The Hell Yo - lanyon Josh - Страница 52
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than a minute; I couldn’t believe how fast it traveled. I was never going to make it….
I zigged across the alley, jumped for the wall and swung myself up as the car charged
past. I felt the car’s exhaust like hot breath on my back. I struggled to pull myself over the
top, lost my balance, and fell. I crash-landed on the hood of an already battered Toyota
truck, bounced off, and hit the asphalt – hard.
In the distance, I heard the scrape of a car chassis slamming down on pavement, and
then the squeal of tires vanishing into the night.
For a moment I lay there, gulping in the smoggy night air, waiting for my achy breaky
heart to blow up.
I must be out of my mind, I thought. Angus isn’t worth this. No one is worth this.
What am I doing?
I stared at the rafters of black rain clouds. Felt a bit of wet on my cheekbone.
Let’s recap, I thought. How did I get from dropping a word in the right ear to chasing
teenage thugs down alleys? Maybe Jake had a point after all. Was Angus any better off for
my interference? Was I?
From the other side of the wall I heard the surge of music. A door slammed. Guy called
quietly, “Adrien?”
I opened my mouth, then didn’t speak.
Not to be unduly paranoid, but what the hell took him so long? What was the deal
with that stricken look he had given Betty and her blithe spirits? This field trip had been his
idea. Had he led me into a trap?
But how could anyone predict that I would run out the back exit?
My mind was spinning – only partially due to hitting my head on the pavement.
Guy called again, louder this time. I listened to the crunch of his feet on gravel as he
walked along the alley.
Was he looking for my body?
Or was he – naturally enough – wondering where I’d disappeared to?
I sat up carefully, drew a couple of experimental breaths. My heart, though still in
overdrive, showed no sign of slipping out of rhythm. I pulled myself up. No bones seemed to
be broken, although I was going to have a set of colorful bruises by tomorrow.
The car alarm in the Volkswagen parked next to the Toyota went off, splintering the
stillness.
Definitely not my night.
At the mouth of the alley I spotted Guy. He ran toward the sound of the alarm.
A lot more slowly than the first time, I climbed back over the stone wall.
“Adrien!” exclaimed Guy. “What the hell happened?”
I dropped down, and he reached out to steady me. I pulled away from him, and we
stepped back from the shrieking alarm system.
“What happened? Where did you go? Why are you limping?”
I finally had my breath back. “Where’s Betty?”
“She must have gone out the back. A couple of girls went in, and the bathroom was
dark. You didn’t see her?”
“No.”
“What happened? Why are you limping like that?” He wrapped a hand around my
elbow.
I pulled away. “Somebody in a blue sedan was waiting for me in the alley.”
Guy stopped walking. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“That’s impossible. No one could know you were going to walk into that alley.”
“Did you tell anyone we were coming here tonight?”
“Of course not!” I couldn’t see his features in the dark alley, but I knew that tone.
“You’re lying.”
He gasped. “Are you nuts? I didn’t tell anyone.”
“But?”
His lips parted, but no sound came out.
“Come on, Guy, there’s more.”
Slowly, he said, “I spoke to a friend. I asked if he knew of a club where kids involved in
the occult scene might hang out.”
“Who was this friend?”
“What does it matter? You don’t know him. He’s not involved in this. Look, I didn’t tell
him we were coming here, let alone that we were coming tonight. He gave me the name of a
couple of clubs.”
But the news that Betty Sansone could be found at this particular club on Monday
nights had been communicated during that conversation, so how hard would it have been to
guess that this would be the night Guy and I would show up?
Guy said, “Did you get the registration plate of the car that tried to run you down?”
“Did I –?” I sputtered, “Well, no, in my rush to stay alive, I failed to note the license
number. It sort of looked like a Mercury Cougar, but I wouldn’t want to testify to that. Does
your friend happen to drive a blue sedan?”
“Not that I know of.” He glanced back at the club; the walls seemed to be vibrating
with the din from inside. “What do you want to do now?”
I wanted to talk to Jake. Since that was impossible for a couple of reasons, I wanted to
go home.
“I don’t think there’s any point hanging around here now.”
“We could try to talk to the others.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I need to approach this from another angle.” Prone.
In my own bed.
He stayed silent as we walked the rest of the way back to his car. He unlocked my side,
went around to his own. I lowered myself gingerly into the leather seat, massaged my sore
knee.
“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked stiffly.
“Mostly my ego.”
He started the engine, but did not pull away from the curb. “His name is Peter
Verlane,” he said.
“What?”
“The friend who told me about this club. His name is Peter Verlane. He’s a former
student and a – well, that doesn’t matter.”
I suspected what that unfinished sentence was and felt an unexpected ripple of
jealousy. Disconcerting. “Is this Peter Verlane the ex-student who you spoke to about
harassing Angus?”
“Yes.”
“You still think he’s not involved?”
“Do you imagine everyone interested in the occult is involved in this?”
“You must have thought of him for a reason.”
Guy said reluctantly, “I thought it would be pleasant to see him again.”
Oh.
I heard myself say coolly, “And was it pleasant?”
“Yes. It was. It always is.”
The first rain drops splattered against the windshield, trickled crookedly down the
glass.
I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to go home.
When I didn’t say anything, Guy put the car into gear.
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