do?
Dad answered the look: “I’ll forget about repercussions. I’ll make sure you can’t hurt us ever again, you understand?”
“Ed, Ed,” Taksidian said, as if to a slow child. “Let’s not go there. Not after we’ve come so far. I’ll take care of my house and Mr. Rainey’s car. You think about my proposal.” With that, he stepped away. He stopped and turned back, absently rubbing his injured fingers. He said, “Bring something home for your other boy. I think he’s hungry.”
CHAPTER
sixteen
THURSDAY, 7:46 P. M.
Xander watched Taksidian toss cash on the counter by the register and push through the door, causing a little bell above it to jingle. Through the window, he saw the man climb into his car and drive away.
He turned to Dad. “Give him the house. Who cares? If we can get Mom—”
“We can’t,” Dad said. “Not through him. He doesn’t have her. If he did, he would have offered something that proved he could fulfill his end of the bargain.”
“But . . .” Xander’s thoughts were slamming around inside his skull. “Didn’t he have her taken in the first place?”
“Probably.” Dad pulled the cup and saucer closer, poured in some coffee. “But I think it was to scare us away. It worked with my dad. It’s a lot cleaner to scare a family off in such a way that they’re afraid of ever coming back.”
“And,” Xander said, realizing the evil beauty—if there ever could be such a thing—of Taksidian’s scheme, “if a family believes their battle is with the supernatural, not some human kidnapper, what are they going to do? Risk going to the loony bin or having the house taken away to be examined by the government for a thousand years? Either way, they’ve lost. They’ll never see their loved one again.”
Dad nodded. “I think Taksidian either lost Mom or he never had access to her once Phemus took her away. But now he realizes we don’t scare as easily as my father did, and he’s bluffing about returning her. Maybe he thinks we’ll fall for it and then realize we’ve been had only after it’s too late, after he has legal possession of the house. Then he’d really be able to kick us out.”
Xander’s heart felt like someone had played baseball with it. He said, “Then why take care of the house and Dan’s car?
Wouldn’t they cause us enough trouble to get the cops on his side?”
“As I said before, he’s not doing that for us,” Dad said. “He’s cleaning up the evidence against himself. The body parts, the sculpture.”
“If all he has to do is clean it up, he can do that overnight,” Xander said. “Seems a small thing compared to finally getting rid of us.”
Dad shook his head. “Crime scene investigations are pretty sophisticated these days. With trace evidence—microscopic bits of DNA that seeped into the floorboards or something— he’d have to replace that whole room, which is probably what he’s planning to do. But that’ll take time. He doesn’t want the cops looking into the destruction of your friend’s car. That would lead them right back to his house—”
“And he doesn’t want them snooping around there,” Xander finished, nodding. He stared down at the fake wood grain of the Formica tabletop. He drummed his fingers, realized that was what Taksidian had done, and stopped. Quietly, he said, “Then there’s that other thing.”
“What?”
“The future,” Xander said, throwing a glance at Dad. “Even if we could give up the house for Mom . . . would we?”
Jesse had said saving the world from the awful future he had shown them was the reason they’d come to the house. Xander didn’t buy it, but if they could fix the future, it meant figuring out what Taksidian had done and using the portals to undo it.
Dad frowned.
Xander pressed him: “If it came down to saving Mom or the future, which would you chose?”
“I don’t have to decide, Xander. We can do both.”
Xander picked at a gouge in
Dad answered the look: “I’ll forget about repercussions. I’ll make sure you can’t hurt us ever again, you understand?”
“Ed, Ed,” Taksidian said, as if to a slow child. “Let’s not go there. Not after we’ve come so far. I’ll take care of my house and Mr. Rainey’s car. You think about my proposal.” With that, he stepped away. He stopped and turned back, absently rubbing his injured fingers. He said, “Bring something home for your other boy. I think he’s hungry.”
CHAPTER
sixteen
THURSDAY, 7:46 P. M.
Xander watched Taksidian toss cash on the counter by the register and push through the door, causing a little bell above it to jingle. Through the window, he saw the man climb into his car and drive away.
He turned to Dad. “Give him the house. Who cares? If we can get Mom—”
“We can’t,” Dad said. “Not through him. He doesn’t have her. If he did, he would have offered something that proved he could fulfill his end of the bargain.”
“But . . .” Xander’s thoughts were slamming around inside his skull. “Didn’t he have her taken in the first place?”
“Probably.” Dad pulled the cup and saucer closer, poured in some coffee. “But I think it was to scare us away. It worked with my dad. It’s a lot cleaner to scare a family off in such a way that they’re afraid of ever coming back.”
“And,” Xander said, realizing the evil beauty—if there ever could be such a thing—of Taksidian’s scheme, “if a family believes their battle is with the supernatural, not some human kidnapper, what are they going to do? Risk going to the loony bin or having the house taken away to be examined by the government for a thousand years? Either way, they’ve lost. They’ll never see their loved one again.”
Dad nodded. “I think Taksidian either lost Mom or he never had access to her once Phemus took her away. But now he realizes we don’t scare as easily as my father did, and he’s bluffing about returning her. Maybe he thinks we’ll fall for it and then realize we’ve been had only after it’s too late, after he has legal possession of the house. Then he’d really be able to kick us out.”
Xander’s heart felt like someone had played baseball with it. He said, “Then why take care of the house and Dan’s car?
Wouldn’t they cause us enough trouble to get the cops on his side?”
“As I said before, he’s not doing that for us,” Dad said. “He’s cleaning up the evidence against himself. The body parts, the sculpture.”
“If all he has to do is clean it up, he can do that overnight,” Xander said. “Seems a small thing compared to finally getting rid of us.”
Dad shook his head. “Crime scene investigations are pretty sophisticated these days. With trace evidence—microscopic bits of DNA that seeped into the floorboards or something— he’d have to replace that whole room, which is probably what he’s planning to do. But that’ll take time. He doesn’t want the cops looking into the destruction of your friend’s car. That would lead them right back to his house—”
“And he doesn’t want them snooping around there,” Xander finished, nodding. He stared down at the fake wood grain of the Formica tabletop. He drummed his fingers, realized that was what Taksidian had done, and stopped. Quietly, he said, “Then there’s that other thing.”
“What?”
“The future,” Xander said, throwing a glance at Dad. “Even if we could give up the house for Mom . . . would we?”
Jesse had said saving the world from the awful future he had shown them was the reason they’d come to the house. Xander didn’t buy it, but if they could fix the future, it meant figuring out what Taksidian had done and using the portals to undo it.
Dad frowned.
Xander pressed him: “If it came down to saving Mom or the future, which would you chose?”
“I don’t have to decide, Xander. We can do both.”
Xander picked at a gouge in
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