In the theater attic, Eddie was laying a fire on the thunder sheet. He had drawn a neat diagram of it in the open notebook beside him. Concentrating on the need to combine heat, fuel, and oxygen in a structured way was helping him forget that a few days ago an uncontrolled fire had almost roasted him alive.
Tomkin hadn’t come back the night before, and Eddie could tell Kat was worried. But all he felt was that it was better having Kat to himself. And she would want to be warm when she got back. He picked up two sticks and considered the most efficient place to set them. It was as he was doing this that he suddenly realized he wasn’t alone.
Eddie froze, still holding the sticks. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
“Who is it?”
No one answered. The silence was absolute, and yet Eddie knew he wasn’t mistaken. He forced himself to raise his head and slowly open one eye.
Someone was watching him from the shadows of the attic.
Someone who had appeared in absolute silence, without climbing the ladder or entering through the hole in the roof.
Eddie felt a chill grip his spine.
Both of Eddie’s eyes were open now — he couldn’t have turned away even if he’d wanted to. He tried desperately to make the dark shape he could see into some innocent object. The theater attic was full of moldering stage props after all. Could it be a mannequin? A puppet? A costume he hadn’t noticed before?
But it was no use. He knew there really was someone there, and he’d only ever known one other person who could appear in silence like that.
“David?” Eddie swallowed. “Is that you?”
The figure stirred and stepped forward, becoming more visible against the dark. What had seemed to be nothing more than a shadow now revealed itself to be a boy — somewhat older than Eddie — in an extremely sharp suit, with a hat and a cane.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” said the boy.
“The ladder made no noise,” said Eddie, picking up his notebook and rolling it tightly. “When you came up it. It always makes a noise.”
The visitor shrugged.
“As I said, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was merely passing. I have to go now. But have no fear, Eddie. Please forget you ever saw me.”
And he moved toward the trap door.
“You know my name?” said Eddie. “How do you know my name?”
The boy stopped and turned, bringing an intense gaze onto Eddie. Eddie looked down, gripping the notebook so tightly in his hand that he almost crushed it.
“You are Edmund Utherwise, aren’t you?” said the boy. “Well, good evening, Eddie. I was told you’d be here, that’s all. By a boy called Tomkin.”
“Tomkin,” Eddie said in an almost-whisper, “didn’t come home last night.”
“It’s fine, Eddie. Tomkin’s just … staying with some friends of mine. There’s nothing for you to worry about. And now I really must go.”
The boy walked again toward the hatchway.
“Just one more thing. These friends of mine, they’ll visit this place shortly. To pick up some things for Tomkin. But you won’t let them worry you, will you, Eddie? Just stay here nice and safe, and you’ll be fine. Agreed?”
Eddie nodded his head, but inside it the voice of his doubt buzzed like a swarm of bees. He wished Kat were there to talk to this strange boy.
“Good,” said the visitor. “And now I really do have to be moving on.” He began to lower himself down the ladder.
“Wait!” Eddie called, more to hear the reassuring sound of his own voice than anything else. Then a question burst out of him, almost of its own accord.
“What’s your name? If you know mine, you should tell me yours. It’s polite.”
The strange boy was almost gone; his head and shoulders alone remained above the floor. He paused and turned his ferocious, dark gaze on Eddie the way a cat would look at a mouse.
“Adam. My name is Adam. And now — finally — good-bye, Edmund Utherwise.”
When Eddie looked again he was gone, without a single creak or groan from the rickety ladder. Eddie was alone again.
With a shaking hand he lit the fire.