“Are you okay, Rex?” she said.
He didn’t answer, just turned to Melissa. “Did you touch her?”
“No, I waited. I promised, didn’t I?” Melissa reached toward him. “Loverboy, you look like crap.”
“Feel like it too.” Rex took her offered hand and shuddered, then straightened, as if taking strength from her. “Thanks.”
“What the hell, Rex?” Jonathan said. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Rex thought about the question for a few seconds, like it was a tricky one, but finally he shook his head. “I’m just trying to get all points of view. I think I’ve been a pretty crappy historian.”
“Pretty crappy driver, more like!” Melissa cried. She pointed at the old Ford, which was listing to one side; both tires on the right were reduced almost to bare metal rims. “The first time I let you take my car somewhere without me, and you totally kill it?”
“Yeah. Looks that way.”
“I can’t believe you, Rex! Mr. Responsible, who always gets his library books back on time, but when it comes to my car, you don’t even bother to use the road? The front axle’s busted!”
As Jessica watched Melissa continue her tirade—holding Rex tighter with every insult, their fingers intertwining, their bodies leaning against each other for support—she realized how well the mindcaster had concealed her fear that he might never return. Even when they’d touched, Jessica had only caught a glimpse.
Finally Melissa’s diatribe sputtered to a halt. Rex held her in silence for a moment, then said, “I’ll always remember the old beast fondly. It died saving me and Angie.”
Melissa pulled away and turned to stare at the frozen figure in the wrecked car, her voice lowering to a growl. “Well, she’s my consolation prize, then. She really owes me now.”
“Wait a second,” Rex said.
“No way. I’ve already waited too long for this.”
He drew Melissa back to him, placing one palm against her cheek.
After a moment her eyes widened. “What? Why not?”
“I made a deal.”
“Well, I didn’t make any deal!”
“You did. With me.” He shook his head. “We have to wait for midnight to end.”
Jessica wondered if anyone else was having trouble following this. “What are you talking about?”
“Yeah,” Dess added, still holding a bloody rag to the cut above her left eye. “Could those of us who aren’t psychic at least get some subtitles?”
Melissa yanked herself out of Rex’s arms, stumbling back a few feet and glaring at him. “He doesn’t want me to mindcast Angie.”
“Excuse me?” Dess said.
“Angie’s told me some things about the past,” Rex said. “About midnighters and Grayfoots. And we made a deal. We’re going to wait till midnight ends, then we’ll talk to her. Just talk.”
“Hang on,” Jonathan said. “Are you saying we all risked our lives tonight to have a chat?”
“No way!” Dess cried.
Rex looked at Jessica, his exhausted eyes asking for her help. “We don’t have to use mindcasting,” he said. “We can trust her.”
“To what?” Melissa spat. “Kidnap us less often?”
“I’m not saying Angie’s our friend or anything,” he said, his gaze not wavering from Jessica. “Far from it. But she is like us in one way: she wants to learn the truth about midnight. We don’t have to take her thoughts against her will.”
Jessica drew in a slow breath. The night they’d rescued Cassie Flinders, she’d tried to talk them out of erasing the girl’s memories, and they’d basically ignored her. But if Rex himself was actually having second thoughts, maybe this time it wouldn’t have to work out that way.
“I agree with Rex,” she said. “I think.”
The other three stared at her, and Jessica half expected one of them to shout, Who cares what you think? But as the silence stretched out, she felt something shift within the group. Even Melissa’s manic energy seemed to fade a little, like a child’s tantrum left unanswered.
Jessica crossed her arms. Apparently they did care what she thought.
After a long moment Dess said quietly, “So let me get this straight. I’m bleeding here. An inch lower and psycho-kitty would have taken out my eye. And we’re just going to talk to her, which would imply that we could have done this with a phone call?”
“Possibly resulting in less damage to my car?” Melissa said.
“Not really,” Rex said. “Here in person you can make sure Angie isn’t lying. I believe her, but the rest of you also have to be certain.” He let out a short laugh. “And frankly, I don’t think it would have worked this way on the phone. Sometimes a little shared danger helps.”
“Well, no problem then, you two wrecking my car,” Melissa said, “as long as you bonded.”
“No, no.” Rex shook his head tiredly. “My bonding tonight happened out there. Angie’s just confused.”
“Confused!” Melissa groaned. “She’s a kidnapper, Rex. She should be in jail forever! And nothing happens to her?”
He smiled, his eyes flashing with the dark moon’s light.
“I didn’t say that.”
As the dark moon set, real time swept across the desert, followed by the sudden return of the cold autumn wind. Next to Jessica, Rex jumped a little, like dishes left behind by a yanked tablecloth—as if he didn’t belong in normal time anymore.
He had refused to answer their questions about what had happened to him out in the desert, saying he couldn’t remember. Not yet, anyway.
In that same instant Angie’s face sprang to life, emotions fluttering across it like a TV flipping through channels: confusion, fear, suspicion, and finally lots more confusion. She touched her own head gingerly with her fingertips, as if checking to make sure her ears hadn’t fallen off at the stroke of midnight.
The five of them were standing in a row in front of the car, arms crossed—sort of like a band posing for an album cover, Jessica thought. Even the still-seething Melissa had decided to join them, once she realized that this little moment of surprise was the only revenge she would get to wreak on Angie.
The woman’s eyes widened as she saw them through the front windshield.
“Come on out,” Rex called. “Let’s talk.”
Angie slowly pulled herself out from the battered Ford and stood facing them, staying behind the protection of the open car door.
“Wow,” she said softly.
Jessica guessed that people appearing out of nowhere might be a lot more impressive than a few dominoes jumping around.
“How’s your mind doing?” Rex asked. “Still feel like yourself?”
Angie puzzled over that one for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Like I would dirty my hands with your rank little brain,” Melissa said.
Jessica gave her a sidelong glance. So not true.
“Then let’s talk about the history of Bixby,” Rex said.
“I thought we already covered that.”
“Maybe I want to hear it all again.” He patted Melissa’s shoulder. “And this time I can be sure you’re telling the truth. Or at least, if you think you’re telling the truth.”
“It’s all true,” Angie said. “I can show you the documents.”
“Just talk,” Rex said.
Angie nodded and began telling them all about the early midnighters, the Grayfoots’ revolution, and the rest of the other secret history of Bixby. She started slowly and softly, her baffled expression at their sudden appearance taking a while to fade. But gradually her voice gained in strength, and soon she was declaiming with the utmost confidence.
Rex had already explained most of it to them while they’d waited for the blue time to end, but as Jessica heard the revelations repeated in Angie’s methodical tones, the story began to settle in her bones alongside the desert chill of the Oklahoma autumn night.