After hearing so much about Crawford Tillinghast for so long, Robert was surprised to see that the man was really just a thin, pale, flesh-and-blood human being—not unlike the old men who paraded through the school on Grandparents Day.
Except Tillinghast had a strength and confidence that those other old men hadn’t possessed in years. When he shook Robert’s hand, he held it an extra moment, squeezing harder, just to prove his point. Then he released his grip and smiled, revealing two crooked rows of yellowed teeth.
“Aperi portam!” he commanded, and a large gate materialized before them, spanning the full width of the hallway. The Old Ones responded with excited chirps and chattering, and Tillinghast beckoned them forward. “Itinere gnomorum! Itinere!”
The Old Ones broke into a stampede, pushing, shoving, and climbing over one another to reach the gate. They entered three or four at a time and immediately vanished, crossing over to the next dimension. Tillinghast watched them with pride, like a parent admiring his own children. The entire herd vanished in a matter of moments; soon all that remained of them was their awful pungent odor.
Tillinghast shouted a second incantation—“Claude ostium!”—and the gate dissolved, folding upon itself like an eyelid blinking shut. He sighed with tremendous satisfaction, as if a monumental task had finally been completed.
Then he set off down the hallway.
“Come,” he told Robert.
Tillinghast opened the nearest door, leading them into the office of a guidance counselor. On the walls were framed photographs of waterfalls, lighthouses, and soaring eagles. Tillinghast sat in a tall leather-backed chair and placed the candle on an end table.
“Sit,” he said.
Robert perched on the edge of a comfortable leather sofa. He was very tired but too scared to sit back and relax.
“Would you like something to drink? A glass of water?”
“No, thanks,” Robert said.
Tillinghast removed an ancient-looking vial from his jacket and unscrewed the cap. “Well, forgive me if I indulge,” he sighed. “It’s been a long day.”
Robert looked down at his lap. His hands were shaking. He had faced so many terrible creatures in the past six months—but none quite so frightening as the old man sitting in the guidance counselor’s chair.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Tillinghast said. “I just saved your life, remember?”
Robert didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say.
“Don’t look at your lap. Look at me. I want to have a conversation.”
Robert looked up but couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. He looked past Tillinghast, over his shoulder, through a window overlooking the parking lot.
Outside, the snow had stopped falling.
“I gather you’ve heard some nasty things about me,” Tillinghast continued. “People getting kidnapped and stuffed into urns, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.” He sighed. “The truth is, I’m a very generous person. I believe I can help you—if you’re willing to discuss things.”
Robert whispered the first response that came to mind: “Is the storm over?”
“Very good! Excellent question! Yes, the storm has moved out to sea. The great migration is complete. The Old Ones are safe in my mansion at last.”
“Where did they come from?”
“Right here in Dunwich. Thousands of years ago, this part of the continent was teeming with them. But they moved underground when the glaciers melted.” Tillinghast tipped back his head and drained the vial in a single swallow. “They’re magnificent warriors but far from perfect. Two millennia of subterranean dwelling has ruined their eyesight. And they can’t tolerate any climate that isn’t freezing. Put them somewhere at room temperature and they shrivel up like raisins. That’s why they’ve spent the past two thousand years in hibernation. Our planet has been too warm.”
“So you manufactured a blizzard?” Robert asked.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Tillinghast said. “First, I manufactured a climate-controlled chamber in my dimension. A place where the Old Ones can train and hopefully evolve to tolerate higher temperatures. The snowstorm was simply a means for getting them from Point A to Point B. I needed the ground to be freezing, and I needed the school to be chilled.”
The longer Tillinghast spoke, the more Robert relaxed. “So, Miss Carcasse was helping you?”
“That’s right. While you were all distracted by the arrival of Glenn Torkells, she walked around the school, opening windows and doors. Lowering the temperature to zero degrees Celsius.” Tillinghast capped the empty vial and placed it in his pocket. “I don’t appreciate the little trick you played on her, by the way. She wasn’t bright, but she fulfilled her duties admirably.”
“She was trying to feed me to your monsters,” Robert reminded him.
Tillinghast smiled. “You’re a smart boy. I’ve been watching you for several months. No child or adult has ever outwitted one of my associates, but somehow you’ve foiled six of them. Professor Goyle, Sarah and Sylvia Price, Howard Mergler, Nurse Mandis, and now Miss Carcasse. For a twelve-year-old, you’re quite impressive.”
“I’m just trying to stay alive,” Robert said.
“I can arrange for that,” Tillinghast offered. “If you’re willing to help me.”
“Why should I do that?”
“For starters, I’ve kept the Old Ones from eating your friends in the gymnasium. I’d say that deserves a thank-you. But I have an even better proposal.”
He reached into his coat pocket and removed a red envelope—the valentine that Robert had purchased for Karina.
“Where did you find that?”
“Like I said, I’ve been watching you a long time. While you and Glenn were flailing about on the ledge, I took the liberty of going through your backpack. I hope you don’t mind.” He returned the card to Robert. “Has she told you she’s in limbo?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means that she can be made whole. She can regain her true form. She can walk and play and ride a bike; she can be a living, breathing thirteen-year-old girl who can leave this prison and never look back. All I require is a replacement. A body and soul to take her place.”
“You mean me?” Robert asked.
“No, of course not. You’re more useful to me here. But perhaps there’s someone else.”
“I don’t know anyone willing to give up their body.”
Tillinghast shrugged. “Perhaps this person doesn’t volunteer.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Come with me. I want to show you something.”
He took the candle and led Robert across the school to the end of the east corridor, where a pair of doors led to the outside. Tillinghast tossed the ancient-looking vial at the doors and it vanished in midair, swallowed by a gate that was nearly invisible.
“I’m proposing that you lead a companion down this hallway,” Tillinghast explained, “and then that person wanders through this gate by accident.”
“Accident?” Robert asked. “You mean, you want me to trick somebody?”
“There’s no pain involved. We simply take the body, and the person’s spirit is imprisoned. In a very large and comfortable urn.”
“I don’t know anyone who deserves that.”
“Oh, I bet you do,” Tillinghast said. “There has to be someone you don’t like. Someone who’s unfriendly to you. Disrespectful to your mother. Someone in this school right now.”
Robert didn’t have to think long. “You mean Lionel Quincy?”
Tillinghast winked. “We’d settle for him.”
“No way. I couldn’t.”
“He thinks he’s better than you. Always bragging about his money and his house in the Heights. And his amazing father. The 87th Most Powerful Titan in the Tech Industry. I say it’s time to teach Lionel a lesson.”
“He doesn’t deserve to be imprisoned.”
“Neither does Karina. But life isn’t fair, Robert. Some of us have bad luck. What I’m proposing is trading one body for another. A nice girl goes free. A spoiled brat gets punished. Where’s the injustice?”
Robert couldn’t answer the question. He felt it was wrong, but he didn’t know why it felt wrong. Tillinghast had managed to make a wrong choice sound right.
“It’s all very simple. You’ll find an excuse to lead Lionel down this hallway. The boy isn’t bright; he’ll believe anything. And the gate will take care of the rest. We’ll be waiting on the other side to relieve him of his vessel. And Karina will be free of this place at last.”
Robert shook his head. “Lionel doesn’t deserve it.”
“Think of it as an extended detention. A punishment. Would you agree he deserves to be punished? Doesn’t Karina deserve her freedom?”
Robert looked down at the valentine. On the front of the card was a picture of Garfield with hearts exploding from his head; the caption read “I’m CRAAAZY for you!” He’d wanted to get Karina something nice for Valentine’s Day, but now the card seemed silly and inconsequential. What she really wanted, more than anything else in the world, was to be free of Lovecraft Middle School once and for all.
“It feels wrong,” Robert said.
“Why don’t you sleep on it?” Tillinghast suggested. “Sometimes tough choices seem easier by the light of day. I’ll leave the gate open just in case.”
“What happens in the morning?”
“You and your friends walk out the door. Minus one, of course. Either Lionel or Karina. Whoever stays behind is up to you.”