A loud creak overhead made Dex look up at the ceiling. Daphna snapped her eyes up, too. The floors creaked again.
“Oh, no!” Daphna whispered. They’d left the front door open to keep the living room from overheating from the fire. “It’s Antin!” she mouthed. How could she possibly have forgotten?
Dex jumped to his feet. “Can you get these books out of here?”
Daphna nodded. “Good idea. I’ll put them in Dad’s room at The R & R,” she said, then closed her eyes and uttered an odd sounding Word. Daphna opened them again, only to find she was still in the basement. She repeated the Word, but still nothing happened.
“What’s going on?” Dex whispered. The sound of feet walking stealthily overhead was getting louder because more people were up there now.
“It’s not working!” Daphna hissed, nearly frenzied. “I’m too tired. I can’t say it right!” She tried three more times, but each time the Word sounded different. “Let’s hide under the stairs!” she whispered. There was a storage closet there with a door that you had to push to pop open. There was no knob, but it was still obviously a door.
“No,” Dex said, trying to stay calm. He’d have to handle it again. And why not? It was easy last time. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit it was fun. Dex spoke the Word that made him invisible, then moved confidently toward the steps.
“Dex,” Daphna called.
He turned. “What? I’ll take care of them.”
“I can see you.”
“Ahhh, the Candle Twins!” cooed a syrupy voice from the top of the steps. “It’s sooo nice to see you!” It was Antin. Three of his flunkies were standing behind him, all looking much less excited than their leader about the reunion. One had a black eye, and the other two had casts on their arms. Antin looked fine, though. Dex backed carefully down the steps. He tried his Word again and looked at Daphna. She shook her head.
“Girls!” Antin snapped at his gang when they didn’t immediately come down behind him.
They obeyed reluctantly, limping, until all four boys stood facing the twins, who’d retreated to the rear of Dex’s room. Dex and Daphna’s obvious exhaustion and increasingly worried expressions must have been reassuring because the boys gradually took on their usual menacing scowls.
“Man,” one of them said looking around, “get a load of this dump. This is worse than your place, Antiny. You were wrong. He ain’t a chicken, he’s a pig.”
Antin snorted, mildly amused.
Despite the gravity of the situation, Daphna looked around. It was true. There were piles of dirty clothes heaped across the floor along with a vast assortment of what could only be described as junk. It looked like Dex had taken apart everything in his room that could be taken apart and then scattered the guts around like seed on a lawn.
“I told you it was a total fluke what happened,” Antin said. “But you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” He plunged his hand into his pocket. The twins both feared the lighter, but this time Antin produced a knife. Expertly, he flipped it around in his hand until a long jagged blade was pointing directly at them.
“So, where were we?” he asked, smiling with a mouthful of sharp teeth. Everything about him was sharp. His eyes, as usual, flicked around, and also as usual, he kept checking back over his shoulder every few seconds. “Let’s see, oh yeah, you guys were just about to tell me what Emmet was after when we were so rudely interrupted.”
The three boys behind Antin, their confidence now completely restored, stepped forward, kicking away the litter, snickering.
“What’s the matter, your tongues disappear?” one of them joked.
“Heel here says you can make yourself disappear,” Antin said to Dexter. “Can you do that?”
Dex shook his head.
“No, I didn’t think so,” Antin laughed. “But I’m gonna show you how if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”
“Hey, maybe it’s got something to do with them books,” suggested another boy. He was short and wide, with arms that hung too far down the length of his legs.
Dex realized Daphna was still holding the books. Her knuckles were white around the spine of the Ledger.
Antin moved toward the twins now. He could see they were immobilized with fear, so he didn’t even bother brandishing the knife.
“What’s up with the books,” he asked, but got no response. Standing right between them now, he said, “You guys look tired. I’m gonna to count to three, and if I don’t get the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, I’m gonna help you get some serious sleep.”
“The mattress!”
Dex and Daphna called this out at exactly the same time.
“What mattress?” Antin demanded.
“In my dad’s room,” Daphna said, her senses returning at least in part. “That’s what Emmet was after. It’s full of money.”
“Show me.”
“Upstairs,” said Dex.
“Show me.”
Dex swallowed dryly, then led Antin upstairs as the other boys herded Daphna along behind. When the group entered Milton’s room, Antin said, “If this ain’t for real—Eyeballs, check it out.”
Eyeballs, a wiry boy with purple hair and bulging eyes, ripped the sheets and covers off the bed. When he noticed the zipper on the far side, he moved around and squatted to open it. Then he screamed.
“What? What!” Antin shouted. In a sudden, terrifying motion, he whipped the blade to Dex’s throat.
“There must be a million bucks in here!” Eyeballs yowled. No one was absolutely sure what he’d said, though, because his head was halfway into the opening. But then a bundle of bills came flying. It landed at Antin’s feet.
It was like a piñata had been broken at a toddler’s unsupervised birthday party. Antin and his hobbled cronies hurled themselves over the bed. Money went flying.
It took longer than it should have, but eventually Dex and Daphna realized they’d been forgotten. Slowly, they inched out of the room. Without running—neither had the energy anyway—they slipped carefully through the living room and, clasping their books to their chests, stumbled out through the still open front door and into the evening’s dwindling light.
CHAPTER 14
still not a bad man
Though the twins were nearly out on their feet, both saw him the moment they lurched onto their porch. A man in a rumpled black suit, tall and thin, with a day’s worth of stubble on his slender face, was standing behind a tree across the street. He swiveled sideways and pressed himself behind the trunk when he realized they were looking his way.
Dex and Daphna exchanged a droopy-eyed glance they both understood to mean, Now what? We don’t care. Wordlessly, they agreed to pretend they hadn’t seen anything and hurried off.
They couldn’t pretend for long. The man, who must have realized he’d been seen, began blatantly following them. He wasn’t chasing them, though, which was fortunate since there was no way either of the twins could outrun him. They couldn’t outrun their father right now.
The man simply walked down the road behind them, calmly, like he just happened to be taking a stroll exactly where they were going. Of course, that was impossible for many reasons, not the least of which was neither Dex nor Daphna had the slightest idea where they were headed.
Being followed so openly grew increasingly unnerving. The twins began looking back every few seconds, like Antin. Since they lacked the energy to run for it, they began making sudden, random turns around the Village streets and doubling back whenever it seemed least likely.
The man was undeterred. He took each and every turn they did. He cut between houses, crossed yards and circled garages right behind them, though he continued to make no effort to catch up. The twins’ heads bowed lower and lower as they trudged on. Their steps slowed; their knees wobbled; their chests heaved. Still, they didn’t stop. They moved by instinct alone.
Instinct, and enough weaving through the neighborhood, eventually brought them in sight of The R &
R. Dex and Daphna, both of whom were considering just turning around and letting the man kill them if that’s what he really wanted to do, stumbled toward the entrance. They staggered through the automatic doors and dragged themselves down the hall. Falling all over each other, they pitched themselves into their father’s room.
Milton was sleeping. Daphna called her dad’s name several times, and she even shuffled over to shake him by the shoulder, but he wouldn’t wake up. He slept soundly, his face flush with a healthy, ruddy glow.
Dex had immediately dumped himself onto the couch, so Daphna joined him, and the two slumped into each other, breathing heavily and staring indifferently up at the TV, which was showing a muted news talk show. They felt nothing except bone-deep exhaustion. Neither was the slightest bit curious about their stalker, though they both knew he’d be walking in the door at any moment.
Two pairs of speckled green eyes began to close. Sleep, precious, golden, glorious sleep was finally coming, but sure enough, just before the twins passed out, the door opened and the man walked in.
Dex and Daphna sat up and looked at him with blank, utterly indifferent stares. The man had olive skin and twitchy fingers. He looked at the twins, but only for a moment. Then he turned to their father.
“Mr. Milton Wax?” he demanded, but Milton didn’t respond. “Mr. Milton Wax!” he repeated, raising his voice. “You will explain at once your involvement with my grandfather, and you will return his papers to me this very instant!”
“He won’t wake up,” said Daphna. “He’s on medication.”
“And he’s kind of messed up in the head,” Dex added, not caring how it sounded.
The man strode to the bedside and shook Milton by the shoulder, just as Daphna had. As predicted, Milton didn’t wake up, though he did shift around and mutter, “Adem Tarik—Adem Tarik—I—I—” His voice was so ragged that it was becoming difficult to make the words out. The man seemed to understand, though. He drew back, looking alarmed. “I am not bad man,” Milton croaked, “I—I—am—”
“Who is this ‘Adem Tarik’!” the man demanded.
“No idea,” Dex lied. “He made it up. He says that name all the time.”
“We told you,” Daphna repeated, “he’s got psychological problems. He’s got a—disorder.”
The man sighed, mightily. He looked, the twins suddenly noticed, rather exhausted himself. He walked across the room and sat down in what had been Latty’s chair and put his head in his hands.
“You’re Fikret Cihan,” Dex said. “You own the Coffee House.”
The man looked up, surprised. “Yes, how do you know this?”
“I was the one who sent that e-mail,” Dex explained, “the one that was all jumbled up. It was an accident.”
Cihan looked at him, amazed and appalled. “It was nothing?” he said, almost pleading. “Random typing, you say?”
“Adem Tarik—” Milton crackled, “Adem Tarik—I—I—am—”
“I see now,” said Cihan, massaging his nose. “It was one lunatic meeting another.” He chuckled briefly, sounding slightly mad himself.
“But, why were you following us?” Daphna asked. “Why are you here? You must have been traveling all day and night.”
Cihan ran a hand through his short black hair. “My grandfather,” he explained, “spent the last sixty years of his life copying a book, a book full of nonsense and rubbish. My God! Is that the book right there?” It was sitting on Milton’s food tray, on top of the Ledger.
“Ah,” said Dex, “I don’t know.”
Cihan rose and took the book without asking permission, then began flipping through it with a mournful look on his face. Dex couldn’t even pretend to have the wherewithal to stop him.
“Did your father give this to you?” Cihan asked, his voice taking on a threatening edge.
“Ah, yeah,” Dex said. “He told me it was worthless. I like old books, so—”
“I—I—Adem—”
Cihan looked at Milton and heaved another defeated sigh. He turned to the twins again but didn’t hand the book back. Dex and Daphna looked at each other, nervously.
“Your father came into my Coffee House,” he said, “asking about this Adem Tarik, and my grandfather gave him this book. It was like a miracle after all these years! There was never a sign such a thing would ever be. How long had I hoped to spend time with my grandfather! I was overjoyed when your father left, but things did not go the way I’d hoped.”
“What do you mean?” asked Daphna.
“He was beside himself when he realized your father had not taken away the copies,” Cihan explained. “I was too excited by this miracle to remember them, but your father, he left me his card. My grandfather forced me to mail every page at once, and at great expense.
“After, he got weak. I think he only stayed alive to make those copies. He died the morning I received your message, and since it was just like that book and those copies, it made me suspicious. I thought perhaps your father did know my grandfather, and that the message was in code. My family once took quite seriously the idea that the book was in a code of some kind. Many years were wasted in hopes of interpreting it. I flew all the way here to retrieve the book and notebooks and demand your father tell me what he knows. But now I see I have wasted my time.”
Dex and Daphna both thought Cihan was about to hand the book back. Dex even put his hand out, but it didn’t happen.
“I’ve got some bad news for you,” Daphna said. Cihan looked at her with an expression that seemed to say he expected no other kind.
“All the copies,” she said, “we sort of burned them.”
“We thought they might make Dad crazier,” Dex put in.
Cihan’s shoulders sank further, and he dropped his head into his hands again. He stayed that way for long time, long enough for Dex and Daphna to silently urge each other to figure out how to get the book back. Before either could think of a way, Cihan got to his feet.
“Fine. Good,” he said. When he saw the confused look on the twins’ faces, he elaborated. “You’ve done me a favor,” he explained. “Who knows, I may have become obsessed myself. I could never have destroyed those papers myself. Here, please keep this, too,” he added, handing the book back to Dexter. “Destroy it if you like. I don’t care.”
“Ah, thanks,” Dex said. He took the book back, gripping it with both hands.
Cihan shook his head again. “Every day, people come to my Coffee House asking for me to help them make sense of their lives,” he said. “For generations, my family has survived on such hopes, and I once believed that the riddles of the Universe could be solved. But the truth is that our lives are incomprehensible intersections of unfathomable events and meaningless coincidences. I’ve been arrogant and foolish to think I could decipher the pattern of even my own insignificant destiny. Let me give you a piece of advice, children,” he added. “Thinking is suffering.”
“Tarik—Adem—I—I—” Milton droned.
The twins could see this was a deeply troubled person, but they couldn’t exactly disagree with his pronouncement.
It took a moment, but a word jumped out at Dex. “You said coincidences,” he said. “Do you mean my father coming into your Coffee House and getting that book?”
“Indeed,” said Cihan. “But I will not seek to understand why my grandfather chose your father after so many years when so many thousands of people passed through our doors.”
“But it must have something to do with Adem Tarik, right?” Dex said. “Hearing my father ask about him must’ve meant something to him.”
“This is impossible.”
“Why do you say that?” Daphna asked.
“My grandfather was deaf. He’d been so for many years.”
“Oh.”
Cihan looked at Daphna, apparently expecting further questions. When none came, he said, “Remember what I told you: thinking is suffering. I bid you farewell.” With head down, Cihan strode from the room. It sounded like he ran i
nto someone in the hall. “Excuse me, Ma’am,” was the last thing the twins heard him say. Then he was gone.
“Adem Tarik—I—I—” Milton croaked.
The twins stared at their father. They’d learned so much since they’d first sat right where they were now, listening to the same words just after they’d arrived at the R & R. But, then again, they’d learned so little.
“Dex,” Daphna said after a few minutes, “I don’t get it.”
“Me neither,” Dex mumbled in reply. “I give up.”
But Daphna had the notion something critical had just been revealed. “Dad went into the Coffee House,” she said, trying to grasp the sequence of events as she now understood them. “Then he asked that guy about Adem Tarik, right?”
“Right,” Dex agreed, though he was hearing Daphna more than listening to her. What he was thinking about was sleep.
“And then his grandfather flips out and forces the book on Dad, right?”
“Right.”
Almost on cue, Milton croaked, “Adem Tarik—Adem Tarik—I am—I—”
“But he just said his grandfather was deaf,” Daphna pressed. “So he couldn’t’ve heard Dad ask about anything. That’s what we assumed happened, I guess. I mean, why wouldn’t we?”
“And?” Now Dexter was getting plain annoyed. Why wasn’t Daphna letting him pass out?
“Dexter,” Daphna insisted. “The old guy saw Dad, then he gave him the book. He saw Dad, then he gave him Adem Tarik’s book. And Dad was actually there to get it, whether he knew it or not.”
“It makes no sense,” Dexter protested, “not unless he thought Dad was actually—”
Without warning, Milton sat bolt upright in his bed, his eyes shocked wide. “I—I am—” he shouted in a crystal clear, metallic voice, “I—I AM—ADEM TARIK!”
The twins’ blood froze.
Their father turned his head back and forth, looking around the room like he’d never seen it before.
“I am Adem Tarik!” he roared in a voice resonating with profound amazement and relief. Then he hopped out of the bed with no sign of pain whatsoever. The twins sat stupefied as their father walked around the room stretching out his back and flexing his arms and legs. His posture was perfect. He looked as agile as a man of twenty, and his speckled brown eyes glowed with lightning sparks of energy.
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