Catalyst

Chapter Six

Phoebe slept through the rest of the train ride. After their talk, she fell into a coma-like state. Her brain couldn't handle any more information, any more already broken promises. When she woke up, the train was slowing and James was nudging her shoulder with his own.

"Come on Pheebs, time to get up."

She grumbled and wiped her face, which had been semi-plastered to the glass of the window. Her eyes were thick and cement-heavy, full of grime. It was still dark outside.

She instantly sat up and started running her hands over her hair.

"What time is it? We're there? I thought it was a five hour ride."

"It was. You slept through four hours of it."

She looked over at him. It was obvious he hadn't slept at all. He was pale and there were slight circles under his eyes. She pulled his arm toward her and twisted it so she could see his watch.

"It's almost midnight," she said, astonished.

"Yup." James stood and stretched his arms above his head, rather unsuccessfully since he was only a few inches shorter than the ceiling of the train car. He groaned a bit as he crouched in the aisle, pulling their duffel bags out from below the seat and handing one to her. Phoebe realized with a vague sense of wonder that they were in New Jersey. She'd never been this far from home before. She didn't know where anything was, or how to even get there.

"Um, how will we be getting to your Aunt's place? Is she picking us up?"

"No, I didn't tell her we're coming. We'll take a cab."

They walked through the emptying train cars and onto the platform, heading into a large, brick building with red shutters and gray linoleum floors.

"Why didn't you tell her? We're just going to get there after midnight and knock on her door? That's so bad-mannered!"

He gave her a dark look, effectively telling her to shut up, but he was not her boss.

"We might scare her half to death knocking on her door this late," she argued. "Maybe we should call her and let her know we're on our way."

He led her to a set of automatic doors at one end of the building and Phoebe caught herself staring at everyone they passed, watching for a flash of black eyes or a man with a wolf's face. She felt very much like a spy or a criminal. She could dye her hair red and wear sunglasses, she thought. She might have been going insane.

"Aunt Linda should be awake," James said, breaking into her spiraling thoughts. "She's a bit of a night owl. Besides, I didn't want to use my house phone or my cell, in case the hunters get a hold of the records somehow. And if they're watching her number, I don't want your cell popping up either. If you called, we'd have to get rid of your phone to stay safe, and you need it for your parents so they don't end up thinking I kidnapped you."

It all made sense when he listed it out so clearly, but it still seemed wrong.

"It's not like we're paying her a late night visit to bother her, either. Her niece is missing. Her nephew is being hunted. I think she'll understand."

Phoebe couldn't argue with that.

James flagged down a cab, which was surprisingly easy considering the late hour. She wondered if there a big night scene in Trenton, considering it was Tuesday night. Or Wednesday morning, as it were. It was past her bedtime.

"1367 Appleton Street," he told the driver.

The cab swerved dangerously fast onto the road, cutting off what other cars were out and honking at undeserving drivers who were only doing the speed limit, not twenty above. Phoebe kept her hands clutched to her seat belt, running her nails over the thick fibers and feeling silly for being so afraid of a car ride. It lasted only ten minutes, but she suspected with a normal driver it probably would have been double that.