The Nightmarys - By Dan Poblocki Page 0,72

jawbone. The single sharp black tooth jutted from the brown horseshoe-shaped object. As he stared at it, the golden glimmer inside the tooth grew brighter, and he was filled with a new sensation, something he couldn’t name. It almost felt like a voice was talking to him through a long-distance phone line. Timothy couldn’t understand the words, but he understood the meaning deep underneath them. This was the reason he’d done what he’d done back at the lighthouse.

Standing on the gravel path, Zilpha and Abigail had been busy speaking with the police. Without thinking, Timothy had bent down and snatched the corpse’s jawbone, making it “incomplete” again, slipping it into his jacket pocket. He was about to stand, when instead, he reached out and took Mr. Harwood’s gray jawbone as well; it had come away from the empty skull with a soft, brittle snap. Clutching a handful of gravel from under his feet, Timothy swiftly sorted through the black stones, found one of appropriate size, and replaced one of Harwood’s teeth with it.

The new jawbone was a fairly convincing fake. Timothy quickly stood and slipped the small piece of Harwood into his opposite pocket.

Harwood’s jaw had been the “relic” he’d handed to Abigail in the emergency room. He was certain, at this point, that Zilpha had done something to make it disappear for good.

Timothy stroked the real jawbone with his exposed left thumb. The bone felt rough, papery, impossibly light. The energy contained inside it gave him a jolt, and he drew away, frightened by what he’d done. He wasn’t even sure what he planned to do with the object; he only knew that he had to have it.

The sky grew brighter. Looking east, Timothy wondered what his mother was doing at the moment. Was she sitting beside Ben, holding his hand, praying? What would Timothy tell her when she arrived home? What would she tell him?

Without warning, Timothy was flooded with anger. He was angry with Stuart for being so cruel. He was angry with his parents for making him keep secrets from his best friend. He was angry with his brother for volunteering for such a dangerous job in the first place. He was especially angry with the people across the ocean who’d planted the explosives along the side of the road—so angry, in fact, that his tears blinded him.

In the past month, Timothy felt like he had given so much of himself away. He’d stood by, done what he’d been told, tried to be a good person, and yet the horrors had continued to unfold, endlessly. Timothy was sick of doing what was right. Wasn’t it about time for someone to pay him back?

The articles in the New Starkham newspaper had revealed that Christian Hesselius had wanted to use the jawbone as a weapon of revenge.

Now Timothy had the power to do the same.

The jawbone seemed so small, unassuming. But the dark tooth was a different story. Looking closer, Timothy understood it was not of this world. Sculpted black metal. Hollow, porous, almost like filigree. Something that might have fallen from space. Like a meteorite. That sparkle of light inside it teased him again.

Do it, said the Chaos voice.

Make them pay.

Put an end to it all.

Ben would thank you.

You’ll be a hero.

Using the exposed fingertips of his left hand, Timothy unraveled the bandage from his right. The skin underneath was black and blue, but when he wiggled his fingers, he felt no pain. He picked up the jawbone. Again, a jolt of energy rushed through his body. But this time, instead of shrinking away, Timothy clutched the bone as if it were a sword.

Names and faces of people he knew raced through his mind. His classmates, his grandparents, the teachers at his school, his swim team. He could hear their thoughts, see their memories. Several of them lingered longer than others, and he felt a question tug at him, somewhere deep inside, during these brief moments. All he would have to do was say yes, and it would be done. But Timothy did not say yes. He waited as more and more identities came at him, until he saw faces of people he had never met. In his head, he heard the strange voice whisper their names. People who lived across an ocean. People who had hurt his brother.

All he had to do was say yes.

It would be done.

Do it, demanded the voice. Do it.

Timothy opened his mouth and began to speak.

The doorbell rang.

Timothy dropped the jawbone.

Immediately,