The Birch House

Chapter Thirteen

"You know," Chase said twenty minutes later, "I'd feel a whole lot better about the two of us if you didn't think I was the go to guy for breaking and entering."

We were standing on the professor's back porch, and I was peering through a murky window into an equally murky living room. I felt a flash of guilt about the breaking and entering part - but I had called him - just before my heart did a funny painful flip and I heard him say again in my head the two of us.

I didn't dare look at him. Surely he didn't mean that, exactly. That meant, you know, friendship or something. He treated me like a kid. Like his sister. He didn't - he couldn't-

But what if he could?

And I couldn't believe I was thinking this now, on the doorstep of a dead man. The memory of Professor Forbes' limp, rubbery body steadied me, and I was able to finally stand back from the window and meet Chase's without fluttering like some scared sparrow.

"Well, I couldn't ask Lyss," I said reasonably. "She's at work."

"Makes sense. Hey, look, what's that?" Chase pointed. I whirled to stare. There was a sound of tinkling glass behind me, and when I turned back he was opening the back door. "There. Now you can say you didn't know I was going to do it. Crime free."

Well, not exactly. I was still carrying the metal cylinder over my shoulder. I wondered if the vampires had recovered yet, and if anybody had thought to question the TA at the chem lab. I hoped not. He was nice, and in his own way he was brave, but I had no illusions that he wouldn't sell me out in a hot second. There weren't a whole lot of heroes left in Mystic.

One of the last of them turned in the doorway and said, "In or out, kid, daylight's burning."

I followed Chase over the threshold into Professor Forbes' house.

It was kind of weird, really - I could see that he'd been here hours ago, living his life, and now the house seemed like it was waiting for him. Maybe not so much weird as sad. We came in through the kitchen, and there was a cereal bowl, a glass, and a coffee cup in the dish strainer. The professor had eaten breakfast, at least. When I touched the towel underneath the strainer, it was still damp.

"Hey," Chase said. "So what are we looking for here?"

"Bookshelves," I said.

"Yo. Found 'em." He sounded odd. I followed him into the next rom - the living room - and felt my stomach sink a little. Why hadn't I thought aboyt this? He was a professor. Of course hed have a jazillion books...and there were, floor to ceiling, all around the room. Crammed in together. Stacked on tables. I'd thought the Birch House was a reader's paradise, but this...

"We have two hours," Chase said. "Then we're gone. I don't want to risk you out on the street after dark."

I nodded numbly and went to the first set of shelves. "He said it had a black cover. Maybe that will help."

But it didn't. I began pulling out all the black bound books and piling them on the table; Chase did the same. By the time we'd met in the middle of the shelves, an hour had passed, and the pile was huge.

"What the hell are we looking for?" he asked, staring at it. I didn't suppose I don't know would be an answer that would get any respect.

"You know the tattoo on Lyss' arm?"

Chase acted like I'd stuck him in the butt with a fork. "We're looking for the book? Here?"

"I-" I gave up. "I don't know. Maybe. It's worth a try."

He just shook his head, his expression something between You're crazy and You're amazing. But not in a good way. I pulled up a chair and began leafing through the books, one after another. Nothing...nothing...nothing...