"Keeping you on the line while they traced the call."

He blinked, and I knew he hadn't thought of that, but he only lifted his chin, defiant. "So I let them know where we are? Good. Having them come here is easier than chasing them down. We'll hide and-"

"And hope they don't have spells to sniff us out? Hope they really are the guys who took Dad?"

"Of course they are."

"Yeah? Then why come this morning and not last night? Why ask for Dad if they knew he was gone?"

Simon glowered and strode past me.

"What? It makes sense, doesn't it?" I said.

"Sure. It's obvious, and I'm a moron for not figuring it out on my own."

"I never said that."

"You don't need to, Derek. You never need to."

He opened the front door.

I raced into the hall. "Don't-"

"-walk out the front door? You really think I'm an idiot, don't you?"

Leaving the door ajar, he walked to the bas.e.m.e.nt and flipped on the light, then headed back toward the rear.

"Are you coming?" he called. "Or waiting until they show up?"

I looked from the front door to the bas.e.m.e.nt. "Oh, you want to make them think we're hiding in the bas.e.m.e.nt. That should slow them down enough for us to get away. It's a good-"

"Don't say it."

"I was just-"

"-going to pat me on the head for having a bright idea. It's condescending, Derek. Normally, I let it slide, but today I'm just not in the mood."

"I didn't mean-"

"You never do. Now come on or we'll still be bickering when the bad guys show up."

Twelve.

We left the house the same way we had before, through the backyard and over the fence. Next stop: Albany, to track down the sorcerer who'd helped Dad get his job. The only problem? Getting to Albany. The last time I'd thought of running away from home had been when Simon took my shoes, so I'd never realized that, when it came to getting away, there were some serious disadvantages to living in a small town, namely, the lack of public transportation options.

The only way out was by bus, meaning it would be the first place anyone would look for us. Even if we managed to get on without being stopped, we were recognizable enough that the staff would remember where we'd gone.

Without the minivan, we were screwed. Even if we knew how to steal a car, we wouldn't. And hitchhiking was too dangerous. I might have superhuman strength, but it wouldn't help us if a guy pulled a gun. Even more likely, we'd get some Good Samaritan who insisted on taking us back home.

So we were stuck with the simplest option. Walk the twenty miles to Albany.

There was a secondary two-lane highway Dad took when we weren't in a hurry. We headed for that, backpacks over our shoulders, pockets stuffed with money we'd grabbed from the stash Dad kept, plus more from an ATM at the strip mall near our place.

Simon had barely said a word to me since we'd left. He's good at holding a grudge. Most people are, which is something I don't understand. It's like when I fight with Dad. I'll blow up over something, say stuff I shouldn't, but I don't mean it and he knows I don't. When I cool down-and I always cool down fast-I'll try to talk to him about his day or get him to play a video game with me, and he won't. He says you can't just explode at someone and then expect everything to be okay. I didn't see why not. Dad knew I got moody and didn't mean to blow up, so I should be able to say sorry and go back to normal. Apparently no one else sees it that way.

"Did you text, uh . . ." I searched for the name, but came up blank. "Your girlfriend."

"Lily."

"Right. She, uh, seemed nice."

Simon gave me a look that said I was full of s.h.i.t. I never paid much attention to Simon's girlfriends. Mutual avoidance. They only talk to me when they want to score brownie points with Simon. I don't play that game, so I stay away when they're around.

"Did you text her?" I asked again.

"No."

"You wanted to do that."

He said nothing.

"I think you should," I continued. "It'd be nice."

Simon snorted.

"What?"

He shook his head.

I looked up into the blazing sun, then pointed to a tree past the ditch. "We should take a break, get out of the sun for a while. And you should eat something."

"Get out of the sun? It's barely above freezing, and that tree has no leaves, meaning no shade. I just had a banana five minutes ago, so I shouldn't eat again until lunch."

"You could text Lily."

He looked at me for a minute, struggling to stay serious, before breaking into a laugh and shaking his head.

"What?" I said.

"Nothing, bro. Fine. We'll sit. I'll text. You eat. We'll stop fighting, and that's the point, isn't it?"

Simon and I are both in good shape, but that walk was more than either of us were used to. Dad always said it was twenty miles, but I think he was rounding down. A lot. Between breaks to rest and eat and check Simon's blood sugar, it took all day to get to the edgeof Albany.

By then, Simon was wiped out. He needed a long rest and good food so, ignoring his protests, I found a family-style sit-down place that served decent food at decent prices.

As we ate, we dredged our memories for anything we could recall about Dad's sorcerer friend. Considering we'd just spent a full day hiking, you'd think we'd have done that on the way. But I think we were afraid to admit how little we knew, after coming all this way.

We had a first name. Paul. I thought his last name was Khan. Simon was sure it was Khanna. Indian, we knew that. And Simon thought his first name might actually be Pallav, and he was only using Paul as an Americanized nickname.

Paul/Pallav Khan/Khanna was a former Cabal sorcerer that Dad had helped out years ago. The problem with Cabals, though, is that once you've p.i.s.sed them off, they don't forget it. You might slide off their hit list, but you're always going to be on their watch list, so Paul would be living under the radar like we were, probably with an a.s.sumed name. Really not helpful.

While we ate, Simon called directory a.s.sistance. He managed to get a live operator. She spent at least fifteen minutes trying to help him, even checking unlisted numbers.

Simon's good at getting strangers to bend the rules for him. He says he learned it from Dad, but I think it must be inherited, because no matter how carefully I study their technique, I can't do it. Can't really bring myself to try all that hard either, though.

Anyway, Simon spouted some story about being at the bus station, supposed to call this cousin of his mom's, only he'd lost the paper with the number and he couldn't get hold of his mom, and he was stuck there, and it was getting late . . .

The operator totally bought it. It didn't help, though. No listing for a Khan or Khanna, first name Paul or Pallav.

"We know he works for the government," Simon said after hanging up. "Which doesn't really narrow it down a lot in Albany. I think Dad said it was city government, though, not state. So I can make some calls . . ." He checked his watch. It was after eight. "Tomorrow. For now . . . Hey, didn't we go to Paul's place once? When Dad had to drop stuff off?"

"Yeah. But Dad just pulled up outside and ran in. All I remember is that it was an apartment building on a street with a lot of apartment buildings."

"Well, that's a start. I think it was downtown, too. Or close to downtown. I remember there was a used game store nearby. We'd just gotten the Xbox and Dad let us pick out a few games. We'll look up stores in the core, then just walk around, see if anything . . ." He glanced out the window. It was pitch black. Had been for the last two hours.

"We'll wait until morning," I said.

"So I guess for now we . . ."

"Find a place to sleep."

"Right."

We looked out into the night. It had started drizzling.

"Maybe I should get dessert," Simon said. "To keep my blood sugar up tonight."

"Good idea."

We stalled at the diner for as long as we could, then headed out into the night. The sun was long gone, taking any heat with it, and the drizzle had turned to slush. My plan was to find an abandoned building, but we soon realized we were in the wrong part of town for that. It was mainly residential, and a growingresidential area, meaning nothing was boarded up.

After trudging along for an hour, I found a field where an old building had been razed to make way for houses. The foundation of the original place was still there, and the empty lot wasn't guarded. I led Simon down to a spot guarded from the wind. It sucked, but it was the best I could do.

It didn't take long to realize my best wasn't good enough. The wind still whipped in. The ground was ice-cold and damp. And the mercury was finally plummeting to normal January temperatures. Simon was bundled up in three sweatshirts and a jacket and his teeth wouldn't stop chattering, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. He pretended to sleep, but I knew he didn't. We huddled there all night, cold and miserable, waiting for dawn.

As soon as we saw a hint of gray in the sky, we set out. We found a coffee shop and hung out there until the morning rush hit and the manager told us to move on. Simon was too tired to even try charming him into letting us stay.

We snuck into the bathroom and got another twenty minutes of warmth as we cleaned up. Or tried to. I needed more than a bathroom sink. My scalp itched, greasy hanks of hair tickled my face, and I stank. Washing my armpits and slathering on deodorant didn't change that. Doubling up my shirts hadn't been my brightest idea ever-now I only had one clean sweatshirt to change into, so I was saving it for later. For now, my jacket would stifle most of the smell.

Simon called the city bus department next and got a route that would take us downtown. It was slow-we had to transfer twice-but cheaper than a cab. We found a library, and I searched online for stores that sold used games. I knew it hadn't been a chain, so that narrowed it down to two.

We photocopied area maps, took a bus to the first store and found it in a mall, which we knew wasn't right. By then it was lunchtime, which meant another stop. On then to store number two, which was out of business . . . and not the right one either.

So we walked. And walked and walked. Simon cast the locator spell as we went.

"How long could we do this before you started b.i.t.c.hing?" Simon said as we turned down another street of apartment buildings.

"What?"

"We've been walking for two days now, and you haven't complained once. It's d.a.m.ned annoying, you know."

I looked at him.

"If you don't complain, then I can't complain," he said. "Not without sounding like a whiny little snot."

"My shoes are soaked," I said. "I can't feel my toes anymore."

"Thank you. I lost feeling in my feet before lunch. I think even my brain froze hours ago, because I swear I wouldn't recognize Paul's apartment if we walked right past it. We're not really doing anything out here, Derek. We're just walking around because if we stop, we're going to have to admit we're totally lost and completely screwed."

That about summed it up.

"Call Andrew." I stopped walking and looked off into the distance. "I don't know what else-" I stopped, then pointed to a strip mall. "Isn't that where the video game store was? It's not there now, but that looks like . . ."

"It is." Simon grinned. "I remember the pizza place next door. You snuck in and grabbed a slice while I was picking out games."

I'd forgotten that until he mentioned it.

"Paul's place was down there," I said, pointing. "One of those buildings. It had a broken fountain in front."

"Let's hope it still does."

Thirteen.

We found the building, complete with fountain, still broken, now turned into a raised garden . . . or what would be a garden, in spring. Right now, the only thing blooming in it was broken beer bottles.

I'd been kicking myself for not remembering the pizza place. Now I kept kicking myself for not remembering more about the apartment building. I should have remembered what I thought the last time I saw it: "At least we don't need to live like this."

Dad always made sure we stayed in nice places. Sure, when kids at school found out he was a lawyer, they'd make cracks about how he must not be a very good one, since we didn't live in a big, fancy house. But it was always a decent home in a good neighborhood. This building, though? Even I'd think twice about coming in at night. It was late Sat.u.r.day afternoon and a trio of punks had already staked out territory on the fountain, a six-pack of beer at their feet, though none was in spitting distance of legal age.

Was Paul in so much trouble with the Cabal that he had to hide thisdeep? I couldn't remember what he'd done, only that Dad said it was a stupid mistake. Really stupid.

We walked past the losers on the fountain. They saw Simon first-he was hurrying ahead, paying no attention as usual-and one slid off his perch, gaze locked on Simon like a hawk spotting a scurrying mouse.