I looked down at the floor, covered in wisps of blond hair with purple tips.
She’d been giving Lauren a haircut.
“Step away from the girl, Vi.”
The monster gaze me a quizzical look, took three steps backward, her hands raised in the air. “I haven’t heard anyone call me by that name since you did last, right here.”
“Lauren!” Skink cried from behind me, running for the girl who was standing now, taking off the sheet. She was wearing yoga pants, a T-shirt. Other than the funky half-finished haircut, she looked absolutely fine.
“Skink?” She stepped forward and embraced the boy. “Oh my God! What are you doing here?”
“I came to save you. Well,” he said, smiling sheepishly, “Lizzy and I did.” Then he demanded, “Did she hurt you?”
“No,” the girl said.
“Drug you? Hypnotize you?”
“Um, no. Nothing like that.”
“I don’t get it,” Skink said. “What did she do?”
“She saved me.”
I still had the gun pointed at Vi. “Skink, I’d like you to take Lauren out of the room, please. Go back upstairs and wait for me there.”
“Really,” Lauren said, “there’s no need for all this. I’m fine. Better than fine, actually. I mean, I’m sure my hair looks a little ridiculous right now, but that’s kinda your fault, right?” She laughed.
“Take her upstairs, Skink,” I ordered. “Now.”
The two teens left the room.
“Down to you and me, Iris,” Vi said. “Just like old times.”
“No one calls me that anymore.”
“I’m sorry. Lizzy, then. Lizzy Shelley. A beautiful name. I’m happy to see you. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
“For what, exactly?”
“To show you. To show you what I’ve become. Isn’t that why you’re here? Why you’ve hunted me down? You’re very clever, you know. Catching on. Following me around the country. And now we’ve come full circle, haven’t we? Back here, where it all began. Really, it just seems perfect.”
“Were you going to kill her in front of me?”
Vi laughed. “Is that really what you think?”
“I think at least ten girls have gone missing, never to be seen again,” I said. “If you’re not killing them, then what—”
“Some monsters,” Vi interrupted, “use their powers for good. Please, come sit. I have something to show you.”
She bent down to reach into the pack beside her, and I yelled, “Stop! You need to keep your hands where I can see them.”
Vi put her hands above her head. “Fine. Will you please get my laptop out for me, then? I don’t have any weapons.”
She shoved the pack toward me, and I peered in. Yes, a laptop. Some apples and granola bars, a first aid kit and a flashlight. I pulled out the computer, handed it over.
“May I sit down?” Vi asked.
I nodded. Vi took a seat on a pile of blankets on the floor, opened the computer on her lap, started typing.
“Here,” she said. “Look.”
I stepped closer, just behind Vi, and looked down at the screen.
Vi had opened to a page showing a woman in business attire, a profile page of some sort. Claire Michaels. Forty-four years old, executive at Livewire Multimedia in Burbank, California. Married with two kids. All her contact info.