TAKYLAR

The rosy, chamfered edges of my smartphone trembled in my hands, a dull static tone hitching through the speaker. "Officer, listen," I finally tried.

"Just answer the question, TaKylar," Gavin breathed on the other end. "Did you know?"

I closed my eyes, retreating from his voice. "Yeah...I knew."

He sighed. "What happened to trusting each other? I told you I wanted to keep you kids safe—both of you."

"Officer L—"

"Gavin," he pressed. "I already told you—call me Gavin."

I winced. "Sorry, I just...Jacquarious is my best friend. And he didn't want anyone to know he was Whiteface...not even you."

"Yeah, well, now his basketball buddies are racing across town trying to make it to a newspaper where he might already be dead."

"Dead!?" I screeched. "Why...how would—"

"Like I said," Gavin growled. "We need to trust each other, TaKylar. And that means you have to tell me everything."

"Okay, but...please. Make sure he's okay."

"I will. But I'm going to need your help."

I nodded, swayed sideways as a pair of flashing headlights blinked from outside my bedroom window. "Anything—just tell me what to do."

****

It was barely twenty minutes from the time I'd ended the call that I was stepping out of Officer Ramos's cruiser, shivering back from the icy night as it slithered my spine.

I spotted Gavin almost instantly, his expression stern and scowling as he towered, hands on hips, over a quartet of boys I assumed were Jacquarious's teammates.

The shortest one turned his head, spotting me in the distance and offering a shy wave. "Hey, TaKylar," he called.

Grey? "H-hey," I managed, sauntering over with Officer Ramos right behind me. I ducked away as Gavin twisted to meet my eyes.

"TaKylar, look at me," he ordered.

I shuddered, staring up. "Did...did you guys find him?"

The tallest one—Dash?—shook his head. "We...didn't even catch Mrs. Cabot."

"Catch her?" I puzzled.

Gavin scowled again. "Turns out their little reckless drag race in the middle of the night didn't turn up any leads. Shocker."

"Hey, we tried our best," Grey bit back.

I hesitated. "I...I don't get it. Why're you guys looking for him here?"

"It's the paper," Dash offered. "The last place we spotted Mrs. Cabot before she...disappeared."

I shook my head. "She was shaking you."

Gavin's eyes grew wide.

"It's a reporter thing," I sighed. "Jacquarious told me about it—they don't always like using the main entrance. Apparently, there's this...tunnel underground. It spans maybe half a block. There's entrances all over this part of town. Helps them keep from being seen."

"How do we get there?" asked one of the boys, blond curls catching the light as worry warped his frosted blue eyes. "If he told you about it, then you know where they are, right? You gotta help us!"

"Brayden, slow down," Dash ordered, stepping in front of him. "Just let her talk."

"Where is it, TaKylar?" Gavin asked—no, ordered. "Show us."

I twisted left, pointed a single finger ahead of me. "The only one I know about is across the street, behind that gas station. He said there were a bunch, but I only ever saw that one. If you lost Mrs. Cabot around here, odds are she might have taken that entrance."

Gavin bolted off, hands secured against his weapon as his feet pounded the asphalt.

Grey and I followed, along with the others. The blond boy, Brayden, ran the closest to me, determination etched across his eyes.

I couldn't help but let out a low giggle. Wow, Jacquarious—your teammates are pretty cute. I coughed as his gaze briefly swept toward me, my eyes darting to the road.

"I'm...Brayden, by the way," the blond boy finally said. "You and Grey met at that drugstore in Browning, right?"

I felt my shoulders relax as we ran onward, making it across the street. "Well, we actually met at the hospital."

"Yeah," Dash chimed in. "It's a long story, Bray."

The gas station's street lights flared down at us as we approached the convenience store; I stepped out front and slid around the edge, caressing through the manicured shrubs and gripping the electrical panel that crouched behind them.

"Careful," Gavin called into my back.

I felt along the bricks until I found a grated knob. "Here," I whispered. "This is it." I pressed the knob twice, and a rectangular slab in the shape of a door sank backward into the surrounding wall.

"No way," Brayden whispered.

"I...could use some help," I mused, tugging at the makeshift door as it staggered ahead, my figure dwarfed by its stony façade.

Gavin and Brayden darted forward at once, pulling alongside me until the bricked entrance slid to the left—rays of broken red light filtering through the shadows.

A spiraling case of stairs spread out before us, a winding a harmonic wave standing in descent to darkness flushed in scarlet.

"Stay close to me," Gavin ordered. "All of you."

I hazarded a final glance back over my shoulder, where the sheening lamplight above us remained a far cry from the fading streams of crimson below.

My gaze fixed somewhere in the distance, I saw the tiniest of forms glint in the night—a somber shear of shade staring back at us from across the way.

It was faded, ethereal, barely daring to exist.

Yet it was there.

It was there as we trekked below.

It was there as the gas station faded overhead.

It was there as concrete and asphalt and traffic lights climbed past our field of vision.

And with the subtlest of motions, it lifted a single hand and waved, street light glinting at a thin and crooked smile as we closed the wall of bricks behind us—as we stepped downward, shoes clicking with reticence at each sloping stair.