Free Whirlwind by Robert Liparulo

“Wuzzy’s going to help us find out what scares Phemus?”

    “That’s what Dad thinks,” Xander said, sounding skeptical.

    Toria smiled over at Wuzzy, like a proud parent.

    Dad hurried in, flipping through the pages of a small notebook. “Here it is,” he said. “Mike Patterson. Where’s the phone?” He froze and grimaced, remembering.

    Keal crumpled his chip bag and tossed it into the trash can. He crossed his arms. “We don’t want Taksidian knowing we’re figuring this out,” he said. “He’ll try to stop us for sure.”

    Dad frowned at the notebook. “Does that infinite thing—”

    “Infinity transmitter,” Xander said.

    “Does it work if you’re on the phone, or just when the phone’s not in use?” Dad asked. “Can he listen in on telephone conversations? If it just opens up the mike, I wouldn’t think so.”

    Xander shrugged. “I don’t know.” He looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “In the movie, they used it to hear people who weren’t talking on the phone, only near it.”

    “I think it’s a risk we have to take,” Dad said. “Who knows when Phemus will attack again? The sooner we scare him away, the better.”

    “We know he has the mobile phone numbers,” Keal said. “Use the land line, just in case.”

    “Has he ever called here?” Dad asked.

    “He never called our mobile phones either,” Xander said, “but he must have known the numbers.”

    “I’m going to do it,” Dad said. He walked out of the kitchen through the butler’s pantry, which led to the sunroom.

    “He’s excited,” Toria observed.

    Xander sighed loudly. “ ’Bout time.”

    “Hey,” David said, tired of Xander’s grousing about Dad’s lack of action. “He tailed Taksidian with us. He drove a car into a brick wall to save you.” David threw up his hands.

    “And he saved your butt before, too, from that gladiator. Dad does stuff.”

    Xander put on his guilty face. “You’re right,” he said.

    “Sorry.”

    “Say we figure out what scares Phemus,” Keal said. “What next? We carve a wall light?”

    Xander nodded. “That’s what Jesse said. I think he made most of the ones upstairs.”

    “Who knows how to carve?” Keal said.

    “I can whittle,” David said.

    “Okay,” Keal said. “I crown you Chief Wall Light Maker.”

    Dad dashed into the kitchen, the clunky home phone pressed against his cheek. He said, “I appreciate this, Mike.

    Hold on, here it is.” He punched the speaker button and set the phone beside Wuzzy. He looked up at the others and touched his finger to his lips: Shhhh . He flipped a switch on Wuzzy’s back and squeezed the bear’s paw to start the playback.

    Toria’s voice came out of the bear: “Good night, Xander.

    Thanks for watching over me.”

    “Oops,” Dad said, reaching for the paw. “Wrong memory chip. Hold on, Mike.”

    Before he could change the recording, Wuzzy said with David’s voice, “I am too,” and Toria replied, “Thank you, David.”

    David felt a hollowness in his chest, as though his heart had deflated a little. He remembered that conversation. He and Xander had volunteered to sleep with Toria because she said a big man had been in her room. A nightmare, they had thought at the time. Mom was home, and all was right with the world. Mom tucked them in and said good night. And the next time they saw her, Phemus was carrying her away.

    Dad squeezed the paw a few times.

    Wuzzy played Toria saying, “Who is it?” in a sleepy voice.

    “Okay, Mike,” Dad said. “It’s coming up.”

    Creaking noises came out of Wuzzy, then:

    Toria: “Who—”

    A deep, rumbling voice: “Sas ehei na erthete na paiksei.”

    David felt sick.

    Dad grabbed the paw and waited. After a few moments, he said, “Well? Mike?”

    Silence.

    “Mike?”

    “Uh,” came a staticky voice from the phone’s puny speaker. “I recognize some diphthong patterns, but . . . could you play it again? Turn the phone speaker off and