From a distance, you might have mistaken him for the world’s largest vampire. His shape was human. And he was clothed. Tattered leather jacket. Harley-Davidson belt buckle. Jeans that were way too short, like Hulk pants. But the odor was wrong. Even with the elevator wires sparking, and the stink of burning plastic everywhere, I could tell he wasn’t one of us. He smelled musty—like an animal. And he was huge. Seven feet at least, and so wide at the shoulders he filled the elevator. Something about his shape was off. His arms were heavily muscled, but just a bit too long. His fingers, too. The nails of each were black and tapered to a sharp point. So were his toenails, which clacked on the elevator tiles when he landed. The floor lurched and my knees gave way. It gave me a good view of his feet. His arches were all stretched up so that he seemed to be perched on the balls of his feet, his ankle a foot above the floor. It made me think of the paw of a dog, or a wolf.
He bent down and glared at me with his large, yellow eyes. They were set wide apart on his face, and the irises were covered with flecks of red, like tiny drops of blood. The rest of his face was only vaguely human. The skin, where it wasn’t covered in hair, looked as if it had been pulled back, so his nose was broad and flat against his skull. His nostrils flared with each breath. His forehead sloped backward, as did his ears, which were long and pointed. The top of his head was covered with coarse, black hair. It ran down each jaw, and even down his neck, but the whiskers didn’t stretch across his chin, so they looked more like long sideburns. His thin lips pulled back and a low rumble leaked from his mouth. I could see a row of teeth not unlike my own. Incisors, long and pointed. They would have been right at home in a dinosaur exhibit. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Then he growled. The sound was like electricity. It rippled through the bones of my chest. I glanced at Charlie. He’d been knocked flat and was crouched behind Hyde’s feet. He looked as if he’d been hit by lightning.
I had one chance—the knife my uncle had given me. It was still in the back pocket of my jeans. I reached for it, but before I could get it free, Hyde snapped out his hand and took hold of me around the throat. He was so fast, I’m not even sure I saw it. It was more like my mind took its best guess from the blur of movement and then, afterward, tried to patch together what had happened. I felt myself rise, then the air flew from my chest as he pushed me up against the elevator wall. Charlie got to his feet. I have to give him credit. He wasn’t looking for the exit. He balled a fist and swung. Like his dancing, it was smooth. But Hyde reacted as if his eyes were on the back of his head. He quickly shifted his body. Charlie missed. I saw a blur of movement, followed by a dull thud, and Charlie collapsed.
Hyde turned back to me. He leaned closer, so his teeth were a few inches from my face. A hoarse, guttural sound crackled up from his throat. He might have been speaking, but I couldn’t make sense of the words. Then he hissed and slammed me up against the elevator wall a second time. I couldn’t breathe. Or cry for help. I glanced down toward Charlie to see if he was all right, if he could do something to help me, but I couldn’t angle my head properly. The Beast tightened his grip and my eyes started to go spotty. He started to speak to me again, but I still couldn’t tell what he was saying. His teeth gnashed together and his head turned sideways so I could see straight into one of his yellow eyes. He loosened his grip and tried to speak a third time.
I answered with the knife.
While he was slowly strangling me, I’d been working it free of the sheath. I was blacking out as I swung. He blocked the stroke, but the blade must have cut through his skin because his body stiffened. The only explanation I could think of was the poison my uncle had smeared on the blade. It must have been as lethal as he said, to work so quickly. Then I noticed something around Hyde’s neck—a nylon rope, white and red threaded together like a candy cane. My eyes followed it up through the darkness to the top of the elevator. Mr. Entwistle was leaning in from the hole above. He held the rope tightly in both hands like a garrote. He’d slipped it over Hyde’s head and was trying to tighten it, so that the Beast’s face was red and the veins of his neck bulged. That explained why Hyde had stopped moving. He was suffocating. This should have brought me some relief, but I was still suffocating myself. It was hard to feel anything but panic.
“Quickly, boys,” Mr. Entwistle shouted. “Get out.”
Get out. Happily. But I still couldn’t breathe, let alone move. And I thought Charlie was unconscious.
Hyde’s fingers dug into my throat. The knife clattered to the floor and my eyes started to go spotty again. I clawed at his hand, but it was no use. I couldn’t pry it loose. Then he let go. I dropped to the floor and took a desperate gasp of air. By the time I could see clearly, the candy-cane rope was in pieces beside me. Hyde was snarling and staring upward. Just past his shoulder I caught a glimpse of Mr. Entwistle’s overcoat disappearing into the shadows above. As my eyes improved their focus, I could see the old vampire retreating up a set of rungs set in the elevator shaft.
In an instant, Hyde was in pursuit. He pulled himself up through the hole, then launched himself into the air. Using the cables and the wall, he scrambled upward with a strength and speed that were dizzying. It was both awesome and terrifying. My whole body started shaking. How had Mr. Entwistle faced this thing down so many times? All I could do was cough and sputter.
I rose, still trembling, on legs that felt hollow, and moved over to where Charlie was lying in a heap on the ground. His arm was twisted awkwardly underneath him, and his eyes were glazed. One of his feet was twitching, and a huge welt was on the corner of his forehead. I straightened him out, then checked to make sure he was breathing. His heartbeat was strong. His eyelids started to flutter and his head shook slightly as he came to. Then a quiet moan escaped his lips.
“Don’t . . .”
I wasn’t actually doing anything. He must have been worried that I might move him. I stood up to give him some breathing room and stared through the hole in the top of the elevator. I could see the entrance to the next floor—sliding doors that led to the hall above. They had been torn back. Light from the upper corridor spilled into the dark space, illuminating the claw marks Hyde had scratched into the steel and concrete. I listened for sounds of a scuffle, but all I could hear was the pop and crackle of the still-burning wires that sparked around us, filling the small space with a nauseating odor. I felt weak, and my ankle was burning. I wondered if I’d landed on it funny when I’d fallen to the floor. I looked down and spied the knife lying beside my foot. I picked it up. Blood was on the blade. Perhaps I’d cut him after all.
Don’t celebrate yet, my mind told me. Get moving.
I looked at the mess above, uncertain. I didn’t know what to do. Mr. Entwistle was up there by himself. If I jumped and grabbed a cable, I could shimmy up to the floor above, but it meant I’d have to leave Charlie behind.
The floor tilted and I lost my balance. My ankle was definitely burning. Something was wrong. I heard the sound of steel grinding, and the elevator jumped down a foot. Then another. My first thought was that it was going to drop. Then I heard a loud bang beside me and the doors shifted apart. A slender ribbon of light appeared between them. I could see a shadow moving beyond. Someone was prying the doors open. Whoever it was, he was snarling through clenched teeth. I raised the knife in my right hand and got ready to move quickly. My head was surprisingly dizzy. A fire was spreading up my calf. I fell into the doors. The end of a small crowbar appeared between them and the ribbon of light widened. Then the smell of wine and lighter fluid mixed with smoke and Mr. Entwistle stuck his head through.
“Going down?” he asked.
He was standing below me. He’d somehow pulled the elevator closer to the floor he was on, but it wasn’t quite level.
“Here, let me just”—he put his back against one door and pushed so the gap was almost shoulder width—“finish this. . . . There!” He dusted off his hands, then reached for his backpack.
My heart was frantically beating. I started forward in a daze. The burn in my calf was spreading up my leg. My whole body began to sweat.
“What is it? Did he bite you?” Mr. Entwistle was looking up through the hole Hyde had made in the ceiling. “He doesn’t mess around, does he?”
I fell past him into the hall, then slipped to a knee. My balance was off.
“Watch that!” he said.
I felt him pry the knife out of my hand, then I reached forward and tumbled to the floor. Standing was impossible. It was easier to roll onto my back. Not as dizzy that way.
Mr. Entwistle was standing over me. The knife was under his nose. His face twisted in revulsion, then he crouched and set the blade on the floor. In a blink the backpack was off his shoulder and he was sifting through it, his hands a blur.
“Did you get cut? Did he cut you with the knife?”
I was having trouble speaking. The liquid fire was spreading to my chest, making it hard to breathe. Pins jabbed inside my lungs and ribs. I looked down at my leg. A small cut was on the side of my ankle. It must have happened when the knife dropped. That explained the burn. There was poison in my body. Sixty thousand times stronger than cyanide.
Mr. Entwistle pulled out a hatchet. My tongue was paralyzed, but I turned enough so that I could see the cut on my ankle. The edges of it were black.
He grabbed the end of my shoe in one hand and pulled it down so that my toes were pointed. Then he put his knee on my shin and raised the hatchet. “Don’t move.”
Was he crazy? He was about to cut off my foot. I wanted it left where it was, thank you very much. I shifted as he swung. The head of the hatchet sparked and a chunk of tile popped out from the floor.
Mr. Entwistle swore again. “Stop squirming.” He was glaring at me. Then his head started shaking back and forth. “No, no, no, no, no.” He repeated it over and over. The ax clattered to the floor. His hands slid under my legs and shoulders. “No. No, you don’t. Don’t you dare . . .”
I wasn’t about to do anything. I could barely breathe.
He stood with me in his arms and started running. I felt myself shaking. Burning. Pain froze the air in my chest. Don’t leave Charlie behind, I wanted to say. He’s helpless. But I couldn’t talk.
Mr. Entwistle stopped. I shifted in his arms, then heard a loud bang as he kicked open a door. He turned sideways and stepped through. Then he was airborne. He didn’t go down the stairs, he dropped from landing to landing. Each one rattled the air from my chest. I was suffocating. Then he stopped again. I could sense something was wrong even before he set me down. It might have been in his body language. The way his eyes widened when he looked up. It might have been the smell of fear. And something else. Something feral.
Hyde was waiting for us. I sensed him before I heard him. Another growl echoed up and down the staircase. I was lying on my back. Burning. I raised my head to take a look around. All I could see was darkness. Then suddenly, everything was on fire. My body must have been playing tricks on me. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, the stairs. And me. All of it in flames. I started to convulse. Orange, red, and yellow blurred into a smear of light. Then it got quiet. At least inside. Outside it was noisy. Like two dogs fighting over a bone. But that quickly faded. I listened, knowing I should have been able to hear something. Anything. The sound of the fight. Of air leaving my chest. My heartbeat. But they were gone. So was the burning. It had faded, too. Only the light remained. It was far off, down a long tunnel, but I knew if I was patient, I would reach it. That it would welcome me back. So I left the vanishing world of sound and fire and sped toward it.