Part 34 (2/2)

I jerked my head at Jack, but he was staring intently at the phone.

The line crackled, as if Dr. Spears had breathed deeply into the receiver. ”I guess not. But you must find out where the heart beats first. Hypothetically.”

We were all quiet for a moment. Mrs. Stone looked at Jack and he nodded. She leaned forward again and said, ”Thank you again, professor.”

”Of course, Joyce. And, kids, if you find out where exactly the bracelet comes from, please do let me know.”

We hung up the phone. We were going after Cole's heart.

THIRTY-ONE.

NOW.

Jack's car. Thirty-six hours left.

We walked out of the school and straight to Jack's car. He turned on the engine and the heat. I looked back at the school, aware that I probably wouldn't set foot inside it again.

”What do you think, Becks?” Jack said.

I turned away from the building. ”Cole always tells me he has a heart, but it's not inside him. I've even listened to his chest. There's nothing there.”

”If it's not inside him, it's gotta be near him. We just have to figure out where it is. Professor Spears was right about the life force stuff. We have to a.s.sume he's right about the heart, too, which means it's valuable to Cole. So valuable that he would protect it with everything he has.”

”Maybe it's locked away in a vault or something? Like in an urn.” I could only imagine a shrunken actual heart, but perhaps I was being too literal.

”But the band moves around so much,” Jack countered. ”I'd guess it would be in something portable. Not as fragile as an urn.”

”Wait,” I said. Something portable. Something valuable. Something he protects and keeps with him always. Something as important to him as my own hands were to me. ”His guitar.” I got excited thinking about it.

”His guitar.” Jack repeated the words, as if trying them out.

”He takes it everywhere. And once, when I touched it, he freaked out.” I remembered the day in my bedroom when I'd clawed at the strings. ”I should've seen it before. He uses music to stir the emotions and circulate the life force of the audience, just before he steals energy. It's like an actual heart; the center of the circulatory system. Pumping the nourishment. I watched him do it. It's his guitar...” I stopped talking. Jack was staring at my arm, his eyes wide.

”What?” I demanded.

”The fingers. I can see them moving.”

I looked down at the mark, which was visible beneath the thin cotton of my s.h.i.+rt. It was halfway between my elbow and my wrist. I didn't see it at first, but as I stared, I saw the line creeping.

”Mary said it would speed up,” I said.

Jack was quiet for a moment, staring at it. Then his arms were around me and he crushed me into him. ”I can't lose you again, Becks.”

”You're not going to.”

This time, though, I actually believed it might be possible.

Jack drove us to Grounds&Ink. His left leg never stopped bouncing. When we found a booth, he ordered two coffees.

”Make them decaf,” I said to the waitress.

Jack nodded. When the server left, he said, ”We've got to figure out a way to separate Cole from his guitar.” The words spilled out of his mouth and ran together.

”Do you think it's just a matter of getting it away from him?” I asked.

”We find it, steal it, and then smash it.”

I laughed a desperate sound. ”So all we have to do is find Cole, get close enough to him that we can steal his guitar- without him knowing it-and then smash it. And we have twenty-four hours.” I tilted my head back and looked at the ceiling.

”I know how we can get close to him,” Jack said quietly.

”How?”

”We give him the one thing he wants.” He was staring at his hand as he flicked his ring finger with his thumb.

”Me.”

He nodded, still not looking at me. ”And then I think I know someone who would love to smash a guitar.”

We left the coffee shop and Jack drove me to my house. We had decided to wait until the next morning to go to Cole's place. It was my idea, in case we failed. I couldn't stand the thought of waiting those last few hours for the Tunnels. If our plan didn't work, I wanted the Tunnels to get me that very instant.

Jack pulled over in front of my house. My dad's car was in the driveway. He and Tommy were home from the Silver Lodge.

”Um ... where will you...” I bit my lip.

”I'll be in your room. Don't lock the window.” He touched his lips and then touched my hand.

I nodded and got out of the car. My father, Tommy, and I ate a simple dinner that night. French toast. Breakfast for dinner. Just what the mayor needed after a tiring campaign. When I first got to the Everneath, I sometimes pictured what I would say to my dad and Tommy if I had the chance. But imagining the scene was very different from living it.

Tonight I had nothing to say. No wisdom to impart. No tearful good-byes. I had once had the words, but now they fell through me, as if I were a defunct sieve. Just one more ordinary dinner, in our ordinary kitchen, under ordinary circ.u.mstances. As if nothing were different.

I realized then that my Return had been painful. More painful than I ever could have imagined, with birthdays of Tommy's that I'd never get to see, and the inauguration of my dad that I wouldn't be able to attend, and good-byes I'd never be able to say.

But it'd been beautiful, too. The moments I could cling to, like the touch of Tommy's golden hair beneath my fingers, and the sound of my dad's voice as he talked to my mom when he thought no one else was listening.

When we were done, I hurried and did the dishes, and then I hugged Tommy and said good night.

”You never hug,” Tommy said.

I kissed the top of his head, scruffed up his hair. If this worked, I would do everything I could to make life normal for my little brother. I headed down the hall to my room, opened the door, and shut it behind me.

Jack was lying on his back on my bed, his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Without a word, I laid down next to him, facing him. He turned to look at me.

<script>