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cradling his arm, half buried underneath the unconscious animal.
    "After them!" he hissed.
    Hovey stumbled to his feet. Banes reloaded his gun, pressing two more darts into the chamber. The two men set off even as the stage door clanged open ahead of them.
    Jamie had reached the parking lot between the theatre and the motel. One end led onto Virginia Street with one of the casinos — Circus —just opposite. The other tapered into a narrow alleyway leading to the quieter streets behind. There was nobody in sight. A few cars, belonging to the motel guests, had been left in the lot. The motel office, a box-like room looking out onto the main road, was closed with a no vacancies sign in the window. Jamie came to a halt. The heavy night air seemed to fall onto him, instantly draining his strength. What was going on? Scott had called him…but he had done it telepathically. It had been like a knife going into his head. And then the two men from the audience. One of them with a gun. Jagger…

    "Scott!" he cried out and at once he was angry with himself. He wasn't helping. He had no idea what to do. As always, he depended entirely on his brother.
    Scott wasn't going to let him down. While Jamie stood there doing nothing, he had snatched up a coil of electrical wire that had been left on top of a Dumpster. He had already slammed the stage door shut and was twisting the wire around the handles. Now the door wouldn't open from the inside. He had bought them time. The two men — whoever they were — would have to go around the front.
    "Who are they?" Jamie cried. "I saw them. They were in the theatre. They came twice."
    "Not now," Scott rasped. "We have to move…"
    It was already too late. Even as Jamie watched, a car appeared, a black Mustang racing down the alleyway toward them. There was a driver and another man in the passenger seat, and there could be no doubt that they had been waiting for the boys to come out.
    Jamie froze. Scott leaned down and picked up one of the trash cans. It was full and must have weighed a ton, but maybe desperation had given him extra strength. As the car sped toward them, he threw it. The trash can didn't travel far — but the speeding car did their work for them. The can smashed into the windshield. Glass shattered. Scott and Jamie threw themselves aside as the car rocketed toward them.
    Rotten vegetables and leftovers showered down as the trash can rolled across the hood. They heard the metal door panels crumpling as the car slammed into the side of the theatre. Then it swerved away and smashed into the motel office on the other side. An alarm went off. The car came to a hissing, shuddering halt.
    The two boys had hit the ground and rolled out of harm's way. Jamie was the first to his feet. He reached out for Scott and helped him up. For a brief moment, he wondered if the driver of the car and his passenger had been knocked out or even killed. But his hopes were dashed when the car doors opened and two men staggered out, one of them with blood oozing from a cut in his head, but both otherwise unhurt.
    "Move!" Scott commanded, and Jamie and he set off, making for Virginia Street. They had to get out into the open where there would be other people, witnesses. But as they went, Jamie felt something streak past his ear and realized that one of the men had fired another dart. At least it wasn't a bullet. The plan was to take the two boys alive. But what then? What had brought these people to the theatre in Reno? For years, nobody had cared about him and Scott. Why was all this happening now?
    The boys reached the main street and suddenly the darkness of the parking lot gave way to the brilliance of the Reno night. The casinos were illuminated by a thousand lights: flashing, spinning, rotating, cascading, doing anything they could to draw people in. There was the casino called Circus Circus with its huge clown, pink and blue plastic, over thirty feet high. It was holding a lollipop that rotated in its