Angie walked the long way around the car, checking the backseat for any surprises. Finally she opened the passenger door and slipped inside, bringing in the scents of anxiety and cigarette smoke.

“You know,” he said. “Seeing as how you kidnapped me, you’ve got a lot of nerve acting like I’m the bad guy.”

She snorted, running nervous fingers through her blond hair. “Spare me. I know what you midnighters are.”

“What? High school students?”

She turned away to stare through the front windshield, watching the empty alley. “It doesn’t matter how old you are. A monster is still a monster.”

“Me? A monster?” For a second the word made him shudder. Did she know about the way he was changing?

Angie turned to him, her words spilling out with furious speed. “Listen, Rex, the family may have shut me out after what happened two weeks ago, but I know a lot about the history of Bixby. Probably more than you do.”

Rex’s jaw dropped open. “I doubt that.”

“Right, I’m sure you think you know everything.” She smiled. “You may know a few tricks, like how to read fifty-year-old propaganda, but you don’t know what things were really like in Bixby back then. You weren’t there. The old guy I work for was.”

“What? He’s a…” Rex started, but he was too indignant to finish. This traitor to humanity, this Grayfoot lackey, this daylighter was lecturing him about the lore? Rex’s amazement sputtered out of him like an old car engine giving up the ghost.

He’d made Melissa swear to take it easy on Angie’s brain, but Rex doubted it would be tough to make her break that promise.

“After they freed Bixby,” Angie continued, “the Grayfoots discovered a lot of what you midnighters call ‘the lore.’ That’s how I learned to read the symbols, practicing on all that old rubbish about how the great midnighters kept everyone happy and safe.”

“The Grayfoots freed Bixby?” was all Rex could manage. “From what?”

“Come on, Rex. What do you think it was really like back then? A small, unelected group of people running a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. People who could play God with time, who could ruin the brain of anyone who disagreed with them. Doesn’t that sound great, Rex, growing up in a place like that?” She paused, giving him a disgusted look. “Of course, you would have been one of the people in charge.”

“But midnighters aren’t about controlling people’s minds.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Well, they only did it to keep the secret hour hidden, to keep the town safe.”

Angie barked out a single-syllable laugh. “Sometime, Rex, you should read some real history. Everyone who abuses power says exactly the same thing: ‘We only do nasty, secret things to keep everyone safe. Without us in charge, you’re all doomed.’”

“What are…?” He growled, unable to organize his thoughts. “You kidnapped me!”

She looked away, letting out a slow breath, and Rex thought for a moment that he had finally quieted her madness. But after a moment she turned back and said, “It was the only way to stay in contact with the darklings. Without them we couldn’t keep you from re-creating the old Bixby.” She shrugged, the thick leather coat creaking. “Besides, do you know how many hundreds of children the old midnighters kidnapped over the years?”