crypt.
The trunk blocked all but thin gaps on the sides and top of the opening. Keal reached into his pocket and pulled out some coins. “Okay, watch,” he said. He placed a quarter on the top edge of the trunk, barely hanging over. He did the same with a dime and two pennies. “Now if anyone even nudges it, the coins will fall off, and we’ll know someone was here.”
“They’ll hear them hit the floor,” David said. “They’ll know what you did and put them back.”
“Ah,” Keal said. “But I put each one facing a different direction, and only I know exactly how they were placed. Like a combination lock.”
David smiled and nodded. “Smart.”
Keal gave him a little push. “You thought I wasn’t smart?”
As they backed away from the chamber toward the stairs, David thought again how much it resembled a crypt. He wondered how much time he had before it wanted him back.
CHAPTER
fourteen
THURSDAY, 7:31 P.M.
Having reached town—cars driving around, people going about their business—Xander and Dad stopped looking over their shoulders for Taksidian every two seconds. They were about to cross a driveway into a business’s parking lot when Taksidian’s black Mercedes pulled off the main road into the drive and stopped in front of them.
Dad threw his arm across Xander’s chest and took a step back. Their fear was reflected back at them in the car’s black-tinted side windows.
Xander swiveled his head, looking to see if Taksidian’s accomplices, his henchmen, were moving in on them. The sun cast an orange tinge into the western sky, leaving the rest sapped of color; the twilight left too many shadowy places to hide for Xander to be sure of anything.
He imagined a car full of hulking creatures like the ones who had attacked David, Toria, and him the day before. They would spring out like trapdoor spiders and pull them in. The image gave way to another less dramatic but equally lethal scenario: Taksidian with a silenced pistol.
“Dad?” he said.
“Get ready to run,” Dad whispered.
The driver’s window slid down, revealing Taksidian’s gaunt and supremely smug face. His gaze took in Xander, then moved slowly to Dad. Words rolled out of his mouth like swells on an ocean, deep and smooth: “Join me for a piece of pie?” He nodded at something through the windshield. They were in front of the diner the Kings had eaten at on their second day in Pinedale.
“You tried to kill me!” Xander said, straining against Dad’s arm. “And my brother! You stabbed Jesse, took his finger!
You kidnapped my mother!”
Taksidian pursed his lips and swirled his hand in the air, as if to say, I know, I know . . . get it all out, if it makes you feel better .
“Xander,” Dad said. He turned his back to Taksidian and placed a firm hand on Xander’s chest. “Not here.”
Xander snapped his face toward his father, the blazing hatred for Taksidian now directed at him. “What’s with you?” he said. “How can you not want to tear him apart? Who else has to be kidnapped, who has to die before you do something?”
Taksidian watched them with those bored eyes—but Xander knew they were alert eyes. His high forehead and long kinky hair reminded Xander of the creepy undertaker in the movie Phantasm .
Taksidian shook his head. With the precision of a skilled actor, he managed to focus whole soliloquies of contempt and disdain into a single word: “Teenagers.”
Dad’s muscles tightened, but he ignored the man. He hooked his fingers around Xander’s bicep and said, “Come with me.” He led Xander away from the car.
“I don’t get you,” Xander said. “You know what he’s done!”
“I know what our goals are,” Dad said. “Do I want to tear him apart? I do. Is it the best way to get your mother back? I don’t think so. He may be the only person who can bring her back to us.”
“Him?” Xander said. “ We can find her!”
“I think we can too,” Dad said.
The trunk blocked all but thin gaps on the sides and top of the opening. Keal reached into his pocket and pulled out some coins. “Okay, watch,” he said. He placed a quarter on the top edge of the trunk, barely hanging over. He did the same with a dime and two pennies. “Now if anyone even nudges it, the coins will fall off, and we’ll know someone was here.”
“They’ll hear them hit the floor,” David said. “They’ll know what you did and put them back.”
“Ah,” Keal said. “But I put each one facing a different direction, and only I know exactly how they were placed. Like a combination lock.”
David smiled and nodded. “Smart.”
Keal gave him a little push. “You thought I wasn’t smart?”
As they backed away from the chamber toward the stairs, David thought again how much it resembled a crypt. He wondered how much time he had before it wanted him back.
CHAPTER
fourteen
THURSDAY, 7:31 P.M.
Having reached town—cars driving around, people going about their business—Xander and Dad stopped looking over their shoulders for Taksidian every two seconds. They were about to cross a driveway into a business’s parking lot when Taksidian’s black Mercedes pulled off the main road into the drive and stopped in front of them.
Dad threw his arm across Xander’s chest and took a step back. Their fear was reflected back at them in the car’s black-tinted side windows.
Xander swiveled his head, looking to see if Taksidian’s accomplices, his henchmen, were moving in on them. The sun cast an orange tinge into the western sky, leaving the rest sapped of color; the twilight left too many shadowy places to hide for Xander to be sure of anything.
He imagined a car full of hulking creatures like the ones who had attacked David, Toria, and him the day before. They would spring out like trapdoor spiders and pull them in. The image gave way to another less dramatic but equally lethal scenario: Taksidian with a silenced pistol.
“Dad?” he said.
“Get ready to run,” Dad whispered.
The driver’s window slid down, revealing Taksidian’s gaunt and supremely smug face. His gaze took in Xander, then moved slowly to Dad. Words rolled out of his mouth like swells on an ocean, deep and smooth: “Join me for a piece of pie?” He nodded at something through the windshield. They were in front of the diner the Kings had eaten at on their second day in Pinedale.
“You tried to kill me!” Xander said, straining against Dad’s arm. “And my brother! You stabbed Jesse, took his finger!
You kidnapped my mother!”
Taksidian pursed his lips and swirled his hand in the air, as if to say, I know, I know . . . get it all out, if it makes you feel better .
“Xander,” Dad said. He turned his back to Taksidian and placed a firm hand on Xander’s chest. “Not here.”
Xander snapped his face toward his father, the blazing hatred for Taksidian now directed at him. “What’s with you?” he said. “How can you not want to tear him apart? Who else has to be kidnapped, who has to die before you do something?”
Taksidian watched them with those bored eyes—but Xander knew they were alert eyes. His high forehead and long kinky hair reminded Xander of the creepy undertaker in the movie Phantasm .
Taksidian shook his head. With the precision of a skilled actor, he managed to focus whole soliloquies of contempt and disdain into a single word: “Teenagers.”
Dad’s muscles tightened, but he ignored the man. He hooked his fingers around Xander’s bicep and said, “Come with me.” He led Xander away from the car.
“I don’t get you,” Xander said. “You know what he’s done!”
“I know what our goals are,” Dad said. “Do I want to tear him apart? I do. Is it the best way to get your mother back? I don’t think so. He may be the only person who can bring her back to us.”
“Him?” Xander said. “ We can find her!”
“I think we can too,” Dad said.
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