The claws tapped on the hallway floorboards. Scuffling.
The cedar chest scraped to a halt in front of the door. Back in Monmouth, the bookshelf had been heavy enough to keep the night horror in his bedroom. Ronan could only hope that the chest would be as effective.
Matthew looked up at Ronan, bewildered, as his older brother climbed on top of the cedar chest. Ronan stretched out an arm and hugged his brother’s curly head, once, hard. He pushed him away.
“Sit next to Mom,” he hissed. “It doesn’t want you. It’s me.”
“Ro —”
“But if it gets past me, don’t wait. Just fight.”
Matthew retreated to where Aurora Lynch sat on her chair in the middle of the room, tranquil and motionless. Ronan saw him crouched there in the dim space, holding their mother’s hand.
He should have never brought him with.
The door bucked.
Matthew jerked in surprise. Aurora didn’t.
Ronan held the doorknob as it jiggled. There was a slow sound like water tapping out of a faucet.
The door jumped again.
Again Matthew started. But the cedar chest didn’t budge. It was heavy, and the night horror was not. Its strength was in those claws and that beak.
Three more times the door jerked on its hinges. Then there was a long, long pause.
It was possible it had given up.
But Ronan hadn’t considered what their next step would be. They couldn’t risk opening the door if the night horror was on the other side. Perhaps he should go out by himself — the bird men never wanted anyone else. It was only Ronan they despised. Everything in him was loath to leave his brother and mother behind, but they would both be safer without him.
Long minutes stretched out in silence. And then, somewhere in the house, a door shut.
Matthew and Ronan stared at each other. Something about the sound had been very unhurried and human — not at all what Ronan would have expected from the night horror.
Sure enough, ordinary footsteps began to creak down the hall. Possibilities unwound in Ronan’s mind, none of them good. There was no time to move the cedar chest without drawing attention to it. No wisdom to warning this newcomer of the nightmare, either — Ronan’s presence would only make it more dangerous.
“Hide,” Ronan ordered Matthew. His younger brother was frozen, so he grabbed his sleeve and tugged him away from their mother. There was just room for them to tuck themselves behind the rolled-up rugs in the corner of the room. It wouldn’t withstand careful study, but in the dimness, there was no reason why they’d be discovered.
Many minutes later, after much creaking of floorboards elsewhere in the house, someone gave the door an experimental shove. This time, it was quite clearly a someone rather than a something. There was an audible, human-sounding sigh on the other side, and the shuffling of feet on the floorboards was clearly produced by shoes.
Ronan held a finger to his lips.
There was only one more shove, and then the door cracked an inch. Another grunt, another shove, and the door came open far enough to admit a person.
Ronan wasn’t sure who he had expected. The home nurse, probably. Maybe even Declan, visiting illegally.
But this was a handsome, wiry man all dressed in gray; Ronan had never seen him before. The way he flicked his gaze around the room was so keen Ronan was afraid he would see them behind the rugs after all. But the man’s interest was snagged by Aurora Lynch on her chair in the middle of the room.
Ronan tensed.
It would take nothing at all to spring him from his hiding place. If he so much as touched her — But the Gray Man didn’t touch Aurora. Instead, he bent over to look into her face. It was a curious, piercing study, over in a few seconds. He toed the tubes and wires that led from machines to nowhere. He rubbed his jaw and puzzled.
Finally, the Gray Man asked, “Why are you walled up in here?”
Aurora Lynch didn’t answer.
The Gray Man turned to go, but paused. The language box, still sitting on the desk, had caught his eye. Retrieving the box, he turned it over and over in his hands, experimentally scrolling one of the wheels and watching the effect it had on the other sides.
And then he took it with him.
Ronan put a fist to his forehead. He wanted to go after him and recover it, but he couldn’t risk discovery. Where would he get another puzzle box? He had no way of knowing if he’d ever dream of it again. Ronan tensed, thought about emerging, thought about hiding, thought about emerging. Matthew put a hand on his arm.
They waited a long time. Finally, a car rumbled out front before receding down the driveway.
They unhid themselves. Matthew pressed up against Ronan’s side, reminding Ronan of Chainsaw when she was frightened. Ordinarily, Ronan would have protested, but this time, he allowed it.
“What was that?” Matthew whispered.
“There are,” Ronan replied, “bad things in the world. Let’s get out of here.”
Matthew kissed his mother’s cheek. Ronan made sure he had the will still tucked in his back pocket. The loss of the puzzle box still smarted, but at least he had this puzzle of his father’s with him. Two lines, two languages. What are you trying to say, Dad?
“Bye, Mom,” he told Aurora. He felt in his pocket for his keys. There were two sets: the BMW’s and the false Camaro’s keys. “See you later.”