TAKYLAR

It'd been one thing to hear Jacquarious talk about this place—a scattershot underworld passage where reporters could hide and sneak past the eyes of the public.

But it was another thing entirely to actually be here, to be under a fancy newspaper instead of a Browning Heights drugstore, to be striding next to a group of boys I'd never have expected in a million years to be helping me search for my best friend.

Gavin must've sensed my nerves, his lumbering frame wading closer to me. "I'm...sorry I got so angry before."

I shuddered, clocked the basketball boys hanging back as Gavin nudged my shoulder.

He sighed, both hands gliding through his dark hair. "Ramos says I get too attached sometimes. I...I guess he's right."

"...Well, you're definitely the nicest cop I've ever met." I swayed to the side. "Jacquarious thinks so too, even if he has a hard time sayin' it."

Gavin sighed again, stuffed both hands in his pockets. "He's been through a lot." It wasn't a question; he could tell—he could really tell. "And so have you."

I glanced off.

"I meant what I said." Gavin placed a hand on my shoulder. "No matter what we find down here, I won't let anything happen to you."

"Ditto," Grey mused from behind me. "We may not know you that well, but...any friend of Jacquarious is a friend of ours."

"What he said," Dash affirmed.

I stroked my braids, warmth rising in my cheeks. "Um...thanks."

We carried on for a few more moments, the cavernous corridor drenched in red starting to narrow at its end as a set of three identical doors faded into view.

I turned to Gavin, the obvious unspoken question twisting at his lips.

But then...then I heard it.

The lowest, creakiest, most desperate moan slicked through the air: "H-h-help...help...please..."

I gasped.

Gavin's hand zoomed immediately to his weapon.

Grey gulped. "Was that—?"

"No," I said. "That wasn't Jacquarious. But—"

"Please...help..." the voice sounded again. Thick, oily, flaming, tortured.

Gavin kicked in the door ahead of us, gun aimed forward and waving as he lunged inside.

I gasped, backing into Grey and Dash. "No way..."

Crawling toward us, a tall man with ginger hair dragged his body across the stone floor. Dried blood contoured the side of his face, darkening his shirt as black liquid dripped from beneath his shoulder.

Gavin's eyes narrowed. "August? What are you doing here?"

"H...help..." he scraggled, body collapsing as he reached for Gavin's leg.

I took a single step forward, staring down at August's writhing as he lay on the floor. "He's gotta be here somewhere," I said.

Still facing forward with his back to us, Gavin unstrapped the radio from his waistbelt. "Ramos, call the ambulance. One victim down, bludgeoned to the head and shoulder, possible additional wounds. I'm going deeper to search for Whelan."

Static rumbled. "Those other kids still with you?"

"Ramos, call the ambulance!"

He sighed. "Yeah, alright, I'm on it. Just be safe, man."

Gavin lowered his radio, strapped it back against his side before motioning for the rest of us to follow him deeper into the shadows.

We passed into another flight of stairs, the shimmering red glow lighter than it had been in the corridor, overbreathed with a still and eerie pitch. Every footstep clicked and thundered all at once, the railings trembling as we leaned against them.

The carmine waves flickered, buzzing around us when—

"Whoa...guys, look," Grey whispered over my shoulder, his arm extending to point at a jagged, deformed filing cabinet that lay on its side.

Gavin raised his pistol, aimed it upward. "Goldengate PD!" He screamed. "Show yourself!"

"...never going to stop"—a soft and faraway whisper.

"Show yourself!" Gavin yelled again, darting up the stairs. He grabbed at the door, but it wouldn't budge, the flashing red keypad denying entry.

He drew a long baton from beside his hip and smashed the glass out of the window, knocking away the jagged edges before jabbing his arm through and yanking the lever.

"It's never going to stop..."

"Jacquarious!" I screamed, rocketing for the door and bursting through behind Gavin.

The basketball guys hurried in after me, the disheveled metal racks and overturned desks dragging along the walls as we spun three hundred sixty degrees.

"Jacquarious!" I called again. "Where are you—?"

"Stop," his voice rattled out from the wall—no, from inside the wall.

I scampered to the edge of the room, hurled away swaths of fallen drapery covering a rusted knob and the narrow obsidian rectangle attached to it.

I rattled the door, but the ebony would refused to budge.

Gavin pulled me away, then kicked in the door with his heavy police boot, caving the edge. He ripped the remainder of the splintering frame from its hinges, hurling it to the floor before shining his flashlight against the wall...against the boy with glazed eyes whose head rested deep in the corner furthest from us.

"It's never going to stop," he begged. "It's never going to stop."

The static of Gavin's cop radio droned from his belt. "Longchamp," barked Officer Ramos's voice. "Longchamp, do you copy?"

Gavin raised the radio to his chin. "Go for Longchamp."

"Ambo's coming inside. You find that other kid you were looking for?"

"Affirmative."

"Lucky for you," Ramos said. "'Cause it looks like you weren't the only one."

Gavin shifted an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"His name's Jacquarious, right? Whelan?"

"Yeah," Gavin mused.

"Well, his...mom is here."

Oh, no. I shot a fearful glance at Gavin.

"What? How did she—"

"Tracked his phone," Ramos said, sighing. "Better get out here, man. Any longer, and I think this lady's gonna lose it." 

****

I trudged up the stairs behind the gas station, slinking next to Dash, Brayden, Grey, and Cody, all our heads ducked as Gavin marched ahead of us—a dark and solemn procession.

Moments after, the paramedics were steering Jacquarious from around the other side of the gas station, his body flat on top of a stretcher. The wheels clattered across the asphalt, a ragged hum under the hush of the towering lights gleaming the streets. He lay shivering, lips mumbling beneath the sweat that clung to his forehead; his chest rose and fell in a fragile rhythm, steady and subdued.

The moment I averted my eyes, I spotted Mrs. Afryka, her every stride like a blade cutting through the night.

A few feet away from her, Gavin froze in place. "Mrs. Whelan," he tried.

"Help me understand something, Officer." Her cool and biting tone met his wincing face. "I still haven't managed to wrap my head around why my son is skulking around some newspaper in the dead of night."

"...Perhaps I can answer that."

My head flicked in time with Gavin's, peering past Mrs. Afryka's shoulder, where a woman on high heels clacked toward us in the distance.

I leaned toward Brayden. "Isn't that...you guys' teacher?"

"Yeah," he gulped. "Mrs. Cabot."

Mrs. Afryka whirled to face her. "Oh, and just who might you be?"

"Regina Cabot," she said with a soft sigh, extending her hand. "I teach your son English Literature. He...really is phenomenal."

"Ah, what a pleasure." She placed both hands on her hips and sashayed to Mrs. Cabot. "My sister Cekoda has told me a lot about your newspaper. Or, more accurately, your husband's newspaper."

Mrs. Cabot took a single step back, but Gavin moved closer. "We understand you're upset, ma'am—"

"Upset? Dear, I'm not even the slightest bit upset." The shadow of an angry smile twisted her lips. "I'm outraged." Her smile widened. "It's almost absurdly funny, when you think about it. You manipulate my child, lure him to this godless place in the middle of the night, and you have the audacity to tell me how wonderful he is?"

"Ma'am, please—"

"Do not speak to me," Mrs. Afryka barked. "My son almost died tonight. And it's your fault." She pushed past the adults and strode over to me, her gaze sweeping the boys behind me before finding my eyes. "And what about you? Were you a part of this too, TaKylar?"

I winced, spotted Gavin as he desperately shook his head. "...No, Mrs. Afryka. I...I just came because..."

Gavin nodded, his face resigned. Blame it on me, I could hear him say—blame it all on me, TaKylar.

"Because Officer Longchamp told me to. He...he brought me here."

Mrs. Afryka shook her head. "Of course he did." She put an arm on my shoulder and pulled me toward her, craning my body into a soft embrace.

Dash and the basketball guys backed away from me, Mrs. Afryka snapping her head back to glare again at Gavin and Mrs. Cabot. "You'll both be hearing from my lawyer. And as for my son..."

Wind whipped all around us, the loose hair swaying at her back flying into a whirlwind of rage.

"Lose his number. You'll never see him again."