim it for them."
I rounded a corner, not slowing.
"This Lily is going after that young man," Trsiel said. "He must have a connection to your daughter. That's how she's going to hurt you. By hurting Savannah—emotionally."
I eased down to a jog, giving my brain a chance to digest this. Could this Brett guy have a connection to my daughter? Sure. He played basketball—so did Savannah. Had he coached her? Maybe played some one-on-one with Savannah and her friends? Or had she just seen him around the courts, thought he was good-looking, developed a crush?
There had to be a connection, but it did no good to stand around pondering the possibilities. We still had two miles to go, and no idea what time Lily started work.
We arrived at the community center just past nine. The massive two-story building was filling fast. A steady stream of cars and minivans drove through the drop-off circle, disgorging kids toting knapsacks and duffel bags. As the children and teens climbed the stairs, they merged with the current of adults flowing in from the parking lot, heading to the gym, a class, or a club. A typical Saturday for an urban family—twice as busy as any weekday.
We hurried up the front steps, through the congestion, and into the bright foyer. I looked around. We were at the junction of four hallways and a double set of stairs. Ribbons of people wended their way in every direction.
"We should start with the janitor's room," I called back to Trsiel, yelling to be heard over the cacophony of laughs, shouts, and greetings.
"Good idea. Where is it?"
"I have no idea. I've only been here once, and only to the basketball courts. Maybe we should check there instead. Brett was coming off the courts."
"Which doesn't mean that's where he is today. Better to find Lily. Then it won't matter where her target is."
"Right. So where—"
"Just a sec." Trsiel disappeared. "Hey! What—"
He zipped back before I could finish. "There's a basement."
"Then that's where we'll start."
We found a suite of janitorial rooms downstairs, everything from storage closets to an office to a lunchroom. All were empty. Two jackets hung in the office. A man's and a woman's.
We spent the next two hours combing the building. The problem was that, in a place like this, nobody stayed still. Kids raced from swimming lessons to the lunchroom to model-building classes. Adults hurried from the treadmills to their child's floor-hockey game to the coffee shop. Walk into any room, then return an hour later and ninety percent of the faces had changed.
Eventually, we found one of the janitors—an elderly man. But there was no sign of his female counterpart.
After our fourth sweep of the building, we stopped in the second-level child-care center, by the window overlooking the front entrance. Below, the flow of traffic dropping off children had slowed as noon approached. A brief break for lunchtime, then it would start all over again.
"So is Lily not here?" I said to Trsiel. "Or do we just keep missing her?"
"We haven't seen a female janitor yet. And that was definitely a woman's jacket downstairs."
"But is it from today? It's spring. Come to work in a winter coat and by afternoon it can be hot enough that you forget to take it home. Damn it! What if—"
I caught a glimpse of a motorcycle pulling out of the drop-off circle, and turned for a better look, invoking my long-range sight. One glance, and I was flying out the door.
"What is it?" Trsiel asked, hurrying after me.
"That bike. The motorcycle. It's Lucas's. Lucas Cortez. Savannah's guardian. She's here. Savannah's here."
Trsiel grasped my shoulder, but I shrugged him off, plowing through people as I made my way to the stairs.
"Don't panic, Eve," Trsiel said, jogging at my heels. "Maybe it looks like his motorcycle—"
"It is his motorcycle. It's an antique. Very rare. He restores them."
"Maybe he was dropping off his wife, Paige. You said she comes here—"
"There was no helmet on the back of the bike."
"What?"
"Paige would have left her helmet. Savannah's fifteen. She'd carry it inside with her."
From Trsiel's silence, I knew this didn't answer his question, but I wasn't wasting my breath explaining the adolescent coolness quotient of toting around a motorcycle helmet. I cut through the solid wall of kids heading up to the lunchroom, and bounded down the stairs so fast I tripped. Trsiel grabbed me. I righted myself, shook him off, and kept going. A few steps from the bottom I stopped. I peered out over the sea of heads. People kept walking through me, blocking my view. I climbed onto the railing for a better look.
"Eve," Trsiel said, laying his hand on my leg to steady me. "If we find Lily, she can't hurt anyone, including Savannah."
"You go after Lily, then. I'll find—"
"I need your eyes, Eve."
A shape shimmered below, on the other side of the railing. Kristof appeared, looking up at me.
"Oh, thank God," I whispered. "Kris! It's Sav—"
"I know," he said, putting out his arms to help me down. "I'll find her." He lowered me onto the floor.
"You find the Nix."
I squeezed his hand. "Thank you."
Trsiel wheeled through the crowd, grabbed my elbow, and tugged me away.
"The basketball court," I called back to Kristof. I gestured to the north end of the building. "It's that way."
Kris nodded and jogged off.
We started our search where we'd begun—in the janitorial rooms below. As we hurried down the hall toward the lunchroom and office, something clattered to the floor in one of the storage rooms, like a broom or mop falling over. I veered toward it. Then, from the end of the hall came the muffled sound of a phone ringing. Someone answered after the first ring, with a reedy, feminine-sounding "Hello."
