The front door clicked shut, a final, hollow punctuation to the officers' visit. The sound reverberated through the now-overly-silent hallway, leaving a vacuum where the official, professional presence had been. Jake and Katy stood frozen, their shoulders tight, their bodies braced for the inevitable. The police were gone, but the interrogation was just beginning.
Their dad, a man who built his life on logic and structure, turned to face them. The casual, concerned father from the previous night was gone, replaced by a man whose face was a complex map of worry, grief, and a piercing, almost surgical suspicion. He didn't raise his voice, but the quiet intensity of his gaze was far more terrifying than a shout.
"What is going on?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Start with the beginning. What happened last night? What were those explosions? And what is our connection to this man, Arthur Henderson?"
Jake's mind went blank. The Locus, a low hum he had barely been conscious of until now, throbbed behind his eyes, a frantic, panicked beat that mirrored his own heart. He glanced at Katy, his plea for help a silent, desperate look. She, too, seemed to have frozen, her cup of herbal tea growing cold in her hands. The journalistic, truth-seeking Katy had vanished, replaced by a terrified kid who had no idea how to lie about the end of the world.
"We… uh…" Jake stammered, his throat dry. "We had some friends over. And… uh… we were setting off some fireworks."
His dad's eyebrows shot up. "Fireworks? In the middle of the neighborhood? And a scorching mark on the street? We have a strict 'no fireworks' policy, you know that. Besides, that wasn't a firecracker. And it doesn't explain the other things. The glowing streak. The 'ghost-like figure.'"
The words felt like stones, each one hitting a new, raw spot in Jake's hastily constructed lie. He felt his face flush with shame. He wasn't a good liar. He had never had to be.
"That… that was just a prank!" Katy interjected, her voice shaky but determined. "We were playing with a laser pointer and a fog machine, trying to make it look like something was there. A neighbor's kid, Jeremy from down the street, got some new gadgets and we were just goofing around."
Their dad stared at her, his head cocked slightly to the side, a gesture he used when he was analyzing something. "A fog machine? A laser pointer? Katy, those police officers just told us a man has been found dead. A man whose name was mentioned in a report about strange sightings in the woods where you were yesterday. You expect me to believe this is all just a prank?"
The guilt, a cold, heavy tide, washed over Jake again. He felt the weight of Henderson's death press down on him, suffocating him. He saw Henderson's face, not in his final moments, but as he had been yesterday: a stern, weary man with a hidden twinkle in his eyes, teaching them to suppress their energy, to lie, to hide. Now, he was gone, and the first lesson he'd tried to teach them, how to hide, was proving to be their undoing.
"We… we didn't know him," Jake said, the words a desperate whisper. "The police must have… misunderstood. We don't know any Arthur Henderson."
Their mom, who had just come downstairs, her face still pale with worry and sleep, stepped in. She put a gentle hand on her husband's arm. "Honey, the kids have been through a lot. They were alone for days, and we weren't here. Let's just… let's talk about this later. They need to rest."
"No, Mary," their dad said, his voice firm. "This isn't just about a prank anymore. This is about a police report and a man who died. This is about our kids hiding something from us. Something big. Now, Jake, Katy, I'm going to ask you one more time, and I want the truth. What happened?"
The intensity of his stare was unbearable. It felt like his dad's logic was a powerful, unrelenting force, an Ilinai in its own right, trying to tear through the fragile lie they had built. Jake could feel the Locus in his room humming, responding to his rising stress levels. It was fighting back, just like he was.
Katy stepped forward, placing her cold mug on the side table with a faint clink. She took a deep breath, trying to be the anchor, trying to find a way out of this impossible situation. "Dad, we… we were scared. That's all. We were just home alone and we were scared and we heard something last night and we were just trying to… to make sense of it. The fireworks, the fog machine, it was just us trying to be stupid teenagers, trying to pretend we were cool and brave when we were really just terrified."
It was a brilliant lie. It was a half-truth, steeped in a confession that would disarm any parent. It made their actions seem juvenile and irresponsible, but not supernatural. It was a distraction, a way to appeal to their parents' parental instincts rather than their logical ones.
Their mom's face softened. "Oh, honey," she said, pulling Katy into a hug. "Why didn't you just tell us?"
"Because you were gone!" Katy said, her voice cracking with a real sob this time, a mix of the guilt she was faking and the profound grief she was truly feeling. "We didn't want to worry you! We didn't want you to come rushing home for nothing, so we just… we just tried to handle it ourselves!"
Their dad was still skeptical, his eyes still narrowed. "And Henderson? The man who was found dead? What about him?"
Katy pulled away from her mom, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He… he's Tiffany's grandpa. The weird old guy who lives in the woods. Tiffany's dad, Mr. Hayes, told us he was alive. We… we went to go see her to make sure she was okay. We didn't know he was dead."
Another half-truth. It was a dangerous game, one that made them sound like irresponsible, rebellious teenagers, but it was better than the alternative. It explained their absence and their connection to Henderson, all without mentioning the impossible parts of the story.
Their dad finally seemed to relent, the suspicion on his face giving way to a weary, profound disappointment. "Kids, you have to tell us these things. You can't run off into the woods to find a man you've never met. And you can't be setting off fireworks in the middle of the night and hiding it from us. We're your parents. We're here to help you."
He didn't believe the whole story. Jake could see it in his eyes. He knew there was something more. But for now, he was exhausted, overwhelmed, and willing to accept the half-truth as a temporary truce.
The conversation ended without a true resolution. Their parents, seeing their exhausted, overwhelmed children, decided to drop it for now, opting to address the obvious disciplinary issues later. They went back upstairs to get ready for the day, leaving Jake and Katy alone in the silence once more.
Jake retreated to his room, closing the door behind him. The air in the room felt heavy, thick with the unsaid truths. He looked at the shimmering, suppressed Locus, a faint ripple in the air that was barely visible. It was a prison and a sanctuary. It was the source of all their pain, and the only thing keeping them safe.
He collapsed on his bed, the guilt for Henderson's death washing over him in a fresh wave. They had left him. They had run. And now he was gone. The man who had prepared them for this battle was gone, and they were left to fight it alone.
Jake closed his eyes, and the face of the dead man floated behind his eyelids, a grim accusation. The Ilinai had taken their mentor. The police were now looking into the battle that had occurred on their lawn. And his parents, the people he was supposed to protect, were now wary of them, their trust shattered by the secret he couldn't tell them.
The summer holiday, once a time of carefree fun, had become a war of attrition. A battle for survival on multiple fronts: against the unseen Ilinai, against the authorities closing in on the bizarre events, and against the very people they loved most, who they could no longer confide in. The game was getting harder, and Jake felt an overwhelming sense of dread. The next time the Ilinai came, they would be even more alone than before.