Nothing But Bones

13: A Clown in the Basement

Elton hurries after Tiff as Dingus follows at his heels, happily wagging his tail. "So it's a ray gun, is it? You're gonna have to spill some beans on that!"

"There's no beans to spill." She keeps her tone short. "Ghosts don't die from laser beams. Slimer lied to you."

Kepler makes some cryptic gesture.

"Yes, Kepler, I'm aware I'm misremembering Ghostbusters. God."

The gravel crunches under their feet as they walk down the long driveway leading to the house. The trees surrounding them seem to lean in and darken the path; the effect becomes more pronounced with every step they take. Above them, thunder rumbles and droplets of rain hit the treetops.

"Of course it has to rain," Elton mutters. "Hopefully it doesn't get too bad."

Tiff barely notices the rain. Everything's spiking in the hollow behind her chest again and her ears feel like the static of an old television. She blurts, like they're still talking about it, "I'm not explaining the ray gun. I've already said too much, and— I've already said too much."

Elton sighs deeply. "I'll share a secret if you tell me. "

"None of my secrets are mine. Everyone's going to get mad at me."

Quick-footed, she scales the steps and tugs on the door to check and see if it's locked or not. It's so much easier to just get back to business than keep indulging the drama of personhood. There's a fear there, she thinks, and it may be left over from dropping the defenses: if she starts talking about the ray gun, it's going to lead to her talking about the bear she blew up with the prototype, which is something she really shouldn't mention to people who weren't there (like the night where they met Tiff's parents, Eliza's friends, and the Big Bopper; like fighting her grandfather in the woods; like falling out of a car and dying in a way that made Mr. Mathew have to turn back time; like slaughtering the lizardmen in her head).

Elton isn't privy to this. He doesn't know the scale of the universe. For all she knows, he's the way she was three years ago: on the precipice, so close to seeing, and not quite there yet.

She tugs on the door.

Unsurprisingly, it's locked. Tiff smacks the door handle gently out of spite.

The porch, with its spiraling columns and chipped stone steps, has been piled with junk. It's all random items from inside: an old chair with signs of cat scratches, an old TV with a cracked screen, several end tables with their drawers tossed haphazardly next to them, and a floor lamp that looks as if it were once quite expensive. Tiff audits them the way she does the things in her garage: what can be fixed? What can be salvaged?

None of it, probably. She isn't here to steal things. She's here to do something with a necromancer, whatever that something is.

Kepler scrambles over to the stuff, poking and prodding at everything. Dingus follows, moving to sniff Kepler's butt, which does not delight the alien rat.

Elton tugs on his leash. "Hey, leave his ass alone."

Kepler tries to bop Dingus on the snout. He gives an annoyed squeak when he misses the moving target again. The yellow lab simply wags his tail and looks at Kepler like they're best friends.

Looking at the large wooden door with its faded dark blue paint and several strange gouges, Elton crosses his arms. "You up for a little B & E?'

"I guess so?" Frowning, she steps down from the door and heads for the closest broken window, tugging Kepler's leash to signal for him to follow her.