Spirits in the Park by Scott Mebus Page B

of surprise would help him. He braced himself, about to rise, but before he could, Bridget was already standing.
    â€œHey, bozo!” she called out, and ran forward. Rory heard a thud and a cry. He leaped to his feet and raced out from behind the Dumpster. To his considerable surprise, Bill lay prone at Bridget’s feet, a huge red mark square in the center of his forehead. Bridget shrugged, lifting the cleaver in her hand.
    â€œI whacked him with the blunt end,” she said proudly. “He sure didn’t see it coming!”
    Rory took a second to breathe before hitting his sister in the shoulder, hard.
    â€œWhen we get home, I’m going to kill you,” he said crossly. “Come on, we’ve got to get moving before he wakes up.”
    He started to jog away. Bridget ran after him.
    â€œNo ‘thank you, Bridget’?” She pouted. “No ‘You’re the best sister ever’? You are an ungrateful brother, Rory Hennessy.” They reached the end of the alley and turned the corner. As they rushed back toward Broadway, Rory glanced angrily at Bridget’s paper body.
    â€œI thought I locked that body up!”
    â€œCome on, the apartment’s only so big,” Bridget shot back. “Behind the baseball cards was, like, the third place I looked.”
    â€œHow many times have you gone out in that thing anyway?” he asked, frowning.
    â€œThis is the first time—” Bridget began to say, but Rory was sniffing the air.
    â€œIs that smoke?” he asked, cutting her off. “Have you been around a fire or something?” A memory tickled him from earlier that day. “Wait a second! That burning car, with the mystery person saving the baby . . .”
    â€œNo one knew it was me,” she protested. “I had to do something! I saved your life, too, remember!”
    â€œBeing a hero is too dangerous, Bridget,” he scolded her. “You’ll get yourself hurt or killed, paper body or no paper body. Remember what Flavio said about the body being temporary? Every little tear in the papier-mâché could be very dangerous, in ways we don’t know anything about! When we get home, we’re throwing that thing out!”
    Bridget lapsed into silence, still pouting. The dark streets around them seemed deserted. Rory had no idea what to do next. Should they head back to Dyckman’s farmhouse? For all he knew, Nicholas was dead. So what should he do now? Thankfully, before he had too much time to worry, a bark cut through the quiet air.
    Tucket bolted out of the shadows, racing right for them. Close on his heels came Alexa, disheveled and bleeding—but alive. Relief erupted on her face when she saw them.
    â€œThank the gods!” she cried, pulling both of them into a rough embrace. “We thought you were dead, Rory.”
    â€œNot yet,” Rory said, peering around for the other members of the watch while trying to keep Tucket from mauling him with his big tongue. “Where is everyone else? How is . . . is he okay?”
    Alexa’s eyes looked tired and heavy.
    â€œWe’re not sure yet. That cleaver got him good, right in the midsection. We beat the Hessians off; or at least we think we did. They probably rereated once you were taken. Fritz called the gypsy cab and paid for it himself to bring Nicholas down to his father’s farm. Simon’s helping him. Lincoln’s with them, too. He was hurt pretty bad in his leg, but I think he’ll be okay.”
    â€œHow did you find us?” Bridget wanted to know. Alexa nodded toward Tucket, who was happily hopping around at their feet.
    â€œI just followed the dog,” she said. “He took me right to you.”
    Rory gave Tucket a rough hug. “Thank you, Tucket.” He glanced up at Bridget. “And thank you, Bridget. You’re the best sister ever.”
    â€œYou bet your booty I am,” Bridget replied, fighting a smile and