When the door to my cell clicked open, the first thought that flitted through my doped-up brain was that Liz had changed her mind and come back. But ghosts don't open doors. They will, on occasion, ask me to open one, so I can raise and interrogate the zombies of supernaturals killed by a mad scientist, but they never need one opened for themselves.
I sat up in bed and rubbed my bleary eyes, blinking away the lingering fog of the sedative. For a moment, the door stayed open only a crack. I slid from the bed, tiptoeing across the thick carpet of my fake hotel room, praying the person on the other side had been called away and I could escape before these people started whatever experiments they'd brought me here to —
"Hello, Chloe." Dr. Davidoff beamed his best kindly-old-man smile as he pushed the door wide. He wasn't that old — maybe fifty — but in a movie, I'd cast him as the doddering absentminded scientist. It was an act I'm sure he'd worked on until he got it just right.
The woman behind him had chic blond hair and a New York suit. I'd cast her as the mother of the nastiest girl in class. Which was cheating, because that's exactly who she was. Mother of Victoria — Tori — Enright, the one housemate we'd left out of our plans when we'd escaped from Lyle House, and for good cause, considering she was one of the reasons I'd needed to escape.
Tori's mom carried a Macy's bag, like she'd just been out shopping and popped in to conduct a few horrific experiments before heading to lunch.
"I know you have a lot of questions, Chloe," Dr. Davidoff said as I sat on the edge of the bed. "We're here to answer them for you. We just need a little help from you first."
"Simon and Derek," Mrs. Enright said. "Where are they?"
I looked from her to Dr. Davidoff, who smiled and nodded encouragingly, like he fully expected me to turn in my friends.
I'd never been an angry kid. I'd never run away from home. Never stamped my feet and screamed that life was unfair and I wished I'd never been born. Whenever my dad told me we were moving again and I needed to transfer schools, I'd swallowed a whiny "but I just made new friends," nod, and tell him I understood.
Accept your lot. Count your blessings. Be a big girl.
Now, looking back at a life of doing what I was told, I realized I'd bought into the game. When adults patted me on the head and told me I was so grown-up, what they really meant was that they were glad I wasn't grown-up enough yet to question, to fight back.
Looking at Dr. Davidoff and Mrs. Enright, I thought of what they'd done to me — lying to me, locking me up — and I wanted to stamp my feet. Wanted to scream. But I wasn't going to give them that satisfaction.
I widened my eyes as I met Mrs. Enright's gaze. "You mean you haven't found them yet?"
I think she would have slapped me if Dr. Davidoff hadn't lifted his hand.
"No, Chloe, we haven't found the boys," he said. "We're very concerned for Simon's safety."
"Because you think Derek might hurt him?"
"Not intentionally, of course. I know Derek's fond of Simon."
Fond? What a strange word to use. Derek and Simon were foster brothers, tighter than any blood brothers I knew. Sure, Derek was a werewolf, but that wolf part of him was what would stop him from ever hurting Simon. He'd protect him at all costs — I'd already seen that.
My skepticism must have shown on my face, because Dr. Davidoff shook his head, as if disappointed in me. "All right, Chloe. If you can't spare any concern for Simon's safety, maybe you can for his health."
"W-what ab-bou — " My stutter cropped up most when I was nervous, and I couldn't let them know they'd struck a nerve. So I tried again, slower now. "What about his...
