CHAPTER FOUR

Chloe

I told Liz about the note I wanted her to leave, and we followed Derek out of the grave yard. There was a big, dark forest just across the street, and I thought, did they have to bury me in the creepiest place possible? I saw a movement in the bushes, but I figured it was a squirrel or hare. Then two big, human shadows crept across the street. I saw two people. Both of them had long, black robes covering their bodies. They were walking side by side, in a rush to get to or away from something, or to something. They way they walked seemed vaguely familiar, and sent chills down my spine.

"So," Liz said, interrupting my thoughts. "Should I leave the note now or later?"

"Later," I said, turning to her. "Come with me,"

I walked across the street just in time to see one of their hoods fall off. I knew that person. I loathed that person with a passion. Her hair was brown and in a tight bun, her age probably somewhere in her 60's. The other one's hood stayed on, but I didn't have to see his face to now who it was.

"For goodness's sake, Margaret, keep your hood on." The hooded one hissed. "That girls funereal was right across the street. Do you want a werewolf, a witch, and two sorcerers on our behinds? I sure as heck do not."

"Well, Russell, maybe you could talk louder and let the whole neighborhood know we're here." Margaret hissed back. "This cloak is too big, I told you. I'm sorry my head's not as big as yours."

"Hey, bigger head, bigger brain." He paused. "Why do we have cloaks anyways? It's kind of creepy."

She sighed, as if explaining something to a child for the hundredth time. "They cover our whole bodies, we can't risk being seen."

"Then you should stop taking off your hood."

"I was not taking it off!"

They continued to bicker, but I wasn't listening. Why were they in Buffalo? If they were trying to stay away from my friends, then why were they in the same general area as them?

I stayed in Margaret's blind side, making sure she couldn't see me. When they proceeded into the forest, I looked at Liz. "How do I make myself invisible to necromancers?"

"What? We can do that? I thought you saw all ghosts."

"I did. I do. But there would always be talking to me, but since they were invisible, I couldn't see them. I could sense them, and since they were talking I could tell they were there and I forced them to say hello. But, if I don't make a sound, I can pull it off, right?"

"I don't know. Sure?"

I smiled at her. "So how do I do it?"

"I didn't even know I could do that until five seconds ago. Sorry, but I'm on the same page as you." There was a pause. "Are you thinking about following them?"

"Nope," Liz exhaled in relief. "I'm thinking about how to be come invisible so I can follow them. I'm gonna follow them."

"I don't think it's a good—"

"C'mon, we could still catch up!" I whisper-yelled and dashed into the forest. I need to be quieter.

I slowed down and tiptoed through the mud. Then I remembered that my footsteps don't make noise anymore, so I started running again. It didn't wind me like it used to, and I was still wondering if I could just transport places, but I'd save that for later.

When I finally caught up with Russell and Margaret, they were going down something. Probably some stairs that I just couldn't see, because there was a tree in the way. When their heads were fully out of sight, and took a tentative step forward.

"Where're we going?" Liz whispered in my ear. I jumped.

"I-I don't know," Even in death I had a stutter. "Where ever they're going."

I slowly inched toward it, frightened of what I might find. I saw a big, wooden board lying on the ground. "Liz, can you . . . ?" I pointed at the board.

"Sure thing." She walked over and lifted the board with ease. I was completely sure this is where they went.

There were red clay stairs leading down to a room. Before I walked down the steps, I pictured myself being invisible. I pictured my frame, and made it slowly begin to fade. I really hoped it worked.

I told Liz tot do the same thing, and we walked down the steps. There was a small light of some kind of light coming from the room that would make it easier to see.

I hoped Margaret wouldn't see us.

I knew she couldn't hurt me. Whatever she threw, shot, flung, it would pass right through me.

She could banish you into another dimension. Oh, yeah, that.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I had to hold back my gasp of horror.

The room wasn't really a room at all. It was a big hole, with walls uneven. It was shaped round, with a big rock, flat, white at the front. At least I thought it was the front, if we were saying the part by the stairs was the back. The rounded shell was red, only a shade lighter then the stairs. Torches lined the entire barrier, giving the area a faint glow.

Worst of all, it was filled with people.

Some of the faces I recognized, some I didn't. I knew one thing for sure: they were all from the Edison Group. There were people dressed in the robes, but mostly it was people dressed as if they were going for a stroll in the park.

It was the perfect place for a sacrificial ceremony. If this was a movie, about three of the guys in robes would come out of some long corridor, carrying some poor, innocent blonde girl with mascara streaks on her face. They would put her on the big rock, and she would cry, protesting under the duct-tape. Then the boys who carried her would walk away, and out would come the leader, who was also wearing a robe, with a big dagger, engraved with the name of their cult.

But what happened instead, was Margaret took off her hood and stepped onto the rock. She clapped her hands three times, and the sound echoed off the sides of the fortress. Everyone stopped talking and looked at her.

She put on the fakest, sweetest smile I'd ever seen. "Hello," She began, "Thank you all for coming today."

There were grumbles from the crowd.

She continued. "You know why we want you here. All of us lost someone, or something, in the battles against those children." She snarled the word. I could just make out Russell, who was nodding in the shadows. Standing next to him was another cloak-wearing person. "They are obviously very powerful. As long as they are around, they're a threat to all of us. That's why they need to be . . . terminated." She smiled again. "They're a threat to us and everything we stand for."

My stomach plummeted.

A guy in a green shirt yelled, "If they took out the whole Edison Group, what chance would any of us have against them?"

Her smile faltered for a second, and then was firmly back in place. "Excellent question, Mr. Davidoff." I did a double take. Dr. Davidoff was dead, wasn't he? Yes, because I'd made Tori's mom kill him. He was dead. But this wasn't Dr. Davidoff, it was someone else. His skin tone was darker, and he was much younger, boyish almost, though I would guess that he was at least nineteen.

Margaret didn't pause. "Your uncle and the rest of the Edison Group had no idea what those kids were capable of, what they created, but we do. The Edison Group was the attacked, not the attackers. They had no time to prepare themselves physically or mentally. The children's little group always had the upper hand. The Edison Group never knew exactly when they would get paid a visit. Well, we can be the attacking, not the attacked. We can have the upper-hand. We'll need much preparation, of course, but that won't be an issue. They think they've destroyed us all, that the danger is over, so they won't be expecting us anytime." I was sure that if I still had a pulse, my heart would be racing.

Margaret stepped down, and the crowd erupted in conversation. She gestured for someone else to take her place, and said, "Mrs. St. Cloud?"

But when the next person stepped forward, the room was silent.

Her hair was perfectly straight, drifting down to her waist. It was the color of moonlight; a soft white, but obviously not with age or dyed. Her skin was tanned, but not at all wrinkled. Her lips had a natural pout, and her round eyes were the same green as Derek's. Her voice was soft, beautiful sounding. Mr. St. Cloud's wife. "They will be grieving the loss of that witch of a girl, so they won't be as keen in a fight. We need to go when the grief is still fresh, but we have to train. I have a feeling some of them—especially my son—will be grieving for quite some time. But eventually we'll have to strike."

"When will we fight!" Someone yelled from somewhere in the cluster.

The girl speaking frowned. "When I feel you're ready." She shot a glare at everyone in the room. "Any questions?"

Silence.

She smiled. "Good,"

Son. She said son. There's only one person in the group who was young enough to be her son that would miss me more then anyone else. One person who never knew his biological parents, because his earliest memories were of him in a lab. One person who's name was Derek.

They began to talk about tactics, fighting skills; our weaknesses, how they'd attack, and I ran outside. I didn't want to hear anymore.

Liz was right behind me. We ran until we reached the street again.

When we did, she said, "We have to warn Derek!"

"No,"

"What?"

"He can't know about his mom or that Mr. St. Cloud was most-likely his father. He's already going through enough."

"Then we'll just leave out that part." She reasoned.

"He can't know I'm . . . here,"

"Why not? You were going to tell him anyway."

I shook my head. "That was before. If he knows I'm still around, but also dead, he'll still be grieving. Knowing that I'm there, but he can't touch me or hear me, might even be worse then now. HE can't be feeling all that while he's fighting."

Liz nodded. "Alright. Let's go to Simon,"

I nodded. "Simon,"