“But is it true, all the stories?” whispered Tally. “Do you . . . do you eat them?”

“The hunger calls to me,” he said, “and I must obey.”

“Buddy,” whispered Tally. “We need to go, and now.”

“No, no, children,” said the Creepy. “You misunderstand. I saved you. I saved your lives.” He looked dead into my eyes. “I saved you like your father was unable to save me.”

My heart thudded hard and loud in my chest. Despite myself I leaned in closer to him and tried to meet his black-eyed stare.

“You knew my daddy?” I said.

“Yes, child,” said the Creepy. “I knew him very, very well. Come, sit down. I have a story to tell, and it’s been long since anyone but the bones have heard it.”

The Creepy beckoned to us in the darkness. Boy, did I not want to follow him anywhere down this dark cave. But what else was I going to do right now? Besides, I wanted to know about my daddy. I wanted to know what Boss Authority wanted with Pop. So I took a deep brave breath and I stepped forward. The torch revealed a few seat-sized rocks amidst the bones. Tally and I sat, wary, ready to spring up and go, ready to take off running the moment things got weird. Or weirder, rather.

“Strange tidings, a tale of wickedness, it is,” said the Creepy. “A tale of deceit. Your father, Buddy. Yes your father, the deceitfulest of all.”

“Watch your mouth about my daddy,” I said.

“Your mouth? Watch your mouth?” he said, cackling. “I would be more afraid of my mouth, and what it could do to your bones. Oh children, I would slurp the marrow from them, I would lap up every drop of your blood. It would fill me, yes it would. I would be satisfied.”

“I thought you didn’t eat the living?” said Tally.

“I don’t, I don’t,” said the Creepy. “Oh but just a snap of your neck and you would be mine, and your bones would be mine. It would be so very easy.”

He growled and spat again.

“But I won’t do it. No I won’t, I will not, I wouldn’t dare. Because there is still hope, you see? There is always hope. Even for me. Even for the miserablest likes of me.”

The Creepy grew quiet a moment, thoughtful, as though each word spoken caused him pain. I could tell Tally wanted to leave, but I gripped her hand tight, hoping she understood how important this was to me. Maybe the Creepy could explain to me what happened to Pop. Maybe he could even tell me why Mom had taken me and left in the first place.

“We were five, yes always there were the five of us,” said the Creepy. “I was your father’s friend. Sinclair, that was my name, do you remember me, child? Do you remember Sinclair in his glory?”

For the most part I couldn’t recall Pop’s friends from when I was a kid, since he mostly kept me separate from all his and Mom’s business. But I did think I remembered a tall man, with long blond hair. A brave man, and strong, who smiled all the time, who used to toss me in the air and catch me. I was pretty sure his name had been Sinclair. There were others too—a tall witch-woman, a short man—but I remembered Sinclair the best. I remembered him laughing, I remember a great booming laugh, a laugh that made everyone else want to laugh along. But how could this shivering creature before me be the same person?