Chapter 27

I hid my face in my hands, holding in a scream behind clammy palms. Blood roared in my ears like Niagra Falls. I wanted to cover my eyes, but I couldn’t move my fingers.

Across the highway, Acrocanthosaurus hulked in the light of the burning chapel.

My dad lay slumped in its mouth.

All I could do was stare over the roof of the Dodge, waiting for the monster to throw its head back and swallow him whole.

But instead of choking him down, the Acro stooped and dropped him in the grass. It lifted its head, almost like it heard someone call, and lumbered into the darkness.

Dad lay there, sprawled out. And then, so far away that I almost missed it, he shifted onto his shoulder. Tried to sit up.

That small sign was just enough to loosen the chokehold keeping me from taking my next breath. “He’s alive.” I clapped my sweaty hand on the Dodge’s rear window and said to Dr. Jacobs through the sliding hatch, “He needs help.”

But before we could move, a long, low cop car pulled up around the side of the chapel, and a pair of officers jumped out. They grabbed Dad by the arms and dragged him into the backseat.

Then, lights on and siren off, the black-and-white rolled under the cemetery gate, falling in behind a pearl-colored SUV waiting to turn.

“That’s Mrs. Hemming’s car,” Martina whispered.

“My mom.” All the heat drained from my face. I craned my neck to look. “Is she in there?”

“I don’t know.” Martina glanced at Dr. Jacobs and dropped her voice. “We need to disappear.”

The SUV turned onto the highway. The cop car followed, flashing red-and-blue as it skimmed off into the darkness.

“They’re getting away.” Every nerve in my body vibrated like a high E string. “They’re getting away with my parents.”

Dr. Jacobs shifted the car into drive. But her hand stayed clamped around the stick. And she didn’t hit the gas. The brim of her hat trembled.

“They know Cecelia is close,” Martina whispered. “They’ll swarm this place.”

I banged my fist on the truck, my throat tight. “Dr. Jacobs.”

With a hiss and a curse, Dr. Jacobs yanked the stick shift—this time, from drive to reverse.

But before she could back out, I swung myself over the side of the truck and hit the ground running, sprinting after the flashing lights. My pulse pounded through my whole body.

No. No. No. Every step hammered the word in deeper. I couldn’t let this happen. I couldn’t lose them. I couldn’t—

Heavy footsteps pelted up behind me.

Pine grabbed me around the waist and dragged me to a dusty stop. He locked both arms around me and lifted my feet off the ground.

I struggled to get away from him, kicking and shoving. My elbow jammed into his stomach.

He grunted. But he didn’t let go. “No.” He hugged me tight, crushing the air out of my chest. “No.”

“Please.” Tears burned in my eyes. The fading red and blue lights and the chapel fire blurred together. “Please. This can’t happen.”

The Crow wants you. He pressed his face into my shoulder, still bent around me like an iron bar. You can’t give him what he wants.

I slumped—would’ve dropped to my knees if Pine wasn’t holding me up, holding me tight.

“No.” I bowed my head and sucked in a shaky breath. It snagged on a sob. “This isn’t how . . .” My voice cracked, and my rage crumbled.

Heavy teardrops pattered on my shirt and plopped on the toes of my shoes.

Pine led me back to the truck. And the next thing I knew I was riding in the truck bed, propped up against his shoulder and hugging my knees. The wind whistled by, blowing my hair in my eyes and drying the sticky tear tracks on my cheeks.

Every thought in my head smeared. All I could do was grip my phone tight, staring at the black screen, aching to call Mom or Dad. Just to know they were okay.

But I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t. If anybody picked up, it wouldn’t be my parents. The smartest thing I could do was turn off my—

A little beam of hope sliced through the fog.

My location.

I pulled up my location sharing app and checked my settings to make sure I’d gone dark. Then I opened the map.

Dad’s phone was still at the chapel. He must’ve dropped it like his glasses.

But Mom’s tag came up miles away, at the end of a long, lonesome lane.

My next breath was so full and deep, it squeezed my heart.

Swiping tears out of my eyes, I checked the address on street view. Past a swirling iron gate and rolling acres of lawn stood a seashell-white mansion with a terracotta tiled roof. And in the center of the circular driveway sat a humungous fountain, layered like a wedding cake.

I knew that fountain. I’d seen it through Crow’s eyes.

That was Dixon’s place.

Dr. Jacobs parked the truck in front of her ranch house. When she jumped out, she left the engine on. “Keep the car running,” she said to Martina.

Winnie ran up to her, barking and whining.

But she strode right past, aiming for the house. And as she rounded the Dodge, she pointed at me and Pine. “Go get your things.”

“Wait.” I swung over the side of the truck and dropped onto the gravel drive. “I know where my mom is.”

Martina reached out the driver’s side window to check my phone. “She’s right. This is Evelyn’s cell.”

But Dr. Jacobs was too busy unlocking her front door to even look. “Where the phone is and where your mom is may be two different things,” she called back before pushing into the house.

“That’s not . . .” I shut my mouth. She had a point. Mom probably wasn’t even holding her phone anymore. And leaving location sharing on to lure me in definitely sounded like Mrs. Hemming’s particular brand of evil. “But my mom and dad—” I shoved my phone in my pocket and stumbled after Dr. Jacobs, into the house. “We can’t leave them behind.”

“I won’t. I promise.” She stopped in the entryway to open her coat closet, slung a camping backpack over her shoulder, and picked up a couple of rolled-up sleeping bags. “But right now, we gotta get you out of here and regroup.”

“But what if Mrs. Hemming moves my parents again? What if I lose them?” My heart raced. This was all wrong.

Pine stepped through the front door, and I had to press my back against the wall and hold my breath to let him brush past me. He disappeared down the hall.

“We can’t wait,” I said as I unpeeled myself from the wall. “I need Crow and a rematch. As soon as possible.”

“You’re not ready to tangle with Crow again, not while he has the Acro.” Dr. Jacobs powerwalked back down the porch steps, threw the pack and sleeping bags in the back of the Dodge, and came right back to rummage through the closet some more. “That’s a ten-thousand-pound carnivore. Getting bit by that thing would feel like getting crushed under a Honda Civic.”

“All I have to do is poof it and catch it,” I said. “Then we can use it against him.”

Pine came around the corner and shoved my overnight backpack into my arms. “I need the box.”

I blinked. His timing couldn’t be worse. “The what?”

He let out a gritty sigh and yanked one of his hearing aids out to show me. It blinked red, low on juice. “The box.”

The charger. “Bathroom,” Dr. Jacobs and I said at the same time.

He disappeared.

I swiveled back around to Dr. Jacobs, trying to scrape my focus back together. “If I just—”

“You can’t take down a theropod that size.” She pulled her rifle out of the closet. “Not with what you got right now.”

“Then we’ll go back to the museum.” I wrestled my arms through my backpack straps. “We’ll get something bigger, something stronger—”

“You’ll get out of town, that’s what you’ll get.” Dr. Jacobs slammed the closet shut with her boot and leaned against the wall, pointing the gun toward the floor to check the safety. “That museum is enemy territory, now. This whole place is.”

Pine hauled my guitar case into the entryway, his duffle slung over his back. He dumped the guitar at my feet, freeing his hands to cram his second hearing aid into his charger. He snapped it shut and chopped his hand toward the open door. “Go?”

Dr. Jacobs shouldered her gun and put a hand on my shoulder, sweeping me onto the porch so fast I barely had time to grab my guitar. “Go.”

“Hold on,” I said. “Can we just talk about—”

Winnie interrupted me with a string of hard-edged barks. She almost sounded frantic.

We all shut up and stared out into the dark.

Slowly, Dr. Jacobs crept down the porch steps and into the gravel. She took her rifle in both hands. Scanned the yard.

Winnie pointed her nose toward the stables, paws planted on the ground, her body all bunched up.

Past the moths swarming the barn light, all I could make out were shadows.

But a low rumble shook the air and shuddered in my bones—a bass drop too low for human ears.

Suddenly, Dr. Jacobs planted her hand on my back and shoved me toward the truck. “Run!”

Acrocanthosaurus lunged out from behind the barn. It swooped down on us like a crashing plane and opened a gigantic mouth full of thorn-shaped teeth.

A wave of hot, moist breath washed over me. And I swear, for one slow-motion second, my soul left my body.

In two steps, I surged from stumble to sprint.

Pine and Dr. Jacobs were right on my heels.

And behind them? I couldn’t look back. But I could hear the accelerating thud of massive footpads.

The truck started rolling forward. Martina leaned her head out the window. “Come on,” she screamed.

I booked it for the Dodge. My guitar banged against my knees, but I couldn’t ditch my only weapon. All I could do was hike it higher and push myself faster.

Winnie streaked out ahead of me, every dog for herself. That old lady jumped for the truck like Michael Jordan. She just barely caught the tailgate and scrabbled into the back.

Another toll of silent thunder shook the air.

Goosebumps spilled down my skin. The full-body shiver injected me with one final burst of speed.

I caught the gate with my fingertips and, with all my strength, swung my guitar. It banged into the bed. Then I cartwheeled after it, landing next to Winnie with a thud.

Safe.

When I sat up and pushed my hair out of my eyes, I saw Dr. Jacobs and Pine lagging behind. Either they were losing steam, or Martina was pushing the truck faster.

The Acro rushed after them like a freight train. It bowed low and opened its slobbering mouth, ready to scoop them up. The rumble swelled.

My stomach rolled. One of that monster’s swaying stomps covered at least five human strides.

They’d never outrun it.

I unsnapped my case and pulled my guitar into my lap. And with a sharp breath to steady my shaking fingers, I flicked my wrist and strummed out a daring flamenco sting.

Sarsaparilla bucked up out of the ground, tossing his head and kicking clumps of dirt.

He lunged away from the Acro with a startled honk and fell into a gallop alongside Dr. Jacobs.

In one swift, smooth motion, she grabbed his bare back and swung herself over his spine. Then she swiveled, straining to catch Pine’s hand.

He swung his arm out. Their fingertips brushed. Disconnected.

But just before he fell behind, Dr. Jacobs snatched the handle of the duffle bag strapped across his back.

The Acro closed in.

Pine let out a yell and leapt to grab Sarsaparilla’s neck—

But the Acro’s jaws slammed around his waist like a bear trap, snapping him up midair. The chomp cut his shout short.

The dinosaur crunched him like a trash compactor. Pebbles and grit spilled out of its mouth.

“Pine,” I screamed.

Dr. Jacobs was left holding his duffle. She looked up at me, horrified.

Pine’s soulshine slingshotted back into me, and his voice filled my body. I’m here.

“Omigosh.” I clapped my hand to my chest, shielding the spot where he’d landed. I nearly forgot he could do that. “I got him,” I shouted.

Powering after Dr. Jacobs and Sarsaparilla, the Acro shoved off both tree trunk legs in a last-ditch lunge.

Its jaws closed like a vault door.

Just when I was sure Sarasparilla would lose his tail to those teeth, he shifted up on his back legs like a motorcycle popping a wheelie. And in a perfectly-timed spurt of speed, the tip of his tail slipped through the Acro’s snapping teeth.

When Sarsaparilla caught up with the Dodge, Dr. Jacobs tossed the duffle to me. Then she half-jumped, half-slipped, bailing out into the back.

She landed on her knees and banged the side of the truck. “Punch it.”

The engine roared. We raced down the long driveway, leaving the Acro in our dust.

I slumped over my guitar to catch my breath. Then I called Sarsaparilla back—like I should’ve done with Pine.

The Acro slowed to a lazy walk and stared after us, ribs heaving.

“Why isn’t it chasing us?” I yelled over the wind.

“It’s too heavy to run.” Dr. Jacobs watched it disappear in the darkness, one hand clamped around her rifle, the other resting between Winnie’s ears. “Theropods pay for size with speed.”

We travelled two or three more miles, and when we finally felt safe-ish, Martina pulled over to let us into the cab. She scooted into the middle, surrendering the driver’s seat.

“And that”—Dr. Jacobs shot me a pointed look as she slammed the car door—”is why we’re making ourselves scarce.” She started the car and pulled back onto the road. “We’ll get your parents back. But we gotta circle the wagons, first.”

Fair enough. We got lucky this round. But if Dixon’s mom scried us out again, Crow wouldn’t let the Acro miss twice.

I buckled up by the window, carrying Pine’s soulshine since there were only three spots on the bench seat. I’ll bring you back when I get the chance, I said.

No hurry. He sounded pretty shellshocked.

We rode down the highway, all the way to the last stoplight in Somervell County.

But when we rolled up to the red signal, Dr. Jacobs let out a low hum.

I followed her gaze to a cop car waiting on the shoulder, lights off.

Martina glanced at her. “We’re not passing that, right?”

The traffic signal turned green. Dr. Jacobs spun the wheel, pulling a U-ie. “I’ve got a back route.”

I kept an eye on the side mirror, just in case. But the black-and-white didn’t follow.

We took a farm road that connected to the highway—but again, when we pulled up to the intersection, another cop car lay in wait by the curb.

Dr. Jacobs rerouted again. Then again. And again. It got later and later, until it was early, and I couldn’t help but nod off against the window.

I snapped awake to the feeling of the truck lurching to a stop. We’d parked in the middle of an empty backroad.

Next to me, Martina zoomed out on her phone map. After a long moment of searching, she closed her phone.

We all sat in the dark for a moment.

“We’re not getting out of here, are we?” she said quietly.

Dr. Jacobs took a deep breath through her nose, unbuckled, and shoved out of the car. She walked out into the dark and paused by the curb, hands on her hips and head bowed.

For a few moments, the only sound was the nonstop dinging of the open car door.

Just when I opened my mouth to ask Martina if somebody, not me, but somebody, should check on her—

Dr. Jacobs lost it. She slapped her hat on her leg and ripped loose a hailstorm of swear words that could curdle milk. The name Christine came up more than once as she slammed her cowboy boot into a rotting stump by the roadside, kicking it to splinters.

I scrunched up in my seat and exchanged an awkward glance with Martina.

She reached for the radio, staring straight ahead, and turned on Dolly Parton.

After another minute or so, Dr. Jacobs stepped back up into the truck, shut the door, and settled into the driver’s seat. She placed her hat back on her head, smooth and cool as aloe gel.

“Better?” Martina asked carefully.

Dr. Jacobs heaved a sigh, turned down the radio, and pulled back onto the road. “Yup.”

We rode in total silence. I had no idea where we were supposed to go now, since we were trapped on all sides. But after that outburst, I was kind of nervous to ask. So I just sat with my hands in my lap and waited.

The Dodge bounced down a dirt road and rumbled over a cattle guard, into a wide-open field. The headlights revealed a set of old tire tracks cutting through the grass, and we followed them for a long time.

Out the window, humungous wind turbines stood on a distant hill, red lights blinking in sync like UFOs. It seemed to be the only light for miles. The night sky overhead was so clear, I could see a river of shining stars flowing through the cool black. The Milky Way.

And then I realized, under our tires, deep in the earth, there was another galactic glow.

Thousands of twinkles of soulshine, running through the hills like a vein of gold. More than I’d ever felt at once.

Dr. Jacobs parked the truck in the middle of the field and stepped out.

Martina and I followed her lead.

Wind shushed through the meadow, sending ripples through the prairie grass. All around us, hundreds and hundreds of crickets chirped. This felt like, I don’t know—hallowed ground. Like at the first disturbance, the magic glittering under my feet might wink out.

“Where are we?” I whispered.

“A secret place.” Dr. Jacobs put her hand on my shoulder. “Walk with me.”

I glanced back to see if Martina was coming along, but she was already busy unrolling sleeping bags in the back of the truck.

Poor Winnie had already sacked out. Looked like we were camping here tonight.

I shadowed Dr. Jacobs through the tall grass, following the massive current of soulshine curving through the ground.

She paused for a moment, scanning the land like she was searching for something. “Your grandaddy helped me dig here about”—she rested her hands on her hips and whooshed out a breath—”shoot, thirty, thirty-five years ago?” She started off again, striding through the weeds on long legs. “This way.”

I had to skip a step to catch up.

“Back in the eighties, at Jones’ Ranch, they were tripping over sauropod bones. But Johnny Slumber sniffed this site out all by himself with the very same magic you got.” She held onto her hat and dropped, sliding on her boot heels down a steep, dusty slope.

I stumbled and skidded after her and landed in a low, bare place. All the grass and soil had been shoved to a pile on one side, exposing bone-white limestone underneath.

Dr. Jacobs pulled her wallet out of her back pocket and took out a bent-up polaroid picture. Even by the light of the moon, I recognized it—the one she showed me the day we met, with her and Grandpa John posing in front of a string of backbones, each about as big as a washing machine.

“We only got a couple vertebrae out. It was all we could manage on a budget, so we left the rest safe in the ground. Always said we’d rustle up a grant and get back to it.” She tucked the photo back in her wallet and shrugged. “Then we got old. You know the rest.”

As I stared down at the ground under my feet, taking in ancient energy only Grandpa and I could feel, the wind kicked up and lifted my curls. A whale-sized memory spread through the ground here like the roots of an old tree, shining like a constellation.

“What—” It took me a moment to find my voice. “What is it?”

“We called it Paluxysaurus back then, for the river. But now, it’s Sauroposeidon.” Dr. Jacobs looked up at me, starlight in her eyes. “The earthquake lizard.”

Did this mean . . . “You’re gonna let me fight Crow?”

“Seems Christine won’t give us much choice.” Dr. Jacobs pinned her stare to the ground, but under the shadow of her hat, I saw a lick of fire flash in her eyes. “We can’t outsmart her, we can’t outrun her. So fine. She wants a fight, she’ll get a fight.” She scuffed her boot in the chalk. “She may see us comin’, but I guarantee she won’t be ready for this haymaker.”

A strange, solemn feeling washed over me, like standing in church under a rainbow of stained glass. Knowing Grandpa found these bones years before I was born—it was like he’d left buried treasure for me. Like even now, he was with me. Helping me through my very worst day.

“Can it take the Acro?” I asked.

“If anything can.” Dr. Jacobs put her hand on my shoulder and bent to look me in the eye. “But I gotta tell you, Sweet Pea. This is the last card up my sleeve. I can give you a second chance at Crow, but you gotta make this one count.”

She was right. We could only surprise him like this one last time. I’d have to bring this shovel down hard and fast if I planned to cut off the head of the snake.

But if we pulled this off. If I could get the magic stealer out of the picture. If I could get the Acro in my holster . . .

Not even Mrs. Hemming could keep me from my parents.