“Go on,” I urge Bodog, “but don’t touch anything. You can eat whatever crawly thing you can catch, just don’t touch anything else. Okay?”
He descends into the cellar, a small morsel for the looming darkness. Amid the hinges’ creaking protest, I hear a soft sigh. “Good dirt. Soft.”
I call down to Bodog. “No digging.” The last thing I need is for him to undermine the house foundation with tunnels.
A grunt, whether in agreement or not, is given.
“I mean it,” I say and then let the doors bang shut.
On my way back to the porch, I run into Grandma and Grandpa. “There he is, George. Now tell him.” The shrillness to Grandma’s voice is a testament to her panic. “He can’t go back. It’s not his problem.”
Grandpa cups Grandma’s shoulders and gently squeezes. “It’s not our call. He knows the danger. He knows it’s not going away.”
“What are you saying?” Grandma shrugs out of his hands, gawking at him as if he’s morphed into a goblin. “You’re talking like you think he should go. Do you want him to die?”
Air rumbles from his chest, and he glares down at her. “That’s a fool question.”
“Don’t you use that tone with me, Mr. Newman.” Grandma’s hackles are raised and she digs in for a fight.
“Now see here,” Grandpa says, waggling his finger at her. “I didn’t mean anything…”
I zone them out. Neither has a say in what I do. I’ve been dumped here, but that doesn’t mean I have to stay here. I don’t mean that in a disrespectful way—I’m not like them, not completely. My human self is only half the equation that guides me. Once my first half crested, it sunk its hooks deep into me. The ownership of my will has become a daily struggle. To deny either side is to deny who I really am, and I’m done pretending I’m normal.
As they argue, I feel the hairs on my neck rise. I turn to see Kera gripping the porch railing, her violet eyes ringed with worry. When she sees me staring, she slowly turns and goes inside. I follow.
Barefoot, she pads through the kitchen as silently as the ghost I thought she was the first time I met her. She moves down the hall and into my bedroom. The scent of new construction fills the air. After the firsts torched my room, Grandpa got busy rebuilding, and the bones of bare studs line the wall, its skin of drywall waiting patiently in the shed to be fitted and nailed on. The few clothes of mine that didn’t get damaged in the fire are neatly stacked and pushed out of the way. At least all the necessities—new bed, electricity, and working bathroom—are there.
“Close the door.” Her whisper is ragged.
I do as she asks because frankly, she’s freaking me out. I’ve never seen her like this. Quiet. Unreadable. She’s a girl who wears her emotions on her face; they pour out of her like the purest spring water. “What’s wrong?”
“Is it wise to go back?”
“You don’t need to go if—”
“No! I have to ask you…” Her voice ebbs away as if whatever she needs to ask me is the most painful thing she’s ever done. “Do you hear things? In your head?”
“What? No!” I take her hands, freaked by her questions and desperate to calm her worry. “I know you think I’m crazy, that I’m reckless, but I’m improving.” I run my hands up and down her arms. “I have to go, Kera. I made a promise to Jason.”
“Jason is gone.”
She doesn’t know about my nightmares. He may be dead, but his body deserves to be home with his family, to be at peace. “I know where he is. I can’t leave him there indefinitely. His parents don’t even know he’s dead. They deserve to know and mourn him...bury him.”
Kera pushes away, cutting me off. Her eyes darken. Her hands roll into fists, and she shakes her head vehemently. “No, no, no. You can’t risk your life for a dead friend. Jason would understand that.”
What’s wrong with her? It’s not like her to be so uncaring. I place my hand on her arm, but she jerks away. Letting my hand drop, I duck my head and try to make eye contact. “I’m not saying I’ll go now, just…soon. There’s only one way to know for sure what’s going on. I have to go back and see why Bodog is so frightened. If I can help, I’ve got—”
Without warning, the mirror hanging on the wall shatters. I lunge at Kera, protecting her with my body as the shards crackle and fall to the floor.
When it grows quiet, I pull away. Kera’s perfectly fine except her fingertips are glowing. I take a step back, frowning. “Kera? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
She’s shaking. She goes to the bed and sits, curling until her elbows dig into her thighs and her hands rake through her long hair. “I don’t know. I made it break. I know I did, but I didn’t mean to. Something is not right. I can feel it. Like something else is inside me trying to get out.”
That sounds familiar. Didn’t I think the same thing about myself before Bodog showed up? But now, because of him and his gloomy news, we’re all on edge. I touch her hair. “It’s going to be fine.”
Her head pops out of her hands and she stares helplessly up at me. “How? I don’t feel normal. Do you understand? I’m not the same and neither are you.”
The presence of something wicked skitters under my skin. I know exactly what she means, but I’ve lived a lifetime ignoring strange sensations. I push this one to the side, too, and rub a hand over the sudden goose bumps on my arms.
My bedroom door bursts open and Bodog darts inside. His face is tight with apprehension. “It’s here!”
A series of shotgun blasts rip through the air. I glance toward the window. “What’s going on?”
Bodog doesn’t answer. His attention is caught by the shattered mirror.
Grandma appears at the door and clings to the frame, her face flexed with anger. “I’m a good Christian woman, but that…that creature has got to go. He’s made a mess in the cellar. Dog food is everywhere.”
I don’t care about dog food; it’s the shotgun blasts that riddle the otherwise quiet that have my attention now. “Who’s shooting?”
“Your grandfather said Reggie’s seeing things. He’s been on edge since…well, you know. He’s not supposed to use a gun so close to the house.”
I don’t think sending Grandpa alone to confront a guy with a gun is such a wise move, and I mutter something to that effect.
When I make to go and help him, she plants herself in front of the door and settles her hands on her hips, refusing to be pulled from her main mission. “Oh no you don’t. Your grandfather doesn’t need your help, I do. You’re staying right here, and you’re going to do something about him,” she says, pointing at Bodog.
Bodog, Kera, Grandma, and now Reggie, my frustration level is climbing higher by the second, and I snap. “What do you want me to do? I can’t poof him back to Teag.”
Her gaze jolts from Bodog to the mirror. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. What’s he done now?”
Before I can tell her the broken mirror isn’t Bodog’s fault, a strange hush settles in the room. The air grows heavy, unbreathable. Bodog stares into the broken pieces and they begin to rattle, then jump, twirling and flexing as they rise off the floor. Colors flash within their depths, the air sizzles, and a splinter of blinding light flashes. A puff of air slams into me, and I stagger back. When I refocus, the mirror is again a shower of bits scattered on the floor and Bodog is bent over, gasping.
Grandma’s eyes grow wide. She backs up, turns, and runs down the hall calling for Grandpa.
Her panic is infectious. Rising from the bed, Kera’s fingers curl into her T-shirt hem. Slowly, she draws near Bodog. “What do you see?”