The Hearts We Sold(13)

She never managed to finish her mangled sentence.

Something hit her in the chest. A sold thing with whiskers and fur and warmth, and she clutched at it instinctively, hands wrapping around it.

It was squeaking wildly, writhing, and when cool claws touched her bare skin, Dee threw the thing to the floor. It was a large, furry rat.

Dee felt a cry lodge in her throat, but she swallowed it down. The rat righted itself, then darted away.

“You okay?” said the jock. It took Dee a moment to remember his name—Carroll. No, Cal. He extended his hands, as if ready to catch her if she fainted. “It didn’t bite you, did it?”

A shudder tore through her and she found herself rubbing at her bare arms, her hands, her wrists, trying to wipe away the sensation of fur and flesh.

“It’s okay,” said Cal. He took a quick step forward, placing himself between Dee and the place the rat had vanished. It was a strangely gallant gesture, but rather than reassure her, it threw her more off balance. What little experience she’d had with boys was enough to know that they didn’t do things like that—they made lewd comments and tried to arrange hookups on scribbled notes passed by their friends. She wasn’t used to… whatever this was.

“Well, that’s interesting,” said James Lancer.

Dee whirled, expecting to see her own shock mirrored on his face. But he was staring at something behind her. “Flying rats?” she said raggedly.

“No,” said James. “The trajectory.” He traced a finger through the air, past Dee, and upward. “It came from up there.”

“Oh,” said Cal. “Right. Damn.” He looked around, then squatted, grabbing something from the floor. An empty bottle, Dee saw. Cal held it in one hand, judged for a moment, and flung it into the air.

“What—” Dee started to say.

The bottle flew high, nearly hit the ceiling, and then it simply vanished.

This time Dee did make a sound, more out of surprise than fear. Because that was when she saw it.

Well, she couldn’t see it. The moment her eyes found the thing, it slid out of her vision. She glanced away and saw it from the corner of her eye. It was like looking at stars—the moment it was fixed in her gaze it vanished. But what she did see looked like a smudge, as if reality had simply blurred.

“What is that?” she said.

“Non-space,” said Cal, at the same time James said, “Magic portal.”

They looked at each other. “I thought we agreed on non-space,” said Cal, sounding hurt. “They’re voids; they’re not magic.”

“Hey,” said James, “every time you say ‘non-space,’ all I can hear is technobabble.”

“Well, technobabble has to be better than you peddling your blatant ignorance,” replied Cal.

James sighed. “All right, all right. I’ll defer to your genius.” He turned to Dee. “Living things can’t enter the mag—I mean, the voids. So when the rats try to get in—that one probably used that high shelf—they get about a few feet and then the void spits them back out. I once saw one splat against a wall.”

“Cheery,” said Cal drily. “Yes, let’s traumatize her some more.” He rubbed at his forehead. “Fine, fine. You know where we can find a ladder?” This was directed to Dee.

She opened her mouth, tried to speak and failed.

“Never mind,” said Cal quickly. He took a step nearer, hand held out as if to reassure a startled animal. “It’s okay. You stay here—I’ll go find a utility closet. There’s bound to be one down here.” He glanced at the other boy. “Lancer, stay with her.”

“Right-o,” said James, like this was normal. Dee watched as he knelt beside a black duffel bag. He unzipped it, peered about the contents, then nodded in satisfaction. He tightened the strings of his parka hood, rolling his shoulders as if he were a runner preparing for a sprint. The movements were comfortable, almost nonchalant. Another rat was creeping along the far wall, its small eyes gleaming in the dark. Dee shrank back.

“They won’t hurt you,” said James. “They’re just, ah, attuned to the void. Or that’s what we think. Like dogs can hear higher frequencies. Or hell, maybe the rats get off on its proximity or something. Whenever we find a void, we always find rats.”

“Or maybe they just like to follow you around,” said Cal, returning. He waddled backward, clutching a tall ladder in his arms.

“Are you calling me the Pied Piper or something?” asked James.

“Actually, I think they’re trying to reclaim stolen property.” Cal nodded at the other boy’s parka.

Dee’s world had suddenly become unrecognizably macabre. Rats creeping along the walls, a smudge of unreality against the ceiling, two teenage boys talking like this happened every day.

“What are you doing here?” she said.

James’s smile widened. “We’re here to make sure that”—he gestured at the void—“doesn’t open.”

“What happens if it opens?” She still had no idea what they were talking about, but speaking made her feel better—at least, it drowned out the soft sounds of the rats moving in the shadows.

James shrugged.

“Then what are you waiting for?” she said.