Luowski tried hard to look composed.
“Never. Ever. You let her go right now, or you’ll have five of us in your house and no evidence that anyone was ever there but you and your parents. Whatever happens will be put on you.”
The thing is, Philby was freaking out his own mother. But sometimes there was collateral damage. He had to accept the fallout.
“You and me, Luowski,” Philby said. “Leave her out of this. Or are you too chicken?”
“Nice try.”
“You’ve seen what Finn can do. I know you have. Amanda, too, I hear. How about me, Greg? What can I do? Did you think about that before you came into my house? Because you should have.”
Luowski was sweating now, either from the heat, or from everything Philby was saying.
His mother bent her knee and drove the ball of her heel up and into a spot between the boy’s legs that made Luowski’s eyes squint shut as he screamed. She elbowed him in the chest and dove to the side as her son charged.
Philby never thought about what he was doing. He was all about adrenaline and instinct—this caveman urge to protect his mother. He lowered his shoulder and hit Luowski in the chest like a football tackle, knocking the boy off his feet and into a rattan chair. The chair spilled over. They blew through the screen door, shredding it, and rolled out onto the patio.
Luowski was more bear than human. His strength returned, and Philby felt it like a machine had been switched on. Finn had described the supernatural strength of being thrown by Luowski, but only now as he felt his shoulders crushed by the boy’s grip did he fully get the picture. Luowski was an Overtaker, not just another big kid.
Philby felt Luowski’s muscles contract: he was going to throw him into the wall of the house; he was going to crush every bone in his body. He was going to kill him.
“Greg!” Philby’s mother’s voice.
Luowski was as programmed as any other kid: when an adult called your name, you looked.
A spray hit Luowski’s face—bug spray, Philby realized by the smell. The boy-giant released Philby and slapped his hands over his eyes, crying like a wild animal.
“Ahhhhhhh!” He staggered around the lawn, wiped some of it clean, and took off running as Mrs. Philby charged at him, can outstretched, ready to deliver another dose.
Luowski was gone. Philby’s mom stood there panting. But a smile curled proudly at her lips.
“We showed him,” she said.
“WHAT IS GOING ON!?”
Philby’s father.
“What the heck happened to my Florida room?” He was in a pair of tighty-whities and a T-shirt. He looked…disappointed.
“Dad, it was—” Philby said.
“—a gator,” his mother said, interrupting. “But Dell and I handled it, didn’t we, sweetheart?”
Philby looked up at his mother. Maybe she was under a spell as well.
“Yeah, we did.”
“Go back to bed,” his mother told his father. “We can deal with this in the morning.”
His father, looking totally perplexed, knew better than to tangle with his wife when she was holding a can of bug spray.
“You’re all right?” he asked the two.
“No,” Philby’s mother said. “We’re better than just all right. We’re good.”
Definitely some kind of spell.
* * *
Finn blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust. Some light filtered in from the mouth of the tunnel, where Amanda stood guard. He was helped by the faint glow of his DHI. But soon the entrance was well behind him, and the depth of the tunnel began to choke out all light. A glow came from behind him and he spun around, ready to strike out.
“It’s me!” Amanda hissed.
“What are you doing here? We had a plan!”
“You had a plan. I had…reservations. Isn’t one of the rules that Keepers never go alone?”
“There are exceptions.”
“Like when the odds are a hundred-to-one against us?”
“I explained: If we’re separated, it gives you a chance to come rescue me.”
“Yeah, like that’s going to happen!”
“It’s called strategy.”
“It’s called stupid. I’m much more help here with you than back looking at the stars and getting all freaked out by the wind in the bushes.”
“So, you’re afraid,” he said.
“No, no,” she said sarcastically. “I’m real used to this.”
“Hey,” he said, indicating the faintness of his blue outline. “I’m scared, too, in case you hadn’t noticed. I don’t exactly love small spaces…like tunnels, for instance. But here we are.”
“Here we are,” she said.