That surprised me. “Do I know you?” I said.
“Nah. Agent told me you’d come by.”
I glanced at Ema. She shrugged to show that she didn’t get it either. “He did?”
Ian nodded. “He asked me to do the work on you, but he didn’t say where. Arm, thigh, back . . . where do you want it?”
I took a step closer to him. “We didn’t make an appointment.”
“Oh, I know.”
“So when you say you expected us to come by—”
“Agent didn’t say when. He just said you would. Stop by, that is. And he said that when you do, I should take care of you. Look, he left the artwork right there for you.”
He pointed with his chin at the lower left-hand corner of the mirror—at the same image I had seen in Bat Lady’s house, by my father’s grave, and on Ema.
“Do you like it?” Ian asked.
It took me a moment or two to find my voice. “What is it?” I asked, my voice sounding oddly hushed in my own ear.
Now it was Ian who looked surprised. “You don’t know?”
I shook my head.
“Agent didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
Ian shook his head. “Man, that’s odd. Why would he think you’d want that tattoo if you don’t know what it is?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But could you tell me what it is?”
Ian mulled that over for a moment. We waited. Finally he said, “That’s a butterfly.”
I stifled my sign of impatience. “Yeah, we can see that.”
“More specifically,” he went on, “that’s the Swordgrass Brown Tisiphone Abeona.”
I felt my stomach drop at that last word. I swallowed hard, repeating his words in my own head. “What did you say?”
Something in my voice must have come out as a threat. Ian put his hands up as though warding me off. “Whoa, calm down, dude.”
I took a deep breath. “What did you call that butterfly?”
“Hey, Agent told me that. He talked about it all the time.”
“Please just”—I tried to keep my voice in check—“tell me the name of the butterfly again.”
“Swordgrass Brown Tisiphone Abeona.”
I swallowed. “Abeona.”
“Yep,” Ian said, smiling now. “Hey, you know about Abeona?”
I said nothing.
“Me and Agent, we were into ancient gods and goddesses, you know, because people want them as tats. Abeona was a Roman goddess. Did you know that?”
I stood there, stunned. I thought back to my father’s resignation letter: “I know that no one really ever leaves the Abeona Shelter. . . .”
“I’m not a big fan of this one myself,” Ian continued, “but see, Abeona was a sort of shielding goddess. She protected children when they first left the safety of their parents, guarding them during their first voyage away from home. Like that. And what’s weird about this butterfly, well, the name, right? Tisiphone was one of the Furies, you know, the Ancient Greek gods? She punished the big crimes—murder and stuff—especially when it came to children in danger. Do you know her story?”
I shook my head, afraid to speak.
“Okay, see Tisiphone’s father, Alcmaeon, accidentally left her and her brother, Amphilochus, with Creon, who was king of Thebes. Now Tisiphone, even as a young girl, was a total hottie, so Creon’s evil wife sold her into slavery. What the wife didn’t realize was that the guy who bought Tisiphone was actually working for Alcmaeon, her father. See? It was all a big plan to save his children.”
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
“Oh man, Agent talked about it all the time. That’s why he loved this butterfly. I think it’s native to Australia or New Zealand, someplace like that, but it’s named after both Tisiphone and Abeona. That’s why he loved to put it in his work. See those eyes on the wings? Like they’re watching you. For him, the symbol is all about rescuing children. It’s all about giving them protection and shelter.”
Shelter. The Abeona Shelter. Where my father worked all those years . . .
“Ian,” Ema said, “do you know how we can reach Agent?”
Ian smiled. “He said you’d ask that. So he wanted me to be clear.”
“Well?”
“No. There is no way to reach Agent. None.” He gestured toward me. “So what do you say, Mickey? You ready to get the tattoo?”
My cell phone buzzed. I looked down and saw it was a text from Racheclass="underline" Got a clue on Ashley.
“Not now,” I said, rushing to the door.
Maybe not ever.
chapter 21
WE WERE GOING TO MEET at Myron’s house, but a quick call to his cell phone stopped that.
“Where are you?” Myron asked me.
I didn’t like the tone in his voice.
“I’m with friends,” I said.
“Driving what car?”
Uh-oh. Ema was studying my face. I mouthed the word “Trouble.”
“I know your father taught you to drive,” he said to me. “But it’s illegal. You know that.”
“I’m just at a friend’s house,” I said.
“Whose?”
“Rachel. You met her last night.”
“You couldn’t walk there?”
“Uh, I, look, she’d never go out with a kid. So, well, I told her I was older.”
Wow, could that have sounded any lamer?
“You lied?”
“No, not really. I just let her believe . . . Look, I’ll tell her the truth. Then I’ll drive the car home and not use it again.”
“Mickey,” Myron said, putting on his parental voice, “do you know what will happen to you if Chief Taylor catches you driving?”
I said nothing.
“Just leave the car there,” Myron said. “Walk home. I’ll find a way to get it back here.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thank you. But can I stay a little while longer?”
“Only if you promise to tell her the truth,” Myron said. “You shouldn’t lie to her.”
Oh boy.
“You’re absolutely right,” I said, choking on the words. I wanted to tell him to stick it, but more than that, I did not want him looking for me. “I’m so sorry. I’ll tell her right away. Bye.”
When I hung up, Ema started laughing.
“What?” I said.
“Your uncle bought that?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “He’s new to this.”
“I guess so.”
We called Rachel back and changed the meeting spot to her house. The gate guarding the driveway opened the moment I turned into it. Rachel must have been watching. Ema sat in silence. She didn’t comment at all as we drove up to the mansion.
“I still don’t know where you live,” I said to Ema.
“We got bigger worries, don’t you think?”
She had a point. When we pulled up to the house, Rachel was already standing in the doorway. Ema stared at her with an expression on her face I would have to call resigned.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“She is beautiful, isn’t she?”
I didn’t know how to reply to that, so I didn’t. I pulled the door handle and stepped out. Rachel smiled when she saw me. The smile dimmed a bit when she saw Ema. We both headed up the walk toward her. Rachel watched Ema. Ema watched Rachel. I didn’t know what to do.
Rachel said, “Ashley didn’t want anyone to know about this.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Ema’s been in on this from the beginning.”
Rachel didn’t look happy about my answer. Neither did Ema. I tried to move us forward.
“You said you had a clue about Ashley?”
Rachel looked wary.
“It’s okay,” I said.
She sighed and led us into the house. We sat in the same opulent room where Rachel and I had been just a few short hours ago. “This laptop was in the pool house. Ashley used it to check her e-mail. I was able to get into her account.”
“How?” I asked.
Rachel looked uncomfortable. “My father is rarely around,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to keep an eye on me. Last year, he put this parental spy software on all the home computers so he could monitor what I was doing.”