“Okay.”
Keal leaned into the opening, aimed the light at the ground nearest them.
“What?” Toria said.
“Nothing. He’s gone.”
David dropped the hammer. It clattered to the floor, and he fell onto his hands and knees beside it. He spat on the floor. Spat again. He felt Keal’s hand on his back.
“David?” Keal said.
Holding his head low, he raised an index finger: Give me a minute . He could taste Taksidian’s blood on his tongue. He retched, opened his mouth to puke, but nothing came up.
He spat and watched a string of drool dangle from his lip to the floor. He leaned back and sat on his heels. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, saw blood smeared with slobber, and rubbed it off on his jeans.
“I didn’t think going through a portal could make you sick,” Keal said. “Tired, but not sick.”
“I bit him,” David said.
“You what?”
“I had to,” David said. “I went back to his house. He saw me, tried to grab me. I had to bite him to get away.” David spat again. “Tasted like raw steak. Old steak.”
“Gross!” Toria declared.
David looked around Keal at the broken wall. He said, “He might come back.”
Toria backed away.
Keal handed the flashlight to her and scooped up the sledgehammer. He stood in front of the opening, legs apart, hammer cocked over his shoulder, and said, “Let him come.”
CHAPTER
thirteen
THURSDAY, 7:07 P.M.
The circle of light from Toria’s flashlight trembled over the edges of the ragged opening. It slipped into the chamber and wobbled against the far wall. It skimmed over Keal’s back, casting a giant shadow of their protector on the wall.
David pulled his legs out from under him and sat on the floor.
They waited like that for a few minutes. Finally, Keal glanced around the basement, which was lit by weak, yellowish bulbs mounted to ceiling trusses here and there. A labyrinth of walls divided the area into rooms. From any given spot, not much of the basement was visible.
“Anything we can use to block this thing?” he said.
David tried to remember. He’d been down here only once, when he, Xander, and Dad had inspected the basement, looking for ways someone could get into the house. Or for “squatters,” as Dad had referred to people living where they didn’t belong. David had thought it was a funny word and didn’t even want to know what someone would be doing squatting in their basement. Now he wished they had found people living down here, to explain the big bare footprints Mom had seen in the dust on the dining room floor. That would have been much better than the truth, that some bad guy was coming into their house from the past.
“I can’t remember,” he said.
Keal backed away from the opening. He set the head of the sledgehammer on the floor next to David’s knee. Its handle rose straight up.
Keal said, “Toria, wait here with your brother. I need your flashlight for a few minutes.”
She handed it to him and dropped down to her knees beside David. She put an arm around his shoulders.
Keal returned to the chamber and leaned into it again, flashing the light around.
“Don’t,” David said. He felt like a guy who’d been bitten by a lion, only to see his friend stick his head into the beast’s mouth.
Keal threw an anxious look at him and stepped away from the hole. “I’ll be right back. Holler if you hear or see anything, especially in the chamber.”
“You really didn’t have to say that,” David said.
Keal smiled and walked around a corner. “Keep talking,”he called out, “so I know you’re safe.”
“About what?” Toria said.
“Anything. I just want to hear you.”
“La la la la la,” Toria said. She smiled at David, then frowned. “What happened?” She was looking at his knuckles, bloody and bruised.
He rubbed them. “Pounding on the wall.”
“Does it hurt?”
He shook his head.
She called over her shoulder to Keal. “Shouldn’t we call
Learning to Kill: Stories