What if it actually was Toby?
She’d never snuck into the basement during daylight hours; it would be far too easy to get caught by a janitor, or even a teacher. But on Excursion Days the bell was silenced, the rules relaxed. If she went now, she’d be just another resident in a hallway, taking advantage of her temporary freedom. And if she took the time to think about it, she would lose her nerve.
Is that any better? Miss Levy asked.
It was as though Yossele had spent his entire life hunched over in a cramped room, and then Miss Levy had raised the ceiling so he could stand upright. He turned about in surprise, rejoicing at his quiet, orderly mind. He could see everything, could examine his own thoughts at his leisure. Nothing lurked just out of sight, clamoring to be noticed. And in the middle of it all was his beloved Kreindel, his connection to her stronger than ever.
Thank you, he told Miss Levy.
She was still there among his thoughts, a golden presence. He reached out to her, and she flowed around him like dust in sunlight, each mote a separate part of her. He gazed at them as they passed, saw flashes of people, places, memories. A Brooklyn cemetery; a burning building. Her own hands, braiding a challah. The tall man that Kreindel had dreamt about, lying not upon a bed but in a freezing alley, the ground broken beneath him. A silver chain, and a steel locket—and inside it—inside it was—
death, around her neck—
She’d tried to destroy him. She’d stood in this room, only feet away from him, and she had tried.
His mind darkened with anger.
Wait, she said, pulling away. Yossele, please. I only meant to be careful, to—
He surrounded her, instincts flaring to life, all thought obliterated by the urge to protect himself. But she, too, was strong; she pushed back against his anger, holding it at bay so that it wouldn’t ignite her own. Within moments they were balanced at a standstill, his connection to Kreindel shining between them. And Kreindel—
Wait. What was Kreindel doing?
The basement’s familiar scent of mildew greeted Kreindel as she descended.
The laundry room was empty, the shoe-shop dark and locked. She could hear shouts from the playground, where a few of the younger residents were spending their last minutes of freedom—but the basement seemed deserted. If Toby was truly here, then they’d be alone. She would tell him that he shouldn’t have come, that she couldn’t see him in secret like this. That it could only be just the once.
No light came from the Marching Band room, but someone had cracked the door open. She edged up to it, put a hand on the knob. “Toby?” she whispered.
There was a rustle of movement, deep in the room—and then an answering whisper: “Kreindel?”
The door creaked as she slowly pushed it open—
In the alcove, in their stalemate, the golems could only watch—
—as a deluge of water struck Kreindel in the face, filthy with salt and the stink of sweat.
Kreindel staggered backward into the hallway, blinded and choking, her stomach heaving. She heard shrieks of laughter, and the clang of a metal bucket dropping to the floor. Dimly she recognized Rachel Winkelman, Harriet Loeb, a few others. Her eyes burned; the world was a red haze. She fell to her knees, retched, vomited. Rage overwhelmed her.
Yossele, she thought. Get them—
—and the Golem fled Yossele’s mind as it lit up like a bonfire behind her.
The others didn’t notice at first, over their own laughter. Then, “Shhh,” Rachel hissed, and all the girls heard it: a series of cascading crashes at the far end of the hallway, shelves falling over like dominoes, their spilled contents shoved aside to make a path.
“What the hell is that?” said Rachel.
On her hands and knees below her, Kreindel smiled grimly. “That’s Yossele.”
A door burst open in the murky distance—but what emerged wasn’t Yossele. It was a woman, running toward them faster than anyone Kreindel had ever seen.
Miss Levy? she thought, dumbfounded—
And then the wall behind the woman exploded.
Pounding toward them through the dust came an enormous gray figure, its stride filling the hallway. It had a craggy, misshapen head that hung like a bull’s between mountainous shoulders, and club-like fists that swung at the ends of thickly bunched arms. Its mouth was a cavernous maw surrounded by grotesquely raised lips that now opened in a silent roar, as though it meant to swallow them whole.
The girls all stood frozen—and then Kreindel shrieked in terror.
“Go, all of you!” Miss Levy cried.
The spell broke. Screaming, Rachel and the others fled up the staircase—but Kreindel stayed where she was, staring, aghast. How could this thing be her Yossele, who’d cradled her in his arms while she cried? It couldn’t be—but of course it was. This was the creature her father had meant to build. She’d brought him to life and hidden him among children, and now he’d paint the walls with their blood—
Miss Levy placed herself in front of Kreindel, like a barrier. “Kreindel, tell him to stop,” she said, her voice straining.
The girl let out a sob. Behind her, there was a commotion on the staircase, and then a scream.
“Kreindel!” Miss Levy shouted. “You’re his master, he might still listen to you! Tell him to stop!”
My God, she knew? Everything bad was happening at once! “Yossele,” she whispered. “Stop.”
He barely slowed.
She tried again, her voice quavering. “Don’t hurt them, Yossele. Stop. Please.”
His brow furrowed; he paused, still eyeing the staircase where the girls had vanished.
“It’s not enough,” Miss Levy said. She pulled something from around her neck, and held it out: a locket, on a chain. “Yossele!” she shouted.
The enormous head swiveled toward her. The marble eyes tracked the locket.
“Come and take it from me!” Miss Levy yelled—and then she ran for the door.
It was growing late in the day, the spring warmth leaching from the asphalt. The children on the Asylum playground