Fablehaven

(Fablehaven Series, Book 1)

Brandon Mull

A Mandatory Vacation

Kendra stared out the side window of the SUV, watching

foliage blur past. When the flurry of motion

became too much, she looked up ahead and fixed her gaze

on a particular tree, following it as it slowly approached,

streaked past, and then gradually receded behind her.

Was life like that? You could look ahead to the future

or back at the past, but the present moved too quickly to

absorb. Maybe sometimes. Not today. Today they were

driving along an endless two-lane highway through the

forested hills of Connecticut.

Why didn’t you tell us Grandpa Sorenson lived in

India? Seth complained.

Her brother was eleven and heading into sixth grade.

He had grown weary of his handheld video game —- evidence

that they were on a truly epic drive.

Mom twisted to face the backseat. It won’t be much

longer. Enjoy the scenery.

I’m hungry, Seth said.

Mom started rummaging through a grocery bag full of

snack food. Peanut butter and crackers?

Seth reached forward for the crackers. Dad, driving,

asked for some Almond Roca. Last Christmas he had

decided that Almond Roca was his favorite candy and that

he should have some on hand all year long. Nearly six

months later he was still honoring his resolution.

Do you want anything, Kendra?

I’m fine.

Kendra returned her attention to the frantic parade of

trees. Her parents were leaving on a seventeen-day

Scandinavian cruise with all the aunts and uncles on her

mother’s side. They were all going for free. Not because

they’d won a contest. They were going on a cruise because

Kendra’s grandparents had asphyxiated.

Grandma and Grandpa Larsen had been visiting relatives

in South Carolina. The relatives lived in a trailer. The

trailer had some sort of malfunction involving a gas leak,

and they all died in their sleep. Long ago, Grandma and

Grandpa Larsen had specified that when they died, all their

children and their spouses were to use an allocated sum of

money to go on a Scandinavian cruise.

The grandchildren were not invited.

Won’t you get bored stuck on a boat for seventeen

days? Kendra asked.

Dad glanced at her in the rearview mirror. The food is

supposed to be incredible. Snails, fish eggs, the works.

We’re not all that thrilled about the trip, Mom said

sadly. I don’t think your grandparents envisioned an accidental

death when they made this request. But we’ll make

the best of it.

The ship stops in ports as you go, Dad said, deliberately

redirecting the conversation. You get to disembark

for part of the time.

Is this car ride going to last seventeen days? Seth

asked.

We’re nearly there, Dad said.

Do we have to stay with Grandma and Grandpa

Sorenson? asked Kendra.

It’ll be fun, Dad said. You should feel honored. They

almost never invite anyone to stay with them.

Exactly. We barely know them. They’re hermits.

Well, they were my parents, Dad said. Somehow I

survived.

The road stopped winding through forested hills as it

passed through a town. They idled at a stoplight, and

Kendra stared at an overweight woman gassing up her

minivan. The front windshield of the minivan was dirty,

but the woman seemed to have no intention of washing it.

Kendra glanced up front. The windshield of the SUV

was filthy, smeared with dead bugs, even though Dad had

squeegeed it when they last stopped to refuel. They had

driven all the way from Rochester today.

Kendra knew that Grandma and Grandpa Sorenson

had not invited them to stay. She had overheard when

Mom had approached Grandpa Sorenson about letting the

kids stay with him. It was at the funeral.

The memory of the funeral made Kendra shiver. There

was a wake beforehand, where Grandma and Grandpa

Larsen were showcased in matching caskets. Kendra did

not like seeing Grandpa Larsen wearing makeup. What

lunatic had decided that when people died you should hire

a taxidermist to fix them up for one final look? She would

much rather remember them alive than on grotesque display

in their Sunday best. The Larsens were the grandparents

who had been part of her life. They had shared

many holidays and long visits.

Kendra could hardly remember spending time with

Grandma and Grandpa Sorenson. They had inherited

some estate in Connecticut around the time her parents

were married. The Sorensons had never invited them to

visit, and rarely made the trek out to Rochester. When

they came, it was generally one or the other. They had only

come together twice. The Sorensons were nice, but their

visits had been too infrequent and brief for real bonding to

occur. Kendra knew that Grandma had taught history at

some college, and that Grandpa had traveled a lot, running

a small importing business. That was about it.

Everyone was surprised when Grandpa Sorenson

showed up at the funeral. It had been more than eighteen

months since either of the Sorensons had visited. He had

apologized that his wife could not attend because she was

feeling ill. There always seemed to be an excuse.

Sometimes Kendra wondered if they were secretly

divorced.

Toward the end of the wake, Kendra overheard Mom

cajoling Grandpa Sorenson to watch the kids. They were

in a hallway around a corner from the viewing area. Kendra

heard them talking before she reached the corner, and

paused to eavesdrop.

Why can’t they stay with Marci?

Normally they would, but Marci is coming on the

cruise.

Kendra peeked around the corner. Grandpa Sorenson

was wearing a brown jacket with patches on the elbows and

a bow tie.

Where are Marci’s kids going?

To her in-laws.

What about a baby-sitter?

Two and a half weeks is a long time for a sitter. I

remembered you had mentioned having them over sometime.

Yes, I recall. Does it have to be late June? Why not

July?

The cruise is on a time frame. What’s the difference?

Things get extra busy around then. I don’t know, Kate.

I’m out of practice with children.

Stan, I don’t want to go on this cruise. It was important

to my parents, so we’re going. I don’t mean to twist

your arm. Mom sounded on the verge of tears.

Grandpa Sorenson sighed. I suppose we could find a

place to lock them up.

Kendra moved away from the hall at that point. She

had quietly worried about staying with Grandpa Sorenson

ever since.

Having left the town behind, the SUV climbed a steep

grade. Then the road curved around a lake and got lost

among low, forested hills. Every so often they passed a mailbox.

Sometimes a house was visible through the trees;

sometimes there was only a long driveway.

They turned onto a narrower road and kept driving.

Kendra leaned forward and checked the gas gauge. Dad,

you’re under a quarter of a tank, she said.

We’re almost there. We’ll fill up after we drop you kids

off.

Can’t we come on the cruise? Seth asked. We could

hide in the lifeboats. You could sneak us food.

You kids will have much more fun with Grandma and

Grandpa Sorenson, Mom said. Just you wait. Give it a

chance.

Here we are, Dad said.

They pulled off the road onto a gravel driveway.

Kendra could see no sign of a house, only the driveway

angling out of sight into the trees.

Tires crunching over the gravel, they passed several

signs advertising that they were on private property. Other

signs warded off trespassers. They came to a low metal gate

that hung open but could be shut to prevent access.

This is the longest driveway in the world! Seth

complained.

The farther they advanced, the less conventional the

signs became. Private Property and No Trespassing gave way

to Beware of .12 Gauge and Trespassers Will Be Persecuted.

These signs are funny, Seth said.

More like creepy, Kendra muttered.

Rounding another bend, the driveway reached a tall,

wrought-iron fence topped with fleurs-de-lis. The double

gate stood open. The fence extended off into the trees as

far as Kendra could see in either direction. Near the fence

stood a final sign:

Certain Death Awaits.

Is Grandpa Sorenson paranoid? Kendra asked.

The signs are a joke, Dad said. He inherited this

land. I’m sure the fence came with it.

After they passed through the gate, there was still no

house in sight. Just more trees and shrubs. They drove

across a small bridge spanning a creek and climbed a shallow

slope. There the trees ended abruptly, bringing the

house into view across a vast front lawn.

The house was big, but not enormous, with lots of

gables and even a turret. After the wrought-iron gate,

Kendra had expected a castle or a mansion. Constructed

out of dark wood and stone, the house looked old but in

good repair. The grounds were more impressive. A bright

flower garden bloomed in front of the house. Manicured

hedges and a fish pond added character to the yard. Behind

the house loomed an immense brown barn, at least five stories

tall, topped by a weather vane.

I love it, Mom said. I wish we were all staying.

You’ve never been here? Kendra asked.

No. Your father came here a couple of times before we

were married.

They go the extra mile to discourage visitors, Dad

said. Me, Uncle Carl, Aunt Sophie-none of us have

spent much time here. I don’t get it. You kids are lucky.

You’ll have a blast. If nothing else, you can spend your time

playing in the pool.

They pulled to a stop outside the garage.

The front door opened and Grandpa Sorenson

emerged, followed by a tall, lanky man with large ears and

a thin, older woman. Mom, Dad, and Seth got out of the

car. Kendra sat and watched.

Grandpa had been clean-shaven at the funeral, but

now he wore a stubbly white beard. He was dressed in faded

jeans, work boots, and a flannel shirt.

Kendra studied the older woman. She was not

Grandma Sorenson. Despite her white hair streaked with a

few black strands, her face had an ageless quality. Her

almond eyes were black as coffee, and her features suggested

a hint of Asian ancestry. Short and slightly stooped,

she retained an exotic beauty.

Dad and the lanky man opened the back of the SUV

and began removing suitcases and duffel bags. You coming,

Kendra? Dad asked.

Kendra opened the door and dropped to the gravel.

Just place the things inside, Grandpa was telling Dad.

Dale will take them up to the bedroom.

Where’s Mom? Dad asked.

Visiting your Aunt Edna.

In Missouri?

Edna’s dying.

Kendra had barely ever heard of Aunt Edna, so the

news did not mean much. She looked up at the house. She

noticed that the windows had bubbly glass. Bird nests clung

under the eaves.

They all migrated to the front door. Dad and Dale carried

the larger bags. Seth held a smaller duffel bag and a

cereal box. The cereal box was his emergency kit. It was

full of odds and ends he thought would come in handy for

an adventure-rubber bands, a compass, granola bars,

coins, a squirt gun, a magnifying glass, plastic handcuffs,

string, a whistle.

This is Lena, our housekeeper, Grandpa said. The

older woman nodded and gave a little wave. Dale helps

me tend the grounds.

Aren’t you pretty? Lena said to Kendra. You must be

around fourteen. Lena had a faint accent that Kendra

could not place.

In October.

An iron knocker hung on the front door, a squinting

goblin with a ring in its mouth. The thick door had bulky

hinges.

Kendra entered the house. Glossy wood floored the

entry hall. A wilting arrangement of flowers rested on a low

table in a white ceramic vase. A tall, brass coat rack stood

off to one side beside a black bench with a high, carved

back. On the wall hung a painting of a fox hunt.

Kendra could see into another room where a huge,

embroidered throw rug covered most of the wooden floor.

Like the house itself, the furnishings were antiquated but

in good repair. The couches and chairs were mostly of the

sort you would expect to see while visiting a historical site.

Dale was heading up the stairs with some of the bags.

Lena excused herself and went to another room.

Your home is beautiful, Mom gushed. I wish we had

time for a tour.

Maybe when you get back, Grandpa said.

Thanks for letting the kids stay with you, Dad said.

Our pleasure. Don’t let me keep you.

We’re on a pretty tight schedule, Dad apologized.

You kids be good and do whatever Grandpa Sorenson

tells you, Mom said. She hugged Kendra and Seth.

Kendra felt tears seeping into her eyes. She fought

them back. Have a fun cruise.

We’ll be back before you know it, Dad said, putting

an arm around Kendra and tousling Seth’s hair.

Waving, Mom and Dad walked out the door. Kendra

went to the doorway and watched them climb into the

SUV. Dad honked as they drove off. Kendra fought back

tears again as the SUV vanished into the trees.

Mom and Dad were probably laughing, relieved to be

off by themselves for the longest vacation of their married

lives. She could practically hear their crystal goblets clinking.

And here she stood, abandoned. Kendra closed the

door. Seth, oblivious as ever, was examining the intricate

pieces of a decorative chess set.

Grandpa stood in the entry hall, watching Seth and

looking politely uncomfortable.

Leave the chess pieces alone, Kendra said. They

look expensive.

Oh, he’s all right, Grandpa said. By the way he said

it, Kendra could tell he was relieved to see Seth setting the

pieces down. Shall I show you to your room?

They followed Grandpa up the stairs and down a carpeted

hall to the foot of a narrow wooden staircase leading

up to a white door. Grandpa continued on up the creaking

steps.

We don’t often have guests, especially children,

Grandpa said over his shoulder. I think you’ll be most

comfortable in the attic.

He opened the door, and they entered after him.

Braced for cobwebs and torture devices, Kendra was

relieved to find that the attic was a cheerful playroom.

Spacious, clean, and bright, the long room had a pair of

beds, shelves crowded with children’s books, freestanding

wardrobes, tidy dressers, a unicorn rocking horse, multiple

toy chests, and a hen in a cage.

Seth went straight for the chicken. Cool! He poked

a finger through the slender bars, trying to touch the

orange-gold feathers.

Careful, Seth, Kendra warned.

He’ll be fine, Grandpa said. Goldilocks is more a

house pet than a barnyard hen. Your grandmother usually

takes care of her. I figured you kids wouldn’t mind filling in

while she’s gone. You’ll need to feed her, clean her cage,

and collect her eggs.

She lays eggs! Seth looked astonished and delighted.

An egg or two a day if you keep her well fed, Grandpa

said. He pointed to a white plastic bucket full of kernels

near the cage. A scoop in the morning and another in the

evening should take care of her. You’ll want to change the

lining of her cage every couple days, and make sure she has

plenty of water. Every morning, we give her a tiny bowl of

milk. Grandpa winked. That’s the secret behind her egg

production.

Can we ever take her out? The hen had moved close

enough for Seth to stroke her feathers with one finger.

Just put her back afterwards. Grandpa bent down to

put a finger in the cage, and Goldilocks instantly pecked at

it. Grandpa withdrew his hand. Never liked me much.

Some of these toys look expensive, Kendra said,

standing beside an ornate Victorian dollhouse.

Toys are meant to be played with, Grandpa said. Do

your best to keep them in decent shape, and that will be

good enough.

Seth moved from the hen cage to a small piano in the

corner of the room. He banged on the keys, and the notes

that clanged sounded different from what Kendra would

have expected. It was a little harpsichord.

Consider this room your space, Grandpa said.

Within reason, I’ll not bother you to pick things up in

here, so long as you treat the rest of the house with

respect.

Okay, Kendra said.

I also have some unfortunate news. We are in the

height of tick season. You kids ever hear of Lyme disease?

Seth shook his head.

I think so, Kendra said.

It was originally discovered in the town of Lyme,

Connecticut, not too far from here. You catch it from tick

bites. The woods are full of ticks this year.

What does it do? Seth asked.

Grandpa paused for a solemn moment. Starts out as a

rash. Before long it can lead to arthritis, paralysis, and heart

failure. Besides, disease or no, you don’t want ticks burrowing

into your skin to drink your blood. You try to pull them

off and the head detaches. Hard to get out.

That’s disgusting! Kendra exclaimed.

Grandpa nodded grimly. They’re so small you can

hardly see them, at least until they fill up on blood. Then

they swell to the size of a grape. Anyhow, point is, you kids

are not allowed to enter the woods under any circumstances.

Stay on the lawn. Break that rule and your outdoor

privileges will be revoked. We understand one another?

Kendra and Seth nodded.

You also need to keep out of the barn. Too many ladders

and rusty old pieces of farm equipment. Same rules

apply to the barn as apply to the woods. Set foot in there,

and you will spend the rest of your stay in this room.

Okay, Seth said, crossing the room to where a little

easel stood on a paint-spattered tarp. A blank canvas rested

on the easel. Additional blank canvases leaned against the

wall nearby, beside shelves stocked with jars of paint. Can

I paint?

I’m telling you twice, you have the run of this room,

Grandpa said. Just try not to destroy it. I have many

chores to attend to, so I may not be around much. There

should be plenty of toys and hobbies here to keep you

busy.

What about a TV? Seth asked.

No TV or radio, Grandpa replied. Rules of the

house. If you need anything, Lena will never be far. He

indicated a purple cord hanging against the wall near one

of the beds. Tug the cord if you need her. In fact, Lena will

be up with your supper in a few minutes.

Won’t we eat together? Kendra asked.

Some days. Right now I need to visit the east hayfield.

May not be back until late.

How much land do you own? asked Seth.

Grandpa smiled. More than my share. Let’s leave it at

that. I’ll see you kids in the morning. He turned to leave

and then paused, reaching into his coat pocket. Turning

back, he handed Kendra a tiny key ring holding three

miniature keys of varying sizes. Each of these keys fits

something in this room. See if you can figure out what each

unlocks.

Grandpa Sorenson walked out of the room, closing the

door behind him. Kendra listened as he descended the

stairs. She stood at the door, waiting, and then gently tried

the handle. It turned slowly. She eased the door open,

peered down the empty stairway, and then closed it. At

least he had not locked them in.

Seth had opened a toy chest and was examining the

contents. The toys were old-fashioned but in excellent

condition. Soldiers, dolls, puzzles, stuffed animals, wooden

blocks.

Kendra wandered over to a telescope by a window. She

peered into the eyepiece, positioned the telescope to look

through a windowpane, and began twisting the focus

knobs. She could improve the focus but couldn’t get it

quite right.

She stopped fiddling with the knobs and examined the

window. The panes were made of bubbly glass, like those in

the front of the house. The images were being distorted

before they reached the telescope.

Unfastening a latch, Kendra pushed the window open.

She had a good view of the forest east of the house,

illuminated by the golden hues of the setting sun. Moving

the telescope closer to the window, she spent some time

mastering the knobs, bringing the leaves on the trees below

into crisp focus.

Let me see, Seth said. He was standing beside her.

Pick up those toys first. A mess of toys lay piled near

the open chest.

Grandpa said we can do what we want in here.

Without making it a disaster. You’re already wrecking

the place.

I’m playing. This is a playroom.

Remember how Mom and Dad said we need to pick

up after ourselves?

Remember how Mom and Dad aren’t here?

I’ll tell.

How? Stick a note in a bottle? You won’t even remember

by the time they get back.

Kendra noticed a calendar on the wall. I’ll write it on

the calendar.

Good. And I’ll look through the telescope while you

do that.

This is the one thing in the room I was doing. Why

don’t you find something else?

I didn’t notice the telescope. Why don’t you share?

Don’t Mom and Dad also tell us to share?

Fine, Kendra said. It’s all yours. But I’m closing the

window. Bugs are coming in.

Whatever.

She shut the window.

Seth looked into the eyepiece and started twisting the

focus knobs. Kendra took a closer look at the calendar. It

was from 1953. Each month was accompanied by an illustration

of a fairyland palace.

She turned the calendar to June. Today was June 11.

The days of the week did not match up, but she could still

count down to when her parents would return. They would

be back June 28.

This stupid thing won’t even focus, Seth complained.

Kendra smiled.

Collecting Clues

The next morning, Kendra sat at breakfast across from

her grandfather. A wooden clock on the wall above

him read 8:43. Reflected sunlight flashed in the corner of

her eye. Seth was using his butter knife to bounce sun rays.

She was not seated close enough to the window to

retaliate.

Nobody likes the sun in their eyes, Seth, Grandpa

said.

Seth stopped. Where’s Dale? he asked.

Dale and I got up a few hours ago. He’s out working.

I’m just here to keep you company on your first morning.

Lena set a bowl in front of Seth and another in front of

Kendra.

What’s this? Seth asked.

Cream of wheat, Lena replied.

Sticks to your ribs, Grandpa added.

Seth probed the cream of wheat with his spoon.

What’s in it? Blood?

Berries from the garden and homemade raspberry preserves,

Lena said, placing a platter on the table containing

toast, butter, a pitcher of milk, a bowl of sugar, and a

bowl of jam.

Kendra sampled the cream of wheat. It was delicious.

The berries and raspberry preserves sweetened it to

perfection.

This is good! Seth said. Just think, Dad is eating

snails.

You kids remember the rules about the woods,

Grandpa said.

And to stay out of the barn, Kendra said.

Good girl. There’s a swimming pool out back that we

got ready for you-all the chemicals are balanced and

whatnot. There are gardens to explore. You can always play

in your room. Just respect the rules and we’ll get along

fine.

When is Grandma coming back? Kendra asked.

Grandpa glanced down at his hands. That depends on

your Aunt Edna. Could be next week. Could be a couple

months.

Good thing Grandma got over her illness, Kendra

said.

Illness?

The one that kept her from going to the funeral.

Right. Yeah, she was still a little under the weather

when she left for Missouri.

Grandpa was acting a little peculiar. Kendra wondered

if he was uncomfortable around children.

I’m sad we missed her, Kendra said.

She’s sorry too. Well, I better be off. Grandpa had not

eaten anything. He pushed his chair back, stood up, and

stepped away from the table, rubbing his palms against his

jeans. If you swim, don’t forget to wear sunblock. I’ll see

you kids later.

At lunch? Seth asked.

Probably not until supper. Lena will help you with

anything you need.

He left the room.

Dressed in her swimsuit, a towel over one shoulder,

Kendra stepped through the door onto the back porch. She

carried a handheld mirror she had found in the nightstand

by her bed. The handle was mother-of-pearl studded with

rhinestones. The day was a bit humid, but the temperature

was pleasant.

She walked to the railing of the porch and gazed over

the gorgeously manicured backyard. Paths of white stones

meandered among flower beds, hedgerows, vegetable gardens,

fruit trees, and flowering plants. Tangled grapevines

curled along suspended lattices. All the flowers seemed to

be in full bloom. Kendra had never seen such brilliant

blossoms.

Seth was already swimming. The pool had a black bottom,

and it was fringed with rocks to make it seem like a

pond. Kendra hurried down the steps and started down a

path toward the pool.

The garden teemed with life. Hummingbirds darted

among the foliage, wings nearly invisible as they hovered.

Huge bumblebees with fuzzy abdomens buzzed from one

blossom to another. A stunning variety of butterflies fluttered

about on tissue-paper wings.

Kendra passed a small, waterless fountain featuring a

statue of a frog. She paused as a large butterfly alighted on

the rim of an empty birdbath. It had huge wings-blue,

black, and violet. She had never seen a butterfly with such

vivid coloring. Of course, she had never visited a world-class

garden. The house was not quite a mansion, but the

grounds were fit for a king. No wonder Grandpa Sorenson

had so many chores.

The path finally deposited Kendra at the pool.

Variegated flagstones paved the poolside area. There were a

few recliners and a circular table with a big umbrella.

Seth leaped from a stone outcropping into the swimming

pool, legs curled up, and hit the water with a big

splash. Kendra set her towel and mirror on the table and

grabbed a bottle of sunblock. She smeared the white cream

over her face, arms, and legs until it disappeared into her

skin.

While Seth was swimming underwater, Kendra picked

up the mirror. She angled the face so it reflected sunlight

onto the water. When Seth surfaced, she made sure the

bright splotch of sunlight covered his face.

Hey! he shouted, swimming away from her. She kept

the glare from the mirror on the back of his head. Gripping

the side of the pool, Seth turned to look at her again,

throwing up a hand and squinting to ward off the light. He

had to look away.

Kendra laughed.

Cut it out, Seth called.

You don’t like that?

Quit it. I won’t do it anymore. Grandpa already yelled

at me.

Kendra set the mirror on the table. That mirror is a lot

brighter than a butter knife, she said. I bet it already did

permanent damage to your retinas.

I hope so, then I’ll sue you for a billion dollars.

Good luck. I have about a hundred in the bank. It

might be enough for you to buy some eye patches.

He swam toward her angrily, and Kendra walked forward

to the edge of the pool. As he started climbing out,

she shoved him back in. She was almost a full head taller

than Seth and could usually handle him in a fight,

although if they ended up wrestling he was pretty squirmy.

Seth changed tactics and started splashing her, making

quick scooping motions across the surface of the pool. The

water felt cold, and Kendra recoiled at first, then leapt over

Seth into the water. After the initial shock, she swiftly

grew accustomed to the temperature, stroking over to the

shallow end away from her brother.

He chased her, and they ended up in a splash fight.

Locking his hands, Seth swung his arms in wide arcs, skimming

the top of the water. Kendra pushed at the water with

both hands, a churning motion that generated smaller but

more focused splashes. Soon they grew tired. It was hard to

win a water fight when both participants were already

soaked.

Let’s have a race, Kendra suggested as the splashing

subsided.

They raced back and forth across the pool. First they

raced freestyle, then backstroke, breaststroke, and sidestroke.

After that they created handicaps, like racing with

no arms or hopping across the width of the shallow end on

one foot. Kendra usually won, but Seth was faster at backstroke

and some of the handicapped races.

When Kendra grew bored, she got out of the pool.

Walking toward the table to retrieve her towel, she stroked

her long hair, enjoying the rubbery texture as the wetness

made the strands cling together.

Seth climbed on top of a big rock near the deep end.

Watch this can opener! He jumped with one leg straight

and the other bent.

Good job, Kendra said to placate him when he

surfaced. Shifting her gaze to the table, Kendra froze.

Hummingbirds, bumblebees, and butterflies swirled in the

air above the handheld mirror. Several other butterflies and

a couple of large dragonflies actually rested on the face of

the mirror itself.

Seth, come look at this! Kendra hissed in a loud

whisper.

What?

Just come here.

Seth boosted himself out of the pool and padded over

to Kendra, arms folded. He stared at the cloud of life

whirling above the mirror. What’s their deal?

I don’t know, she replied. Do insects like mirrors?

These ones do.

Look at the red and white butterfly. It’s enormous.

Same with that dragonfly, Seth pointed out.

I wish I had a camera. I dare you to go get the mirror.

Seth shrugged. Sure.

He trotted over to the table, grabbed the mirror by the

handle, dashed to the pool, and dove in. Some of the insects

scattered instantly. The majority drifted in the direction

Seth had gone but dispersed before reaching the pool.

Seth surfaced. Any bees after me?

Get the mirror out of the water. You’ll ruin it!

Settle down, it’s fine, he said, stroking over to the

side.

Give it to me. She took the mirror from him and

wiped it dry with her towel. It looked undamaged. Let’s try

an experiment.

Kendra placed the mirror face up on a lounge chair and

backed away. Think they’ll come back?

We’ll see.

Kendra and Seth sat down at the table, not far from the

lounge chair. After less than a minute, a hummingbird

glided over to the mirror and hovered above it. Soon it was

joined by a few butterflies. A bumblebee alighted on the

face. Before long another swarm of small winged creatures

crowded the mirror.

Go turn the mirror face down, Kendra said. I want

to see whether they like the reflection or the mirror itself.

Seth crept toward the mirror. The little animals took

no apparent notice of his approach. He reached forward

slowly, flipped the mirror over, and then retreated to the

table.

The butterflies and bees that had landed on the mirror

took flight when it was overturned, but only a few of the

winged creatures flew away. Most of the swarm lingered. A

pair of butterflies and a dragonfly landed on the lounge

chair at the edge of the mirror. Taking flight, they flipped

the mirror over, nearly sliding it off the chair in the process.

With the reflective surface showing again, the swarm

pressed close. Several of the creatures landed on the face.

Did you see that? Kendra asked.

That was weird, Seth said.

How could they be strong enough to lift it?

There were a few of them. Want me to flip it again?

No, I’m scared the mirror will fall off and break.

Okay. He draped his towel over his shoulder. I’m

going to go change.

Would you take the mirror?

Fine, but I’m running. I don’t want to get stung.

Seth moved toward the mirror slowly, snatched it, and

ran off into the garden toward the house. Part of the swarm

gave lazy pursuit before scattering.

Kendra wrapped the towel around her waist, picked up

the sunblock Seth had left behind, and started toward the

house.

When Kendra reached the attic playroom, Seth was

dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved camouflage shirt. He

picked up the cereal box that served as his emergency survival

kit and headed for the door.

Where are you going?

None of your business, unless you want to come.

How will I know whether I want to come if you don’t

tell me where you’re going?

Seth gave her a measuring stare. Promise to keep it a

secret?

Let me guess. Into the woods.

Want to come?

You’ll get Lyme disease, Kendra warned.

Whatever. Ticks are everywhere. Same with poison

ivy. If people let that stop them, nobody would ever go anywhere.

But Grandpa Sorenson doesn’t want us in the woods,

she protested.

Grandpa isn’t going to be around all day. Nobody will

know unless you blab.

Don’t do this. Grandpa has been nice to us. We should

obey him.

You’re about as brave as a bucket of sand.

What’s so brave about disobeying Grandpa?

So you’re not coming?

Kendra hesitated. No.

Will you tell on me?

If they ask where you are.

I won’t be long.

Seth walked out the door. She heard him tromp down

the stairs.

Kendra crossed to the nightstand. The handheld mirror

rested on it beside the ring with the three tiny keys. She

had spent a long time the night before trying to find what

the keys fit. The biggest key opened a jewelry box on the

dresser that was full of costume jewelry-fake diamond

necklaces, pearl earrings, emerald pendants, sapphire rings,

and ruby bracelets. She had not yet discovered what the

other two opened.

She picked up the keys. They were all small. The smallest

was no longer than a thumbtack. Where could she find

such a miniscule keyhole?

The night before, she had spent most of her time on

drawers and toy chests. Some of the drawers had keyholes,

but they were already unlocked, and the keys did not fit.

Same with the toy chests.

The Victorian dollhouse caught her attention. What

better place to find tiny keyholes than inside a little house?

She unlatched the clasps and opened it, revealing two

floors and several rooms full of miniature furniture. Five

doll people lived in the house-a father, a mother, a son, a

daughter, and a baby.

The detail was extraordinary. The beds had quilts, blankets,

sheets, and pillows. The couches had removable cushions.

The knobs in the bathtub really turned. Closets had

clothes hanging inside.

The armoire in the dollhouse’s master bedroom made

Kendra suspicious. It had a disproportionately large keyhole

in the center. Kendra inserted the tiniest key and turned it.

The doors of the armoire sprung open.

Inside was something wrapped in gold foil-opening it,

she saw it was a piece of chocolate shaped like a rosebud.

Behind the chocolate she found a small golden key. She

added it to the key ring. The golden key was larger than

the key that opened the armoire, but smaller than the key

that opened the jewelry box.

Kendra took a bite of the chocolate rosebud. It was soft

and melted in her mouth. It was the richest, creamiest

chocolate she had ever tasted. She finished it in three more

bites, savoring each mouthful.

Kendra continued scouring the tiny house, investigating

every piece of furniture, searching every closet, checking

behind every miniature painting on the walls. Finding

no more keyholes, she closed the dollhouse and fastened

the clasps.

Scanning the room, Kendra tried to decide where to

look next. One key left, maybe two if the golden key also

opened something. She had been through most of the

items in the toy chests, but she could always double-check.

She had searched through the drawers in the nightstands,

dressers, and wardrobes thoroughly, as well as the knickknacks

on the bookshelves. There could be keyholes in

unlikely places, like under the clothes of a doll or behind a

bedpost.

Kendra ended up beside the telescope. Improbable as it

seemed, she checked it for keyholes. Nothing.

Maybe she could use the telescope to locate Seth.

Opening the window, she noticed Dale walking along the

lawn at the outskirts of the woods. He was carrying something

in both hands, but his back was to her, impeding a

view of what he held. He stooped and set it down behind

a low hedge, which continued to prevent her from seeing

the object. Dale walked off at a brisk pace, glancing around

as if to ensure nobody was spying, and soon passed out of

view.

Curious, Kendra rushed downstairs and out the back

door. Dale was nowhere in sight. She trotted across the

lawn to the low hedge beneath the attic window. Grass

continued for about six feet beyond the hedge before

stopping abruptly at the perimeter of the forest. On the

grass behind the hedge rested a large pie tin full of milk.

An iridescent hummingbird hung suspended over the

pie tin, wings a faint blur. Several butterflies flitted around

the hummingbird. Occasionally one would descend and

splash in the milk. The hummingbird flew away, and a

dragonfly approached. It was a smaller crowd than the mirror

had attracted, but there was much more activity than

Kendra would have expected around a small pool of milk.

She watched as a variety of tiny winged animals came

and went, feeding from the pie tin. Did butterflies drink

milk? Did dragonflies? Apparently so. It was not long before

the level of milk in the pie tin had markedly fallen.

Kendra looked up at the attic. It had only two windows,

both facing the same side of the house. She visualized

the room behind those gabled windows and suddenly

realized that the playroom consumed only half the space

the attic should fill.

Abandoning the tin of milk, she walked around to the

opposite side of the house. On the far side was a second

pair of attic windows. She was right. There was another

half to the attic. But she knew of no other stairway granting

access to the uppermost story. Which meant there

might be some sort of secret passage in the playroom!

Maybe the final key unlocked it!

Just as she decided to return to the attic and search for

a hidden door, Kendra noticed Dale coming from the direction

of the barn with another pie tin. She hurried toward

him. When he saw her coming, he looked temporarily

uncomfortable, then put on a big smile.

What are you doing? Kendra asked.

Just taking some milk to the house, he replied, changing

direction a bit. He had been heading toward the woods.

Really? Why’d you leave that other milk behind the

hedge?

Other milk? He could not have looked more guilty.

Yeah. The butterflies were drinking it.

Dale was no longer walking. He regarded Kendra

shrewdly. Can you keep a secret?

Sure.

Dale looked around as if someone might be watching.

We have a few milking cows. They make plenty of milk,

so I put out some of the excess for the insects. Keeps the

garden lively.

Why’s that a secret?

I’m not sure your grandfather would approve. Never

asked permission. He might consider it wasteful.

Seems like a good idea to me. I noticed all the different

kinds of butterflies in your garden. More than I’ve ever

seen. Plus all the hummingbirds.

He nodded. I like it. Adds to the atmosphere.

So you weren’t taking that milk to the house.

No, no. This milk hasn’t been pasteurized. Full of bacteria.

You could catch all sorts of diseases. Not fit for

people. Insects, on the other hand, they seem to like it best

this way. You won’t spoil my secret?

I’ll keep quiet.

Good girl, he said with a conspiratorial wink.

Where are you putting that one?

Over there. He jerked his head toward the woods. I

set a few on the border of the yard every day.

Does it spoil?

I don’t leave it out long enough. Some days the insects

consume all the milk before I collect the pans. Thirsty

critters.

See you later, Dale.

You seen your brother hereabout?

I think he’s in the house.

That so?

She shrugged. Maybe.

Kendra turned and started toward the house. She

glanced back as she mounted the stairs to the rear porch.

Dale was placing the milk behind a small, round bush.

The Ivy Shack

Seth pressed through dense undergrowth until he

reached a faint, crooked path, the kind made by animals.

Nearby stood a squat, gnarled tree with thorny leaves

and black bark. Seth examined his sleeves for ticks, scrutinizing

the camouflage pattern. So far he had not seen a

single tick. Of course, it would probably be the ticks he

failed to see that would get him. He hoped the insect repellent

he had sprayed on was helping.

Stooping, he collected rocks and built a small pyramid

to mark the point where he had intersected the path.

Finding his way back would probably be no problem, but

better safe than sorry. If he took too long, Grandpa might

figure out he had disobeyed orders.

Rummaging in his cereal box, Seth withdrew a

compass. The animal track ran northeast. He had set off on

an easterly course, but the undergrowth had grown denser

as he progressed. A faint trail was a good excuse to veer

slightly off course. It would be much easier going than trying

to hack his way through shrubbery with a pocketknife.

He wished he owned a machete.

Seth followed the trail. The tall trees stood fairly close

together, diffusing the sunlight into a greenish glow laced

with shadows. Seth imagined that the forest would be black

as a cave after nightfall.

Something rustled in the bushes. He paused, removing

a small pair of plastic binoculars from his cereal box.

Scanning the area, he spotted nothing of interest.

He proceeded along the trail until an animal emerged

from the undergrowth onto the path not twenty feet ahead.

It was a round, bristly creature no taller than his knees. A

porcupine. The animal started down the path in his direction

with complete confidence. Seth froze. The porcupine

was close enough that he could discern the individual

quills, slender and sharp.

As the animal trundled toward him, Seth backed away.

Weren’t animals supposed to flee from humans? Maybe it

had rabies. Or maybe it just hadn’t see him. After all, he

was wearing a camouflage shirt.

Seth spread his arms wide, stomped a foot, and growled.

The porcupine looked up, twitched its nose, and then

turned from the path. Seth listened as it pushed through

foliage away from the trail.

He took a deep breath. He had been really scared for a

minute there. He could almost feel the quills pricking

through his jeans into his leg. It would be pretty hard to

conceal his excursion into the woods if he came home

looking like a pincushion.

Though he dreaded admitting it, he wished Kendra had

come. The porcupine probably would have made her

scream, and her fear would have increased his bravery. He

could have made fun of her instead of feeling frightened

himself. He had never seen a porcupine in the wild before.

He was surprised how exposed he felt staring at all those

pointy quills. What if he stepped on one in the undergrowth?

He looked around. He had come a long way. Of course,

finding his way back would be no trick. He just needed to

backtrack along the trail and then head west. But if he

turned for home now, he might never make it back this

way again.

Seth continued along the trail. Some of the trees had

moss and lichen growing on them. A few had ivy twisting

around their bases. The path forked. Checking his compass,

Seth saw that one path went northwest, the other due east.

Staying with his theme, Seth turned east.

There began to be more space between the trees, and

the shrubs grew closer to the ground. Soon he could see

much farther in all directions, and the forest became a little

brighter. To one side of the path, at the limit of his sight,

he noticed something abnormal. It looked like a large

square of ivy hidden among the trees. The whole point of

exploring the woods was to find strange things, so he left

the path and walked toward the ivy square.

The dense undergrowth came up to his shins, grasping

at his ankles with every step. As he tromped toward the

square, he realized it was a structure completely overgrown

with ivy. It appeared to be a big shed.

He stopped and looked more closely. The ivy was thick

enough that he could not tell what the shed was made of ——

he could see only leafy vines. He walked around the structure.

On the far side a door stood open. Seth almost cried

out when he peered inside.

The shed was actually a shack constructed around a

large tree stump. Beside the stump, dressed in crude rags,

sat a wiry old woman gnawing at a knot in a bristly rope.

Shriveled with age, she clutched the rope in bony hands

with knobby knuckles. Her long, white hair was matted

and had a sickly yellowish tint. One of her filmy eyes was

terribly bloodshot. She was missing teeth, and there was

blood on the knot she was chewing, apparently from her

gums. Her pale arms, bare almost to the shoulder, were thin

and wrinkled, with faint blue veins and a few purple scabs.

When the woman saw Seth, she dropped the rope

immediately, wiping pink saliva from the corners of her

meager lips. Supporting herself against the stump, she stood

up. He noticed her long feet, the color of ivory, peppered

with insect bites. Her gray toenails looked thick with

fungus.

Hail, young master, what brings you to my home? Her

voice was incongruently melodious and smooth.

For a moment, Seth could only stare. Even as bent and

crooked as she was, the woman was tall. She smelled bad.

You live out here? he finally said.

I do. Care to come inside?

Probably not. I’m just out for a walk.

The woman narrowed her eyes. Strange place for a boy

to walk alone.

I like exploring. My grandpa owns this land.

Owns it, you say?

Does he know you’re here? asked Seth.

Depends who he is.

Stan Sorenson.

She grinned. He knows.

The rope she had chewed lay on the dirt floor. It had

one other knot besides the one she had been gnawing.

Why were you biting the rope? Seth asked.

She eyed him suspiciously. I don’t care for knots.

Are you a hermit?

You could say that. Come inside and I will brew some

tea.

I better not.

She looked down at her hands. I must look frightful.

Let me show you something. She turned and crouched

behind the stump. A rat ventured a few steps out of a hole

in a corner of the shack. When she came back from behind

the stump, the rat hid.

The old woman sat with her back to the stump. She

held a little wooden puppet about nine inches high. It

looked primitive, made entirely of dark wood, with no

clothes or painted features. Just a basic human figure with

tiny gold hooks serving as joints. The puppet had a stick in

its back. The woman set a paddle on her lap. She began

making the puppet dance by bobbing the stick and tapping

the paddle. There was a musical regularity to the rhythm.

What is that thing? Seth asked.

A limberjack, she replied.

Where’s his ax?

Not a lumberjack, a limberjack. A clog doll. A jigger.

Dancing Dan. Shuffling Sam. I call him Mendigo. He

keeps me company. Come inside and I’ll let you give it a

try.

I better not, he said again. I don’t see how you could

live out here like this and not be crazy.

Sometimes good people grow weary of society. She

sounded a little annoyed. You happened upon me by accident?

Out exploring?

Actually, I’m selling candy bars for my soccer team. It’s

a good cause.

She stared at him.

I have my best luck in the rich neighborhoods.

She kept staring.

That was a joke. I’m kidding.

Her voice became stern. You are an impudent young

man.

And you live with a tree stump.

She gave him a measuring glare. Very well, my arrogant

young adventurer. Why not test your courage? Every

explorer deserves a chance to prove his mettle. The old

woman withdrew into the shack and crouched behind the

stump again. She returned to the doorway holding a crude,

narrow box made of splintered wood, wire, and long, jutting

nails.

What’s that?

Place your hand inside the box to prove your valor

and earn a reward.

I’d rather play with the creepy puppet.

Just reach inside and touch the back of the box. She

shook it, and it rattled a bit. The box was long enough that

he would have to reach in to his elbow in order to touch

the back.

Are you a witch?

A man with a brave tongue should support his words

with courageous actions.

This seems like something a witch would do.

Stand by your loose words, young man, or you may not

have a pleasant journey home.

Seth backed away, watching her closely. I better get

going. Have fun eating your rope.

She clucked her tongue. Such insolence. Her voice

remained soothing and calm, but now held a menacing

undertone. Why not step inside and have some tea?

Next time. Seth moved around the shack, not taking

his eyes from the ragged woman in the doorway. She made

no move to pursue him. Before he moved out of her sight,

the woman raised an arthritic hand with the middle fingers

crossed and the others bent awkwardly. Eyes half-shut, she

appeared to be murmuring something. Then she was out of

view.

On the far side of the shack, Seth plunged through the

tangled undergrowth back to the path, glancing over his

shoulder all the way. The woman was not chasing him. Just

looking back at the ivy-covered shack made him shiver.

The old hag looked so wretched and smelled so foul. There

was no way he was sticking his hand in her weird box.

After she had offered the challenge, all he could think

about was learning in school how shark teeth angled

inward so fish could swim in but not out. He imagined the

homemade box was probably full of nails or broken glass set

at cruel angles for a similar purpose.

Even though the woman was not following him, Seth

felt unsafe. Compass in hand, he hurried along the path

toward home. Without warning, something struck him on

the ear, barely hard enough to sting. A pebble the size of a

thimble dropped to the path at his feet.

Seth whirled. Somebody had thrown the little stone at

him, but he saw nobody. Could the old woman be stealthily

following him? She probably knew the woods really well.

Another small object bounced off the back of his neck.

It was not as hard or heavy as a stone. Turning, he saw

another acorn whistling toward him, and he ducked. The

acorns and the pebble had come at him from opposite sides

of the path. What was going on?

From above came the sound of wood splitting, and a

huge limb fell across the path behind him, a few leaves and

twigs swishing against him as it passed. If Seth had been

standing two or three yards back along the path, a branch

thicker than his leg would have clubbed him on the head.

One look at the heavy limb, and Seth took off down

the path at a full sprint. He seemed to hear rustling sounds

coming from the shrubbery on either side of the scant trail,

but did not slow down to investigate.

Something caught a firm hold on his ankle, sending

him tumbling to the ground. Sprawled on his belly, a cut

on one hand, dirt in his mouth, he heard something

rustling through the foliage behind him, and a strange

sound that was either laughter or running water. A dry

branch snapped like a gunshot. Not looking back for fear

of what he might see, Seth scrambled to his feet and

dashed along the path.

Whatever had tripped him had not been a root or a

stone. It had felt like a strong cord stretched across the

trail. A tripwire. He had noticed no such trap previously

on the path. But there was no way the old woman could

have done it, even if she had started running the moment

he passed out of her view.

Seth raced past the place where the trail forked and

sprinted back the way he had come. He scanned the trail

ahead for wires or other traps. His breathing became

labored, but he did not slow down. The air felt hotter and

more humid than it had all day. Sweat began to dampen his

forehead and drip down the sides of his face.

Seth remained alert for the little pyramid of rocks that

would mark where he should leave the path. When he

reached a gnarled little tree with black bark and thorny

leaves, he halted. He remembered the tree. He had noticed

it when he intersected the path. Using the tree as a reference,

he found the spot where he had built the pyramid of

rocks, but the rocks were gone.

Leaves crunched behind him off to one side of the trail.

Seth glanced at his compass to confirm that he was heading

west and ran into the woods. He had walked this way

at a leisurely pace, examining toadstools and unusual rocks

as he went. Now he tore through the forest at full speed,

undergrowth clawing at his legs, branches whipping against

his face and chest.

Finally, panting, the energy of his panic wearing thin,

he glimpsed the house up ahead through the trees. The

sounds of pursuit had dwindled to nothing. As he stepped

out into the yard under the sun, Seth wondered how much

of what he had heard had actually been something chasing

him, and how much had been invented by his flustered

imagination.

* * *

The wall opposite the windows in the playroom held

several rows of bookshelves. The door to the stairs was built

into that wall. And one of the bulky, freestanding

wardrobes was backed up against it.

Kendra held a blue book with golden letters. The title

was Journal of Secrets. The book was held shut by three

sturdy clasps, each with a keyhole. The remaining key

Grandpa Sorenson had given her fit none of the keyholes,

but the gold key she had found in the dollhouse armoire fit

the bottom one. So one of the clasps was unlocked.

She had found the book while searching the bookshelves

for a trigger to a secret passage. Using a stool,

Kendra had reached even the higher shelves, but so far the

search had been in vain. There was no sign of a secret door.

When she noticed a locked book with an intriguing title,

she had quit the search in order to test her keys.

With the bottom clasp unlocked, Kendra tried to pry

up the corner of the book and get a peek. But the cover was

solid and the binding firm. She needed to find the other

keys.

She heard somebody stampeding up the stairs and

knew it could be only one person. Hurriedly she shelved

the book and pocketed the keys. She did not want her nosy

brother interfering with her puzzle.

Seth charged through the door and slammed it behind

him. He was flushed and breathing hard. Dirt smeared the

knees of his jeans. His face was smudged with sweat and

grime. You should have come, he sighed, flopping onto

his bed.

You’re getting the bedspread filthy.

It was freaky, he said. It was so cool.

What happened?

I found this path in the woods and met this weird old

lady who lived in a shack. I think she’s a witch. A real

one.

Whatever.

He rolled over and looked at her. I’m serious. You

should have seen her. She was a mess.

So are you.

No, like all scabby and gross. She was biting an old

rope. She tried to make me stick my hand in some box.

Did you?

No way. I took off. But she chased me or something.

She threw rocks at me and knocked down this big branch.

It could have killed me!

You must be pretty bored.

I’m not lying!

I’ll ask Grandpa Sorenson if he has homeless people

living in his woods, Kendra said.

No! He’ll know I broke the rules.

Don’t you think he would want to know a witch built

a shack on his property?

She acted like she knew him. I went pretty far. Maybe

I was off his property.

I doubt it. I think he owns everything for a long ways.

Seth leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head.

You should come visit her with me. I could find my way

back.

Are you nuts? You said she tried to kill you.

We should spy on her. Find out what she’s up to.

If there really is a weird old lady living in the woods,

you should tell Grandpa so he can call the police.

Seth sat up. Okay. Never mind. I made it up. Feel better?

Kendra narrowed her eyes.

I found something else cool, Seth said. Have you

seen the tree house?

No.

Want me to show you?

Is it in the yard?

Yes, on the edge.

Okay.

Kendra followed Seth outside and across the lawn. Sure

enough, in the corner of the yard opposite the barn, there

was a light blue playhouse up in a thick tree. It was situated

on the back side of the tree, making it hard to see from most

of the yard. The paint was peeling a little, but the little

house had shingles on the roof and curtains in the window.

Boards had been nailed into the tree to form a ladder.

Seth went up first. The rungs led up to a trapdoor,

which he pushed open. Kendra climbed up after him.

Inside, the tree house felt bigger than it looked from

the ground. There was a little table with four chairs. The

pieces to a jigsaw puzzle were spread out on the table. Only

a couple had been fit together.

See, not bad, Seth said. I started that puzzle.

It’s beautiful. You must be gifted.

I didn’t work on it long.

Did you even find the corners?

No.

That’s the first thing you do. She sat down and

started looking for corner pieces. Seth took a seat and

helped. You never like puzzles, Kendra said.

It’s more fun doing them in a tree house.

If you say so.

Seth found a corner piece and set it aside. Think

Grandpa would let me move in here?

You’re a weirdo.

I’d only need a sleeping bag, he said.

You’d get freaked out once it was late.

No way.

The witch might come get you.

Instead of responding, he started looking more intently

for the other corner pieces. Kendra could tell the comment

had gotten to him. She decided not to tease him any further.

The fact that he seemed scared of the lady he had met

in the woods legitimized his story a lot. Seth had never

scared easily. This was the kid who had jumped off the roof

under the misguided assumption that a garbage bag would

work like a parachute. The kid who had put the head of a

live snake in his mouth on a dare.

They found the corners and finished most of the

perimeter of the puzzle by the time they heard Lena calling

them for dinner.

The Hidden Pond

Rain pattered endlessly against the roof. Kendra had

never heard such a noisy downpour. Then again, she

had never been in an attic during a rainstorm. There was

something relaxing about the steady drumming, so constant

that it almost became inaudible without ever decreasing

in volume.

Standing at the window beside the telescope, she

watched the deluge. The rain fell straight and hard. There

was no wind, just layer upon layer of streaking droplets,

blurring into a gray haze in the distance. The gutter below

her was about to overflow.

Seth sat on a stool in the corner, painting. Lena had

been creating paint-by-numbers canvases for him, sketching

them with expert speed, customizing each image to his

specifications. The current project was a dragon battling a

knight on horseback amid a fuming wasteland. Lena had

outlined the images in considerable detail, including

subtleties of light and shade, so that the finished products

looked quite accomplished. She had taught Seth how to

mix paint and given him samples of which hue corresponded

to each number. For the current painting, she had

incorporated more than ninety different shades.

Kendra had rarely seen Seth demonstrate as much diligence

as he did on the paintings. After a few brief lessons

on how to apply the paint, including the purposes of different

brushes and tools, he had already finished a large canvas

of pirates sacking a town and a smaller one of a snake

charmer diving away from a striking cobra. Two impressive

paintings in three days. He was an addict! And he was

almost done with his latest project.

Crossing to the bookshelf, Kendra ran a hand along the

spines of the volumes. She had searched the room thoroughly

and had yet to find the last keyhole, let alone a

secret passage to the other side of the attic. Seth could be a

pest, but now that he had become immersed in his painting,

she was starting to miss him.

Maybe Lena would outline a painting for her. Kendra

had turned down her initial offer, since it sounded childish,

like coloring. But the finished products looked much less

juvenile than Kendra had anticipated.

Kendra opened the door and descended the stairs. The

house was dim and quiet, the rainfall more distant as she

left the attic behind. She walked along the hall and down

the stairs to the main floor.

The house seemed too quiet. All the lights were out

despite the gloom.

Lena?

There was no answer.

Kendra went through the living room, the dining room,

and into the kitchen. No sign of the housekeeper. Had she

left?

Opening the door to the basement, Kendra peered

down the steps into the darkness. The stairs were made of

stone, as if leading to a dungeon. Lena? she called uncertainly.

Surely the woman wasn’t down there without any

light.

Kendra went back down the hall and slid open the door

to the study. Having not yet entered this particular room,

she first noticed the huge desk cluttered with books and

papers. The massive head of a hairy boar with jutting tusks

hung mounted on the wall. A collection of grotesque

wooden masks rested on a shelf. Golfing trophies lined

another. Plaques decorated the wood-paneled walls, along

with a framed display of military medals and ribbons. There

was a black-and-white picture of a much younger Grandpa

Sorenson showing off an enormous marlin. On the desk,

inside a crystal sphere with a flat bottom, was an eerie

replica of a human skull no bigger than her thumb. Kendra

slid the study door closed.

She tried the garage, the parlor, and the family room.

Maybe Lena had run to the store.

Kendra walked out to the back porch, shielded from

the rain by the overhang. She loved the fresh, damp scent

of rainfall. It continued to come down hard, puddling

around the garden. Where did the butterflies hide from

such a downpour?

Then she saw Lena. The housekeeper knelt in the mud

beside a bush blossoming with large blue and white roses,

absolutely soaked, apparently weeding. Her white hair was

plastered to her head, and her housecoat was drenched.

Lena?

The housekeeper looked up, smiled, and waved.

Kendra retrieved an umbrella from the hall closet and

joined Lena in the garden. You’re sopping, Kendra said.

Lena rooted out a weed. It’s a warm rain. I like being

out in the weather. She stuffed the weed into a bulging

garbage bag.

You’re going to catch a cold.

I don’t often take ill. She paused to stare up at the

clouds. It won’t last much longer.

Kendra tilted her umbrella back and gazed heavenward.

Leaden skies in all directions. You think?

Wait and see. The rain will pass within the hour.

Your knees are all muddy.

You think I’ve lost my marbles. The diminutive

woman stood up and spread her arms wide, tilting her head

back. Do you ever look up at the rain, Kendra? It feels like

the sky is falling.

Kendra tilted the umbrella back again. Millions of raindrops

rushed toward her, some pelting her face and making

her blink. Or like you’re soaring up to the clouds, she

said.

I suppose I should get you inside before my unusual

habits rub off.

No, I didn’t mean to disturb you. Back under the protection

of the umbrella, Kendra wiped droplets from her

forehead. I guess you don’t want the umbrella.

That would defeat the purpose. I’ll be in shortly.

Kendra returned to the house. She stole glances at

Lena through a window. It was just so peculiar, she couldn’t

resist spying. Sometimes Lena was working. Sometimes she

was smelling a blossom or stroking its petals. And the rain

kept falling.

* * *

Kendra was sitting on her bed, reading poems by Shel

Silverstein, when the room suddenly brightened. The sun

was out.

Lena had been right about the rain. It had relented

about forty minutes after her prediction. The housekeeper

had come inside, changed out of her wet clothes, and made

sandwiches.

Across the room, the painting of the knight charging

the dragon was complete. Seth had gone outside an hour

ago. Kendra was in a lazy mood.

Just as Kendra returned her attention to the latest

poem, Seth burst into the room, breathing hard. He wore

only socks on his feet. His clothes were streaked with mud.

You have to come see what I found in the woods.

Another witch?

No. Way cooler.

A hobo camp?

I’m not going to say; you have to come see.

Does it involve hermits or lunatics?

No people, he said.

How far from the yard?

Not far.

We could get in trouble. Besides, it’s muddy out.

Grandpa is hiding a beautiful park in the woods, Seth

blurted.

What? asked Kendra.

You have to come see it. Put on galoshes or something.

Kendra closed the book.

The sunlight came and went, depending on the shifting

clouds. A soft breeze ruffled the foliage. The woods

smelled mulchy. Scrambling over a damp, rotting log,

Kendra shrieked when she saw a glistening white frog.

Seth turned around. Awesome.

Try disgusting.

I’ve never seen a white frog, said Seth. He tried to

grab it, but the frog took an enormous leap as he

approached. Whoa! That thing flew!

He checked the underbrush where the frog had landed,

but found nothing.

Hurry up, Kendra said, glancing back the way they

had come. The house was no longer in sight. She could not

shake the sick, nervous feeling in her stomach.

Unlike her little brother, Kendra was not a natural rule

breaker. She was in all the accelerated classes at school, got

almost perfect grades, kept her room tidy, and always practiced

for her piano lessons. Seth, on the other hand, settled

for lousy grades, routinely skipped his homework, and

earned frequent detentions. Of course, he was also the one

with all the friends, so maybe there was a method to his

madness.

What’s the rush? He took the lead again, blazing a

trail through the undergrowth.

The longer we’re gone, the more likely somebody will

notice we’re missing.

It isn’t much farther. See that hedge?

It was not exactly a hedge. More like a tall barrier of

unkempt bushes. You call that a hedge?

The park is on the far side.

The wall of bushes extended as far as Kendra could see

in either direction. How do we get around it?

Through it. You’ll see.

They reached the bushes and Seth turned left, studying

the leafy barricade as he went, occasionally squatting and

checking closer. The interlocked bushes ranged from ten to

twelve feet tall, and they looked really thick.

Okay, I think this is where I squirmed through. There

was a deep indentation at the base of where two bushes

overlapped. Seth dropped to all fours and forced his way in.

You’re going to have a billion ticks, Kendra predicted.

They’re all hiding from the rain, he replied with perfect

confidence.

Kendra got down and followed him.

I don’t think this is the same way I got through last

time, Seth admitted. It’s a little more cramped. But it

should work. He was now slithering on his belly.

This better be good. Kendra squirmed on her elbows,

eyes squinted. The damp ground felt cold, and droplets fell

from the bush as she jostled it. Seth reached the far side

and stood up. She crawled through as well, her eyes widening

as she got to her feet.

Before her lay a pristine pond, a couple of hundred

yards across, with a small, verdant island at the center. A

series of elaborate gazebos surrounded the pond, interconnected

by a whitewashed boardwalk. Flowering vines

wound along the latticework of the impressive promenade.

Elegant swans glided on the water. Butterflies and hummingbirds

wove and darted among the blossoms. On the far

side of the pond, peacocks strutted and preened.

What in the world? Kendra gasped.

Come on. Seth started across the lush, neatly mown

lawn toward the nearest gazebo. Kendra looked back,

understanding why Seth had called the disheveled barrier

of bushes a hedge. On this side, the bushes were neatly

trimmed. The hedgerow encompassed the entire area, with

a single arched entryway off to one side.

Why didn’t we come through the entryway? Kendra

asked, trotting after her brother.

Shortcut. Seth paused at the white steps leading up

to the gazebo to pluck a piece of fruit from an espalier. Try

one.

You should wash it, Kendra said.

It just rained. He took a bite. It’s so good.

Kendra tried one. It was the sweetest nectarine she had

ever tasted. Delicious.

Together they mounted the steps of the extravagant

pavilion. The wood railing was perfectly smooth. Although

unshielded from the elements, all the woodwork appeared

to be in flawless condition: no peeling paint, no cracks, no

splinters.

The gazebo was furnished with white wicker love seats

and chairs. In some places the ubiquitous vines had been

woven into living wreaths and other fanciful patterns. A

bright parrot sat on a high perch staring down at them.

Look at the parrot! Kendra exclaimed.

Last time I saw some monkeys, Seth said. Little guys

with long arms. They were swinging all over the place.

And there was a goat. It ran away as soon as it saw me.

Seth took off, clomping down one of the boardwalks.

Kendra followed more slowly, absorbing the scene. It

looked like the setting of a fairy-tale wedding. She counted

twelve pavilions, each unique. One had a small white quay

projecting into the pond. The little pier was connected to a

floating shed that had to be a boathouse.

Kendra strolled after Seth, whose ruckus was sending

the swans drifting toward the far side of the lake, leaving

V-shaped ripples in their wake. The sun broke through the

clouds and gleamed upon the water.

Why would Grandpa Sorenson keep a place like this a

secret? It was magnificent! Why go through all the trouble

of maintaining it if not to enjoy it? Hundreds of people

could gather here with room to spare.

Kendra went to the gazebo with the pier and found that

the boathouse was locked. It was not large; she guessed it

held a few canoes or rowboats. Maybe Grandpa Sorenson

would give them permission to paddle around the pond.

No, she could not even tell him she knew about this place!

Was that why he had told them about the ticks and made

rules against venturing into the woods? To keep his little

Eden hidden? Could he be so selfish and secretive?

Kendra finished a complete lap around the pond, walking

on clean wooden planks the entire way. Across the

pond Seth yelled, and a small flock of cockatoos took

flight. The sun retreated behind clouds. They needed to get

back. Kendra told herself she could return later.

* * *

Kendra was concerned when she cut into her steak.

The middle was pink, almost red at the center. Grandpa

Sorenson and Dale were already taking bites.

Is my steak cooked? Kendra ventured.

‘ Course it’s cooked, Dale said around a mouthful.

It’s pretty red in the middle.

Only way to eat a steak, Grandpa said, dabbing his

mouth with a linen napkin. Medium rare. Keeps it juicy

and tender. If you cook it all the way through, you might

as well eat shoe leather.

Kendra glanced at Lena.

Go ahead, dear, the woman urged. You won’t get

sick; I cooked it plenty.

I like it, Seth said, chewing on a bite. We have any

ketchup?

Why would you go and ruin a perfectly good steak

with ketchup? Dale moaned.

You put it on your eggs, Lena reminded him, placing

a bottle in front of Seth.

That’s different. Ketchup and onions on eggs is a

necessity.

That’s sickening, Seth said, upending the bottle over

his steak.

Kendra took a bite of the garlic potatoes. They were

tasty. Mustering her courage, she sampled the steak.

Bursting with flavorful seasoning, it was much easier to

chew than other steak she had eaten. The steak is wonderful,

she said.

Thank you, dear, said Lena.

They ate in silence for a few moments. Grandpa

dabbed his mouth with his napkin again and cleared his

throat.

What do you suppose makes people so eager to break

rules?

Kendra felt a jolt of guilt. The question was addressed

generally and hung there awaiting a response. When

nobody answered, Grandpa continued.

Is it simply the pleasure of disobedience? The thrill of

rebellion?

Kendra glanced at Seth. He stared at his plate, picking

at his potatoes.

Were the rules unfair, Kendra? Was I being unreasonable?

No.

Did I leave you with nothing to do, Seth? No pool?

No tree house? No toys or hobbies?

We had things to do.

Then why did you two go into the woods? I warned

you there would be consequences.

Why are you hiding weird old ladies out in the forest?

Seth blurted.

Weird old ladies? Grandpa asked.

Yeah, what about that?

Grandpa nodded thoughtfully. She has a rotten old

rope. You didn’t blow on it?

I didn’t go near her. She was freaky.

She came to me and asked if she could build a shack

on my property. She promised to keep to herself. I saw no

harm in it. You shouldn’t go bothering her.

Seth found your private retreat, Kendra said. He

wanted me to see it. My curiosity got the better of me.

Private retreat?

Big pond? Fancy boardwalk? Parrots and swans and

peacocks?

Grandpa looked at Dale, speechless. Dale shrugged.

I was hoping you’d take us out on a boat, Kendra said.

Who said anything about a boat?

Kendra rolled her eyes. I saw the boathouse,

Grandpa.

He tossed his hands up and shook his head.

Kendra set her fork down. Why would you let such a

nice place go to waste?

That is my business, Grandpa said. Yours was to obey

my rules, for your own protection.

We’re not afraid of ticks, Seth said.

Grandpa folded his hands and lowered his eyes. I was

not entirely honest about why you needed to stay out of the

woods. He lifted his gaze. On my land, I provide refuge

for some dangerous animals, many of them endangered.

This includes poisonous snakes, toads, spiders, and scorpions,

along with bigger game. Wolves, apes, panthers. I use

chemicals and other controls to keep them away from the

yard, but the woods are extremely hazardous. Particularly

the island in the center of the lake. It is deliberately

infested with inland taipans, also called ‘fierce snakes,’ the

deadliest serpent known to man.

Why didn’t you warn us? Kendra asked.

My preserve is a secret. I have all the necessary

licenses, but if my neighbors complained, those could be

revoked. You must not tell a soul, not even your parents.

We saw a white frog, Seth said breathlessly. Was that

poisonous?

Grandpa nodded. Quite lethal. In Central America

the indigenous people use them to fashion poisoned darts.

Seth tried to catch it.

Had he succeeded, Grandpa said gravely, he would

be dead.

Seth swallowed. I’ll never go into the woods again.

I trust you won’t, Grandpa said. All the same, a rule

is of no value unless the punishment is enforced. You will

have to stay in your room for the rest of your stay.

What? Seth said. But you lied to us! Being afraid of

ticks is a lame reason to stay out of the woods! I just

thought you were treating us like babies.

You should have brought those concerns to me,

Grandpa said. Was I unclear about the rules or the consequences?

You were unclear about the reasons, Seth said.

That is my right. I am your grandfather. And this is my

property.

I am your grandson. You should tell me the truth.

You’re not setting a very good example.

Kendra tried not to laugh. Seth was in lawyer mode. He

always tried to maneuver out of trouble with their parents.

Sometimes he made some pretty good points.

What do you think, Kendra? Grandpa asked.

She had not expected him to solicit her opinion. She

tried to collect her thoughts. Well, I agree that you didn’t

tell us the whole truth. No way would I have gone into the

woods if I knew there would be dangerous animals.

Me neither, Seth said.

I made two simple rules, you understood them, and

you broke them. Just because I chose not to share all my

reasons for making the rules, you think you should escape

punishment?

Yes, Seth said. Just this once.

That doesn’t sound fair to me, Grandpa said. Unless

the punishments are enforced, rules lose all their power.

But we won’t do it again, Seth said. We promise.

Don’t lock us up in the house for two weeks!

Don’t blame me, Grandpa said. You locked yourself

up by disregarding the rules. Kendra, what do you think

would be fair?

Maybe you could give us a reduced punishment as a

warning. Then the full punishment if we mess up again.

Reduced punishment, Grandpa mused. So you still

pay a price for your disobedience, but you get one more

chance. I might be able to live with that. Seth?

Better than the whole punishment.

That settles it. I will reduce your sentence to a single

day. You will spend tomorrow confined to the attic. You

can come down for meals, and you can use the bathroom,

but that is all. Break any of my rules again, and you will not

leave the attic until your parents come for you. For your

own safety. Understood?

Yes, sir, Kendra said.

Seth nodded his agreement.

Journal of Secrets

Did you ever notice the keyhole on the belly of the

unicorn? Seth asked. He was lying on the floor

beside the fanciful rocking horse, hands laced behind his

head.

Kendra looked up from her painting. She had asked

Lena to create a paint-by-numbers to help her endure her

incarceration. Kendra had wanted to paint the pavilions

around the pond, and Lena had quickly sketched a scene

with startling accuracy, as if the housekeeper had the place

memorized. Seth declined to have another canvas prepped.

Stuck in the attic or not, he was sick of painting.

Keyhole?

Weren’t you looking for keyholes?

Kendra got off her stool and crouched beside her

brother. Sure enough, there was a tiny keyhole on the

underside of the unicorn. She retrieved her keys from the

nightstand drawer. The third key Grandpa Sorenson had

given her did the trick. A small hatch swung open. Out fell

several rose-shaped chocolates wrapped in gold foil, identical

to the one she had found in the miniature armoire.

What are those? Seth asked.

Soap, Kendra said.

Kendra reached up into the hatch and felt around

inside the hollow rocking horse. She found a few more

rosebud chocolates and a tiny golden key like the one from

the armoire. The second key to the locked journal!

They look like candy, Seth said, snatching one of the

ten chocolates.

Have one. They’re perfumed. You’ll smell pretty.

He unwrapped it. Funny color for soap. Smells a lot

like chocolate. He popped the whole thing in his mouth.

His eyebrows shot up. Holy cow, this is good!

Since you found the keyhole, how about we split them

fifty-fifty. She was a little worried he would eat all of them

otherwise.

Sounds fair, he said, grabbing four more.

Kendra placed her five chocolates in the nightstand

drawer and retrieved the locked book. As she expected, the

second gold key unlocked another clasp. Where could the

third one be?

She slapped her forehead. The first two had been hidden

inside things the other keys had opened. The other one must

be in the jewelry box!

Opening the jewelry box, she rummaged through the

compartments of glittering pendants, brooches, and rings.

Sure enough, disguised on a charm bracelet, she found a

tiny golden key matching the other two.

Kendra eagerly crossed the room and inserted the key

into the final lock on the journal of Secrets. The final clasp

unlatched and she opened the book. The first page was

blank. So was the second. She thumbed quickly through

the pages. The whole book was blank. Just an empty journal.

Was Grandpa Sorenson trying to encourage her to

keep a diary?

But the whole game with the keys had been so sneaky.

Maybe there was a trick to this as well. A hidden message.

Disappearing ink or something. What was the trick with

disappearing ink? Spray it with lemon juice and hold it up

to a light? Something like that. And there was another

trick where you rubbed gently with a pencil and a message

appeared. Or maybe something even more devious.

Kendra surveyed the journal more carefully, hunting for

clues. She held a few pages up against the window to see if

the light would betray hidden watermarks or other mysterious

evidence.

What are you doing? Seth asked. He had only one

chocolate rosebud left. She would need to hide her chocolates

someplace more secure than the nightstand drawer.

She held up a final page. The light revealed nothing.

Practicing for my audition at the insane asylum.

I bet you’ll win first prize, he teased.

Unless they see your face, she retorted.

Seth went over and scooped some kernels for

Goldilocks. She laid another egg. He opened the cage to

retrieve it and stroked her soft feathers.

Kendra plopped down on the bed, leafing through the

last pages. Suddenly she stopped. There was writing on one

of the final pages. Not really hidden, just tucked away in

an unlikely spot. Three words written near the binding,

toward the bottom of an otherwise empty page.

Drink the milk.

Folding the corner, she flipped through the remaining

pages. Then she skimmed the rest of the pages from the

start to make sure she had missed no similar messages.

There were no other cryptic clues.

Drink the milk.

Maybe soaking a page in milk would make words

appear. She could soak one in the tins of milk Dale left out.

Or that could be the milk the message was talking

about! A challenge to drink unprocessed cow’s milk-what

purpose could that serve? To give her diarrhea? Dale had

made a special point of warning her not to drink the milk.

Of course, he had acted sort of peculiar about it. He could

be hiding something.

Drink the milk.

All the hassle of finding holes for the keys Grandpa

Sorenson gave her, in order to uncover extra keys that fit a

locked journal, for that odd message? Was she missing

something, or overanalyzing? The hunt might have simply

been meant to occupy her time.

Do you think Mom and Dad would let us get a pet

chicken? Seth asked, holding the hen.

Probably right after they get us a pet buffalo.

Why don’t you ever hold Goldilocks? She’s really

good.

Holding a live chicken sounds disgusting.

Better than holding a dead one.

I’m fine just petting her.

You’re missing out. Seth held the hen up to his face.

You’re a good chicken, aren’t you, Goldilocks? The hen

clucked softly.

She’s going to peck your eyes out, Kendra warned.

No way, she’s tame.

Popping one of the rosebud chocolates in her mouth,

Kendra replaced the Journal of Secrets in the nightstand

drawer and returned to her painting. She scowled. Between

the gazebos, pond, and swans, the picture required more than

thirty shades of white, gray, and silver. Using the sample

hues Lena had given her, she prepared her next color.

* * *

The sun was bright the next day. There was no evidence

that it had ever rained or that it would ever rain

again. Hummingbirds, butterflies, and bumblebees had

returned to the yard. Lena gardened in the back beneath a

large sun hat.

Kendra sat in the shade on the back porch. No longer a

prisoner in the attic, she felt better able to enjoy the fine

weather. She wondered if the diverse butterflies she saw in

the yard were among the species Grandpa Sorenson had

imported. How did you keep a butterfly from leaving your

property? The milk, perhaps?

She passed the time with a game she had found on a

shelf in the attic-a triangular board with fifteen holes and

fourteen pegs. The object was to jump pegs like checkers

until you had only one left, which sounded simple at first.

The problem was that in the process of jumping, certain

pegs ended up stranded, unable to jump or be jumped. The

number of pegs you left stranded on the board determined

your score.

Her best effort so far was three, which the directions

labeled typical. Leaving two was good. One was genius.

Five or more labeled you hopeless.

While resetting the pegs for a fresh attempt, Kendra

saw what she had been waiting for. Dale was walking along

the perimeter of the yard with a pie tin. Setting the peg

game on a table, she hurried to intercept him.

Dale looked mildly distressed at her approach. I can’t

let Lena see you talking to me like this, he murmured in

low tones. I’m supposed to put the milk out on the sly.

I thought nobody knew you put the milk out.

Right. See, your grandfather doesn’t know, but Lena

does. We try to keep it our secret.

I was wondering what the milk tastes like.

He looked nervous. Didn’t you hear me last time? You

could get… shingles. Scabies. Scurvy.

Scurvy?

This milk is a bacterial stew. That’s why the insects

like it so well.

I have friends who have tried milk fresh from the cow.

They survived.

I’m sure those were healthy cows, Dale said. These

cows are… never you mind. Idea is, this ain’t just any

milk. It’s highly contaminated. I wash my hands good after

even handling the stuff.

So you don’t think I should taste it.

Not unless you’re aiming for a premature burial.

Would you at least take me in the barn to see the

cows?

See the cows? That would be breaking your grandfather’s

rules!

I thought the point was we might get hurt, Kendra

said. I’ll be fine if you’re with me.

Your grandfather’s rules are your grandfather’s rules.

He has his reasons. I’m not about to go breaking them. Or

bending them either.

No? Maybe if you let me see the cows, I’ll keep your

secret about putting out the milk.

Now see, that’s blackmail. I’ll not stand for blackmail.

I wonder what Grandpa will say when I tell him at

dinner tonight.

He’ll likely say you ought to mind your own affairs.

Now, with your leave, I have chores to do.

She watched him walk away with the tin of milk. He

surely had acted defensive and strange. There was definitely

some mystery surrounding the milk. But all the talk

about bacteria made her reluctant to try it. She needed a

guinea pig.

Seth tried a flip off the boulder into the pool, but

landed on his back. He never could quite make it all the

way around. He surfaced and stroked to the side to try

again.

Nice back-flop, Kendra said, standing beside the

pool. That was one for the blooper reel.

Seth climbed out of the water. I’d like to see you do a

better one. Where have you been?

I found out a secret.

What?

I can’t explain. But I can show you.

Good as the lake?

Not quite. Hurry up.

Putting a towel over his shoulders, Seth stepped into

his sandals. Kendra led him away from the pool through

the garden to some flowering shrubs on the outskirts of the

yard. Behind the plants lay a large pie tin full of milk where

a crowd of hummingbirds were feeding.

They drink milk? he asked.

Yeah, but that isn’t the point. Taste it.

Why?

You’ll see.

Have you tried it?

Yes.

What’s the big deal?

I told you, try it and you’ll see.

Kendra watched curiously as he kneeled by the tin. The

hummingbirds dispersed. Seth dipped a finger into the milk

and put it on his tongue. Pretty good. Sweet.

Sweet?

He lowered his head and puckered his lips against the

surface of the milk. Pulling back, he wiped his mouth.

Yeah, sweet and creamy. A little warm, though. Looking

beyond Kendra, his eyes bulged. Seth jumped to his feet,

screaming and pointing. What the heck are those?

Kendra turned. All she saw was a butterfly and a couple

of hummingbirds. She looked back at Seth. He was turning

in circles, eyes darting around the garden, apparently perplexed

and amazed.

They’re everywhere, he said in awe.

What are?

Look around. The fairies.

Kendra stared at her brother. Could the milk have

totally fried his brain? Or was he messing around with her?

He didn’t appear to be faking. He was over by a rosebush

gazing at a butterfly in wonder. Tentatively he reached a

hand toward it, but it fluttered out of reach.

He turned back to Kendra. Was it the milk? This is

way cooler than the lake! His excitement seemed genuine.

Kendra eyed the tin of milk. Drink the milk. If Seth was

playing a prank, his acting skills had suddenly improved

tenfold. She dipped a finger and put it in her mouth. Seth

was right. It was sweet and warm. For an instant the sun

gleamed in her eyes, making her blink.

She glanced back at her brother, who was creeping up

on a small group of hovering fairies. Three had wings like

butterflies, one like a dragonfly. She could not suppress a

shriek at the impossible sight.

Kendra looked back at the milk. A fairy with hummingbird

wings was drinking from her cupped hand. Other

than the wings, the fairy looked like a slender woman not

quite two inches tall. She wore a glittering turquoise slip

and had long, dark hair. When Kendra leaned closer, the

fairy zipped away.

There was no way she was really seeing this, right?

There had to be an explanation. But the fairies were everywhere,

near and far, shimmering in vivid colors. How could

she deny what was before her eyes?

As Kendra continued to survey the garden, startled disbelief

melted into wonder. Fairies of all conceivable varieties

flitted about, exploring blossoms, gliding on the

breeze, and acrobatically avoiding her brother.

Roaming the pathways of the garden in a daze, Kendra

saw that the fairy women appeared to represent all nationalities.

Some looked Asian, some Indian, some African,

some European. Several were less comparable to mortal

women, with blue skin or emerald green hair. A few had

antennae. Their wings came in all varieties, mostly patterned

after butterflies, but much more elegantly shaped

and radiantly colored. All the fairies gleamed brilliantly,

outshining the flowers of the garden like the sun outshines

the moon.

Rounding a corner on a pathway, Kendra stopped short.

There stood Grandpa Sorenson, wearing a flannel shirt and

work boots, arms folded across his chest.

We need to talk, he said.

The grandfather clock tolled the hour, chiming three

times after the introductory melody. Sitting in a high backed

leather armchair in Grandpa Sorenson’s study,

Kendra wondered if grandfather clocks got their name

because only grandparents owned them.

She looked over at Seth, seated in an identical chair. It

looked too big for him. These were chairs for adults.

Why had Grandpa Sorenson left the room? Were they

in trouble? After all, he had given her the keys that ended

up leading her and the guinea pig to sample the milk.

Even so, she could not quit worrying that she had discovered

something that was meant to stay hidden. Not

only were fairies real, but Grandpa Sorenson had hundreds

in his yard.

Is that a fairy skull? Seth asked, pointing to the flat-bottomed

globe with the thumb-sized skull on Grandpa’s

desk.

Probably, Kendra said.

Are we busted?

We better not be. There were no rules against drinking

milk.

The study door slid open. Grandpa entered along with

Lena, who carried three mugs on a tray. Lena offered

Kendra a mug, then Seth and Grandpa. The mug contained

hot chocolate. Lena left the room as Grandpa took a

seat behind his desk.

I am impressed how quickly you solved my puzzle, he

said, taking a sip from his mug.

You wanted us to drink the milk? Kendra said.

Assuming you were the right kind of people. Frankly, I

don’t know you that well. I hoped that the kind of person

who would take the trouble to solve my little puzzle would

be the kind of person who could handle the notion of a

preserve full of magical creatures. Fablehaven would be too

much to swallow for most people.

Fablehaven? Seth repeated.

The name the founders gave this preserve centuries

ago. A refuge for mystical creatures, a stewardship passed

down from caretaker to caretaker over the years.

Kendra tried the hot chocolate. It was superb! The flavor

made her think of the rosebud chocolates.

What do you have besides fairies? Seth asked.

Many beings, great and small. Which is the true reason

the woods are off-limits. There are creatures out there

much more perilous than venomous snakes or wild apes.

Only certain orders of magical life forms are generally permitted

in the yard. Fairies, pixies, and such. Grandpa took

another sip from his mug. You like the hot chocolate?

It’s wonderful, Kendra said.

Made from the same milk you sampled in the garden

today. Same milk the fairies drink. Just about the only food

they’ll eat. When mortals drink it, their eyes are opened to

an unseen world. But the effects wear off after a day. Lena

will prepare you a cup every morning so you can stop stealing

from the fairies.

Where does it come from? Kendra asked.

We make it special in the barn. We have some dangerous

creatures in there, too, so it’s still off-limits.

Why’s everything off-limits? Seth complained. I’ve

been a long way into those woods four times and I’ve

always been fine.

Four times? Grandpa said.

All before the warning, Seth amended hastily.

Yes, well, your eyes were not yet opened to what truly

surrounded you. And you were fortunate. Even when you

were blind to the enchanted creatures populating the forest,

there are many places you could have ventured into

from which you would not have returned. Of course, now

that you can see them, the creatures here can interact with

you much more readily, so the danger is much greater.

No offense, Grandpa, but is this really the truth?

Kendra asked. You’ve told us so many versions of why the

woods are forbidden.

You saw the fairies, he said.

Kendra leaned forward. Maybe the milk made us hallucinate.

Maybe they were holograms. Maybe you just keep

telling us whatever you think we’ll believe.

I understand your concern, Grandpa said. I wanted

to protect you from the truth about Fablehaven unless you

sought it out for yourselves. It is not the kind of information

I wanted to thrust upon you. That is the truth. What

I’m telling you now is the truth. You’ll have ample opportunity

to confirm my words.

So the animals we saw at the pond were actually other

creatures, like how the butterflies were fairies, Kendra

clarified.

Most assuredly. The pond can be a hazardous place.

Return there now, and you would find friendly naiads beckoning

you near the water in order to pull you under and

drown you.

That’s so cruel! Kendra said.

Depends on your perspective, Grandpa said, spreading

his hands. To them, your life is so ridiculously short

that to kill you is seen as absurd and funny. No more tragic

than squashing a moth. Besides, they have a right to punish

trespassers. The island at the center of the pond is a shrine

to the Fairy Queen. No mortal is permitted to tread there.

I know of a groundskeeper who broke that rule. The

moment he set foot on the sacred island, he transformed

into a cloud of dandelion fluff, clothes and all. He scattered

on the breeze and was never seen again.

Why would he go there? Kendra asked.

The Fairy Queen is widely considered the most powerful

figure in all fairydom. The groundskeeper had a desperate

need and went to plead for her assistance.

Apparently she was not impressed.

In other words, he had no respect for what was off-limits,

Kendra said, giving Seth a meaningful look.

Precisely, Grandpa agreed.

The queen of the fairies lives on that little island?

Seth asked.

No. It is merely a shrine meant to honor her. Similar

shrines abound on my property, and all can be dangerous.

If the pond is dangerous, why does it have a boathouse?

Kendra asked.

A previous caretaker of this preserve had a fascination

with naiads.

The dandelion guy? Seth asked.

A different guy, Grandpa said. It’s a long story. Ask

Lena about it sometime; I believe she knows the tale.

Kendra shifted in the oversized chair. Why do you live

in such a scary place?

Grandpa folded his arms on the desk. It’s only

frightening if you go where you don’t belong. This entire

sanctuary is consecrated ground, governed by laws that

cannot be broken by the creatures who dwell here. Only on

this hallowed soil could mortals interact with these beings

with any measure of safety. As long as mortals remain

within their boundaries, they are protected by the founding

covenants of this preserve.

Covenants? Seth asked.

Agreements. Specifically, a treaty ratified by all the

orders of whimsical life forms who dwell here that affords a

measure of security for mortal caretakers. In a world where

mortal man has become the dominant force, most creatures

of enchantment have fled to refuges like this one.

What are the covenants? Kendra asked.

The specific details are complex, with many limitations

and exceptions. Speaking broadly, they are based on

the law of the harvest, the law of retribution. If you do not

bother the creatures, they will not bother you. That is what

affords you so much protection when you are unable to see

them. You can’t interact with them, so they generally

behave likewise.

But now we can see them, Seth said.

Which is why you must use caution. The fundamental

premises of the law are mischief for mischief, magic for

magic, violence for violence. They will not initiate trouble

unless you break the rules. You have to open the door. If

you harass them, you open the door for them to harass you.

Hurt them, they can hurt you. Use magic on them, they

will use magic on you.

Use magic? Seth said eagerly.

Mortals were never meant to use magic, Grandpa

said. We are nonmagical beings. But I have learned a few

practical principles that help me manage things. Nothing

you would find very remarkable.

Can you turn Kendra into a toad?

No. But there are beings out there who could. And I

would not be able to change her back. Which is why I need

to finish this thought: Breaking the rules can include trespassing

where you are not allowed. There are geographic

boundaries set where certain creatures are allowed and certain

creatures, including mortals, are not permitted. The

boundaries function as a way to contain the darker creatures

without causing an uproar. If you go where you do not

belong, you could open the door to vicious retribution from

powerful enemies.

So only good creatures can enter the yard, Kendra

said.

Grandpa became very serious. None of these creatures

are good. Not the way we think of good. None are safe.

Much of morality is peculiar to mortality. The best creatures

here are merely not evil.

The fairies aren’t safe? Seth asked.

They aren’t out to harm anyone, or I wouldn’t allow

them in the yard. I suppose they are capable of good deeds,

but they would not normally do them for what we would

consider the right reasons. Take brownies, for instance.

Brownies don’t fix things to help people. They fix things

because they enjoy fixing things.

Do the fairies talk? Kendra asked.

Not much to humans. They have a language all their

own, although they rarely speak to each other, except to

trade insults. Most never condescend to use human speech.

They consider everything beneath them. Fairies are vain,

selfish creatures. You may have noticed I drained all the

fountains and the birdbaths outside. When they are full,

the fairies assemble to stare at their reflections all day.

Is Kendra a fairy? Seth asked.

Grandpa bit his lip and stared at the floor, obviously

trying to choke back a laugh. We had a mirror outside

once and they flocked around it, Kendra said, studiously

ignoring both the comment and the reaction. I wondered

what the heck was going on.

Grandpa regained his composure. Exactly the sort of

display I was trying to avoid by draining the birdbaths.

Fairies are remarkably conceited. Outside of a sanctuary

like this one, they won’t even let a mortal glimpse them.

Since they consider looking at themselves the ultimate

delight, they deny the pleasure to others. Most of the

nymphs have the same mentality.

Why don’t they care here? Kendra asked.

They still care. But they can’t hide when you drink

their milk, so they have reluctantly grown accustomed to

mortals seeing them. I have to laugh sometimes. The fairies

pretend not to care what mortals think about them, but try

giving one a compliment. She’ll blush, and the others will

crowd in for their turn. You would think they’d be embarrassed.

I think they’re pretty, Seth said.

They’re gorgeous! Grandpa agreed. And they can be

useful. They handle most of my gardening. But good? Safe?

Not so much.

Kendra swallowed the last of her hot chocolate. So if

we don’t go into the woods or the barn, and don’t bother

the fairies, we’ll be fine?

Yes. This house and the yard around it is the most protected

location in Fablehaven. Only the gentlest creatures

are allowed here. Of course, there are a few nights a year

when all the creatures run amuck, and one of those is coming

up. But I’ll tell you more about it when the time

comes.

Seth scooted forward in his chair. I want to hear about

the evil creatures. What’s out there?

For the sake of your ability to sleep at night, I’m going

to keep that to myself.

I met that weird old lady. Was she really something

else?

Grandpa gripped the edge of the desk. That encounter

is a frightening example of why the woods are forbidden. It

could have been disastrous. You ventured toward a very

hazardous area.

Is she a witch? Seth asked.

She is. Her name is Muriel Taggert.

How come I could see her?

Witches are mortal.

Then why don’t you get rid of her? Seth suggested.

The shack is not her home. It is her prison. She personifies

the reasons why exploring the woods is unwise. Her

husband was a caretaker here more than a hundred and

sixty years ago. She was an intelligent, lovely woman. But

she became a frequent visitor to some of the darker portions

of the forest, where she consorted with unsavory

beings. They tutored her. Before long, she became enamored

with the power of witchcraft, and they acquired considerable

influence over her. She became unstable. Her

husband tried to help her, but she was already too

demented.

When she tried to aid some of the foul denizens of the

woods in a treacherous act of rebellion, her husband called

in assistance and had her imprisoned. She has been trapped

in that shack ever since, held captive by the knots in the

rope you saw. Let her story serve as another warning-you

have no business in those woods.

I get it, Seth said. He looked solemn.

Enough jabbering about rules and monsters, Grandpa

said, standing up. I have chores. And you have a new

world to explore. The day is fading, go make the most of it.

But stay in the yard.

What do you do all day? Kendra inquired, walking

out of the study beside Grandpa.

Oh, I have many chores to keep this place in order.

Fablehaven is home to many extraordinary wonders and

delights, but it requires a great deal of maintenance. You

might be able to accompany me some of the time, now that

you know the true nature of the place. Mundane work,

mostly. I expect you’d have more fun playing in the garden.

Kendra laid a hand on Grandpa’s arm. I want to see as

much as I can.

Maddox

Kendra snapped awake with her sheets tented over her

head. She was supposed to be excited about something.

It felt like Christmas morning. Or a day she was

going to take off school so her family could visit an amusement

park. No, she was at Grandpa Sorenson’s. The fairies!

She pushed off the sheets. Seth lay in a contorted position,

hair wildly disheveled, mouth open, legs tangled in

his covers. Still out cold. They had stayed up late discussing

the events of the day, almost like friends rather than

siblings.

Kendra rolled out of bed and padded over to the window.

The sun was peeking over the eastern horizon, streaming

gilded highlights across the treetops. She grabbed some

clothes, went down to the bathroom, took off her nightshirt,

and got dressed for the day.

Downstairs, the kitchen was empty. Kendra found Lena

out on the porch balancing atop a stool. Lena was hanging

wind chimes. She had already hung several along the

length of the porch. A butterfly flitted around one of the

chimes, playing a sweet, simple melody.

Good morning, Lena said. You’re up early.

I’m still so excited from yesterday. Kendra looked out

at the garden. The butterflies, bumblebees, and hummingbirds

were already going about their business. Grandpa was

right-many clustered around the newly refilled birdbaths

and fountains, admiring their reflections.

Just a bunch of bugs again, Lena said.

Can I have some hot chocolate?

Let me hang these last chimes, she said, moving the

stool and climbing fearlessly on top of it. She was so old! If

she fell she would probably die!

Be careful, Kendra said.

Lena waved a dismissive hand. The day I’m too old to

climb on a stool will be the day I throw myself off the roof.

She hung the final chime. We had to take these down for

you kids. Might have made you suspicious to see hummingbirds

playing music.

Kendra followed Lena back into the house. Years ago,

there used to be a church within earshot that would play

melodies on the bells, Lena said. It was so funny to watch

the fairies imitate the music. They still play those old songs

sometimes.

Lena opened the refrigerator, removing an old-fashioned

milk bottle. Kendra sat at the table. Lena poured

some milk into a pot on the stove and began adding ingredients.

Kendra noticed that she was not just scooping in

chocolate powder-she was stirring in contents from multiple

containers.

Grandpa said to ask you about the story of the guy

who built the boathouse, Kendra said.

Lena paused in her stirring. Did he? I suppose I am

more familiar with that story than most. She resumed stirring.

What did he tell you?

He said the guy had an obsession with naiads. What’s

a naiad, anyhow?

A water nymph. What else did he say?

Just that you know the story.

The man was named Patton Burgess, said Lena. He

became caretaker of this property in 1878, inheriting the

position from his maternal grandfather. He was a young

man at the time, quite good-looking, wore a moustache —- there

are pictures upstairs. The pond was his favorite place

on the property.

Mine too.

He would go and gaze at the naiads for hours. They

would try to tease him down to the water’s edge, as was

their custom, in order to drown him. He would draw near,

sometimes even pretending he meant to jump in, but

always stayed tantalizingly out of reach.

Lena sampled the hot chocolate and stirred some more.

Unlike most of the visitors, who seemed to regard the

naiads as interchangeable, he paid special attention to a

particular nymph, asking for her by name. He began to pay

little heed to the other naiads. On the days when his

favorite would not show herself, he left early.

Lena poured the milk from the pot into a pair of mugs.

He became fixated on her. When he built the boathouse,

the nymphs wondered what he could be doing. He constructed

a broad, sturdy rowboat so he could go out on the

water and be closer to the object of his fascination. Lena

brought the mugs to the table and sat down. The naiads

tried to upset his craft every time he set forth, but it was too

cleverly constructed. They succeeded only in pushing it

around the pond.

Kendra took a sip. The hot chocolate was perfection.

Barely cool enough to sip comfortably.

Patton began trying to coax his favorite naiad to leave

the water, to come walk with him on the land. She

responded by urging him to join her in the pond, for to

leave the water would mean to enter mortality. The tug-of-war

went on for more than three years. He would serenade

her on his violin, and read her poetry, and make her promises

about the joys their life together would hold. He

showed such sincerity, and such perseverance, that on

occasion she would gaze into his kind eyes and falter.

Lena sipped the hot chocolate. One day in March,

Patton got careless. He leaned too close to the gunwale,

and a naiad caught hold of his sleeve as he conversed with

his favorite. A strong man, he resisted her, but the struggle

pulled him to one side of the boat, upsetting his typical

equilibrium. A pair of naiads heaved upward on the other

side and it capsized.

He died? Kendra was horrified.

He would have died, yes. The naiads had their prize.

In their domain he was no match for them. Giddy with the

long-awaited victory, they rushed him toward the bottom

of the pond to add him to their collection of mortal victims.

But it was more than his favorite could bear. She had

grown fond of Patton, seduced by his diligent attention,

and, unlike the others, she did not consider his death an

amusement. She fought off her sisters and returned him to

the shore. That was the day I left the pond.

Kendra spewed hot chocolate across the table. You’re

the naiad?

I was, once.

You became mortal?

Lena absently blotted up the hot chocolate Kendra had

sprayed, using a small towel. If I could go back, I would

make the same decision every time. We had a joyful life.

Patton managed Fablehaven for fifty-one years before passing

it off to a nephew. He lived twelve years after that —— died

at ninety-one. His mind was sharp to the end. Helps

to have a young wife.

How are you still alive?

I became subject to the laws of mortality, but they

have taken effect gradually. As I sat by his deathbed, I

looked perhaps twenty years older than I had on the day

when I carried him from the water. I felt guilty about looking

so young as his frail body was shutting down. I wanted

to be old like him. Of course, now that my age is finally

catching up with me, I don’t care for it much.

Kendra sipped more of her hot chocolate. She was so

enthralled that she barely tasted it. What did you do after

he passed away?

I took advantage of my mortality. I had paid a steep

price for it, so I traveled the world to see what it had to

offer. Europe, the Middle East, India, Japan, South

America, Africa, Australia, the Pacific Islands. I had many

adventures. I set some swimming records in Britain, and

could have set even more except I was holding back-no

sense raising a lot of questions. I worked as a painter, a chef,

a geisha, a trapeze artist, a nurse. Many men pursued me,

but I never loved again. Eventually, there was a sameness

to the traveling, so I returned home, to the place my heart

never left.

Do you ever go back to the pond?

Only in memory. It would be unwise. They despise me

there, all the more intensely because of their secret envy.

How they would laugh at my appearance! They have not

aged a day. But I have experienced many things that they

will never know. Some painful, some wonderful.

Kendra finished the last of her hot chocolate and wiped

her lips. What was it like being a naiad?

Lena gazed out the window. Hard to say. I ask myself

the same question. It wasn’t just my body that became mortal;

my mind transformed as well. I think I prefer this life,

but it might be because I have changed fundamentally.

Mortality is a totally different state of being. You become

more aware of time. I was absolutely content as a naiad. I

lived in an unchanging state for what must have been

many millennia, never thinking of the future or the past,

always looking for amusement, always finding it. Almost no

self-awareness. It feels like a blur now. No, like a blink. A

single moment that lasted thousands of years.

You would have lived forever, Kendra exclaimed.

We weren’t quite immortal. We did not age, so I suppose

some of our kind could endure forever, if lakes and

rivers last forever. Difficult to say. We did not really live,

not like mortals. We dreamed.

Wow.

At least that was the way of things until Patton, Lena

said, more to herself now. I began looking forward to his

visits, and back on them in memory. I suppose that was the

beginning of the end.

Kendra shook her head. And I thought you were just

the half-Chinese housekeeper.

She smiled. Patton always liked my eyes. She batted

them. He said he was of the Asian persuasion.

What’s Dale’s story? Is he a pirate king or something?

Dale is a regular man. A second cousin of your grandfather.

A man he trusts.

Kendra looked into her empty mug. A ring of chocolate

sediment circled the bottom. I have a question, she

said, and I want you to answer honestly.

If I can.

Is my Grandma Sorenson dead?

What makes you ask that?

I think Grandpa makes up phony excuses for her not

being around. This is a dangerous place. He has lied about

other things. I get the feeling he’s trying to protect us from

the truth.

I often wonder if lies are ever a protection.

She’s dead, isn’t she.

No, she’s alive.

Is she the witch?

She’s not the witch.

Is she really visiting Aunt Whoever in Missouri?

That is for your grandfather to tell.

Seth looked over his shoulder. Besides the fairies fluttering

about, the garden looked still. Grandpa and Dale

were long gone. Lena was in the house dusting. Kendra was

off doing whatever boring things kept her occupied. He

had his emergency kit in hand, along with a few strategic

additions. Operation See Cool Monsters was about to

begin.

He hesitantly stepped off the edge of the lawn into the

woods, half-expecting werewolves to leap out at him.

There were a few fairies up ahead, not as many as in the

garden. Otherwise things looked pretty much the same.

He marched forward, setting a brisk pace.

Where do you think you’re going?

Seth whirled. Kendra was approaching from the garden.

He walked back to meet her at the edge of the lawn. I

want to see what’s really at the pond. Those nai-thingies

and stuff.

How brain-damaged are you? Didn’t you hear a word

Grandpa told us yesterday?

I’m going to be careful! I won’t go near the water.

You could get killed! I mean really killed, not bitten

by a tick. Grandpa made those rules for a reason!

Adults always underestimate kids, Seth said. They

get all protective because they think we’re babies. Think

about it. Mom used to complain all the time about me

playing in the street. But I always did it. And what happened?

Nothing. I paid attention. I stayed out of the way

when a car came.

This is so different!

Grandpa goes all over the place.

Kendra clenched her hands into fists. Grandpa knows

the places to avoid! You don’t even know what you’re dealing

with. Besides, when Grandpa finds out, you’ll be stuck

in the attic the rest of our stay.

How’s he going to find out?

He knew we went into the woods last time! He knew

we drank the milk!

Because you were there! Your bad luck rubbed off on

me. How did you know where I was going?

Your secret agent skills need some work, Kendra said.

A good start might be not wearing your camouflage shirt

every time you go exploring.

I need to hide from the dragons!

Right. You’re practically invisible. Just a floating

head.

I have my emergency kit. If anything attacks, I can

scare it away with my gear.

With rubber bands?

I have a whistle. I have a mirror. I have a cigarette

lighter. I have firecrackers. They’ll think I’m a wizard.

Do you really believe that?

And I have this. He pulled out the little skull in the

crystal globe from Grandpa’s desk. That should make

them think twice.

A skull the size of a peanut?

There probably aren’t even any monsters, Seth said.

What makes you think Grandpa’s telling the truth this

time?

I don’t know, maybe the fairies?

Well, good job. You blew it. Congratulate yourself. I

can’t go now.

I’m going to blow it every time. Not to be a jerk, but

because you could really get hurt.

Seth kicked a stone, sending it skidding into the

woods. What am I supposed to do now?

How about exploring the enormous garden full of

fairies?

I already did. I can’t catch them.

Not to catch them. To look at magical creatures that

nobody else even knows exist. Come on.

He reluctantly joined her.

Oh, look, another fairy, he mumbled. Now I’ve seen

a million.

Don’t forget to put the skull back.

When they responded to the call for dinner, a stranger

sat at the table along with Grandpa and Dale. The stranger

stood when they entered. He was taller than Grandpa and

much broader, with curly brown hair. The layers of furry

skins he wore made him look like a mountain man. He was

missing the bottom of one earlobe.

Kids, this is Maddox Fisk, Grandpa said. Maddox,

meet my grandchildren, Kendra and Seth. Kendra shook

the man’s calloused, thick-fingered hand.

Do you work here too? Seth asked.

Maddox is a fairy broker, Grandpa said.

Among other things, Maddox added. Call fairies my

specialty.

You sell fairies? Kendra asked, taking a seat.

Trap them, buy them, trade them, sell them. All of the

above.

How do you trap them? Seth asked.

A man has to keep his trade secrets private, Maddox

said, taking a bite of pork roast. Let me tell you, apprehending

a fairy is no easy task. Slippery critters. The trick

usually involves appealing to their vanity. Even then, takes

quite a bit of know-how.

Could you use an apprentice? Seth inquired.

Hold that thought about six years. Maddox winked

at Kendra.

Who buys fairies? Kendra asked.

Folks who run preserves, like your granddad. A few

private collectors. Other brokers.

Are there lots of preserves? Seth asked.

Dozens, Maddox replied. They’re on all seven continents.

Even Antarctica? Kendra asked.

Two in Antarctica, although one is underground.

Harsh environment. Perfect for certain species, though.

Kendra swallowed a bite of pork. What keeps people

from discovering the sanctuaries?

There has been a worldwide network of dedicated

people keeping the preserves secret for thousands of years,

Grandpa said. They are backed by ancient fortunes, held

in trust. Bribes get paid. Locations are changed when necessary.

Helps that most folks are unable to see the little

critters, Maddox said. With the right licenses, you can

get butterflies through customs. When you can’t, there are

other ways to cross borders.

The preserves are the final refuge for many ancient

and wonderful species, Grandpa said. The goal is to prevent

these wondrous beings from passing out of existence.

Amen, Maddox said.

You have a good haul this season? Dale asked.

Far as trapping goes, pickings are getting slimmer

every year. I made a few exciting finds in the wild. One you

won’t believe. I picked up several rare specimens from preserves

in Southeast Asia and Indonesia. I’m sure we can do

some trading. I’ll tell you more when we adjourn to the

study.

You kids would be welcome to join us, Grandpa said.

All right! Seth cheered.

Kendra took another bite of the succulent pork roast.

Everything Lena cooked was outstanding. Always perfectly

seasoned, typically served with delicious gravies or sauces.

Kendra never had any complaints about her Mom’s cooking,

but Lena was in a class all her own.

Grandpa and Maddox discussed people Kendra did not

know, other individuals involved in the secretive world of

fairy aficionados. She wondered if Maddox would ask about

Grandma, but it never came up.

Maddox repeatedly mentioned the evening star.

Grandpa seemed to focus on this news with particular

interest. Rumors that the evening star was forming again.

A woman who claimed the evening star tried to recruit her.

Whispers of an attack by the evening star.

Kendra could not resist interjecting. What’s the

evening star? It sounds like you’re using it as a code word.

Maddox glanced uncertainly at Grandpa. Grandpa

gave him a nod.

The Society of the Evening Star is an arcane organization

that we all hoped had gone extinct decades ago,

Maddox explained. Over the centuries, their relevance

has waxed and waned. Seems like just when you think

you’ve seen the last of them, you start hearing rumors

again.

They are dedicated to overthrowing preserves in order

to use them for their own misguided purposes, Grandpa

said. Members of the Society consort with demons and

practitioners of the black arts.

Are they going to attack us? Seth asked.

Not likely, Grandpa said. The preserves are protected

by powerful magic. But I lend an ear to the news all

the same. Rarely hurts to be cautious.

Why the evening star? Kendra asked. It’s such a

pretty name.

The evening star ushers in the night, Maddox said.

They considered the statement in silence. Maddox wiped

his lips with a napkin. Sorry. Not a very cheery topic

around the dinner table.

After supper, Lena cleared the table and they all went

to the study. On the way there, Maddox collected several

cases and crates from the entry hall. Dale, Seth, and

Kendra helped. The cases had perforations, evidently to

allow the creatures inside to breathe, but Kendra was

unable to see into them. All were locked.

Grandpa settled in behind his large desk, Dale and

Maddox claimed the oversized armchairs, Lena leaned

against the windowsill, and Kendra and Seth found seats

on the floor.

First off, Maddox said, bending over and unlocking a

large black crate, we have some fairies from a preserve on

Timor. He opened the hatch, and eight fairies soared out.

Two tiny ones, not even an inch tall, darted to the window.

They were amber in color, with wings like flies. One

banged the windowpane with a miniscule fist. A large fairy,

more than four inches tall, hovered in front of Kendra. She

looked like a miniature Pacific Islander with dragonfly

wings across her back as well as tiny wings on her ankles.

Three of the fairies had elaborate butterfly wings with

the appearance of stained glass. Another had oily black

wings. The last had furry wings, and her body was coated

with pale blue fuzz.

Whoa! Seth said. That one’s all hairy.

A downy fountain sprite, found only on the island of

Roti, Maddox said.

I like the little ones, Kendra said.

A more common variety-they haunt the Malaysian

Peninsula, Maddox said.

They’re so fast, Kendra said. Why don’t they

escape?

Catching a fairy renders her powerless, Maddox said.

Keep her in a cage, or a sealed room, like this one, and her

magic cannot be used to escape. While under confinement

they become fairly docile and obedient.

Kendra frowned. How does Grandpa know they will

stay in his garden if he buys them?

Maddox winked at Grandpa. Gets right to the point,

this one. He turned back to Kendra. Fairies are highly

territorial, nonmigratory creatures. Put them in a livable

environment and they stay put. Especially an environment

like Fablehaven, with gardens and plentiful food and other

enchanted critters.

I’m sure I can find a trade for the fountain sprite,

Grandpa said. The Banda Sea sunwings are beautiful as

well. We can work out the particulars later.

Maddox slapped the side of the crate and the fairies

returned. The ones with the stained-glass wings took their

time, drifting lazily. The little ones zoomed in. The fountain

sprite floated up to a high corner of the room. Maddox

patted the side of the crate again and spat a stern command

in a language Kendra did not understand. The fuzzy fairy

glided into the container.

Next we have some albino nightgrifters from Borneo.

Out of a case flew three milky white fairies, their mothlike

wings peppered with flecks of black.

Maddox proceeded to display several other groups of

distinctive fairies. Then he began showing fairies one at a

time. Kendra found a couple of them disgusting. One had

thorny wings and a tail. Another was reptilian, covered in

scales. Maddox displayed its chameleonic ability to match

different backgrounds.

Now for my big find, Maddox said, rubbing his hands

together. I captured this little lady in an oasis deep in the

Gobi Desert. I’ve only seen one other of her kind. Could

we dim the lights?

Dale jumped up and shut the lights off.

What is she? Grandpa asked.

In answer, Maddox opened the final case. Out soared a

dazzling fairy with wings like shimmering veils of gold.

Three gleaming feathers streamed beneath her, elegant ribbons

of light. She hung gloriously in the center of the room

with a regal air.

A jinn harp? Grandpa said in astonishment.

Favor us with a song, I beg you, Maddox said. He

repeated the solicitation in another language.

The fairy gleamed even brighter, shedding sparks. The

music that followed was mesmerizing. The voice made

Kendra imagine a multitude of vibrating crystals. The

wordless song had the power of an operatic aria mingled

with the sweetness of a lullaby. It was longing, beckoning,

hopeful, and heartbreaking.

They all sat transfixed until the song ended. When it

was over, Kendra wanted to applaud, but the moment felt

too sacred.

Truly you are magnificent, Maddox said, repeating

the compliment again in a foreign tongue. Chinese? He

tapped the side of her case, and with a radiant flourish the

fairy was gone.

The room felt dim and bleak in her absence. Kendra

tried to blink away the splotchy afterimages.

How did you make such a find? Grandpa asked in

wonder.

I caught wind of some local legends near the

Mongolian border. Cost me nearly two months of brutal

living to track her down.

The only other known jinn harp has her own shrine

in a Tibetan sanctuary, Grandpa explained. She was

thought to be unique. Fairy connoisseurs travel from all

corners of the globe to behold her.

I can see why, Kendra said.

What a singular treat, Maddox! Thank you for bringing

her into our home.

I’m touring her around the circuit before I take offers,

Maddox said.

I don’t mean to pretend I can afford her, but send me

word when she becomes available. Standing up, Grandpa

looked at the clock and clapped his hands together. Looks

like it’s about time for everyone under the age of thirty to

head off to bed.

But it’s still early! Seth said.

No grousing. I have negotiations to conduct with

Maddox tonight. We can’t have young people underfoot.

You’ll need to stay in your room, no matter what commotion

you hear downstairs. Our, ah, negotiations can be a bit

spirited. Understood?

Yes, Kendra said.

I want to negotiate, Seth said.

Grandpa shook his head. It’s a dull business. You kids

have a good sleep.

No matter what you might think you hear, Maddox

said as Kendra and Seth departed the study, we aren’t having

fun.

Prisoner in a Jar

The floorboards creaked gently as Kendra and Seth tiptoed

down the stairs. Early morning light filtered

through closed blinds and drawn curtains. The house was

still. The opposite of last night.

Beneath their covers in the dark attic the night before,

Kendra and Seth had found sleeping impossible as they listened

to howling laughter, shattering glass, twittering

flutes, slamming doors, and the constant din of shouted

conversations. When they opened the door to sneak down

and spy on the festivities, Lena was always seated at the

foot of the attic stairs, reading a book.

Go back to bed, she said each time they attempted a

reconnaissance mission. Your grandfather is still negotiating.

Eventually Kendra fell asleep. She believed it was the

silence that had finally awakened her in the morning.

When she rolled out of bed, Seth arose as well. Now they

were creeping down the stairs in hopes of glimpsing the

aftermath of the night’s revelry.

The brass coat rack had toppled in the entry hall, surrounded

by hooked triangles of broken glass. A painting lay

facedown on the floor, frame cracked. A primitive symbol

was scrawled on the wall in orange chalk.

They passed quietly into the living room. Tables and

chairs had been overturned. Lampshades hung crooked and

torn. Empty glasses, bottles, and plates lay scattered about,

several of them cracked or broken. A ceramic pot lay in

pieces around a pile of soil and the remnants of a plant.

Food stains appeared at every turn-melted cheese caked

into the carpeting, tomato sauce drying on the arm of a

love seat, a squashed eclair oozing custard all over an

ottoman.

Grandpa Sorenson was snoring on the couch, using a

curtain for a blanket. The curtain rod was still attached. He

clutched a wooden scepter like a teddy bear. The strange

staff was carved with vines twisting around the shaft and

topped by a large pinecone. Despite all the commotion

they had heard the night before, Grandpa was the only sign

of life.

Seth roamed off toward the study. Kendra was about to

follow when she noticed an envelope on a table near her

grandfather. A thick seal of crimson wax had been broken,

and part of a folded paper protruded invitingly.

Kendra glanced at Grandpa Sorenson. He was facing

away from the letter, and showed no sign of stirring.

If he didn’t want a letter read, he shouldn’t leave it out

in the open, right? It wasn’t as if she were stealing it

unopened from his mailbox. And she had several unanswered

questions about Fablehaven, not the least of which

concerned what was actually going on with her grandma.

Kendra eased over to the table, a queasy feeling in her

stomach. Maybe she should have Seth read it. Invading privacy

wasn’t really her forte.

But it would be so simple. The letter was right in front

of her, conveniently sticking out of the open envelope.

Nobody would know. She tipped the envelope up and

found there was no address or return address. The envelope

was blank. Hand-delivered. Had Maddox brought it?

Probably.

After a final glance to ensure Grandpa still looked

comatose, Kendra slid the cream-colored paper out of the

envelope and unfolded it. The message was written in bold

script.

Stanley,

I trust this missive finds you in good health.

It has come to our attention that the SES has

been exhibiting unusual activity in the northeast of

the United States. We remain uncertain whether

they have pinpointed the location of Fablehaven, but

one unconfirmed report suggests they are in communication

with an individual(s) on your preserve.

Mounting evidence implies the secret is out.

I need not remind you about the attempted infiltration

of a certain preserve in the interior of Brazil

last year. Nor the significance of that preserve in connection

with the significance of yours.

As you well know, we have not detected such

aggressive activity from the SES in decades. We are

preparing to reassign additional resources to your

vicinity. As always, secrecy and misdirection remain

top priorities. Be vigilant.

I continue to search diligently for a resolution to

the situation with Ruth. Do not lose hope.

With everlasting fidelity,

S

Kendra reread the letter. Ruth was her grandma’s name.

What situation? SES had to be the Society of the Evening

Star. What did the S at the end of the letter stand

for? The entire message seemed a bit vague, probably

deliberately.

Look at this, Seth whispered from the kitchen.

Kendra jumped, every muscle in her body tensing.

Grandpa smacked his lips and shifted on the couch. Kendra

stood temporarily immobilized by guilty panic. Seth was

not looking at her. He was stooping over something in the

kitchen. Grandpa became still again.

Kendra folded the letter and slipped it back into the

envelope, trying to situate it as she had found it. Moving

stealthily, she joined Seth, who crouched over muddy

hoofprints.

Were they riding horses in here? he asked.

It would explain the racket, she murmured, trying to

sound casual.

Lena appeared in the doorway, dressed in a bathrobe,

hair awry. Look at you early risers, she said softly. You

caught us before cleanup.

Kendra stared at Lena, trying to keep her expression

unreadable. The housekeeper showed no indication of having

seen her spying at the letter.

Seth pointed at the hoofprints. What the heck happened?

The negotiations went well.

Is Maddox still here? Seth asked hopefully.

Lena shook her head. He left in a taxi about an hour

ago.

Grandpa Sorenson shuffled into the kitchen wearing

boxers, socks, and an undershirt stained with brown mustard.

He squinted at them. What are you all doing up at

this ungodly hour?

It’s after seven, Seth said.

Grandpa covered a yawn with his fist. He held the

envelope in his other hand. I’m feeling a little under the

weather today-might go lie down for a spell. As you

were. He shambled off, scratching his thigh.

You kids may want to play outside this morning, Lena

said. Your grandfather was up until forty minutes ago. He

had a long night.

I’m going to have a tough time taking Grandpa seriously

when he tells us to show respect for the furniture,

Kendra said. It looks like he drove a tractor through here.

Pulled by horses! Seth added.

Maddox enjoys a celebration, and your grandfather is

an accommodating host, Lena said. Without your grandmother

here to rein in the merriment, things got a little too

festive. Didn’t help that they invited the satyrs. She nodded

at the muddy hoofprints.

Satyrs? Kendra asked. Like goatmen?

Lena nodded. Some would say they liven up a party

too much.

Those are goat prints? Seth asked.

Satyr prints, yes.

I wish I could have seen them, Seth mourned.

Your parents would be glad you didn’t. Satyrs would

only teach you bad manners. I think they invented them.

I’m sad we missed the party, Kendra said.

Don’t be. It was not a party for young people. As caretaker,

your grandfather would never drink, but I can’t

vouch for the satyrs. We’ll have a proper party before you

leave us.

Will you invite satyrs? Seth asked.

We’ll see what your grandfather says, Lena said

doubtfully. Maybe one. Lena opened the refrigerator and

poured two glasses of milk. Drink your milk and then run

along. I have some heavy cleaning ahead of me.

Kendra and Seth took their glasses. Lena opened the

pantry, removing a broom and dustpan, and left the room.

Kendra drank her milk in several deep swallows and set her

empty glass on the counter. Want to go for a swim? she

asked.

I’ll catch up, Seth said. He still had milk in his cup.

Kendra walked away.

After finishing his milk, Seth peeked into the pantry.

So many shelves packed with so much food! One shelf featured

nothing but large jars of homemade preserves. Closer

investigation revealed that the jars were lined up three

deep.

Seth backed out of the pantry and looked around.

Reentering the pantry, he removed a large jar of boysenberry

preserves, pulling another jar forward from the

second row to disguise the absence. They might miss a half-empty

jar from the fridge. But one of many unopened jars

from an overstuffed pantry? Not likely.

He could be sneakier than Kendra knew.

The fairy balanced on a twig protruding from a low

hedge beside the pool. Arms extended to either side, she

walked along the tiny limb, adjusting as it wobbled. The

further out she got, the less stable she became. The miniature

beauty queen had platinum hair, a silver dress, and

glittering, translucent wings.

Seth sprang forward, slashing downward with the pool

skimmer. The blue mesh struck the twig, but the fairy

darted away at the last instant. She hovered, shaking a

scolding finger at Seth. He swung the skimmer again, and

the nimble fairy evaded capture a second time, soaring well

out of range.

You shouldn’t do that, Kendra said from the pool.

Why not? Maddox catches them.

Out in the wild, Kendra corrected. These already

belong to Grandpa. It’s like hunting lions at the zoo.

Maybe hunting lions at the zoo would be good practice.

You’re going to end up making the fairies mad at you.

They don’t mind, he said, creeping up on a fairy with

wide, gauzy wings fluttering inches above a flowerbed.

They just fly away. He slowly moved the pool skimmer

into position. The fairy was directly beneath the mesh, less

than two feet away from captivity. With a flick of his wrists,

he slapped the skimmer down sharply. The fairy dodged

around it and glided off.

What are you going to do if you catch one?

Probably let it go.

So what’s the point?

To see if I can do it.

Kendra boosted herself out of the water. Well,

obviously you can’t. They’re too fast. Dripping, she walked

over to her towel. Oh my gosh, look at that one. She

pointed at the base of a blossoming bush.

Where?

Right there. Wait until she moves. She’s practically

invisible.

He stared at the bush, unsure whether she was teasing

him. A bobbing distortion began warping the leaves and

blossoms. Whoa!

See! She’s clear like glass.

Seth edged forward, clutching the pool skimmer.

Seth, don’t.

Suddenly he charged, opting for a rapid assault this

time. The transparent fairy flew away, vanishing against the

sky. Why won’t they hold still!

They’re magic, Kendra said. The fun is just looking

at them, seeing all the variety.

Real fun. Kind of like when Mom makes us go on

drives to look at the leaves changing color.

I want to grab some breakfast. I’m starving.

Then go. Maybe I’ll have better luck without you

squawking.

Kendra walked to the house wrapped in her towel. She

entered the back door and found Lena dragging a broken

coffee table into the kitchen. Much of the surface of the

table had been made of glass. Most of it was broken.

Need a hand? Kendra asked.

Mine are plenty.

Kendra went and grabbed the other end of the table.

They set it in a corner of the spacious kitchen. Other broken

objects rested there as well, including the jagged fragments

of the ceramic pot Kendra had noticed earlier.

Why pile everything here?

This is where the brownies come.

Brownies?

Come look. Lena led Kendra to the basement door,

pointing out a second little door at the base, about the size

a cat would use. The brownies have a special hatch that

admits them to the basement, and they can use this door

to enter the kitchen. They are the only magical creatures

with permission to enter the house at will. The brownie

portals are guarded by magic against all other creatures of

the forest.

Why let them in?

Brownies are useful. They repair things. They make

things. They are remarkable craftsmen.

They’ll fix the broken furniture?

Improve it if they can.

Why?

It is their nature. They will accept no reward.

How nice of them, Kendra said.

In fact, tonight, remind me to leave out some cooking

ingredients. By morning, they will have baked us a treat.

What will they cook?

You never know. You don’t make requests. You just

leave out ingredients and see how they combine them.

How fun!

I’ll leave out a bunch. No matter what strange combinations

you leave, they always invent something delicious.

There is so much I don’t know about Fablehaven,

Kendra declared. How big is it?

The preserve stretches for many miles in some directions.

Much bigger than you would suppose.

And there are creatures throughout?

Through most of it, Lena said. But as your grandfather

has warned you, some of those creatures can be

deadly. There are many places on the property where even

he does not dare venture.

I want to know more. All the details.

Be patient. Let it unfold. She turned to the refrigerator

and changed the subject. You must be hungry.

A little.

I’ll whip up some eggs. Will Seth want some?

Probably, Kendra said, leaning against the counter.

I’ve been wondering: Is everything from mythology true?

Explain what you mean.

I’ve seen fairies, and evidence of satyrs. Is it all real?

No mythology or religion that I know of holds all the

answers. Most religions are based on truths, but they are

also polluted by the philosophies and imaginations of men.

I take it your question refers to Greek mythology. Is there

a pantheon of petty gods who constantly bicker and interfere

in the lives of mortals? I know of no such beings. Are

there some true elements to those ancient stories and

beliefs? Obviously. You’re talking to a former naiad.

Scrambled?

What?

The eggs.

Sure.

Lena began cracking eggs into a pan. Many of the

beings who dwell here existed gracefully when primitive

man foraged in ragged tribes. We taught man the secrets of

bread and clay and fire. But man became blind to us over

time. Interaction with mortals became rare. And then

mankind began to crowd us. Explosions in population and

technology stole many of our ancient homes. Mankind

held no particular malice toward us. We had simply faded

into colorful caricatures inhabiting myths and fables.

There are quiet corners of the world where our kind

continue to thrive in the wild. And yet the day will

inevitably come when the only space remaining to us will be

these sanctuaries, a precious gift from enlightened mortals.

It’s so sad, Kendra said.

Do not frown. My kind do not dwell on these concerns.

They forget the fences enclosing these preserves. I

should not speak of what used to be. With my fallen mind,

I see the changes much more clearly than they do. I feel

the loss more keenly.

Grandpa said a night is coming when all the creatures

here will run wild.

Midsummer Eve. The festival night.

What’s it like?

I’d better not say. I don’t think your grandfather wants

you kids worrying about it until the time comes. He would

rather have scheduled your visit to avoid the festival night.

Kendra tried to sound nonchalant. Will we be in danger?

Now I’ve got you worried. You will be fine if you follow

the instructions your grandfather gives you.

What about the Society of the Evening Star? Maddox

sounded worried about them.

The Society of the Evening Star has always been a

threat, Lena admitted. But these preserves have endured

for centuries, some for millennia. Fablehaven is well protected,

and your grandfather is no fool. You needn’t worry

about speculative rumors. I’ll not say more on the subject.

Cheese in your eggs?

Yes, please.

With Kendra gone, Seth got out the equipment he had

bundled in his towel, including his emergency kit and the

jar he had smuggled from the pantry. The jar was now

empty, washed clean in the bathroom sink. Taking out his

pocket knife, Seth used the awl to punch holes in the lid.

Unscrewing the top, he gathered bits of grass, flower

petals, a twig, and a pebble, and placed them in the

jar. Then he wandered across the garden from the pool,

leaving the skimmer behind. If skill failed, he would resort

to cunning.

He found a good spot not far from a fountain, then

took the small mirror from his cereal box and placed it in

the jar. Setting the jar on a stone bench, he settled in the

grass nearby, lid in hand.

It did not take the fairies long. Several flitted around

the fountain. A few drifted over, lazily orbiting the jar.

After a couple of minutes, a small one with wings like a bee

landed on the edge of the jar, staring into it. Apparently

satisfied, she dropped inside and began admiring herself in

the mirror. Soon she was joined by another. And another.

Seth moved slowly closer until he was within reach of

the jar. All the fairies exited it. He waited. Some flew off.

New ones came. One entered the jar, followed quickly by

two more.

Seth pounced, slapping the lid onto the jar. The fairies

were so quick! He expected to catch all three, but two

whizzed out just before the lid covered the opening. The

remaining fairy pushed against the lid with surprising force.

He screwed it shut.

The fairy inside stood no taller than his little finger.

She had fiery red hair and iridescent dragonfly wings. The

incensed fairy pounded her tiny fists noiselessly against the

wall of the jar. All around him, Seth heard the tinkling of

miniature bells. The other fairies were pointing and laughing.

The fairy in the jar beat against the glass even harder,

but to no avail.

Seth had captured his prize.

Grandpa dipped the wand into the bottle and raised it

to his lips. As he blew gently, several bubbles streamed

from the plastic circle. The bubbles floated across the

porch.

You never know what will fascinate them, he said.

But bubbles usually do the trick.

Grandpa sat in a large wicker rocker. Kendra, Seth, and

Dale sat nearby. The setting sun streaked the horizon with

red and purple.

I try not to bring unnecessary technology onto the

property, he continued, dipping the wand again. I just

can’t resist with bubbles. He blew, and more bubbles took

shape.

A fairy, glowing softly in the fading light, approached

one of the bubbles. After considering it for a moment, she

touched it, and the bubble turned bright green. Another

touch and it was an inky blue. Another and it was gold.

Grandpa kept the bubbles coming, and more fairies

came to the porch. Soon all the bubbles were changing colors.

The hues became more luminous as the fairies competed

against one another. Bubbles ruptured with flashes of

light.

One fairy gathered bubbles until she had assembled a

bouquet that resembled a bunch of multicolored grapes.

Another fairy entered a bubble and inflated it from the

inside until it tripled in size and burst with a violet flash. A

bubble near Kendra appeared to be full of winking fireflies.

One near Grandpa turned to ice, fell to the porch, and

shattered.

The fairies flocked near Grandpa, eager for the next

bubbles. He kept them coming, and the fairies continued

to display their creativity. They filled bubbles with shimmering

mist. They linked them in chains. They transformed

them into balls of fire. The surface of one reflected

like a mirror. Another took on the shape of a pyramid.

Another crackled with electricity.

When Grandpa put the bubble solution away, the

fairies gradually dispersed. The dwindling sunset was almost

gone. A few fairies played among the chimes, making soft

music. Unbeknownst to most of the family, Grandpa said,

a few of your cousins have visited me here. None of them

came close to figuring out what is really going on.

Didn’t you give them clues? Kendra asked.

No more or less than I gave you. They were not of the

proper mind-set.

Was it Erin? Seth asked. She’s a goober.

You be kind, Grandpa scolded. What I want to say

is that I admire how you children have taken all of this in

stride. You have adapted impressively to this unusual

place.

Lena said we could have a party with goat people,

Seth said.

I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you. Why was she

talking about satyrs?

We found hoofprints in the kitchen, Kendra said.

Things got a bit out of hand last night, Grandpa

admitted. Trust me, Seth, consorting with satyrs is the last

thing a boy your age needs.

Then why did you do it? Seth asked.

A visit from a fairy broker is a significant event, and

carries certain expectations. I’ll concede that the merriment

borders on foolishness.

Can I try blowing bubbles? Seth asked.

Another night. I’m planning a special excursion for

you tomorrow. In the afternoon I need to visit the granary,

and I mean to take you with me, let you see more of the

property.

Will we get to see something besides fairies? Seth

asked.

Probably.

I’m glad, Kendra said. I want to see everything

you’re willing to show us.

All in due time, my dear.

* * *

From her breathing, Seth was pretty sure Kendra was

asleep. He sat up slowly. She did not move. He coughed

weakly. She did not twitch.

He eased out of bed and crossed the attic floor to his

dresser. Quietly he opened the third drawer down. There

she was. Twig, grass, pebble, flower petals, mirror, and all.

In the dark room, her inherent glimmer illuminated the

entire drawer.

Her tiny hands were splayed against the wall of the jar,

and she looked up at him desperately. She chirped something

in a twittering language, motioning for him to open

the lid.

Seth glanced over his shoulder. Kendra had not

budged.

Goodnight, little fairy, he whispered. Don’t worry.

I’ll feed you some milk in the morning.

He began shutting the drawer. The panicked fairy

redoubled her frantic protestations. It looked like she was

about to cry, which made Seth pause. Maybe he would let

her go tomorrow.

It’s okay, little fairy, he said gently. Go to sleep. I’ll

see you in the morning.

She clasped her hands together and shook them in a

pleading motion, begging with her eyes. She was so pretty,

that fiery red hair against her creamy skin. The perfect pet.

Way better than a hen. What chicken could set bubbles on

fire?

Closing the drawer, he returned to his bed.

Retaliation

Seth wiped sleep from the corner of his eye and stared

at the ceiling for a moment. Rolling over, he saw that

Kendra was not in her bed. Daylight streamed through the

window. He stretched, arching his back with a groan. The

mattress felt inviting. Maybe he could get up later.

No, he wanted to check on the fairy. He hoped some

sleep had calmed her. Kicking off the tangled covers, Seth

hurried over to the dresser. Pulling it open, he gasped.

The fairy was gone. In her place was a hairy tarantula

with striped legs and shiny black eyes. Had it eaten her? He

checked the lid. It was still on tight. Then it registered that

he had not consumed any milk yet. This could be the other

form the fairy appeared in. He would have expected a dragonfly,

but supposed a tarantula was possible.

He also noticed that the mirror in the jar was broken.

Had she smashed it with the pebble? It seemed like a good

way to cut herself. No roughhousing, he scolded. I’ll be

right back.

A round loaf of bread sat on the table, a mottled mixture

of white, black, brown, and orange. While Lena sliced

it, Kendra took another sip of hot chocolate.

Considering all the ingredients I left out, I thought

they might make a jumble pie, Lena said. But calico

loaves are equally delicious. Try a piece. She handed

Kendra a slice.

They did a great job on the pot, Kendra said. And

the table looks perfect.

Better than before, Lena agreed. I like the new

beveling. Brownies know their business.

Kendra inspected the slice of bread. The strange coloring

continued all the way through, not just on the crust.

She took a bite. Cinnamon and sugar dominated the flavoring.

Eagerly she took another. It tasted like blackberry

jam. The next tasted like chocolate with a hint of peanut

butter. The following bite seemed saturated with vanilla

pudding. It has so many flavors!

And they never clash like they should, Lena said,

taking a bite herself.

Feet bare, hair sticking up, Seth trotted into the room.

Good morning, he said. Having breakfast?

You have to try this calico bread, Kendra said.

In a minute, he replied. Can I have a cup of hot

chocolate?

Lena filled a mug.

Thank you, he said as she handed it to him. I’ll be

right back. I forgot something upstairs. He hurried off,

drinking from the mug.

He’s so weird, Kendra said, taking a bite of what now

tasted like banana nut bread.

Up to some mischief, if you ask me, Lena replied.

Seth set the mug on the dresser. Taking a calming

breath, he silently prayed that the tarantula would be gone

and the fairy would be there. He slid the drawer open.

A hideous little creature glared up from inside the jar.

Baring pointy teeth, it hissed at him. Covered in brown,

leathery skin, it stood taller than his middle finger. It was

bald, with tattered ears, a narrow chest, a pot belly, and

shriveled, spindly limbs. The lips were froglike, the eyes a

glossy black, the nose a pair of slits above the mouth.

What did you do to the fairy? Seth asked.

The ugly creature hissed again, turning around. It had a

pair of nubs above the bony shoulder blades. The nubs wiggled

like the remnants of amputated wings.

Oh, no! What happened to you?

The creature stuck out a long black tongue and slapped

the glass with calloused hands. It jabbered something in a

foul, raspy language.

What had happened? Why had the beautiful fairy

mutated into a revolting little devil? Maybe some milk

would help.

Seth snatched the jar from the drawer, grabbed the mug

from the dresser, and bolted down the stairs from the attic

to the hall. He dashed into the bathroom, locking the door

behind him.

The mug was still a third full. Holding the jar over the

sink, he poured some of the hot chocolate onto the lid.

Most ran down the side of the jar, but a little dripped

through the holes in the top.

One drop plopped on the creature’s shoulder. It angrily

motioned for Seth to unscrew the lid, and then pointed at

the cup. Apparently it wanted to drink straight from the

mug.

Seth examined the room. The window was shut, the

door locked. He wadded a towel against the space at the

bottom of the door. Inside the jar, the creature made pleading

motions and pantomimed drinking from a cup.

Seth unscrewed the lid. With a powerful leap, the creature

jumped out, landing on the counter. Crouching,

snarling, it glared at Seth.

I’m sorry your wings fell off, he said. This might

help.

He held the mug out toward the creature, wondering if

it would sip the flavored milk or just climb inside the cup.

Instead, it snapped at him, barely missing his finger. Seth

jerked his hand away, sloshing hot chocolate onto the

counter. Hissing, the agile creature dropped to the floor,

raced over to the bathtub, and vaulted inside.

Before Seth could react, the creature squirmed down

the drain. A final garbled burst of complaints issued from

the dark hole, and then the creature was gone. Seth poured

the remnants of the hot chocolate into the drain in case it*

could be of use to the deformed fairy.

He looked back at the jar, empty now except for a few

wilting flower petals. He was not sure what he had done

wrong, but he doubted Maddox would be very proud.

Later that morning, Seth sat in the tree house trying to

find puzzle pieces that fit together. Now that the perimeter

was finished, adding pieces was a challenge. They all

looked the same.

He had avoided Kendra all morning. He did not feel

like talking to anybody. He could not get over how foul the

fairy had become. He was not sure what he had done, but

he knew it was somehow his fault, some accidental consequence

of catching the fairy. That was why she had been so

frightened the night before. She knew he had doomed her

to change into an ugly little monster.

The puzzle pieces started to vibrate. Soon the whole

tree house was trembling. Were they having an earthquake?

He had never been in an earthquake before.

Seth ran to the window. Fairies hovered everywhere,

gathered in the air all around the tree house. Their arms

were raised, and they seemed to be chanting.

One of the fairies pointed at Seth. Several glided

closer to the window. One held her palm out in his direction;

with a flash of light, the windowpane shattered.

Seth jumped away from the window as several fairies flew

in.

He ran to the hatch, but the tree house lurched so violently

that he fell to the floor. The shaking was becoming

intense. The floor was no longer level. A chair tipped over.

The door to the hatch had slammed shut. He crawled

toward it. Something hot stung the back of his neck.

Multicolored lights began flashing.

Seth grabbed the door to the hatch, but it would not

open. He tugged hard. Something seared the back of his

hand.

Panicked, he returned to the window, struggling to

keep his balance as the floor quaked beneath him. The

flock of fairies continued to chant. He could hear their

little voices. With a loud crack, the tree house suddenly

tilted sideways. The view out the window switched from

the fairies to the rapidly approaching ground.

Seth experienced a momentary sensation of weightlessness.

Every object in the tree house was floating as everything

plummeted together. Puzzle pieces filled the air. And

then the tree house imploded.

Kendra smeared sunblock across her arms, disliking the

greasy feel of the lotion against her skin. She was tanner

than when she had first arrived, but the sun was hot today,

and she did not want to take any chances.

Her shadow was a small puddle at her feet. It was

almost noon. Lunch was not far off, and then Grandpa

Sorenson would take them to the granary. Kendra quietly

hoped she would see a unicorn.

Suddenly she heard a tremendous crash from the corner

of the yard. Then she heard Seth screaming.

What could have made such a huge noise? She did not

have to run far in order to see the broken pile of rubble at

the base of the tree.

Seth was sprinting toward her. His shirt was torn. He

had blood on his face. Scores of fairies appeared to be in

pursuit. Her initial thought was to make a joke about the

fairies wanting revenge for him trying to catch them, until

she realized it was probably true. Had the fairies thrown

down the tree house?

They’re after me! he yelled.

Jump in the pool! Kendra called.

Seth swerved in the direction of the pool and began

pulling off his shirt. The ominous cloud of fairies had no

trouble keeping up with him. They hurled sparkling

streams of glitter. Casting his shirt aside, Seth sprang into

the water.

The fairies are after Seth! Kendra cried, watching in

horrified dismay.

The fairies hovered over the pool. After a few moments

Seth surfaced. In flawless synchronization, the cloud of

fairies swooped, diving toward him. He yelled as blazing

rays of light began flaring around him, and ducked underwater

again. The fairies plunged in after him.

He came to the surface gasping. The water churned.

Seth floundered at the center of an underwater pyrotechnics

display. Kendra rushed to the edge of the pool.

Help! he cried, raising a hand out of the water. The

fingers were fused together like a flipper.

Kendra screamed. They’re attacking Seth! Help!

Somebody! They’re attacking Seth!

He flailed toward the side of the pool. The roiling mass

of fairies converged on Seth again, hauling him to the bottom

of the pool amid eerie bursts of light. Kendra ran and

seized the pool skimmer, swinging it at the relentless horde

of fairies, never touching any of them no matter how dense

the swarm appeared.

Seth resurfaced at the edge of the pool and threw his

arms up onto the flagstones, trying to drag himself out of

the water. Kendra stooped to assist him but shrieked

instead. One arm was broad, flat, and rubbery. No elbow,

no hand. A flipper coated in human skin. The other was

long and boneless, a fleshy tentacle with limp fingers at the

end.

She looked at his face. Long tusks curved down from a

wide, lipless mouth. Patches of hair were missing. His eyes

were glazed with terror.

The frenzied fairies mobbed him again, and he lost his

grip on the side, vanishing in another pulsing succession of

colored flashes. Steam sizzled up from the seething water.

What is the meaning of this? Grandpa Sorenson

hollered, hustling to the edge of the pool. Lena followed

behind him. The water in the pool flickered a few more

times. Many of the fairies whizzed away. A few flew over to

Grandpa.

One fairy in particular chirped angrily. She had short

blue hair and silvery wings.

He did what? Grandpa said.

An unrecognizable monstrosity heaved itself out of the

water and lay panting on the flagstones. The deformed

creature had no clothes. Lena crouched beside him, placing

a hand on his side.

He had no idea that would happen, Grandpa complained.

It was innocent!

The fairy twittered her disapproval.

Kendra gaped at the freakish form of her brother. Most

of his hair had fallen out, revealing a lumpy scalp stippled

with moles. His face was broader and flatter, with sunken

eyes and tusks the size of bananas protruding from his

mouth. A misshapen hump swelled high above his shoulders.

On his back below the hump, four blowholes puckered

for air. His legs had united into a single crude tail. He

slapped the ground with his flipper arm. The tentacle

writhed like a snake.

An unlucky coincidence, Grandpa said consolingly.

Most unfortunate. Can’t you have mercy on the boy?

The fairy chirped vehemently.

I’m sorry you feel that way. I feel terrible about what

happened. I assure you the atrocity was unintentional.

After a final outburst of squealing sounds, the fairy

zoomed away.

Are you okay? Kendra said, squatting beside Seth.

He made a garbled moan, then a second, more distressed

complaint that sounded like a donkey gargling

mouthwash.

Hush, Seth, Grandpa said. You’ve lost the ability of

speech.

I’ll fetch Dale, Lena said, hurrying off.

What have they done to him? Kendra asked.

An act of vengeance, Grandpa said grimly.

For trying to catch fairies?

For succeeding.

He caught one?

He did.

So they turned him into a deformed walrus? I thought

they couldn’t use magic against us!

He used potent magic to transform the captured fairy

into an imp, unwittingly opening the door for magical retribution.

Seth doesn’t know any magic!

I’m sure it was accidental, Grandpa said. Can you

understand me, Seth? Slap your flipper three times if you

grasp what I am saying.

The flipper flapped against the flagstones three times.

It was very foolish to catch a fairy, Seth, Grandpa

said. I warned you they were unsafe. But I share some of

the blame. I’m sure you were inspired by Maddox and

wanted to begin a career as a fairy broker.

Seth nodded awkwardly, his entire bloated torso bobbing

up and down.

I should have specifically forbidden it. I forget how

curious and daring children can be. And how resourceful.

I would never have supposed you were capable of actually

trapping one.

What magic did he use? Kendra asked, on the verge

of hysterics.

If a captured fairy is kept indoors from sunset to sunrise,

it changes into an imp.

What’s an imp?

A fallen fairy. Nasty little creatures. Imps despise

themselves as much as fairies adore themselves. Just as

fairies are drawn to beauty, imps are drawn to ugliness.

Their personalities change so quickly?

Their personalities remain the same, Grandpa said.

Shallow and self-absorbed. The change in appearance

reveals the tragic side of that mind-set. Vanity curdles into

misery. They become spiteful and jealous, wallowing in

wretchedness.

What about the fairies Maddox caught? Why don’t

they change?

He avoids leaving the cages indoors overnight. His

captured fairies spend at least part of every night outdoors.

Just putting the container outside prevents them from

becoming imps?

Sometimes powerful magic is accomplished by simple

means.

Why did the other fairies attack Seth? Why would

they care, if they’re so selfish?

They care because they are selfish. Each fairy worries

she could be next. I am told Seth even left a mirror with

the fairy, so she could behold herself after she fell. The

fairies considered that act particularly cruel.

Grandpa answered every question with great calm, no

matter how accusingly or angrily Kendra asked it. His

peaceful demeanor was helping her calm down a bit. I’m

sure it was an accident, she said.

Seth nodded vigorously, blubber jiggling.

I suspect no malice. It was an unfortunate mishap. But

the fairies have little interest in his motives. They were

within their rights to exact retribution.

You can switch him back.

Restoring Seth to his original form is well beyond my

abilities.

Seth let out a long, mournful bellow. Kendra patted his

hump. We have to do something!

Yes, Grandpa said. He placed his hands over his eyes

and then dragged them down his face. This would be very

complicated to explain to your parents.

Who can fix him? Maddox?

Maddox is no magician. Besides, he is long gone.

Though I hesitate, I can think of only one person who

might be able to undo the enchantments placed on your

brother.

Who?

Seth has met her.

The witch?

Grandpa nodded. Under the circumstances, our only

hope is Muriel Taggert.

The wheelbarrow swayed as it bumped over a root.

Dale managed to steady it. Seth groaned. He was naked

except for a white towel wrapped around his middle.

Sorry, Seth, Dale said. This is a tricky path.

Are we almost there? Kendra asked.

Not much farther, Grandpa replied.

They walked single file, Grandpa in the lead, followed

by Dale pushing the wheelbarrow, and then Kendra in the

rear. What had begun as a nearly indiscernible trail near

the barn had broadened into a well-trodden path. Later

they branched off onto a smaller track. They had crossed

no new paths since then.

The woods seem so quiet, Kendra said.

They are quietest when you stay on the paths,

Grandpa said.

It seems too quiet.

There is a tension in the air. Your brother committed a

serious offense. The fall of a fairy is a woeful tragedy. The

retribution of the fairies was equally brutal. Eager eyes

await to see if the conflict will escalate.

It won’t, right?

I hope not. If Muriel cures your brother, the fairies

could interpret it as an insult.

Would they attack him again?

Probably not. At least not directly. The punishment

has been administered.

Can we heal the fairy?

Grandpa shook his head. No.

Could the witch?

Seth was altered by magic imposed upon him. But the

potential to fall and become an imp is a fundamental

aspect of being a fairy. She transformed in accordance to a

law that has existed as long as fairies have had wings.

Muriel might be able to undo the enchantments forced

upon Seth. Reversing the fall of a fairy would be far beyond

her capacity.

Poor fairy.

They reached a fork in the path. Grandpa turned left.

Almost there, he said. Keep silent as we converse with

her.

Kendra stared at the bushes and trees, expecting to find

spiteful eyes glaring back at her. What creatures would

come into view if all the greenery were removed? What

would happen if she raced off the path? How long before

some gruesome monster devoured her?

Grandpa stopped, pointing away into the trees. Here

we are.

Kendra saw the leafy shack in the distance, off the path

through the trees.

Too much undergrowth for the wheelbarrow, Dale

said, scooping Seth into his arms. Although Seth was much

more blubbery, he had not increased in size. As they waded

through the undergrowth, Dale carried him without much

difficulty.

The ivy-shrouded shack drew near. They walked

around to the front. The filthy witch sat inside, her back

against the tree stump, chewing on a knot in a bristly rope.

A pair of imps sat on the tree stump. One was skinny, with

prominent ribs and long, flat feet. The other was compact

and plump.

Hello, Muriel, Grandpa said.

The imps sprang from the trunk and scurried out of

sight. Muriel looked up, a slow grin revealing decayed

teeth. Could that be Stan Sorenson? She rubbed her eyes

theatrically and squinted at him. No, I must be dreaming.

Stan Sorenson said he would never visit me again!

I need your help, Grandpa said.

And you brought company. I remember Dale. Who is

this fine young lady?

My granddaughter.

She got none of your looks, lucky for her. My name is

Muriel, dear, pleased to meet you.

I’m Kendra.

Yes, of course. You have that lovely pink nightgown

with the bow on the bosom.

Kendra shot a look at Grandpa. How could this crazy

witch know about her pajamas?

I know a thing or two, Muriel continued, tapping her

temple. Telescopes are for stars, dear, not for trees.

Pay her no heed, Grandpa said. She wants to give

you the impression that she has power to spy on you in

your bedroom. Witches prey on fear. Her influence does

not extend beyond the walls of this shack.

Won’t you step inside for some tea? she offered.

What news she has comes from imps, Grandpa continued.

And since imps are banned from the yard, her

news came from a particular imp.

Muriel let out a shrieking laugh. The crazed cackle

suited her haggard appearance much better than her speaking

voice did.

The imp saw your room, and heard conversations from

wherever Seth stashed it, Grandpa concluded. Nothing

to fret about.

Muriel raised a finger in objection. Nothing to fret

about, you say?

Nothing the imp saw or heard could be harmful,

Grandpa clarified.

Except, perhaps, her own reflection, Muriel suggested.

Who is our final visitor? This poor, lumpy abomination?

Could it be? She clapped her hands and giggled.

Did our stalwart adventurer have a mishap? Did his clever

tongue finally betray him?

You know what happened, Grandpa said.

I do, I do, she cackled. I knew he was insolent, but

never suspected such cruelty! Lock him in a shed, I say. For

the sake of the fairies. Lock him up tight.

Can you restore him? Grandpa asked.

Restore him? the witch exclaimed. After what he

did?

It was an accident, as you are aware.

Why not ask me to rescue a killer from the noose? To

spare a traitor from his shame?

Can you do it?

Shall I conjure up a medal for him to wear as well? A

badge of honor for his crime?

Can you?

Muriel dropped the act. She regarded her visitors with

a sly expression. You know the price.

I can’t loosen a knot, Grandpa said.

Muriel tossed up her gnarled hands. You know I need

the energy from the knot for the spell, she said. He has

more than seventy separate hexes operating on him. You

ought to untie seventy knots.

What about-

No dickering. One knot, and your beastly grandson

will be restored to his original form. Without the knot, I

would never be able to counter the enchantment. This is

fairy magic. You knew the price before you came. No dickering.

Grandpa sagged. Show me the rope.

Lay the boy at my threshold.

Dale placed Seth in front of the door. Standing in the

doorway, Muriel held the rope out to Grandpa. There were

two knots. Both had dried blood on them. One was still

moist with saliva. Take your pick, she said.

Of my own free will, I sever this knot, Grandpa said.

Leaning forward, he blew gently on the higher of the two

knots. It unraveled.

The air trembled. On hot days, Kendra had seen the air

shimmer in the distance. This was similar, but right in front

of her. She felt pulsing vibrations, like she was standing in

front of a powerful stereo speaker during a song with lots of

bass. The ground seemed to be tipping.

Muriel extended a hand over Seth. She mumbled an

unintelligible incantation. His blubber rippled as if he were

boiling inside. It looked like thousands of worms were

under his skin, squirming to find a way out. Putrid vapor

fumed up from his flesh. His fat appeared to be evaporating.

His misshapen body convulsed.

Kendra extended her arms and swayed as the ground

teetered even more. There was a burst of darkness, an anti-flash,

and Kendra stumbled, barely catching herself.

The odd sensation ended. The air cleared and balance

returned. Seth sat up. He looked exactly like his old self.

No tusks. No flippers. No blowholes. Just an eleven-year-old

kid with a towel wrapped around his waist. He scrambled

away from the shack and got to his feet.

Satisfied? Muriel asked.

How do you feel, Seth? Grandpa inquired.

Seth patted his bare chest. I feel better.

Muriel grinned. Thank you, little adventurer. You did

me a great service today. I am indebted.

You shouldn’t have done it, Grandpa, Seth said.

Had to be done, he said. We best be going.

Stay a while, Muriel offered.

No thanks, Grandpa said.

Very well. Spurn my hospitality. Kendra, nice to meet

you, may you find less happiness than you deserve. Dale,

you are as mute as your brother, and nearly as pale. Seth,

please have another mishap soon. Stan, you lack the wit of

an orangutan, bless your soul. Do not be strangers.

Kendra gave Seth socks, shoes, shorts, and a shirt.

Once he put them on, they returned to the path.

Can I ride in the wheelbarrow on the way back? Seth

asked.

You ought to push me, Dale grumbled.

How did it feel being a walrus? Kendra asked.

Is that what I was?

A mutant humpbacked walrus with a deformed tail,

she clarified.

I wish we had a camera! It was weird breathing

through my back. And it was hard to move. Nothing felt

right.

Might be safer not to converse so loudly, Grandpa

said.

I couldn’t talk, Seth said more quietly. I felt like I

still knew how, but the words came out all tangled. My

mouth and tongue were different.

What about Muriel? Kendra asked. If she unties that

last knot, will she be free?

She was originally bound by thirteen knots, Grandpa

said. She can loosen none on her own, though it doesn’t

seem to stop her from trying. But other mortals can undo

the knots by asking a favor and blowing on them. Powerful

magic holds the knot in place. When released, Muriel can

channel that magic into granting the favor.

So if you ever need her help again…

I will look elsewhere, Grandpa said. I never wanted

her to get down to a single knot. Freeing her is not an

option.

I’m sorry I ended up helping her, Seth said.

Did you learn anything from the ordeal? Grandpa

asked.

Seth lowered his head. I feel really bad about the fairy.

She didn’t deserve what happened to her. Grandpa made

no response, and Seth kept studying his shoes. I shouldn’t

have messed around with magical creatures, he finally

admitted.

Grandpa placed a hand on his shoulder. I know you

meant no harm. Around here, what you don’t know can

hurt you. And others. If you have learned to be more careful

and compassionate in the future, and to show greater

respect for the inhabitants of this preserve, then at least

some good came of all this.

I learned something too, Kendra said. Humans and

walruses should never mix.

Hugo

The triangular wooden board rested on Kendra’s lap.

She studied the pegs, planning her next jump. Beside

her, Lena gently tilted back and forth on a rocker, watching

the moon rise. From the porch, only a few fairies could

be seen gliding around the garden. Fireflies twinkled among

them in the silver moonlight.

Not many fairies out tonight, Kendra said.

It may be some time before the fairies return in force

to our gardens, Lena said.

Can’t you explain everything to them?

Lena chuckled. They would listen to your grandfather

before they would ever heed me.

Weren’t you sort of one of them?

That is the problem. Watch. Lena closed her eyes

and began to sing softly. Her high, trilling voice gave life

to a wistful melody. Several fairies darted over from the garden,

hovering around her in a loose semicircle, interrupting

the warbling tune with fervent chirping.

Lena quit singing and said something in an unintelligible

language. The fairies chirped back. Lena made a

final remark, and the fairies flew away.

What were they saying? Kendra asked.

They told me I should be ashamed to sing a naiadic

tune, Lena replied. They detest reminders that I was once

a nymph, especially if those reminders imply that I am at

peace with my decision.

They acted pretty upset.

Much of their time is spent mocking mortals. Any

time one of us crosses over to mortality, it makes the others

wonder what they might be missing. Especially if we appear

content. They ridicule me mercilessly.

You don’t let it get to you?

Not really. They do know how to needle me. They

tease me about growing old-my hair, my wrinkles. They

ask how I will enjoy being buried in a box. Lena frowned,

gazing thoughtfully into the night. I felt my age today

when you called for help.

What do you mean? Kendra jumped a peg on the triangular

wooden board.

I tried to rush to your aid, but ended up sprawled on

the kitchen floor. Your grandfather reached your side before

I did, and he is no athlete.

It wasn’t your fault.

In my youth I would have been there in a flash. I used

to be handy in an emergency. Now I come hobbling to the

rescue.

You still get around great. Kendra was running out of

moves. She had already stranded a peg.

Lena shook her head. I would not last a minute on the

trapeze or the tightrope. Once I played on them with facile

agility. The curse of mortality. You spend the first portion

of your life learning, growing stronger, more capable. And

then, through no fault of your own, your body begins to

fail. You regress. Strong limbs become feeble, keen senses

grow dull, hardy constitutions deteriorate. Beauty withers.

Organs quit. You remember yourself in your prime, and

wonder where that person went. As your wisdom and experience

are peaking, your traitorous body becomes a prison.

Kendra had no moves left on her perforated board.

Three pegs remained. I never thought of it that way.

Lena took the board from Kendra and began setting up

the pegs. In their youth, mortals behave more like

nymphs. Adulthood seems impossibly distant, let alone the

enfeeblement of old age. But ponderously, inevitably, it

overtakes you. I find it a frustrating, humbling, infuriating

experience.

When we talked before, you said you would not

change your decision, Kendra reminded her.

True, given the opportunity, I would choose Patton

every time. And now that I have experienced mortality, I

do not imagine I could be content with my former life. But

the pleasures of mortality, the thrills of living, come with a

price. Pain, illness, the decline of age, the loss of loved

ones-those things I could do without.

The pegs were set up. Lena began jumping them. I am

impressed by how glibly most mortals confront the debilitation

of the body. Patton. Your grandparents. Many others.

They just accept it. I have always feared aging. The

inevitability of it haunts me. Ever since I abandoned the

pond, the prospect of death has been a menacing shadow

in the back of my mind.

She jumped the final peg, leaving only one. Kendra

had seen her do it before, but had not yet succeeded in

copying her moves.

Lena sighed softly. Because of my nature, I may have

to endure old age for decades longer than regular human

beings. The humiliating finale to the mortal condition.

At least you’re a peg-jumping genius, Kendra said.

Lena smiled. The solace of my winter years.

You can still paint, and cook, and do all sorts of

things.

I do not mean to complain. These are not problems to

share with young minds.

It’s okay. You aren’t scaring me. You’re right, I can’t

really picture being grown up. Part of me wonders if high

school will ever really happen. Sometimes I think maybe

I’ll die young.

The door to the house opened, and Grandpa’s head

poked out. Kendra, I need to have some words with you

and Seth.

Okay, Grandpa.

Come to the study.

Lena stood, motioning for Kendra to hurry along.

Kendra entered the house and followed Grandpa into the

study. Seth was already seated in one of the oversized

chairs, drumming his fingers on the armrest. Kendra

claimed the other one while Grandpa settled in behind his

desk.

The day after tomorrow is June twenty-first, Grandpa

said. Do either of you know the significance of that date?

Kendra and Seth shared a glance. Your birthday? Seth

attempted.

The summer solstice, Grandpa said. The longest day

of the year. The night before is a holiday of riotous abandon

for the whimsical creatures of Fablehaven. Four nights

a year, the boundaries that define where different entities

can venture dissolve. These nights of revelry are essential

to maintaining the segregation that normally prevails here.

On Midsummer Eve, the only limits to where any creature

can roam and work mischief are the walls of this house.

Unless invited, they cannot enter.

Midsummer Eve is tomorrow night? Seth said.

I did not want to leave you time to fret over it. As

long as you obey my instructions, the night will pass without

incident. It will be loud, but you will be safe.

What other days do they run wild? Kendra asked.

The winter solstice and the two equinoxes. Midsummer

Eve tends to be the rowdiest of them all.

Can we watch out the windows? Seth asked eagerly.

No, Grandpa said. Nor would you enjoy what you

saw. On the festival nights, nightmares take shape and

prowl the yard. Ancient entities of supreme evil patrol the

darkness in search of prey. You will be in bed at sundown.

You will wear earplugs. And you will not arise until sunrise

dispels the horrors of the night.

Should we sleep in your room? Kendra asked.

The attic playroom is the safest place in the house.

Extra protections have been placed on it as a sanctuary for

children. Even if, by some misfortune, unsavory creatures

entered the house, your room would remain secure.

Has anything ever gotten into the house? Kendra

asked.

Nothing unwanted has breached these homestead

walls, Grandpa said. Still, we can never be too careful.

Tomorrow you will help prepare some defenses to afford us

an extra layer of protection. Because of the recent uproar

with the fairies, I fear this could be a particularly chaotic

Midsummer Eve,

Has anyone ever died here? Seth asked. On this

property, I mean?

We should save that topic for another time, Grandpa

said, standing up.

That one guy changed into dandelion seeds, Kendra

said.

Anybody else? Seth insisted.

Grandpa regarded them soberly for a moment. As you

are learning, these preserves are hazardous places.

Accidents have occurred in the past. Those accidents generally

happen to people who venture where they do not

belong or tamper with matters beyond their understanding.

If you adhere to my rules, you should have nothing to

worry about.

The sun had not yet risen far above the horizon as Seth

and Dale walked along the rutted lane that ran away from

the barn. Seth had never particularly noticed the weedy

cart track. The lane began on the far side of the barn and

led into the woods. After meandering for some time

beneath the trees, the track continued across an expansive

meadow.

Overhead, only a few wispy clouds interrupted the

bright blue sky. Dale walked briskly, forcing Seth to hustle

in order to keep up. Seth was already getting sweaty. The

warm day promised to be hot by noon.

Seth kept watch for interesting creatures. He spotted

birds, squirrels, and rabbits in the meadow, but saw nothing

supernatural.

Where are all the magical animals? Seth asked.

This is the calm before the storm, Dale said. I expect

most of them are resting up for tonight.

What sort of monsters will be out tonight?

Stan warned that you might try to pry information out

of me. Best not to be so curious about those kinds of

things.

Not telling me is what makes me curious!

It’s for your own good, Dale said. Part of the idea is

that telling you might make you scared. The other part

is that telling you might make you even more curious.

If you tell me, I promise I’ll stop being curious.

Dale shook his head. What makes you think you can

keep that promise?

I can’t possibly get more curious than I already am.

Not knowing anything is the hardest.

Well, fact of the matter is, I can’t give a very satisfying

answer to your question. Have I seen strange things,

frightening things, in my time here? You bet. Not just on

festival nights. Have I stolen a peek out the window on a

festival night? A time or two, sure. But I learned to quit

looking. People aren’t meant to have things like that in

their minds. Makes it hard to sleep. I don’t look anymore.

Neither does Lena, neither does your grandfather, neither

does your grandmother. And we’re adults.

What did you see?

How about we change the subject?

You’re killing me. I have to know!

Dale stopped and faced him. Seth, you only think you

want to know. It seems harmless to know, walking under a

clear blue sky on a fine morning with a friend. But what

about tonight, alone in your room, in the dark, when the

night outside is full of unnatural sounds? You might regret

me putting a face to what is wailing outside the window.

Seth swallowed. He looked up at Dale, eyes wide.

What kind of face?

Let’s leave it at this. To this day, when I’m out and

about after dark, I am sorry I looked. When you’re a few

years older, a day will come when your grandfather will give

you an opportunity to look out the window on a festival

night. If you start feeling inquisitive, postpone your curiosity

until that moment. If it were me, if I could go back, I’d

skip looking altogether.

Easy to say after you looked.

Not easy to say. I paid a heavy price to say it. Many

sleepless nights.

What can be so bad? I can imagine some scary things.

I thought the same thing. I failed to appreciate that

imagining and seeing are two very different things.

If you already looked, why not look again?

I don’t want to see anything else. I’d rather just guess

at the rest. Dale started walking again.

I still want to know, Seth said.

Smart people learn from their mistakes. But the real

sharp ones learn from the mistakes of others. Don’t pout;

you’re about to see something impressive. And it won’t

even give you nightmares.

What?

See where the road goes over that rise?

Yeah.

The surprise is on the far side.

You’re sure?

Positive.

It better not be another fairy, Seth said.

What’s the matter with fairies?

I’ve already seen about a billion of them and also they

turned me into a walrus.

It’s not a fairy.

It’s not like a waterfall or something? Seth asked

suspiciously.

No, you’ll like it.

Good, because you’re getting my hopes up. Is it dangerous?

It could be, but we should be safe.

Let’s hurry. Seth dashed up the rise. He glanced back

at Dale, who continued walking. Not a great sign. If the

surprise were dangerous, Dale would not want him running

ahead.

At the top of the rise Seth halted, staring down the

gentle slope on the far side. Not a hundred yards away, a

huge creature was wading through a hayfield wielding a

pair of gigantic scythes. The hulking figure slashed down

wide swaths of alfalfa at a relentless pace, both scythes hissing

and chiming without pause.

Dale joined Seth atop the rise. What is it? Seth

asked.

Our golem, Hugo. Come see.

Dale left the cart track and started across the field

toward the toiling goliath. What’s a golem? Seth asked,

trailing after him.

Watch. Dale raised his voice. Hugo, halt!

The scythes stopped cutting in mid-stroke.

Hugo, come!

The herculean mower turned and jogged toward them

with long, loping strides. Seth could feel the ground vibrate

as Hugo approached. Still clutching the scythes, the massive

golem came to a halt in front of Dale, looming over

him.

He’s made of dirt? Seth asked.

Soil, clay, and stone, Dale said. Granted the semblance

of life by a powerful enchanter. Hugo was donated

to the preserve a couple hundred years ago.

How tall is he?

Over nine feet when he stands up straight. Mostly he

slouches closer to eight.

Seth gawked at the behemoth. In form he looked more

apelike than human. Aside from his impressive height,

Hugo was broad, with thick limbs and disproportionately

large hands and feet. Tufts of grass and the occasional dandelion

sprouted from his earthen body. He had an oblong

head with a square jaw. Crude features resembled nose,

mouth, and ears. The eyes were a pair of vacant hollows

beneath a jutting brow.

Can he talk?

No. He tries to sing. Hugo, sing us a song!

The wide mouth began to open and close, and out

rumbled a series of gravelly roars, some long, some short,

none of them bearing much resemblance to music. Hugo

cocked his head back and forth, as if swaying to the

melody. Seth tried to stifle his laughter.

Hugo, stop singing.

The golem fell silent.

He isn’t very good, Seth said.

About as musical as a landslide.

Does it embarrass him?

He doesn’t think like we do. Doesn’t get happy or sad

or angry or bored. He’s like a robot. Hugo just obeys commands.

Can I tell him to do stuff?

If I order him to obey you, Dale said. Otherwise he

just listens to me, Lena, and your grandparents.

What else can he do?

He understands a lot. He performs all sorts of manual

labor. It would take quite a team to match all the work he

does around here. Hugo never sleeps. If you leave him with

a list of chores, he’ll labor through the night.

I want to tell him to do something.

Hugo, put down the scythes, said Dale.

The golem set the scythes on the ground.

Hugo, this is Seth. Hugo will obey Seth’s next command.

Now? asked Seth.

Say his name first, so he knows you’re addressing him.

Hugo, do a cartwheel.

Hugo held out his palms and shrugged.

He doesn’t know what you mean, Dale said. Can

you do a cartwheel?

Yeah.

Hugo, Seth is going to show you a cartwheel.

Seth put up his hands, lunged sideways, and did a cartwheel

with sloppy form. Hugo, Dale said, obey Seth’s

next command.

Hugo, do a cartwheel.

The golem raised his arms, lurched to one side, and

completed an awkward cartwheel. The ground trembled.

Pretty good for a first try, Seth said.

He duplicated yours. Hugo, when you do a cartwheel,

keep your body straighter and aligned on a single plane,

like a wheel turning. Hugo, do a cartwheel!

This time Hugo executed a nearly perfect cartwheel.

His hands left prints in the field. He learns fast, Seth

exclaimed.

Anything physical, leastways. Dale put his hands on

his hips. I’m sick of walking. What do you say we let Hugo

take us to our next stop?

Really?

If you’d rather walk we can always-

No way!

* * *

Kendra used a hacksaw to separate another pumpkin

from the vine. Further down the long trough of soil, Lena

was cutting a large red one. Nearly half the greenhouse was

devoted to pumpkins, big and small, white, yellow, orange,

red, and green.

They had arrived at the greenhouse by a faint trail

through the woods. Aside from the pumpkins and plants,

the glass structure contained a generator to power the

lights and the climate control.

We really have to cut three hundred? Kendra asked.

Just be glad you don’t have to load them, Lena said.

Who does?

It’s a surprise.

Are jack-o-lanterns really such a big deal?

Do they work? Quite well. Especially if we can convince

fairies to fill them.

With magic?

To dwell in them for the night, explained Lena.

Fairy lanterns have long been among the surest protections

from creatures with dubious intentions.

But I thought the house was already safe. Kendra

began sawing the stem of a tall orange pumpkin.

Redundancies in security are wise on festival nights.

Particularly on a Midsummer Eve after all the recent commotion.

How will we ever carve all of them before tonight?

Leave that to Dale. He could carve them all himself

with time to spare. Not always the most artful renderings,

but the man can mass produce. You carve only for fun; he

knows how to carve for need.

I’ve never liked pulling out the guts, said Kendra.

Really? Lena said. I love the slimy texture, getting

greasy up to my elbows. Like playing in the mud. We’ll

have delicious pies afterwards.

Is this white one too small?

Maybe save it for autumn.

Do you think the fairies will come?

Hard to say, Lena admitted. Some, for sure. Normally

we have no trouble filling as many lanterns as we

care to carve, but tonight might be an exception.

What if they don’t show up? Kendra asked.

We’ll be fine. Artificial lighting works, just not as well

as fairies. With the fairy lanterns, the commotion stays farther

from the house. In addition, Stan will be putting out

tribal masks, herbs, and other safeguards.

Is the night really so awful?

You’ll hear plenty of disturbing sounds.

Maybe we should have skipped the milk this morning.

Lena shook her head, not lifting her eyes from her

work. Some of the most insidious tricks employed tonight

will involve artifice and illusion. Without the milk you

could be even more susceptible. It would only broaden

their ability to mask their true appearance.

Kendra severed another pumpkin. Either way, I won’t

be looking.

I wish we could transplant some of your common

sense to your brother.

After all that’s happened, I’m sure he’ll behave

tonight.

The door to the greenhouse opened, and Dale poked

his head in. Kendra, come here, I want you to meet somebody.

Kendra walked to the door with Lena behind her. In

the doorway, Kendra paused and let out a small shriek. A

bulky creature with a simian build was marching toward

the greenhouse pulling a rickshaw-type contraption the size

of a wagon. What is it?

He’s Hugo, Seth crowed from inside the handcart.

He’s a robot made of dirt! He jumped out of the cart and

ran over to Kendra.

I ran ahead so you could see him approach, Dale said.

Hugo can run really fast when you tell him to, Seth

gushed. Dale let me give him orders and he obeyed everything

I said. See? He’s waiting for instructions.

Hugo stood motionless beside the greenhouse, still

holding the rickshaw. Had she not just seen Hugo moving,

Kendra would have assumed he was a crude statue. Seth

shouldered past Kendra into the greenhouse.

What is he? Kendra asked Lena.

A golem, she replied. Animated matter granted

rudimentary intelligence. He does most of the heavy labor

around here.

He’s loading the pumpkins.

And rolling them to the house in his cart.

Seth exited the greenhouse toting a fairly large pumpkin.

Can I show her a command? he asked.

Sure, Dale said. Hugo, obey the next command from

Seth.

Holding the pumpkin at his waist with both hands,

leaning back a bit to stay balanced, Seth approached the

golem. Hugo, take this pumpkin and throw it as far as you

can into the woods.

The inert golem sprang to life. Grasping the pumpkin

in one massive hand, he twisted and then fiercely uncoiled,

hurling the pumpkin into the sky like a discus. Dale

whistled softly as the pumpkin shrank into the distance,

finally dropping out of sight, an orange speck vanishing

behind far-off treetops.

Did you see that? Seth cried. He’s better than a

water balloon launcher!

Regular catapult, Dale murmured.

Very impressive, Lena agreed dryly. Forgive me if I

hope to put a few of our pumpkins to more practical use.

You boys come help us cut the rest of our harvest so we can

get them loaded.

Can’t Hugo do a few more tricks? Seth begged. He

knows cartwheels.

There will be time for nonsense later, Lena assured

him. We need to finish our preparations for this evening.

Midsummer Eve

Grandpa prodded the logs in the fireplace with a poker.

A shower of sparks swirled up the chimney as one log

split open, revealing an interior of glowing embers. Dale

poured himself a cup of steaming coffee, adding three

spoonfuls of sugar. Lena peered out the window through

the blinds.

The sun will reach the horizon in moments, she

announced.

Kendra sat beside Seth on the sofa, watching Grandpa

stoke the fire. The preparations were all in place. The

entrances to the house were crowded with jack-O-lanterns.

Lena had been right-Dale had carved more than two

hundred of them. Not quite thirty fairies had reported for

duty, many fewer than Grandpa had expected, even given

the recently strained relations.

Eight of the fairy lanterns were placed on the roof outside

the attic, four at each window. Glow sticks illuminated

most of the pumpkins, two in each. Grandpa Sorenson

apparently ordered them in bulk.

Will it start right when the sun goes down? Seth

asked.

Things won’t really get going until twilight fades,

Grandpa said, setting the poker beside the other fire irons.

But the hour has come for you children to retire to your

room.

I want to stay up with you, Seth said.

The attic bedroom is the safest place in the house,

Grandpa said.

Why don’t we all stay in the attic? Kendra asked.

Grandpa shook his head. The spells that make the

attic impenetrable function only if it is occupied by children.

Without children, or with adults in the room, the

barriers become ineffectual.

Isn’t the whole house supposed to be safe? Kendra

asked.

I believe so, but on an enchanted preserve, nothing is

ever certain. I am concerned by the scant number of fairies

who reported this afternoon. I worry this could be a particularly

uproarious Midsummer Eve. Perhaps the worst since

I’ve lived here.

A long, mournful howl underscored his statement. The

disturbing call was answered by a stronger howl, closer, that

ended with a cackle. Chills tingled behind Kendra’s

shoulders.

The sun is gone, Lena reported from the window. She

squinted, then put a hand to her mouth. Closing the slat,

she stepped away from the blinds. They’re already entering

the yard.

Kendra leaned forward. Lena really looked upset. She

had paled visibly. Her dark eyes were unsettled.

Grandpa scowled. Real trouble?

She nodded.

Grandpa clapped his hands together. Up to the attic.

The tension in the room prevented Kendra from uttering

any protest. Apparently Seth sensed the same urgency.

Grandpa Sorenson followed them up the stairs, down the

hall, and up into their bedroom.

Get under your covers, Grandpa said.

What’s around the beds? Seth asked, examining the

floor.

Circles of special salt, Grandpa said. An extra protection.

Kendra stepped carefully over the salt, pulled back the

covers, and climbed into bed. The sheets felt cool.

Grandpa handed her a pair of small, spongy cylinders.

Earplugs, he said, passing a pair to Seth as well. I

suggest you wear them. They should help mute the tumult

so you can sleep.

Just cram them in our ears? Seth said, eyeing one

suspiciously.

That’s the idea, Grandpa said.

An eruption of high-pitched laughter blared up from

the yard. Kendra and Seth exchanged a concerned glance.

Grandpa took a seat at the edge of Kendra’s bed.

I need you kids to be brave and responsible for me

tonight, he said.

They nodded silently.

You should know, he went on, I didn’t let you come

here merely as a favor to your parents. Your grandmother

and I are getting on in years. The day will come when

somebody else will need to care for this preserve. We need

to find heirs. Dale is a good man, but he has no interest in

running things here. You kids have impressed me so far.

You are bright, adventurous, and courageous.

There are some unpleasant aspects to living here.

Festival nights are a good example. Perhaps you wonder

why we don’t just all go spend the night in a hotel. If we

did, we would return to find the house in ruins. Our presence

is essential to the magic that protects these walls. If

you are ever going to be involved with the work on this

preserve, you will need to learn to cope with certain

unpleasant realities. Look at tonight as a test. If the chaotic

clamor outside is too much for you, then you do not belong

here. There is no shame in this. People who belong here

are rare.

We’ll be fine, Seth said.

I believe you will. Listen carefully to my final instructions.

Once I leave the room, no matter what you hear, no

matter what happens, do not leave your beds. We will not

come to check on you until morning. You may think you

hear me, or Dale, or Lena, asking to come in. Be forewarned.

It will not be us.

This room is invulnerable unless you open a window

or the door. Remain in your beds and that will not happen.

With the fairy lanterns at your window, odds are that nothing

will come near this part of the house. Try to ignore the

tumult of the night, and we’ll all share a special breakfast

in the morning. Any questions?

I’m scared, Kendra said. Don’t go.

You’ll be safer without me. We’ll be keeping watch

downstairs all night. Everything will be fine. Just go to

sleep.

It’s okay, Grandpa, Seth said. I’ll keep an eye on

her.

Keep the other on yourself, Grandpa said sternly.

You mind me tonight. This is no game.

I will.

Outside the wind began to whistle through the trees.

The day had been calm, but now a groaning gust shook the

house. Overhead the shingles rattled and the timbers

creaked.

Grandpa crossed to the door. Strange winds are blowing.

I better get downstairs. Goodnight, sleep tight, I’ll

greet you at sunrise. He closed the door. The wind subsided.

Goldilocks clucked softly.

You’ve got to be kidding, Kendra said.

I know, Seth said. I’m practically wetting the bed.

I don’t think I’ll sleep all night.

I know I won’t.

We better try, said Kendra.

Okay.

Kendra inserted the earplugs. Closing her eyes, she

curled up and snuggled into her covers. All she had to do

was fall asleep, and she could escape the frightening sounds

of the night. She forced herself to relax, letting her body go

limp, and tried to clear her mind.

It was hard not to fantasize about inheriting the estate.

No way would they give it to Seth! He would blow the

whole place up in five minutes! What would it be like to

know all the mysterious secrets of Fablehaven? It might be

scary if she were alone. She would have to share the secret

with her parents so they could live with her.

After a couple of minutes she rolled over to face the

other direction. She always had a tough time falling asleep

when she was too deliberate about it. She tried to think of

nothing, tried to focus on calm, regular breathing. Seth was

saying something, but the earplugs muffled it. She pulled

them out.

What?

I said, the suspense is killing me. Are you actually

using the earplugs?

Of course. You’re not?

I don’t want to miss anything.

Are you crazy?

I’m not tired at all, he said. Are you?

Not much.

Dare me to look out the window?

Don’t be stupid!

It’s barely sunset. What better time to look?

How about never.

You’re a bigger chicken than Goldilocks.

You’ve got less brains than Hugo.

The wind rose again, steadily gaining force. Warbling

moans echoed on the breeze, groaning in different pitches,

forming eerie, discordant harmonies. A long, birdlike

scream overpowered the ghostly chorus of moans, starting

at one side of the house, passing overhead, and finally fading.

In the distance, a bell began to toll.

Seth no longer looked quite so brave. Maybe we

should try to get some sleep, he said, putting in the

earplugs.

Kendra did likewise. The sounds were muffled, but continued:

the haunted wind lamenting, the house shuddering,

an increasing assortment of shrieks, screams, howls, and

wild bursts of gibbering laughter. The pillow grew warm, so

Kendra flipped it over to the cold side.

The only light in the room had been filtering through

the curtains. As twilight dimmed, the room darkened.

Kendra pressed her hands over her ears, trying to augment

the dampening power of the earplugs. She told herself the

sounds were just a storm.

A deep, throbbing beat joined the cacophony, keeping

a steady rhythm. As the pulsing percussion increased in

volume and tempo, it was accompanied by chanting in a

wailing language. Kendra resisted otherworldly images of

vicious demons on the hunt.

A pair of hands closed around her throat. She jumped

and flailed, smacking Seth across the cheek with the back

of her hand.

Jeez! Seth complained, stumbling away.

You asked for it! What’s the matter with you?

You should have seen your face, he laughed, recovering

from the slap.

Get back in bed.

He sat on the side of her bed. You should take out your

earplugs. The noise isn’t so bad after a while. It reminds me

of that CD Dad plays on Halloween.

She removed them. Except it’s shaking the house.

And it isn’t make-believe.

Don’t you want to look out the window?

No! Stop talking about it!

Seth leaned over and turned on the nightlight —— a

glowing statuette of Snoopy. I don’t see the big deal. I

mean, there are all sorts of cool things out there right now.

What’s wrong with just taking a little peek?

Grandpa said not to get out of your bed!

Grandpa lets people look when they get older, Seth

said. Dale told me. So it can’t be that dangerous. Grandpa

just thinks I’m an idiot.

Yeah, and he’s right!

Think about it. You wouldn’t want to run across a

tiger out in the wilderness. You’d be scared to death. But at

a zoo, who cares? It can’t get you. This room is safe.

Peeking out the window will be like looking at a zoo full of

monsters.

More like looking out of a shark cage.

A sudden, staccato flurry of pounding shook the roof,

as if a team of horses were galloping across the shingles.

Seth flinched, raising his arms protectively. Kendra heard

the creak and rattle of wagon wheels.

Don’t you want to see what that was? Seth asked.

Are you trying to tell me that didn’t scare you?

I expect to be scared. That’s the whole point!

If you don’t get back in bed, warned Kendra, I’m

telling Grandpa in the morning.

Don’t you want to see who’s playing the drums?

Seth, I’m not kidding. You probably won’t even be

able to see anything.

We have a telescope.

Something outside roared, a thunderous bellow of bestial

ferocity. It was enough to silence the conversation. The

night continued to rage. The roar came again, if anything

with greater intensity, momentarily drowning out all the

other commotion.

Kendra and Seth eyed one another. I bet it’s a dragon,

he said breathlessly, running over to the window.

Seth, no!

Seth pulled aside the curtain. The four jack-o-lanterns

shed a mellow illumination across the portion of the roof

directly beyond the window. For a moment Seth thought

he saw something swirling in the darkness at the edge of

the light, a whirling mass of silky black fabric. Then he saw

only blackness.

No stars, he reported.

Seth, get away from there. Kendra had her sheets

pulled up to her eyes.

He squinted through the window a moment longer.

Too dark; I can’t see anything. A glimmering fairy floated

up from one of the jack-o-lanterns, peering at Seth through

the slightly warped windowpane. Hey, a fairy came out.

The tiny fairy waved an arm and was joined by three others.

One made a face at Seth, and then all four streaked

away into the night.

Now he could see nothing. Seth closed the curtain and

backed away from the window. You had your look,

Kendra said. Are you satisfied?

The fairies in the jack-o-lanterns flew away, he said.

Nice work. They probably saw who they were guarding.

Actually, I think you’re right. One made a face at me.

Get back in bed, Kendra ordered.

The drumming ceased, along with the chanting. The

ghostly wind grew quiet. The howls and screams and laughter

diminished in volume and frequency. Something pattered

across the roof. Then… silence.

Something’s wrong, Seth whispered.

They probably saw you; get back in bed.

I have a flashlight in my emergency kit. He went to

the nightstand by his bed and withdrew a small flashlight

from the cereal box.

Kendra kicked off her sheets and lunged at Seth, tackling

him onto his bed. She wrenched the flashlight from his

grasp and pushed off him to regain her feet. He charged

her. Twisting, she used his momentum to shove him onto

her bed.

Quit it, Seth, or I’ll go get Grandpa right now!

I’m not the one starting a fight! His expression was a

portrait of wounded resentment. She hated when he tried

to act like the victim after initiating trouble.

Neither am I.

First you hit me, then you jump on me?

You stop breaking the rules or I’m going straight

downstairs.

You’re worse than the witch. Grandpa should build

you a shack.

Get in your bed.

Give me my light. I bought it with my own money.

They were interrupted by the sound of a baby crying.

There was nothing desperate about it, just the bawling of

an upset infant. The crying seemed to emanate from outside

the darkened window.

A little baby, Seth said.

No, it’s some trick.

Maaamaaaaaaa, the baby whined.

Sounds pretty real, Seth said. Let me take a look.

It’s going to be a skeleton or something.

Seth grabbed the flashlight from Kendra. She neither

gave it to him nor prevented him from taking it. He jogged

over to the window. Holding the front of flashlight against

the windowpane, and cupping a hand around it to minimize

reflection, he switched it on.

Oh my gosh, he said. It really is a baby!

Anything else?

Just a crying baby. The crying stopped. Now he’s

looking at me.

Kendra could no longer resist. She went and stood

behind Seth. There on the roof just beyond the window

stood a tear-streaked toddler who looked barely old enough

to stand. The baby wore cloth diapers and nothing else. He

had wispy blonde curls and a little round tummy with an

outie bellybutton. Eyes brimming with tears, the child held

out its pudgy arms toward the window.

It has to be a trick, Kendra said. An illusion.

Spotlighted by the flashlight, the toddler took a step

toward the window and fell to all fours. He pouted, on the

verge of crying again. Standing up, the baby tried another

wobbly step. Goose bumps stood out on his chest and arms.

He looks real, said Seth. What if he’s real?

Why would a baby be on the roof?

The baby toddled to the window, pressing a chubby

palm against the glass. Something glinted in the light

behind him. Seth shifted the beam onto a pair of green-eyed

wolves approaching stealthily from the edge of the

roof. The animals paused as the light fell on them. Both

looked mangy and lean. One of the wolves bared sharp

teeth, foam frothing from its mouth. The other was missing

an eye.

They’re using him as bait! Seth yelled.

The baby looked back at the wolves, then turned back

toward Seth and Kendra, bawling with renewed vigor, fresh

tears streaming, tiny hands slapping the windowpanes. The

wolves charged. The toddler wailed.

In her cage, Goldilocks clucked wildly.

Seth threw open the window.

No! Kendra shouted, although she reflexively wanted

to do the same thing.

The instant the window opened, wind gushed into the

room, as if the air itself had been waiting to pounce. The

baby dove into the room, transforming grotesquely as it

landed on the floor in a deft somersault. The child was

replaced by a leering goblin with yellow slits for eyes, a

puckered nose, and a face like a dried cantaloupe. Bald and

scabrous on top, the head was fringed by long, weblike hair.

The sinuous arms were gangly, the hands long and leathery,

tipped with hooked claws. Ribs, collarbones, and pelvis

jutted hideously. Spidery networks of veins bulged against

maroon flesh.

With supernatural haste, the wolves also sailed through

the window before Seth could move to close it. Kendra

shoved past Seth and jerked the window shut in time to

impede the entrance of a coldly beautiful woman swathed

in writhing black garments. The apparition’s dark hair

undulated like vapor in a breeze. Her pallid face was

slightly translucent. Gazing into those empty, searing eyes

froze Kendra where she stood. Babbling whispers filled her

mind. Her mouth felt dry. She could not swallow.

Seth yanked the curtains shut and tugged Kendra

toward the bed. Whatever trance had momentarily gorgonized

her dissolved. Disoriented, she ran alongside Seth

to the bed, sensing something in pursuit. When they leaped

onto the mattress, a brilliant light flared behind them,

accompanied by a crisp stutter like firecrackers.

Kendra twisted to get a look. The maroon goblin stood

near the bed, coddling its bony shoulder. The scowling

creature stood about as tall as Dale. Hesitantly it reached a

knobby hand toward her, and another bright flash sent it

staggering away.

The circle of salt! At first she had not grasped why

Seth was dragging her to the bed. At least one of them was

thinking! Glancing down, Kendra saw that the two-inch

dune of salt surrounding the bed indeed marked the line

the goblin could not cross.

A twelve-foot centipede with three sets of wings and

three pairs of taloned feet corkscrewed around the room in

a complex aerial display. A brutish monster with a pronounced

underbite and plates down its spine hurled a

wardrobe across the room. The wolves had shed their disguises

as well.

The maroon goblin cavorted around the room in a feral

tantrum, tearing down bookshelves, upsetting toy chests,

and snapping the horn off the rocking horse. It picked up

Goldilocks’s cage and flung it against the wall. The slender

bars crumpled and the door sprang open. The terrified

chicken took to ungainly flight in a flurry of golden

feathers.

Goldilocks was coming toward the bed. The winged

centipede struck at the flustered hen but missed. The

maroon demon made an acrobatic leap and caught the

chicken by both legs. Goldilocks clucked and squirmed in

mortal panic.

Seth jumped off the bed. Crouching, he scooped up

two handfuls from the circle of salt and charged the wiry

goblin. Now holding the chicken in one hand, the sneering

goblin rushed to meet him. An instant before the outstretched

hand of the demon reached him, Seth flung a

handful of salt. Releasing Goldilocks, the demon reeled

back, scorched by a blinding blaze.

The chicken made straight for the bed, and Seth tossed

his other handful of salt in a wide arc to cover their retreat,

scalding the flying centipede in the process. The bulky

creature with the underbite tried to beat Seth to the bed,

arriving too late and receiving a violent shock as it collided

with the invisible salt barrier. Back on the bed, Seth clung

to Goldilocks, arms quivering convulsively.

The maroon demon growled. His face and chest were

charred from the salt. Tendrils of smoke curled up from the

burns. Turning, the demon pulled a book from the shelf

and tore it in half.

The door flew open, and Dale leveled a shotgun at the

monster with the underbite. You kids stay put no matter

what! he called. All three monsters converged on the

doorway. Dale retreated down the stairs, gun silent. The

winged centipede spiraled out the door above the other

scrambling creatures.

They heard a shotgun blast from down in the hall.

Shut the door and stay put! Dale hollered.

Kendra ran and slammed the door, then sprinted back

to her bed. Seth held Goldilocks, tears streaming down his

cheeks. I didn’t mean for this to happen, he whimpered.

It’ll be okay.

From downstairs came repeated gunshots. Growls,

roars, shrieks, glass shattering, wood splintering. Outside,

the cacophonous uproar resumed louder than ever. Pagan

drums, ethereal choirs, tribal chanting, wailing lamentations,

guttural snarls, unnatural howls, and piercing screams

united in relentless disharmony.

Kendra, Seth, and Goldilocks sat on the bed awaiting

dawn. Kendra had to constantly fight images of the woman

with the swirling black garments. She could not get the

apparition out of her mind. When she had looked into

those soulless eyes, even though the lady was outside,

Kendra had felt certain there would be no escape.

Late in the night, the furor finally began to relent,

replaced by more unnerving sounds. Babies began to cry

beyond the window again, calling for mama. When that

failed to elicit a response, the voices of young children

pleaded for help.

Kendra, please hurry, they’re coming!

Seth, Seth, open up, help us! Seth, don’t leave us out

here!

After the cries went ignored for a while, snarls and

screams would simulate the demise of the young supplicants.

Then a new batch of solicitors began begging for

admittance.

Perhaps most disconcerting was when Grandpa was

inviting them down to breakfast. We made it, kids, the

sun is rising! Come on, Lena cooked hotcakes.

How do we know you’re our Grandpa? Kendra asked,

more than a little suspicious.

Because I love you. Hurry, the food’s getting cold.

I don’t think the sun is up yet, Seth replied.

It’s just a little cloudy this morning.

Go away, Kendra said.

Just let me in; I want to kiss you good morning.

Our Grandpa never kisses us, you sicko, Seth yelled.

Get out of our house!

The exchange was followed by vicious banging on the

door for a solid five minutes. The hinges shook, but the

door held.

The night wore on. Kendra leaned against the headboard

as Seth dozed at her side. Despite the noise, her eyelids

began to feel heavy.

Suddenly she jerked awake. Gray light was seeping

through the curtains. Goldilocks wandered the floor, pecking

at kernels from her spilled bucket of feed.

When the curtains were masking unmistakable sunlight,

Kendra nudged Seth. He looked around, blinking,

then crept to the window and peeked out.

The sun is officially up, he announced. We made it.

I’m scared to go downstairs, whispered Kendra.

Everybody’s fine, Seth said nonchalantly.

Then why haven’t they come to get us?

Seth had no response. Kendra had gone easy on him

during the night. The consequences for opening the window

were brutal enough without placing blame and starting

arguments. And Seth had really acted remorseful. But

now he was reverting to his idiot self.

Kendra glared at him. You realize you might have

killed them all.

His face fell and he turned away, shoulders shaking

with sobs. He buried his face in his hands. They’re

probably fine, he squeaked. Dale had a gun and everything.

They know how to handle themselves.

Kendra felt bad, seeing that Seth clearly was worried

too. She went to him and tried to give him a hug. He

shoved her away. Leave me alone.

Seth, whatever happened isn’t your fault.

Of course it’s my fault! His nose was getting

congested.

I mean, they tricked us. I sort of wanted to open the

window too, when I saw those wolves charging. You know,

in case it wasn’t fake.

I knew it might be a trick, he sobbed. But that baby

looked so real. I thought they might have kidnapped him

to use him as bait. I thought I could save him.

You were trying to do the right thing. She attempted

to hug him once more, but he pushed her away again.

Don’t, he snapped.

I didn’t mean to blame you, said Kendra. You were

acting like you didn’t even care.

Of course I care! You don’t think I’m terrified to go

down there and find out what I did?

You didn’t do it. They tricked you. I would have

opened the window if you hadn’t.

If I would have stayed in bed none of it would have

happened, Seth lamented.

Maybe they’re fine.

Right. And they let a monster come in the house and

up to our door pretending to be Grandpa.

Maybe they had to hide down in the basement or

someplace.

Seth was no longer crying. He picked up a doll and

used her dress to wipe his nose. I hope so.

Just in case something bad did happen, you can’t

blame yourself. All you did was open a window. If those

monsters did something bad, it’s their fault.

Partly.

Grandpa and Lena and Dale all know that living here

is risky. I’m sure they’re fine, but if they aren’t, you mustn’t

blame yourself.

Whatever.

I’m serious.

I like it better when you’re funny.

You know what I liked? Kendra said.

What?

When you saved Goldilocks.

He laughed, snorting a little through his stuffy nostrils.

Did you see how bad the salt burned that guy? He

retrieved the doll and wiped his nose again on the dress.

It was really brave.

I’m just glad it worked.

It was quick thinking.

Seth glanced at the door and then back at Kendra. We

should probably go check out the damage.

If you say so.

Aftermath

Kendra knew it would be bad the moment she opened

the door. Ragged gouges furrowed the walls of the

stairwell. Crude pictograms defaced the far side of the door,

along with an abundance of less orderly nicks and

scratches. Near the base of the stairs, a crusty brown substance

was smeared on the wall.

I’m grabbing some salt, Seth said. He returned to the

ring around the bed and filled his hands and pockets with

the salt that had scorched the intruder the night before.

When Seth rejoined her, Kendra started down the

stairs. The steps creaked loudly in the quiet house. The hall

at the bottom was worse than the stairway. Again the walls

had been savagely raked by claws. The bathroom door was

off its hinges and had three splintery holes of different sizes.

Patches of carpeting were burned and stained.

Kendra moved down the hall, appalled by the aftermath

of the violent night. A smashed mirror. A broken

light fixture. A table reduced to kindling. And at the end

of the hall, a gaping rectangle instead of a window.

Looks like they let others in, Kendra said, pointing

down the hall.

Seth was examining singed hairs in a damp stain on the

floor. Grandpa? he yelled. Anybody!

The silence was an ominous answer.

Kendra descended the stairs to the entry hall. Sections

of the banister were gone. The front door hung askew, an

arrow protruding from the frame. Primitive drawings

marred the walls, some scored, others scrawled.

In a trance, Kendra roamed the lower rooms of the

house. The place had been gutted. Almost all the windows

were destroyed. Battered doors lay far from their frames.

Mutilated furniture bled stuffing onto mangled carpeting.

Shredded drapes dangled in tattered ribbons. Chandeliers

lay in shattered ruins. Half of one charred sofa was entirely

missing.

Kendra wandered to the back porch. Wind chimes lay

in tangles. The furniture was scattered around the garden.

A broken rocking chair balanced atop a fountain. A wicker

love seat protruded from a hedge.

Back in the house, Kendra found Seth in Grandpa’s

office. It looked as if an anvil had fallen on the desk.

Pulverized memorabilia littered the floor.

Everything’s trashed, Seth said.

It looks like a demolition team came through here

with sledgehammers.

Or hand grenades. Seth indicated where tar appeared

to have been slopped against the wall. Is that blood?

It looks too dark to be human.

Seth picked his way around the splintered desk to the

empty window. Maybe they got out.

I hope so.

Out on the lawn, Seth said. Is that a person?

Kendra approached the window. Dale? she shouted.

The prone figure did not move. Come on, Seth said,

hurrying through the wreckage.

Kendra followed him out the front door and around to

the side of the house. They dashed over to the figure lying

supine near an overturned birdbath.

Oh, no, Seth said.

It was a painted statue of Dale. A faithful replica,

except the paint was more simplified than his actual coloring

would have been. His head was turned to one side, eyes

squinted shut, arms raised protectively. The proportions

were exact. He was wearing the same outfit he had worn

the previous night.

Kendra touched the figure. It was made of metal,

clothes and all. Bronze, maybe? Lead? Steel? She rapped

her knuckles against the forearm. Sounded solid. No hollow

ringing.

They turned him into a statue, Seth said.

You think it’s really him?

It has to be!

Help me flip him over.

Both of them strained, but Dale did not budge. He was

way too heavy.

I really blew it, Seth said, palms pressed against his

temples. What have I done?

Maybe we can change him back.

Seth kneeled down and put his mouth to Dale’s ear. If

you can hear me, give us a sign! he yelled.

The metallic figure made no response.

Do you think Grandpa and Lena are around here too?

Kendra asked.

We’ll have to look.

Kendra cupped her hands around her mouth.

Grandpa! Grandpa Sorenson! Lena! Can you hear me?

Look at this, Seth said, crouching beside the overturned

birdbath. The birdbath had tipped over toward a

flowerbed. In the flowerbed was a clear footprint-three

large toes and a narrow heel. The print was big enough to

suggest that it came from a creature at least the size of a

grown man.

Giant bird?

Check out the hole behind the heel. He stuck a finger

into a nickel-sized hole. A couple inches deep.

Weird.

Seth acted excited. It has a pointy thing on the back

of its heel, a spur or something.

Which means what?

We can probably track it.

Track it?

Seth moved forward in the direction the toes pointed,

scanning the ground. See! He crouched, pointing at a

hole in the lawn. That spur digs deep. It should leave a

clear trail.

And what happens if you catch up to whatever made

the tracks?

He patted his pockets. I throw some salt and rescue

Grandpa.

How do you know it took Grandpa?

I don’t, he admitted. But it’s a start.

What if it turns you into a painted statue?

I won’t look directly at it. Just in mirrors.

Where’d you get that from?

History.

You don’t even know what you’re talking about,

Kendra said.

We’ll see about that. I better get my camo shirt.

First let’s make sure there aren’t any other statues in

the yard.

Fine, then I’m out of here. I don’t want the trail getting

cold.

After scouring the yard for half an hour, Kendra and

Seth had come across various articles of furniture from the

house or porch in unexpected locations, but they had

found no other life-sized painted statues. They ended up by

the swimming pool.

Have you noticed the butterflies? Kendra asked.

Yeah.

Anything special about them?

Seth slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand.

We haven’t had milk today!

Yep. No fairies, just bugs.

If those fairies are smart, they won’t show their faces

around here, growled Seth.

Yeah, you’ll show them. What do you want to be this

time? A giraffe?

None of this would have happened if they had kept

guarding the window.

You did torture one of them, Kendra pointed out.

They tortured me back! We’re even.

Whatever we do, we should drink some milk first.

They went into the house. The refrigerator was lying

on its side. Together they pried the door open. Some of the

milk bottles had broken, but a few were intact. Kendra

grabbed one, uncapped it, and took a sip. Seth drank next.

I need my stuff, he said, bolting for the stairs.

Kendra started searching for clues. Wouldn’t Grandpa

have tried to leave them a message? Maybe there hadn’t

been time. She walked through the rooms, but encountered

no hints to explain the fate of either Lena or Grandpa.

Seth showed up in his camouflage shirt, carrying the

cereal box. I was trying to find that shotgun. You haven’t

seen it?

Nope. There’s an arrow by the front door. You could

toss that at the monster.

I think I’ll stick with the salt.

We never checked the basement, Kendra said.

Worth a try.

They opened the door by the kitchen and stared down

into the gloom. Kendra realized it was just about the only

undamaged door in the house. Stone steps led into the

darkness.

How about that flashlight? Kendra said.

No light switch? he asked. They couldn’t find one.

He rummaged in the cereal box and withdrew the

flashlight.

With some salt from his pocket clutched in one hand

and the flashlight in the other, Seth led the way. It was a

longer flight than would ordinarily lead to a basement —— more

than twenty steep stairs. At the bottom the flashlight

beam illuminated a short, barren hallway ending at an iron

door.

They walked to the door. It had a keyhole below the

handle. Seth tugged the handle, but the door was locked.

There was a small hatch at the base of the door.

What’s this? he asked.

It’s for brownies, so they can come in and fix stuff.

He pushed open the hatch. Grandpa! Lena!

Anybody!

They waited in vain for a reply. He called once more

before standing and shining his light into the keyhole.

None of your keys would fit this? he asked.

They’re way too small.

There might be a key stashed in Grandpa’s bedroom.

If they were down here, I think they’d answer.

Kendra and Seth started back up the stairs. At the top,

they heard a loud, deep groan that lasted at least ten seconds.

The penetrating sound came from outside. It was

much too powerful to have been made by a human. They

raced to the back porch. The groan had ended. It was difficult

to say from which direction it had originated.

They waited, looking around, expecting a recurrence of

the unusual sound. After a tense minute or two, Kendra

broke the silence. What was it?

I bet it was whatever has Grandpa and Lena, Seth

said. And it didn’t sound too far off.

It sounded big.

Yeah.

Like whale big.

We have the salt, Seth reminded her. We need to

follow that trail.

Are you sure that’s a good idea?

You have a better one?

I don’t know. Wait and see if they show up? Maybe

they’ll escape.

If that hasn’t happened by now, it isn’t going to. We’ll

be careful, and we’ll make sure to get back before dark.

We’ll be fine. We have the salt. That stuff works like acid.

If something goes wrong, who saves us? Kendra asked.

You don’t have to come. But I’m going.

Seth hurried down the porch steps and started across

the yard. Kendra reluctantly followed. She wasn’t sure how

they would pull off a rescue if scalding the monster with

salt failed, but Seth was right about one thing-they

couldn’t just abandon Grandpa.

Kendra caught up with Seth at the flowerbed where

they had originally found the prints. Combing through the

grass together, they followed a series of nickel-sized holes

across the lawn. The holes were spaced roughly five feet

apart and followed a generally straight line, passing the

barn and eventually leaving the yard along a narrow path

into the woods.

No longer obscured by grass, the tracks were even easier

to follow. They passed a couple of intersecting paths,

but the way was always certain. The prints of whatever

creature had left the holes were unmistakable. They made

rapid progress. Kendra remained alert, searching the trees

for mythical beasts, but spotted nothing more spectacular

than a goldfinch and some chipmunks.

I’m starving, Seth announced.

I’m okay. I’m getting sleepy, though.

Just don’t think about it.

My throat is getting sore, Kendra went on. You

know, we’ve been up almost thirty hours.

I’m not that tired, Seth said. Just hungry. We should

have foraged for food in the pantry. It can’t all be smashed.

We must not be too hungry if we didn’t think about it

at the time.

Suddenly Seth stopped short. Uh-oh.

What?

Seth went several paces forward. Leaning close to the

ground, he worked his way back past Kendra. He went forward

again more slowly, kicking aside any leaves or

branches on the trail. Kendra realized the problem before

Seth vocalized it. No more holes.

She helped scan the ground. They both scrutinized the

same segment of the path multiple times before Seth began

to search off the trail. This could be bad, he said.

There’s a lot of undergrowth, Kendra agreed.

If we could even find one hole, we’d know which

direction it went.

If it left the path, we’ll never be able to follow it.

Seth crawled on hands and knees along the edge of the

path, sifting through the mulch beneath the undergrowth.

Kendra picked up a stick and used it to poke around.

Don’t make any holes, Seth cautioned.

I’m just moving leaves.

You could do it with your hands.

If I wanted bug bites and a rash.

Hey, this is it. He showed Kendra a hole about five

feet from the last one on the path. It turned left.

Diagonally. She made a line with her hand connecting

the two dots and continuing into the woods.

But it might have turned more, Seth said. We

should find another one.

Finding the next hole took almost fifteen minutes. It

proved that the creature had indeed turned almost directly

to the left, perpendicular to the path.

What if it kept turning? Kendra said.

It would sort of be backtracking if it turned more.

Maybe it wanted to throw off pursuit.

Seth went forward five feet and found the next hole

almost instantly. It confirmed that the new course was perpendicular

to the trail.

The undergrowth isn’t as bad here, Seth said.

Seth, it would take all day to track it twenty paces.

I don’t mean to track it. Just to walk in this direction

for a while. Maybe it will intersect a trail and we can pick

up tracks again. Or maybe it lives not much farther ahead.

Kendra put a hand in her pocket, feeling for salt. I

don’t like the idea of leaving the trail.

Me neither. We won’t go far. But this thing seems to

like trails. It followed one all this way. We may be close to

a discovery. It’s worth going a little ways just to check.

Kendra stared at her brother. Okay, and what if we run

into a cave?

We take a look.

What if we hear breathing coming from the cave?

You don’t have to go in. I’ll look myself. The point is

finding Grandpa.

Kendra bit her tongue. She almost said that if they

found him out here, it would probably be in pieces. Okay,

just a little ways.

They walked in a straight line away from the path.

They kept scanning the ground, but noticed no more holes.

Before long they crossed a dry, rocky streambed. Not far

beyond, they wandered into a little meadow. The brush and

wildflowers in the meadow grew nearly waist high.

I don’t see any other trails, Kendra said. Or any

monster houses.

Let’s take a good look around the meadow, said Seth.

He made a complete search of the perimeter of the

meadow, finding neither holes nor trails.

Let’s face it, Kendra said. If we try to go any farther,

we’ll be wandering blind.

What about climbing that hill? Seth suggested, indicating

the highest point visible from the meadow, less than

a quarter-mile away. If I were going to make a home

around here, it would be over there. Plus, if we get up

there, we’ll have a better view of the area. These trees

make it hard to see.

Kendra pressed her lips together. The hill was not

steep; it would be easy to climb. And it was not too far

away. If we don’t find anything there, we go back?

Deal.

They marched toward the hill, which was along a different

line from the course they had originally taken from

the path. As they picked their way through denser underbrush,

a twig snapped off to one side. They paused,

listening.

I’m getting pretty nervous, Kendra said softly.

We’re fine. Probably just a falling pinecone.

Kendra tried to push away images of the pallid woman

with the swirling black garments. The thought of her made

Kendra freeze. If she saw her out in the woods, Kendra worried

she would just curl up in a ball on the ground and let

herself be taken.

I’m losing track of which way we’re going, she said.

Back under the trees, the line of sight to both hill and

meadow was disrupted.

I have my compass.

So if all else fails, we can find the North Pole.

The trail we followed went northwest, Seth assured

her. Then we left it going southwest. The hill is to the

west, the meadow is east.

That’s pretty good.

The only trick is paying attention.

Before long, the trees were thinning and they were

walking up the hill. With the trees farther apart, the underbrush

grew higher and the bushes bigger. Kendra and Seth

wound their way up the moderate slope toward the crest.

Do you smell that? Seth asked.

Kendra stopped. Like somebody cooking.

The smell was faint but, now that she noticed it, distinct.

Kendra studied the area with sudden alarm. Oh my

gosh, she said, crouching down.

What?

Get down.

Seth knelt beside her. Kendra pointed toward the crest

of the hill. Off to one side rose a feeble column of smoke ——

a thin, wavering distortion.

Yeah, he whispered. We may have found it.

Again she had to bite her tongue. She hoped someone

wasn’t cooking Grandpa. What do we do?

Stay here, said Seth. I’ll go check it out.

I don’t want to stay alone.

Then follow me, but stay back a bit. We don’t want to

both get caught at the same time. Keep salt ready.

Kendra did not need that reminder. Her only worry

about the salt was that her sweaty hands were going to turn

it to paste.

Seth crept ahead, staying low, using the bushes for

cover, gradually making his way toward the meager line of

smoke. Kendra imitated his movements, impressed that his

hours of playing army were finally paying off. Even as she

followed him, she struggled to come to terms with what

they were doing. Sneaking up on a monster cookout was

among the activities she could do without. Shouldn’t they

be sneaking away?

The trembling shaft of smoke grew nearer. Seth waved

her up to him. She huddled beside him behind a wide bush

twice her height, trying to breathe quietly. He put his lips

to her ear. I’ll be able to see what’s going on when I get

around this bush. I’ll try to yell if I get captured or anything.

Be ready.

She put her mouth to his ear. If you play a trick on me,

I promise I will kill you, I really will.

I won’t. I’m scared too.

He slunk forward. Kendra tried to calm herself. Waiting

was torture. She considered moving around the bush to

take a peek, but could not muster the courage. The silence

was good, right? Unless they had stealthily dropped Seth

with a poison dart.

The pause stretched mercilessly. Then she heard Seth

coming back less carefully than he had left. When he came

around the bush, he was walking upright, saying, Come

here, you have to see this.

What is it?

Nothing scary.

She went around the bush with him, still tense. Up

ahead, in a clear area near the summit of the hill, she saw

the source of the thin smoke-a waist-high cylinder of

stone with a wooden windlass and a dangling bucket. A

well?

Yeah. Come smell.

They walked to the well. Even up close, the rising

smoke remained vapory and indistinct. Kendra leaned over,

staring down into the deep darkness. Smells good.

Like soup, Seth said. Meat, veggies, spices.

Am I just hungry? It smells delicious.

I think so too. Should we try some?

Lower the bucket? Kendra asked skeptically.

Why not? Seth replied.

There could be creatures down there.

I don’t think so, he said.

You think it’s just a well full of stew, Kendra scoffed.

We are on a magical preserve.

As far as we know it could be poisonous.

It can’t hurt to take a look, Seth insisted. I’m starving.

Besides, not everything here is bad. I bet this is where

fairy people come for dinner. See, it even has a crank. He

began turning the windlass, spooling the bucket down into

the darkness.

I’m staying on lookout, said Kendra.

Good idea.

Kendra felt exposed. They were far enough from the

summit that she could not see anything on the far side of

the hill, but they were high enough that she commanded

an expansive view of trees and terrain when she looked

down the slope. With little cover surrounding the well, she

worried that unseen eyes might be spying from the foliage

below.

Seth continued unwinding the rope, sending the

bucket ever deeper. Eventually he heard it wetly hit bottom.

The rope slackened a bit. After a moment he began

winding the bucket back up.

Hurry, Kendra said.

I am. This thing is deep.

I’m worried everything in the forest can see us.

Here it comes. He stopped cranking and pulled the

bucket up the last few feet by hand, setting it on the lip of

the well.

Kendra joined him. Inside the wooden bucket, bits of

meat, cut carrots, potato fragments, and onion floated in a

fragrant yellow broth. Looks like a normal stew, Kendra

said.

Better than normal. I’m trying some.

Don’t! she warned.

Lighten up. He tweezed out a piece of dripping meat

and tried it. Good! he announced. He plucked out a

potato and offered a similar report. Tipping the bucket, he

slurped some of the broth. Amazing! he said. You have

to try it.

From behind the same bush they had used as their final

hiding place when approaching the well, a creature

emerged. From the waist up, he was a shirtless man with an

exceptionally hairy chest and a pair of pointy horns above

his forehead. From waist down he had the legs of a shaggy

goat. Wielding a knife, the satyr charged straight at them.

Both Kendra and Seth turned in alarm at the sound of

his hooves racing up the slope. Salt, Seth blurted, dipping

into his pockets.

As she fumbled for salt, Kendra dashed around the well,

placing it between herself and the attacker. Not Seth. He

stood his ground, and when the satyr was a couple of steps

away, he flung a fistful of salt at the goatman.

The satyr stopped short, obviously surprised by the

cloud of salt. Seth threw a second handful, groping in his

pockets for more. The salt failed to spark or sizzle. Instead,

the satyr appeared bewildered.

What are you doing? he asked in a hushed tone.

I could ask you the same question, Seth replied.

No you can’t. You’re spoiling our operation. The satyr

lunged past Seth and slashed the rope with his knife. She’s

coming.

Who?

I’d save the questions for later, the satyr said. He

wound the rope until it was tight around the windlass,

seized the bucket, and started down the hill, spilling soup

as he went. From the far side of the hill, Kendra heard

foliage rustling and branches crunching. She and Seth followed

the satyr.

The satyr slid into the bush Kendra had crouched

behind earlier. Kendra and Seth dove in alongside him.

An instant after they ducked out of sight, a bulky,

hideous woman lumbered into view and approached the

well. She had a broad, flat face with saggy earlobes that

hung almost to her hefty shoulders. Her misshapen bosom

drooped inside a coarse, homespun tunic. Her avocado skin

had a ridged texture like corduroy, her graying hair was

shaggy and matted, and her build bordered on obese. The

well barely came to her knees, making her considerably

taller than Hugo. She waddled from side to side as she

walked, and she was breathing heavily through her mouth.

Bending over, she pawed at the well, stroking the

wooden frame. The ogress can’t see much, the satyr

whispered.

When he said it, the ogress jerked her head up. She

yammered something in a guttural language. Shambling a

couple of steps away from the well, she squatted down and

sniffed at the ground where Seth had thrown his salt.

There been peoples here, she accused in a husky,

accented voice. Where you peoples be?

The satyr placed a finger against his lips. Kendra held

perfectly still, trying to breathe softly despite her alarm.

She tried to plan which direction she would run.

The ogress lumbered down the slope toward their hiding

place, sniffing high and low. I heared peoples. I

smelled peoples. And I smell my stew. Peoples been at my

stew again. You come out now to apologize.

The satyr shook his head, slitting his throat with a finger

for emphasis. Seth slid a hand into a pocket. The satyr

touched his wrist and shook his head with a scowl.

The ogress had already closed half the distance to the

bush. You peoples like my stew so much, maybe you take a

bath in it.

Kendra resisted the urge to bolt. The ogress would be

on them in moments. But the satyr seemed to know what

he was doing. He held up a hand, tacitly signaling for them

to keep still.

Without warning, something began crashing through

the bushes about twenty yards to their right. The ogress

pivoted and stumbled toward the ruckus with a quick,

awkward gait.

The satyr nodded. They scrambled out of the bush and

started down the hill. Behind them, the ogress skidded to

a halt and changed direction, coming after them. The goatman

pitched the bucket of stew into a tangled patch of

thorns and bounded over a fallen log. Kendra and Seth

sprinted after him.

Propelled by her downward momentum, Kendra found

herself taking larger steps than she wanted. Each time her

foot touched the ground became a fresh opportunity to lose

her balance and tumble forward. Seth stayed a couple of

steps ahead of her, and the swift satyr was gradually increasing

his lead.

Heedless of obstacles, the ogress pursued them noisily,

trampling bushes and tearing through branches. She

breathed in damp, wheezing gasps and cursed periodically,

reverting to her unintelligible native tongue. Despite her

cumbersome size and apparent exhaustion, the misshapen

ogress was rapidly gaining.

The slope leveled out. Behind Kendra the ogress fell,

branches and deadfalls snapping like fireworks. Kendra

glanced back, catching a glimpse of the burly ogress surging

to her feet.

The satyr led them into a shallow ravine, where they

found the wide entrance to a dark tunnel. This way, he

said, dashing into the tunnel. Although it looked spacious

enough for the ogress to enter, Seth and Kendra followed

without question. The satyr appeared confident, and he

had been right so far.

The tunnel grew darker the deeper they ran. Heavy

footsteps followed them. Kendra glanced back. The ogress

filled the subterranean passageway, blocking out much of

the light filtering in from the opening.

It became hard to see the satyr up ahead. The tunnel

was growing narrower. Close behind Kendra, the ogress

gasped and coughed. Hopefully she would have a heart

attack and collapse.

For a space, the darkness became complete. Then it

began to brighten. The tunnel continued to shrink. Soon

Kendra had to crouch, and the walls were within reach at

either side. The satyr slackened his pace, looking back with

a mischievous grin. Kendra checked over her shoulder as

well.

The panting ogress crawled and then scooted forward

on her belly, wheezing and choking. When she could worm

no farther, she roared in frustration, a strained, throaty cry.

After that it sounded like she vomited.

Up ahead the satyr was crawling. The passage slanted

upward. They emerged through a small gap into a bowl-shaped

depression. A second satyr stood waiting for them.

The second had redder hair than the first and slightly

longer horns. He motioned for them to follow.

The two satyrs and two children charged recklessly

through the woods for a few more minutes. When they

arrived at a clearing with a tiny pond, the redheaded satyr

stopped and faced the others.

What was the idea, ruining our operation? he asked.

Clumsy work, the other satyr agreed.

We didn’t know, Kendra said. We thought it was a

well.

You thought a chimney was a well? the redhead complained.

I suppose you sometimes mistake icicles for carrots?

Or wagons for outhouses?

It had a bucket, Seth said.

And it was in the ground, Kendra added.

They have a point, the other satyr said.

You were on the roof of the ogress’s lair, explained the

redhead.

We get it now, Seth said. We thought it was a hill.

Nothing wrong with pinching a bit of soup from her

cauldron, the redhead continued. We try to be free with

our assets. But you need to use some delicacy. A little

finesse. At least wait until the old lady falls asleep. Who

are you, anyhow?

Seth Sorenson.

Kendra.

I am Newel, said the redhead. This is Doren. You

realize we’ll probably have to construct a whole new rigging?

She’ll rip the old one down, Doren explained.

Almost more work than cooking our own stew,

Newel huffed.

We can’t make it come out like she does, Doren

mourned.

She has a gift, Newel agreed.

We’re sorry, Kendra said. We were a little lost.

Doren waved a hand. Don’t worry. We just like to

bluster. If you spoiled our wine, that would be another

story.

Still, Newel said, a guy has to eat, and free stew is

free stew.

We’ll try to find a way to repay you, Kendra said.

So will we, Newel said.

You don’t happen to have any… batteries? Doren

asked.

Batteries? Seth asked, wrinkling his nose.

Size C, Newel clarified.

Kendra folded her arms. Why do you want batteries?

They’re shiny, Newel said, nudging Doren with an

elbow.

We worship them, Doren said, nodding sagely. They

seem like little gods to us.

The kids stared at the goatmen in disbelief, unsure how

to continue the conversation. They were obviously lying.

Okay, Newel said. We have a portable television.

Don’t tell Stan.

We had a mountain of batteries, but we ran out.

And our supplier is no longer employed here.

We could work out an arrangement. Newel spread his

hands diplomatically. Some batteries to repent for disrupting

our stew siphoning-

Then we can trade for more. Gold, booze, you name

it. Doren lowered his voice slightly. Of course, we would

need to keep our arrangement private.

Stan doesn’t like us watching the tube, said Newel.

You know our Grandpa? Seth asked.

Who doesn’t? Newel said.

You haven’t seen him lately? Kendra asked.

Sure, just last week, Doren said.

I mean since last night.

No, why? Newel said.

Haven’t you heard? Seth asked.

The satyrs shrugged at each other. What’s the news?

Newel asked.

Our Grandpa was kidnapped last night, Kendra said.

Your grandfather is a kid? Newel said.

They mean he was abducted, Doren clarified.

Kendra nodded. Creatures got into the house and took

him and our housekeeper.

Not Dale? Doren asked.

We don’t think so, Seth said.

Newel shook his head. Poor Dale. Never been very popular.

Lousy sense of humor, Doren agreed. Too quiet.

You guys don’t know who might have taken them?

Kendra asked.

On Midsummer Eve? Newel said, tossing up his

hands. Anybody. Your guess would be better than mine.

Could you help us find him? Seth asked.

The satyrs shared an uneasy glance. Yeah, ouch,

Newel began uncomfortably, this is a bad week for us.

Lots of commitments, Doren confirmed, backing

away.

You know, now that I’ve thought on it, Newel said, we

may have needed a new rigging on the chimney anyhow.

How about we go our separate ways and call it even?

Don’t take anything we said to heart, Doren said.

We were just being satirical.

Seth stepped forward. Do you know something you

aren’t telling us?

It isn’t that, Newel said, continuing his slow retreat.

It’s just Midsummer Day. We’re booked.

Thanks for helping us get away from the ogress,

Kendra said.

Our pleasure, Newel replied.

All part of the package, Doren added.

Could you guys at least point us toward home? Seth

asked.

The satyrs stopped retreating. Doren extended an arm.

There’s a path over there.

When you reach it, go right, Newel said.

That will get you started in the right direction.

Give our best to Stan when he turns up.

The satyrs hastily turned and dashed off into the trees.

Chapter Twelve

Inside the Barn

Kendra and Seth located the path just as the satyrs had

instructed, and soon reencountered the nickel-sized

holes that served as a perfect trail of breadcrumbs toward

home. Those goat guys were idiots, Seth said.

They did save us from the ogress, Kendra reminded

him.

They could have helped us rescue Grandpa but they

blew us off. He wore a scowl as they continued along the

path.

As they neared the yard, they heard the inhuman groan

again, the same sound they had heard while exiting the

basement, only louder than ever. They halted. The perplexing

sound was coming from up ahead. A long, plaintive

moan, comparable to a blast from a foghorn.

Seth dug some of the remaining salt out of a pocket and

rushed ahead. With their quickened pace, they were soon

back at the edge of the yard. Everything appeared normal.

They saw no hulking behemoth capable of the enormous

sound they had heard.

You know, that salt didn’t do much to the satyr,

Kendra whispered.

It probably only burns the bad creatures, he replied.

I think the ogre lady picked some up.

It was all mixed in the dirt by then. You saw it torch

those guys last night.

They waited, hesitant to enter the yard. Now what?

Kendra asked.

The mighty groan resounded across the yard, nearer

and louder. The shingles on the barn rattled.

It’s coming from the barn, Seth said.

We never looked there! Kendra said.

I didn’t think about it.

The monstrous groan blared a third time. The barn

shuddered. Birds flew up from the eaves.

You think something took Grandpa and Lena to the

barn? Kendra said.

Sounds like it’s still there.

Grandpa told us never to enter the barn.

I think I’m already grounded, Seth said.

No, I mean what if he keeps ferocious creatures in

there? It might have nothing to do with his disappearance.

It’s our best chance. Where else are we going to look?

We have no other clues. The tracks were a dead end. At

least we should try to get a peek inside.

Seth started for the barn, with Kendra following reluctantly

behind. The towering structure rose a good five stories

tall, topped by a weather vane in the shape of a bull.

Kendra had never studied it for entrances until now. She

noted the obvious set of large double doors in the front,

along with some smaller access doors along the side.

The barn creaked and then started shaking as if there

were an earthquake. The sound of timbers splitting filled

the air, followed by another mournful moan.

Seth glanced back at Kendra. Something huge was in

there. A few moments later the barn grew still.

Chains and a heavy padlock bound the double doors in

front, so Seth moved along the side of the building, quietly

trying the smaller doors. All were locked. The barn had

several windows, but the lowest were three stories off the

ground.

They stealthily circled the entire building, finding no

doors unlocked. There weren’t even any cracks or peepholes.

Grandpa sealed this place up tight, Kendra

whispered.

We may have to make some noise to get inside, Seth

said. He started circling the building again.

I’m not sure that would be smart.

I’ll wait until the barn starts shaking again. Seth sat

down in front of a small door, little more than three feet

high. Minutes passed.

Think it knows we’re waiting? Kendra asked.

You’re just bad luck.

Stop saying that.

A fairy glided over near them. Seth tried to shoo it

away. Get out of here. The fairy effortlessly dodged his

shooing motions. The more vigorously he waved her away,

the closer she came.

Stop it, you’re just egging her on, Kendra said.

I’m sick of fairies.

Then ignore her and maybe she’ll leave.

He stopped paying attention to the fairy. She came up

right behind his head. When the proximity earned no reaction,

the fairy landed on his head. Seth slapped at her,

missing as she wove around his intended blows. Just when

he jumped to his feet to chase her, the booming groan

came again. The little door trembled.

Seth plopped back down and started ramming the door

with both feet. The moaning muffled most of the impact’s

noise. On the fifth kick, the edge of the little door split and

swung open.

Seth rolled away from the opening, and Kendra stepped

aside as well. Digging in his pockets, Seth withdrew the

remnants of his salt. Want some? he mouthed.

Kendra accepted some salt. A second or two later, the

deafening moaning ceased. Seth gestured for Kendra to

wait. He crept through the small door. Kendra waited,

squeezing the salt in her palm.

Seth reappeared in the opening wearing an inscrutable

expression. You have to see this, he said.

What?

Don’t worry. Come look.

Kendra ducked through the little doorway. The enormous

barn contained just one cavernous room with a few

closets around the perimeter. The entire room was dominated

by a single gigantic cow.

Not what I expected, Kendra murmured in disbelief.

She gawked at the colossal bovine in amazement. The

huge head was up near the rafters, forty or fifty feet in the

air. A hayloft spanning an entire side of the building served

as a feedbox. The cow’s hooves were the size of hot tubs.

The tremendous udder was absolutely bulging. Milk beaded

and dripped from teats almost the size of punching bags.

The gargantuan cow cocked its head, staring down at

the newcomers to the barn. It let out a long moo, making

the barn shake simply by shifting its stance.

Holy cow, Kendra muttered.

You can say that again. I doubt Grandpa will be running

out of milk anytime soon.

We’re friends, Kendra called up to the cow. The cow

tossed its head and began munching from the hayloft.

Why haven’t we heard this thing before? Seth

wondered.

She probably never moos. I think she’s in pain,

Kendra observed. See how swollen the udder looks? I bet

it could fill a swimming pool.

Seriously.

Somebody probably milks her every morning.

And nobody did today, said Seth.

They stood and stared. The cow continued munching

from the hayloft. Seth pointed at the back of the barn.

Look at the manure!

Sick!

The world’s biggest cow pie!

You would notice that.

The cow let out another bellowing complaint, the most

insistent so far. They clamped their hands over their ears

until the lowing stopped.

We probably should try to milk her, Kendra said.

How are we supposed to do that! Seth cried.

There has to be a way. They must do it all the time.

We can’t even reach her thingies.

I bet that cow could tear this place apart if she wanted.

I mean, look at her! She keeps getting more upset. Her

udder looks like it’s about to burst. Who knows what kind

of powers she has. Her milk lets people see fairies. The last

thing we need is a giant magical cow running around loose.

It could be total mayhem.

Folding his arms, Seth surveyed the task. This is

impossible.

We need to search the closets. Maybe they have special

tools.

What about Grandpa?

We’re out of leads, said Kendra. If we don’t milk this

cow, we could end up with a new disaster on our hands.

In the closets they found a variety of tools and equipment,

but no obvious gear for milking gargantuan

cows. There were empty barrels all around, in and out of

closets, which Kendra figured must be used for catching

milk. In one closet Kendra found a couple of A-frame

ladders. These might be all we need, she said.

How do we even get our hands around those things?

We don’t.

There has to be a gigantic milking machine, Seth

said.

I’m not seeing anything like that. But it might work if

we just hug and drop.

Are you nuts?

Why not? Kendra said, motioning between the teats

and the floor. It isn’t that far from the nipples to the

ground.

We’re not trying to use barrels?

No, we can waste the milk. Barrels would get in the

way. We just need to relieve the pressure.

What if she steps on us?

She hardly has any room to move. If we stay under the

udder, we’ll be fine.

They dragged the ladders into position, one beside each

of two teats on the same side of the mammoth cow. They

climbed the ladders. Only by standing one rung from the

top were they high enough to grip the teat near the udder.

Seth stood waiting while Kendra tried to get into position.

These feel wobbly, she said.

Balance.

She hesitantly stood upright. It felt a lot higher than it

had looked from the ground. You ready?

No. I bet this barn will hold her.

We have to at least try.

Hug the thingy and slide down? Seth asked.

We’ll trade off, you, then me, then you, then me.

Then we’ll do the other side.

How about you start it?

You’re better at this sort of stuff, Kendra said.

That’s true, I milk a lot of giant cows. I’ll show you my

trophies sometime.

Seriously, you start, urged Kendra.

What if it hurts her?

I don’t think we’re big enough. I’m more worried that

we’re not going to be able to get any out.

So I should squeeze as hard as I can, Seth confirmed.

Sure.

Once I do it, you’ll do it, and we’ll just keep going as

fast as we can.

And if I ever find a giant cow milking trophy, I’ll buy

it for you, Kendra offered.

I’d rather we kept it our little secret. You ready?

Go for it.

Hesitantly Seth placed a hand against the huge teat.

The cow mooed, and he recoiled, crouching and grabbing

the ladder with both hands to steady himself. Kendra tried

to stay balanced as she laughed. Finally the foghorn moo

ended.

I changed my mind, Seth said.

I’ll count to three, said Kendra.

You go first or I’m not doing it. I almost fell and wet

my pants at the same time.

One… two… three!

Seth stepped off the ladder, embracing the teat. He slid

down it and fell to the floor along with an impressive jet of

milk. Kendra stepped off and hugged the teat as well. Even

with her holding tightly, it slid through her embrace faster

than she expected. She hit the floor with warm milk

already soaking her jeans.

Seth was on his way back up the ladder. I’m already

disgusted, he said, stepping off and sliding down again.

This time he kept his feet when he landed. Kendra went up

and slid down again. Hugging as hard as she could, she

descended a little more slowly, but still fell over when she

hit the floor. Already milk was everywhere.

Soon they fell into a rhythm, both of them landing on

their feet most of the time. The engorged udder hung low,

and they got better at using the teat-hug to control their

fall. Milk gushed copiously. While they were sliding, the

teats sprayed like fire hoses. It must have been at least seventy

jumps each before the output began to slacken.

Other side, Kendra gasped, breathing hard.

My arms are dead, Seth complained.

We have to hurry.

They scooted the ladders over and repeated the process.

Kendra tried to pretend she was on a surreal playground,

where the kids waded in milk instead of sand and slid down

thick, meaty poles.

Kendra focused on climbing the ladder and landing as

lightly as possible. She worried that if either action became

routine, she could have a bad accident, spraining an ankle,

breaking a bone, or worse.

At the first sign that the flow of milk was slackening,

they collapsed in exhaustion, not worried about lying in

milk because their clothes and hair were already drenched.

Both of them gulped air desperately. Kendra put a hand to

her neck. My heart is beating like a jackhammer.

I thought I was going to puke, that was so foul, complained

Seth.

I’m more tired than sick.

Think about it. You’re dripping with warm, raw milk

while your face rubs down a cow nipple about a hundred

times.

More than that.

We doused the whole barn, Seth said. I’m never

drinking milk again.

I’m never going to the playground, Kendra vowed.

What?

Hard to explain.

Seth scanned the area under the cow. The floor has

drains, but I don’t think much of the milk is going down.

I saw a hose. I doubt the cow would like milk rotting

all over the place. Kendra sat up and squeezed milk out of

her hair. That was the best workout I ever had. I’m dead.

If I did that every day I’d look like Hercules, said

Seth.

You mind grabbing the ladders?

Not if you do the hosing.

The hose was long and had good water pressure, and

the drains seemed to have plenty of capacity. Flushing the

milk away turned out to be the easiest part of the process.

Seth had Kendra hose him off, and then returned the favor.

From the time the milking began in earnest, the cow

made no more noise and displayed no more interest in

them. They called for Grandpa and Lena in the barn, just

to be sure, starting with small voices to avoid startling the

cow and gradually building to shouts. As had been their lot

all day, their calls went unanswered.

Should we go back to the house? Kendra asked.

I guess. It will be dark before long.

I’m tired. And hungry. We should look for food.

They left the barn. The day was waning.

You have a big tear in your shirt, Kendra said.

I ripped it while we were running from that ogress.

I have a pink one you can borrow.

This will work fine, said Seth, once it dries off.

The pink one would hide you just as well as the camouflage,

Kendra said.

Are all girls as brainless as you?

You’re telling me a green shirt will make you invisible

to monsters?

No. Less visible. Less is the point. Less than your blue

one.

I guess I should find a green one too.

An Unexpected Message

Sitting on the floor in the dining room, Kendra took a

bite of her second peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.

Scouring the kitchen, she and Seth had found enough food

to last for weeks. The pantry contained canned fruits and

vegetables, unbroken jars of preserves, bread, oatmeal,

cream of wheat, crackers, tuna, and lots of other stuff.

The fridge still worked, even lying on its side, and they

cleaned out the broken glass the best they could. There

remained plenty of milk, cheese, and eggs. The freezer held

a lot of meat.

Kendra took another bite. Leaning back, she closed her

eyes. She had felt hungry enough for a second sandwich,

but now she doubted she would finish it. I’m exhausted,

she announced.

Me too, Seth said. He put a piece of cheese on a

cracker and topped it with a sardine bathed in mustard

sauce. My eyes feel itchy.

My throat feels prickly, Kendra said. The sun isn’t

even down.

What are we going to do about Grandpa?

I think the best thing we can do is get some rest. We’ll

think more clearly in the morning.

How long did we sleep last night? Seth asked.

About half an hour, Kendra guessed.

We’ve stayed up for almost two days!

Now you’ll sleep for two days.

Whatever, said Seth.

It’s true. Your glands will secrete a cocoon.

I’m not that gullible.

That’s why you’re so hungry. You’re storing up fat for

hibernation.

Seth finished the cracker. You should try a sardine.

I don’t eat fish with the heads still attached.

The heads are the best part! You can feel the eyes pop

when you-

Enough. Kendra stood up. I need to get to bed.

Seth rose as well. Me too.

They climbed the stairs, passed down the cluttered hall,

and mounted the steps to the attic. Their room had taken a

beating, everything except the beds. Goldilocks strutted

over to the corner and started clucking. Her feed was scattered

across the floor.

You’re right that the salt didn’t seem to be working,

Seth said.

It might only work in here.

They were jerks, but those goat guys were pretty

funny.

They’re called satyrs, Kendra said.

I need to find some C batteries. They said they’d give

us gold.

They didn’t say how much.

Still, trading batteries for gold! I could become a millionaire.

I’m not sure I’d trust those guys. Kendra flopped onto

her bed, face in her pillow. What does Goldilocks keep

clucking about?

I bet she misses her cage. Seth crossed the floor to the

flustered hen. Kendra, you better come see this.

Can I look in the morning? she said, her voice muffled

by the pillow.

You need to look now.

Kendra pushed herself off her bed and walked over to

Seth. In the corner on the floor, more than a hundred feed

kernels had been arranged to form six letters:

I M

GRAM

You’ve got to be kidding, Kendra said. She gave Seth

a suspicious glance. Did you write this?

No! No way!

Kendra squatted in front of Goldilocks. You’re my

Grandma Sorenson?

The hen bobbed her head, as if in affirmation.

Was that a yes?

The head bobbed again.

Give me a ‘no’ so I can be sure, Kendra said.

Goldilocks shook her head.

How did this happen? Seth asked. Somebody transformed

you?

The chicken bobbed her head.

How do we change you back? Kendra asked.

Goldilocks held still.

Why didn’t Grandpa change her back? Seth asked.

Did Grandpa Sorenson try to restore you? Kendra

inquired.

Goldilocks bobbed her head and then shook it.

Yes and no?

The head nodded.

He tried but failed, Kendra guessed.

The hen gave another affirmative.

Do you know a way we can change you back? Kendra

asked.

Another head bob.

Is it something we can do in the house? Kendra

asked.

The head shook.

Do we need to take you to the witch? Seth tried.

The head bobbed. And then the hen flapped her wings,

moving away.

Wait, Grandma! Kendra reached for the hen, but the

flustered bird dodged her grasp. She’s freaking out.

Seth chased her down. Grandma, he said, can you

still hear us?

The hen made no acknowledgment of comprehension.

Grandma, Kendra said, can you still respond to us?

The chicken squirmed. Seth kept hold of her. The

chicken pecked his hand, and he dropped her. They

watched Goldilocks. For several minutes, she did nothing

to suggest abnormal intelligence and offered no recognizable

reaction to any questions.

She was answering us before, right? Kendra asked.

She wrote us a message! Seth said, pointing at the

I M GRAM in the corner.

She must have had just a short window to communicate

with us, Kendra reasoned. Once she got the message

across, she left it in our hands.

Why hasn’t she spoken up before?

I don’t know. Maybe she’s tried, but we never got the

message.

Seth cocked his head thoughtfully and then gave a

small shrug. Do we take her to the witch in the morning?

I don’t know. Muriel only has one knot left.

No matter what, we don’t undo the last knot. But

maybe we could bargain with her.

Bargain with what? Kendra asked.

We could bring food. Or other stuff. Things to make

her more comfortable in that shack.

I don’t picture her going for it. She’ll know we’re desperate

to fix Grandma.

We won’t give her another choice.

Kendra bit her lip. What if she won’t budge? She

wouldn’t for Grandpa. Do we set Muriel free if she will

change Grandma back?

No way! said Seth. As soon as she gets free, what

keeps her from turning all of us into chickens?

Grandpa said you can’t use magic against others here

unless they use it on you first. We never caused Muriel any

harm, did we?

But she’s a witch, Seth said. Why would she be

locked up if she wasn’t dangerous?

I’m not saying I want to let her go. I’m saying, we

might be in an emergency situation where we have no

other options. It might be worth the risk in order to get

Grandma back to help us.

Seth thought about that. What if we can get her to

tell us where Grandpa is?

Or both, Kendra said, getting excited. I bet she

would do just about anything to be released. I’m sure she

would do those two things at least. Then we might actually

get out of this mess.

You’re right that we don’t have many options.

We should sleep on it, Kendra said. We’re both worn

out. We can decide what to do in the morning.

Okay.

Kendra climbed into bed, slid under the covers, let her

head sink into the pillow, and fell asleep before another

thought entered her mind.

* * * *

Maybe we shouldn’t have rinsed the milk out of our

clothes, Seth said. Then we could churn butter while we

walk.

Foul!

By the end of the day I might have had yogurt in my

armpits.

You’re psychotic, said Kendra.

Then we could add some of Lena’s jam and make it

fruit-at-the-bottom.

Quit it!

Seth seemed pleased with himself. Goldilocks rode in

the wheelbarrow inside a burlap sack he had found in the

pantry. They had tried to bend the cage back into shape,

but could not get the door to stay on. The sack had a drawstring,

which they pulled snugly around the hen’s neck so

her head could stick out.

It was hard to think of the chicken as Grandma

Sorenson. The hen had not performed a single grandmotherly

action all morning. She showed no reaction to the

announcement that they were going to see Muriel, and she

had laid an egg on Kendra’s bed during the night.

Kendra and Seth had awakened just before sunrise. In

the barn they had found the wheelbarrow, which they

determined might be easier than carrying Goldilocks the

entire way to .

It was Kendra’s turn pushing the wheelbarrow. The

chicken seemed serene. She was probably enjoying the

fresh air. The weather was pleasant-sunny and warm

without being hot.

Kendra wondered how the negotiations with Muriel

would go. In the end, they had decided it would do no

harm to see what terms they could reach with the witch.

Then they could base their final decision on the facts of

what Muriel would be willing to do, rather than conjecture.

They had loaded food, clothes, tools, and utensils in

the wheelbarrow, in case they might be able to barter with

comforts instead of freedom. Most of the clothes had been

mangled on Midsummer Eve, but they found a few

unshredded items for Grandma to wear in case they succeeded

in transforming her. They had made sure to feed the

chicken some milk in the morning, as well as to drink some

themselves.

The trails to the shack were not difficult to remember.

Presently they identified the leafy structure where the

witch lived. Leaving the wheelbarrow, Seth carried the

chicken, while Kendra collected an armful of bartering

items. Kendra had already reminded Seth to stay calm and

be polite no matter what happened, but she repeated the

admonition.

They heard strange music as they drew near the shack,

like somebody playing a rubber band while clacking castanets.

When they got around to the front door, they found

the grimy old hag playing a mouth harp with one hand

while making her limberjack dance with the other.

I did not hope to have visitors again so soon, laughed

the witch when her song ended. Pity about Stanley.

What do you know about our Grandpa? Seth asked.

The woods are all abuzz with news of his abduction,

Muriel said. The naiadic housekeeper as well, if one is to

lend an ear to the gossip. Quite the scandal.

Do you know where they are? Seth tried.

Look at all the lovely gifts you brought me, the witch

gushed, clasping her veiny hands together. The quilt is

gorgeous, but it would be ruined in my humble dwelling.

I’ll not let you waste your generosity on me; I would not

know what to do with such niceties.

We brought these to trade, Kendra said.

Trade? the witch asked theatrically, smacking her lips.

For my tea! Nonsense, child, I would not dream of exacting

a toll for my hospitality. Come inside, and the three of

us shall drink together.

Not to trade for tea, Seth said, holding up

Goldilocks. We want you to change our grandma back

into herself.

In exchange for a chicken?

She is the chicken, Kendra explained.

The witch grinned, stroking her chin. I thought I

recognized her, she mused. You poor dears, one guardian

carried off in the night, the other reduced to poultry.

We can offer you a quilt, a bathrobe, a toothbrush, and

a lot of homemade food, Kendra said.

Charming as that may be, Muriel said, I would

require the energy of a knot unraveling to work any spell

capable of restoring your grandmother to her former state.

We can’t untie your last knot, Seth said. Grandpa

would be furious.

The witch shrugged. My predicament is simple.

Imprisoned in this shack, I am curtailed in my abilities.

The problem has nothing to do with my willingness to

compromise-the dilemma is that the only way for me to

fulfill your request would be to harness the power stored in

the final knot. The decision lies in your hands. I have no

other options.

If we untie the last knot, will you also tell us where our

Grandpa was taken? Kendra asked.

Child, I would love nothing more than to reunite you

with your lost grandfather. But the truth of the matter is, I

haven’t the foggiest notion where he was taken. Again, it

would require loosing my knot in order for me to marshal

sufficient power to discern his whereabouts.

Could you find Grandpa and change Grandma with

the power from one knot? Kendra asked.

Lamentably, I would have the opportunity to accomplish

only one feat or the other. Both would not be

possible.

Unless you figure out a way, you won’t have a chance

to do either, Seth said.

Then we have reached an impasse, the witch apologized.

If you tell me we have no deal unless I am able to

accomplish the impossible, then we have no deal. I could

fulfill either of your requests, but not both.

If we have you change Grandma back, Kendra asked,

could you help us find Grandpa once you’re free?

Perhaps, the witch mused. Yes, without guarantees,

once free I could probably use my abilities to shed light on

the location of your grandfather.

How do we know you won’t attack us if we let you

go? Seth asked.

A fair question, Muriel said. I might be embittered

by long years of imprisonment and eager to work mischief

once released. However, I give you my word as a practitioner

of the ancient art that I will not inflict any harm

upon you or your grandmother upon my deliverance from

this confinement. If I held any malice, it would be toward

those who initiated my incarceration, enemies who passed

from this life decades ago, not those who set me free. If

anything, I would consider myself indebted.

And you would promise to help us find Grandpa

Sorenson? Kendra said.

Your grandmother might refuse my help. She and your

grandfather have never held me in much esteem. But if she

will accept my assistance in locating Stan, I will give it.

We need to talk about this in private, Kendra said.

Be my guest, Muriel said.

Kendra and Seth returned to the path. Kendra dumped

her bartering items in the wheelbarrow. She spoke in a soft

whisper. I don’t think we have any other choice.

I don’t like how nice she’s being, said Seth. It’s

almost scarier than before. I think she’s really anxious to

get out.

I know. But I think we’re just as anxious to restore

Grandma and maybe find Grandpa.

She’s a liar, Seth cautioned. I don’t think we can

count on any of her promises.

Probably not.

We should expect her to attack us as soon as she’s free.

If not, great, but I brought salt, whatever good that will

do.

Don’t forget, we’ll have Grandma to help us handle

her, Kendra said.

Grandma might not know anything about fighting

witches.

I’m sure she’s learned a trick or two. Let’s try to ask

her.

Seth held up the hen. Kendra stroked her head gently.

Grandma Sorenson, Kendra said. Ruth. I need you to

listen to me. If you can hear me, we need you to answer.

This is very important. The hen appeared to be listening.

Should we untie the last knot to have Muriel Taggert

restore you?

The head bobbed.

Was that a yes?

The head bobbed again.

Can you give us a no?

The hen did not respond.

Grandma. Ruth. Can you shake your head so we can

be sure you hear us?

Again the chicken made no acknowledgment.

Maybe it took all she had to answer your first question,

Seth speculated.

It did seem like she nodded, Kendra said. And I

don’t know what else we can do. Freeing the witch is a

high price to pay, but is it worse than having no hope of

finding Grandpa and keeping Grandma trapped forever as a

chicken?

We should free her.

Kendra paused, scrutinizing her feelings. Was this really

their only option? It seemed to be. Let’s go back, she

agreed.

They returned to the doorway of the shack. We want

you to restore Grandma, Kendra said.

You will voluntarily sunder my last knot, the final

impediment to my independence, if I restore your grandmother

to her human form?

Yes. How do we do it?

Just say ‘of my own free will I sever this knot’ and then

blow on it. You should probably find something for your

grandmother to wear. She will not have any clothes on.

Kendra ran to the wheelbarrow and returned with the

bathrobe and a pair of slippers. Muriel stood in the doorway,

clutching the rope. Lay your grandmother at my

threshold, she instructed.

I want to blow on the knot, Seth said.

Sure, Kendra answered.

You let Grandma out of the bag.

Kendra squatted and pulled the mouth of the bag wide

open. Muriel held the rope out to Seth. The chicken

looked up, ruffling her feathers and flapping her wings.

Kendra tried to steady her, disgusted by the feel of slender

bones moving beneath her hands.

Of my own free will, I sever this knot, Seth said, as

Goldilocks squawked noisily. He blew, and the knot

unraveled.

Muriel extended both hands over the flustered hen and

began softly chanting indecipherable words. The air

wavered. Kendra squeezed the squirming hen. At first it felt

like bubbles were shooting through the flesh of the bird;

then the delicate bones started to churn. Kendra dropped

Goldilocks and stepped back.

Kendra saw everything as if through fun-house lenses.

Muriel appeared distorted, first stretching broad, then tall.

Seth became an hourglass with a wide head, a tiny waist,

and clownish feet. Rubbing her eyes failed to cure her

warped vision. When she looked down, the ground curved

away in all directions. She leaned and swung her arms to

maintain her balance.

The fun-house Muriel began to ripple, as did the

startling image of Goldilocks shedding feathers as she

expanded into a person. The scene grew dim, as if clouds

had blocked the sun, and a dark aura gathered around

Muriel and Grandma. The darkness expanded, momentarily

obscuring everything, and then Grandma stood before

them, completely naked. Kendra put the bathrobe over her

shoulders.

From inside the shack came a sound like the rushing

of a terrible wind. The ground rumbled. Get down,

Grandma said, pulling Kendra to the ground. Seth also fell

flat.

A furious gale blasted the walls of the shack into shrapnel.

The roof rocketed beyond the treetops, a geyser of

wooden confetti. The stump split down the center.

Fragments of timber and ivy whistled in all directions, clattering

against the trunks of trees and slashing through the

undergrowth.

Kendra raised her head. Dressed in rags, Muriel gaped

in wonder. Chips of wood continued to fall like hail, along

with fluttering bits of ivy. Muriel grinned, displaying

deformed teeth and inflamed gums. She began to chuckle,

tears brimming in her eyes. She flung her wrinkled arms

wide. Emancipation! she cried. Justice at last!

Grandma Sorenson rose to her feet. She was shorter

and stouter than Muriel, with hair the color of cinnamon

and sugar. You must vacate this property immediately.

Muriel glowered at Grandma, the joy in her gaze

eclipsed by spite. A tear escaped and slid down a crease to

her chin. This is my thanks for unbinding your curse?

You have your reward for the services you rendered.

You have emerged from confinement. Eviction from this

preserve is the consequence of prior indiscretions.

My debts have been paid. You are not the caretaker.

My authority is the same as my husband’s. In his

absence, I am indeed the caretaker. I invite you to leave

and never return.

Muriel turned and began tromping away. Where I go

is my business. She did not look back.

Not on my preserve.

Your preserve, is it? I object to your claims of ownership.

Muriel still had not looked back. Grandma started

walking after her, an old woman in a bathrobe trailing an

old woman dressed in rags.

New crimes will entail new punishments, Grandma

warned.

You might be surprised who administers the penalties.

Don’t provoke new enmity. Depart in peace.

Grandma quickened her pace and caught hold of Muriel by

the upper arm.

Muriel twisted free, turning to face Grandma. Tread

lightly, Ruth. If you seek trouble here and now, in front of

the little ones, I will oblige you. This is the wrong moment

to cling to antiquated protocol. Things have changed more

than you realize. I suggest you depart before I regain authority

here.

Seth ran toward them. Grandma took a step back. Seth

flung a handful of salt at the witch. It had no effect. Muriel

pointed at him. Your recompense is coming, my bold little

whelp. I have a long memory.

Your actions require retribution, Grandma warned.

Muriel was striding away again. You speak to deaf

ears.

You said you’d tell us how to find our Grandpa,

Kendra called.

Muriel laughed without looking back.

Hold your tongues, children, Grandma said. Muriel,

I have commanded you to depart. Your defiance is an act

of war.

You issue evictions in order to build a case for wrongdoing

and thereby justify retaliation, Muriel said. I do not

fear a feud with you.

Grandma turned away from Muriel. Kendra, come

here. Grandma pulled Seth to her in a tight hug. When

Kendra drew near, she embraced her as well. I am sorry for

misleading you children. I should not have guided you to

Muriel. I did not realize this was her final knot.

What do you mean? Kendra said. You heard us talking.

Grandma smiled sadly. As a chicken, thinking clearly

becomes an exhausting challenge. My mind was in a haze.

To interact with you like a person, even for a moment,

required tremendous concentration.

Seth nodded toward Muriel. Should we stop her? I bet

the three of us could take her.

If we attack, she will be able to defend herself with

magic, Grandma said. We would forfeit the protection

afforded by the foundational covenants of the treaty.

Have we messed things up? Seth asked. Setting her

free, I mean.

Things were already dismal, Grandma said. Having

her on the loose certainly complicates the situation.

Whether my assistance can compensate for her interference

remains to be seen. Grandma looked flushed. She

fanned her face. Your grandfather left us in quite a

predicament.

It wasn’t his fault, Seth said.

Grandma bent over, placing her hands on her knees.

Kendra steadied her. I’m all right, Kendra. Just a little

woozy. She stood up experimentally. Tell me what happened.

I know undesirable beings entered the house and

took Stan.

They took Lena, too, and I think they turned Dale

into a statue, Kendra reported. We found him in the

yard.

Grandma nodded. As caretaker, Stan is a valuable trophy.

Same with a fallen nymph. By contrast Dale seemed

unimpressive and was left behind. Any clue who took

them?

We found some footprints near Dale, Seth said.

Did they lead you anywhere?

Have you any idea where Grandpa and Lena are being

held?

No.

Muriel probably knows, Grandma said. She has an

alliance with the imps.

Speaking of Muriel, Kendra said, where did she go?

They all looked around. Muriel was no longer in sight.

Grandma frowned. She must have special means of hiding

or traveling. No matter. We aren’t equipped to deal with

her now.

What do we do? Seth asked.

Our first order of business is to find your Grandpa.

Learning his location should dictate how best to proceed.

How do we do that?

Grandma sighed. Our nearest option would be Nero.

Who? Kendra said.

A cliff troll. He has a seeing stone. If we can successfully

bargain with him, he should be able to reveal Stan’s

location.

Do you know him well? Seth asked.

Never met him. Your grandfather had dealings with

him once. It will be dangerous, but at present he is

probably our best alternative. We should hurry. I’ll tell you

more on the way.

Trolling for Grandpa

Have you ever heard people conversing while you’re

falling asleep? Grandma said. The words reach you

from a distance, and you can barely glimpse the meaning.

That happened to me in a motel once when we were

on a trip, Kendra said. Mom and Dad were talking. I fell

asleep, and their conversation turned into a dream.

Then to some degree you can grasp my state of mind

as a chicken. You say it is June. My last clear memories are

from February, when the spell was enacted. For the first

couple of days I remained fairly alert. Over time, I lapsed

into a twilight consciousness, incapable of rational

thought, unable to interpret my surroundings as a human

would.

Weird, Seth said.

I recognized you kids when you arrived, but it was

through a clouded lens. My mind did not reawaken until

you let those creatures in through the window. The shock

jolted me out of my stupor. It was a struggle to cling to my

elevated consciousness. I cannot describe the concentration

it required to write that message to you. My mind

wanted to slip away, to relax. I wanted to eat the delicious

kernels, not arrange them into bizarre patterns.

They traveled along a wide dirt road. Rather than head

back toward the house, they had continued on the trail

beyond , venturing deeper into the forest. The

trail had eventually forked and then intersected the road

they were currently following. The sun blazed overhead,

the air was heavy and humid, and the forest remained

unnaturally silent all around them.

Kendra and Seth had brought a pair of jeans, but they

turned out to be from Grandma’s skinnier days, and were

not even close to fitting. The tennis shoes belonged to

Grandpa and were several sizes too big. So Grandma now

wore a bathing suit under her robe, and her feet remained

in slippers.

Grandma raised her hands, staring as she opened and

closed them. Strange to have proper fingers again, she

murmured.

How did you become a chicken in the first place?

Seth asked.

Pride made me careless, Grandma said. A sobering

reminder that none of us are immune to the dangers here,

even when we imagine we have the upper hand. Let’s save

the details for another time.

Why didn’t Grandpa change you back? Kendra asked.

Grandma’s eyebrows shot up. Probably because I kept

laying eggs for his breakfast. I like to think that if he had

taken me to Muriel in the first place, I could have prevented

all this nonsense from happening. But I suppose he

was searching for an alternate cure for my condition.

Besides asking Muriel, Seth said.

Exactly.

Then why did he have Muriel cure me?

I’m sure he knew your parents would return soon,

leaving insufficient time to discover another remedy.

You had no idea Seth had become a mutant walrus

and been restored by Muriel? Kendra said.

I missed all that, Grandma said. As a hen, most

details escaped me. When I urged you to take me to Muriel,

I assumed she still had two knots remaining. Only when I

looked up and observed the single knot did I begin to

fathom the actual predicament. By then it was too late.

Incidentally, how did you end up as a walrus?

Seth and Kendra related the particulars about turning

the fairy into an imp and the subsequent retribution.

Grandma listened, asking a few clarifying questions.

As the path curved around a tall thicket, a covered

bridge came into view up ahead. Spanning a ravine, the

bridge was composed of dark wood. Although aged and

weathered, it appeared to be in reasonably good repair.

Our destination draws near, Grandma said.

Beyond the bridge? Kendra asked.

Down in the ravine. Grandma stopped, studying the

foliage off to either side of the road. I am suspicious of the

stillness in these woods. A great tension rests upon

Fablehaven today. She resumed walking.

Because of Grandpa? Seth asked.

Yes, and your newfound enmity with the fairies. But I

worry there may be something more. I am anxious to speak

with Nero.

Will he help us? Kendra asked.

He would rather harm us. Trolls can be violent and

unpredictable. I would not solicit information from him if

our situation were less dire.

What’s the plan? Seth asked.

Our only chance is clever bargaining. Cliff trolls are

cunning and ruthless, but their avarice can be a weakness.

Avarice? Seth asked.

Greed. Cliff trolls are miserly creatures. Treasure

hoarders. Cunning negotiators. They relish the thrill of

besting an opponent. Whatever agreement we reach, Nero

will have to feel like the undisputed victor. I only hope we

can determine something he values that we are willing to

part with.

What if we can’t? Kendra said.

We must. If we fail to reach an arrangement, Nero will

not let us leave unscathed.

They arrived at the brink of the ravine. Kendra placed

a hand against the bridge and leaned forward to look down.

It was surprisingly deep. Tenacious vegetation clung to the

steep walls. A narrow stream trickled along the bottom.

How do we get down there?

Carefully, Grandma said, taking a seat at the edge of

the precipice. Rolling over onto her stomach, she started

backing down the slope feet first, looking ridiculous in her

robe and slippers. The incline was not completely vertical,

but most of the descent was quite steep.

If we fall, we’ll tumble all the way to the bottom,

Kendra observed.

A sensible reason not to fall, Grandma agreed, moving

carefully downward. Come along, it looks worse than

it is. Just find solid handholds and take it one step at a

time.

Seth followed Grandma, and then Kendra started

down, desperately hugging the side of the ravine, taking

tentative steps, hunting blindly for the next place to rest

her foot. But Grandma was right. Once she got going, the

climb was less difficult than it appeared. There were many

handholds, including scrawny bushes with well-anchored

stems. After proceeding gingerly at first, she grew in confidence

and increased the speed of her descent.

When Kendra reached the bottom, Seth was squatting

near a cluster of blossoms at the edge of the stream.

Grandma Sorenson stood nearby. Took you long enough,

Seth said.

I was being careful.

I’ve never seen somebody move an inch per hour

before.

No time for bickering, Grandma said. Kendra did

just fine, Seth. We need to hurry along.

I like the smell of these flowers, Seth said.

Come away from those, Grandma insisted.

Why? They smell great; take a whiff.

Those flowers are perilous. And we’re in a hurry.

Grandma waved for him to follow and started walking,

picking her way carefully along the rocky floor of the

ravine.

Why are they dangerous? Seth asked, catching up

with her.

Those are a peculiar class of lotus blossoms. The smell

is intoxicating, the taste divine. A tiny nibble of a single

petal carries you away into a lethargic trance populated by

vivid hallucinations.

Like drugs?

More addictive than most drugs. Sampling a lotus

blossom awakens a craving that will never be silenced.

Many have wasted their lives pursuing and consuming the

petals of those bewitching flowers.

I wasn’t going to eat one.

No? Sit and smell them for a few minutes, and you’ll

end up with a petal in your mouth before you know what

you’re doing.

They proceeded in silence for a few hundred yards. The

walls of the ravine grew more sheer and rocky as they progressed.

They noticed a few other clusters of lotus blossoms.

Where is Nero? Kendra asked.

Grandma scanned the wall of the ravine. Not much

farther. He lives up on a ledge.

We have to climb up to him?

Stan said Nero lowered a rope ladder.

What’s that? Seth asked, pointing up ahead.

I’m not sure, Grandma said. A good distance down

the ravine, about twenty upright logs of increasing height

led from the edge of the stream to the wall of the ravine.

The highest log granted access to a rocky ledge. It might

be our destination. This is not what Stan described.

They arrived at the logs. The lowest was three feet tall,

the next was six feet, and each subsequent log stood

roughly three feet taller than the previous one, until the

tallest rose about sixty feet high. The logs were arranged

about three feet apart, in a staggered row. None of the logs

had any limbs. Short or tall, they were all of a similar circumference,

about eighteen inches, and they were all cut

flat across the top.

Placing a hand beside her mouth, Grandma called up

to the ledge. Nero! We would like to meet with you!

Not a good day, a voice answered, deep and silky.

Try me next week. They could not see the speaker.

We must meet today or never, Grandma insisted.

Who has such an urgent need? the resonant voice

inquired.

Ruth Sorenson and her grandchildren.

Ruth Sorenson? What is your request?

We need to find Stan.

The caretaker? Yes, I could discern his location.

Ascend the stairs and we will discuss terms.

Grandma looked around. You don’t mean these logs,

she called.

I most assuredly do.

Stan said you had a ladder.

That was before I set up these logs. No small undertaking.

Climbing them looks precarious.

Call it a filter, Nero said. A means to ensure that

those who seek my services are in earnest.

So we must climb the logs for the privilege of speaking

with you? How about we talk from down here?

Unacceptable.

Your stairs are equally unacceptable, Grandma said

firmly.

If your need is dire, you will scale them, observed the

troll.

What have you done with the ladder?

I still have it.

May we please climb it instead? I am not dressed for

an obstacle course. We’ll make it worth your while.

How about a compromise? One of you climb the logs.

Then I will lower the ladder for the other two. Final offer.

Concede or go acquire your information elsewhere.

Grandma looked at him. If anyone is climbing those

logs, it will be me. I’m taller and better able to reach from

log to log.

I have smaller feet, so the logs will feel bigger. I’ll keep

my balance easier.

Sorry, Seth. This is something I must do.

Seth dashed over to the first log, scrambled onto it

without much trouble, and, taking a jump as if he were

playing leapfrog, ended up seated atop the second log.

Grandma hurried over to the second log. You get down

from there!

Seth shakily got to his feet. Leaning forward, he placed

his hands on the third log. From his position on the second

log, the top of the third came almost to the middle of his

chest. Another leapfrog jump and he sat atop the nine-foot

log. I can do this, he said.

It won’t be so easy as you get higher, Grandma

warned. You come down and let me do it.

No way. I already have one dead grandma.

Kendra watched silently. From his seated position, Seth

shifted to his knees and rose unsteadily to his feet. He leapt

to the next log, now well out of Grandma’s reach. Kendra

was quietly glad Seth was climbing the logs. She could not

picture Grandma doing it successfully, especially dressed in

a bathrobe and slippers. At the very least, think of the terrible

places she could get splinters! And Kendra could very

clearly envision Grandma Sorenson crumpled in a lifeless

heap at the base of a log.

Seth Andrew Sorenson, you mind your grandmother!

I want you to come down from there.

Stop distracting me, he said.

It may seem like fun on these lower logs, but when you

get higher-

I climb high stuff all the time, Seth insisted. My

friends and I climb up in the bars under the bleachers at

the high school. If we fell there we could die too. He rose

to his feet. He seemed to be getting better at it. Seth

landed on the next log, straddling it for a moment before

getting to his knees.

Be careful, Grandma said. Don’t think about the

height.

I know you’re trying to help, Seth said. But please

stop talking.

Grandma came and stood by Kendra. Can he do this?

she whispered.

He has a good chance. He’s really brave, and pretty

athletic. The height might not get to him. I would freak

out.

Kendra wanted to look away. She did not want to see

him fall. But she could not take her eyes from her brother

as he leapfrogged from log to log, higher and higher. As he

jumped to the thirteenth, almost forty feet high now, he

leaned precariously to one side. Chills raced through

Kendra as if she were the one losing her balance. Seth

gripped with his legs and leaned the other way, regaining

his equilibrium. Kendra could breathe again.

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. Kendra glanced at Grandma.

He was going to make it! Seventeen. He got to his feet,

wobbling a bit, hands out to either side. These tall ones

shake a little, he called down.

Seth leapfrogged to the next log and landed awkwardly,

teetering too far to one side. For a moment he hovered on

the brink of regaining his balance. Every muscle in

Kendra’s body clenched in horror. Arms pinwheeling, Seth

fell. Kendra shrieked. She could not look away.

Something flashed from the ledge-a slender, black

chain with a metal weight at the end. The chain coiled

around one of Seth’s legs. Instead of falling to the ground,

he swung into the cliff, colliding roughly with the stone

wall.

For the first time Kendra had a view of Nero. Built like

a man, the troll had reptilian features. A few bright yellow

markings decorated his glossy black body. He held in a

webbed hand the chain from which Seth dangled. Muscles

bunching powerfully, Nero hauled Seth up to the ledge.

They passed out of sight, and then a rope ladder unfurled

from the ledge, unwinding all the way to the base of the

cliff.

Are you okay? Kendra yelled up at Seth.

I’m fine, he answered. Just had the wind knocked

out of me.

Grandma started up the ladder. Kendra followed,

forcing herself to focus on grabbing the next rung, denying

the impulse to look down. At length she reached the ledge.

She moved to the rear of the ledge, standing beside the low

mouth of a dark cave from which wafted a cool draft.

Nero looked even more intimidating up close. Tiny,

sleek scales covered his sinuous body. Though he was not

much taller than Grandma, the thickness of his brawny

physique made him seem massive. He had a snout rather

than a nose, and bulging eyes that never blinked. A row of

sharp spines ran from the center of his forehead to the

small of his back.

Thank you for rescuing Seth, Grandma said.

I told myself, if the boy makes it past fifteen logs, I will

assist him if he falls. I admit that I am curious to hear what

you would exchange to learn the location of your husband.

His voice was suave and rich.

Tell us what you have in mind, Grandma said.

A long, gray tongue popped out of his mouth and

licked his right eye. You would have me speak first? So be

it. I do not ask much, an insignificant trifle for the proprietress

of this illustrious preserve. Six coffers of gold, twelve

puncheons of silver, three casks of uncut gems, and a

bucket of opals.

Kendra looked at Grandma. Could she possibly own

that much treasure?

A reasonable sum, Grandma said. Unfortunately, we

have brought no such riches with us.

I can wait while you retrieve the payment, if you leave

the girl as collateral.

Regrettably we lack the time to shuttle treasure to

you, unless you would reveal Stan’s location before receiving

compensation.

Nero licked his left eye and grinned, a hideous sight

that displayed double rows of needle teeth. I must be paid

in full before fulfilling your request.

Grandma folded her arms. I take it you already possess

great caches of treasure. It surprises me that such a meager

financial offering as I could supply would entice you to

trade.

Go on, he said.

You are offering us a service. Perhaps we should repay

you with a service as well.

Nero nodded thoughtfully. Possible. The boy has some

spirit. Indenture him to me for fifty years.

Seth looked desperately at Grandma.

Grandma frowned. I hope to leave the possibility of

future business open, therefore I do not wish to leave you

feeling slighted. The boy has spirit, but little ability. You

would assume the burden of training him as a servant, and

find yourself yoked to his incompetence. You would add

more value to his life through education than he would to

yours through service.

Your candor is appreciated, Nero said, although you

have much to learn about bargaining. I begin to wonder

whether you have anything of value to offer. If not, our discussion

will not end well.

You speak of value, Grandma said. I ask, what value

is treasure to a wealthy troll? The more riches he possesses,

the less each new acquisition improves his total worth. A bar

of gold means much more to a pauper than to a king. I also

question what value a frail human servant would have to a

master infinitely more wise and capable? Consider the situation.

We want you to render a service of value to us, something

we cannot do for ourselves. You should expect no less.

I agree. Take care. Your words are spreading a net at

your feet. A lethal edge was creeping into his voice.

True, unless I am trained to deliver a service of

extraordinary value. Have you ever received a massage?

Are you serious? The idea has always struck me as

ridiculous.

The idea seems absurd to all the uninitiated. Beware

of rash judgments. We all pursue wealth, and those who

gather the most can afford certain comforts unavailable to

the masses. Foremost among these luxuries is the indescribable

release and relaxation of a massage at the hands of one

skilled in the art.

And you claim to be skilled in this so-called art?

Trained by a true master. My ability is so great as to be

nearly beyond purchase. The only person in the world who

has received a full massage at my hands is the caretaker

himself, and this because I am his woman. I could give you

a full massage, kneading and soothing every muscle in your

body. The experience would redefine your understanding

of pleasure.

Nero shook his head. It will take more than florid

words and grandiose promises to persuade me.

Consider my offer in perspective, Grandma said.

People pay exorbitant sums for an expert massage. You will

receive yours at no cost, merely in exchange for a service.

How long would it take you to ascertain Stan’s location?

A few moments.

A massage will take me thirty grueling minutes. And

you will be experiencing something new, a delight you

have never encountered in all your long years. A similar

opportunity may never arise again.

Nero licked an eye. Granted, I have never received a

massage. I could name many things I have never done,

mainly because I have no interest in doing them. I have

sampled human food and found it wanting. I am not convinced

that I will find a massage as satisfying as you describe.

Grandma studied him. Three minutes. I will give you

a sample for three minutes. It will afford you only a narrow

glimpse of the unspeakable bliss that awaits, but should

place you in a position to make a more educated decision.

Very well. I see no harm in a demonstration.

Give me your hand.

My hand?

I will massage a single hand. You will have to use your

imagination to envision how this would feel across your

entire body.

He held out a hand. Grandma Sorenson took it and

began working his palm with her thumbs. At first he tried

to keep a straight face, but his mouth began to twitch, and

his eyes began to roll. How is that? Grandma asked. Too

deep?

His meager lips quivered. Just right, he purred.

Grandma continued expertly rubbing his palm and the

back of his hand. He started licking his eyes compulsively.

She finished with his fingers. The demonstration is concluded,

she announced.

Thirty minutes of that, you say, across my whole

body?

The children will assist me, Grandma said. We will

trade a service for a service.

But I could exchange my service for something more

enduring! For treasure! A single massage is too fleeting.

The law of diminishing returns applies to massages, as

it does to most things. The first is the best, and all you

really need. Besides, you can always exchange your services

for treasure. This may be your only chance to receive an

expert massage.

He held out his other hand. One more example, to

help me decide.

No more samples.

You offer just one massage? What if you stay on as my

personal masseuse for twelve years?

Grandma grew stern. I am not petitioning you to look

in that stone of yours multiple times for multiple purposes.

I am requesting a single piece of information. A service for

a service. That is my offer, lopsided in your favor. The massage

takes thirty minutes, versus mere moments for you to

peer into your stone.

But you need the information, Nero reminded her. I

do not need a massage.

Satisfying needs is the burden of the poor. The

wealthy and powerful can afford to indulge their wants and

whims. If you pass on this opportunity, you will always

wonder what you missed.

Don’t do it, Grandma, Kendra said. Just give him

the treasure.

Nero held up a finger. This proposition is unorthodox,

and against my better judgment, but the idea of a massage

intrigues me, and I am rarely intrigued. However, thirty

minutes is too short. Say… two hours.

Sixty minutes, Grandma said flatly.

Ninety, Nero countered.

Grandma wrung her hands. She folded and unfolded

her arms. She rubbed her brow.

Ninety minutes is too long, Kendra said. You’ve

never given Grandpa a massage longer than an hour!

Hold your tongue, child, Grandma snapped.

Ninety or no deal, Nero said.

Grandma sighed in resignation. All right… ninety

minutes.

Very well, I accept. But if I do not approve of the

entire massage, the deal is off.

Grandma shook her head. No caveats. A single

ninety-minute massage in exchange for the location of

Stan Sorenson. You will treasure the memory until the end

of your days.

Nero eyed Kendra and Seth before fixing Grandma

with a shrewd gaze. Agreed. How do we proceed?

The best table Grandma could find was a fairly narrow

stone shelf near the mouth of the cave. Nero stretched out

on the shelf, and Grandma showed Kendra and Seth how

to massage his legs and feet. She demonstrated how and

where to use their knuckles and the heels of their hands.

He’s very strong, she said, grinding her knuckles

against the bottom of his foot. Lean into it as much as you

want. She set down his leg and stood beside his head.

The children have their instructions, Nero. The ninety

minutes start now.

Kendra hesitantly laid her hands on the troll’s bulging

calf. Although they were not wet, the scales felt slimy. She

had held a snake before, and the texture of Nero’s scaly

skin was quite similar.

With Nero lying prone, Grandma went to work on the

back of his neck and shoulders. She employed a variety of

techniques-probing with her thumbs, rubbing with her

palms, pressing with her fists, digging with her elbows. She

ended up kneeling on the small of his back, careful to avoid

the spikes along his spine, squeezing and kneading and

applying pressure in diverse ways.

Nero was obviously in ecstasy. He purred and moaned

in decadent satisfaction. A constant stream of drowsy compliments

flowed from his lips. He languidly encouraged

them to rub harder and deeper.

Kendra grew weary, and Grandma periodically demonstrated

other techniques for her and Seth to employ.

Kendra despised working on Nero’s feet the most, from the

roughness of his cracked heels, to the smooth pads of his

calluses, to the lumpy bunions on his toes. But she tried her

best to follow Grandma’s tireless example. Besides assisting

with his legs and feet, Grandma labored on his head, neck,

shoulders, back, arms, hands, chest, and abdomen.

When they finally finished, Nero sat up with a

euphoric smile. All the cunning had vanished from his bulbous

eyes. He looked ready for the most satisfying nap of

his life.

Closer to a hundred minutes, Grandma said. But I

wanted to do it right.

Thank you, he said giddily. I never imagined something

like that. He got to his feet, leaning against the wall

of the cliff to steady himself. You have amply earned your

reward.

I’ve never felt anyone so full of knots and tension,

Grandma said.

I feel loose now, he said, swinging his arms. I will be

right back with the information you seek. Nero ducked

into the cave.

I want to see his magic stone, Seth mumbled.

Wait patiently, Grandma chided, wiping perspiration

from her brow.

You must be exhausted, Kendra said.

I’m not in very good condition, Grandma admitted.

That took a lot out of me. She lowered her voice. But it

sure beats barrels of treasure that we don’t have.

Seth wandered over to the brink of the ledge and stared

down into the ravine. Grandma took a seat on the shelf

where they had administered the massage, and Kendra

waited beside her.

Before long, Nero emerged. He still looked affable and

relaxed, though not quite as loopy as before. Stan is

chained in the basement of the Forgotten Chapel.

Grandma’s jaw tightened. You’re sure?

It was a little tricky finding him and sneaking a good

look, considering who else is confined there, but yes, I am

certain.

He’s well?

He’s alive.

Lena was with him?

The naiad? Sure, I saw her too.

Was Muriel in the vicinity?

Muriel? Why would she… oh, that’s what that was!

Ruth, the agreement was for a single piece of information.

But no, I didn’t catch sight of her. I believe this concludes

our arrangement. He gestured toward the ladder. If you

will excuse me, I need to lie down.

The Far Side of the Attic

Grandma refused to talk while they were in the ravine.

She wore a dour, thoughtful expression and hushed

any attempts at conversation. Kendra waited until they

were back on the path beside the covered bridge to try her

question again.

Grandma- Kendra began.

Not here, Grandma admonished. We must not discuss

the situation out in the open. She motioned for them

to huddle close and continued in a hushed tone. Let this

suffice. We must go after your grandpa today. Tomorrow

might be too late. We will return home immediately, get

equipped, and go to the place where he is being held. I will

reveal his exact whereabouts once we are indoors. Muriel

may not yet know his location, and even if she does, I don’t

want her to learn that we know.

Grandma stopped whispering and hurried them along

the path. Sorry if I have been antisocial since leaving

Nero, she said after they had walked in silence for a couple

of minutes. I needed to devise a plan. You kids really did

an exceptional job back there. Nobody should have to

spend an afternoon rubbing a troll’s feet. Seth was heroic

on the logs, and Kendra did some well-timed bluffing during

the negotiations. You both surpassed my expectations.

I never knew you were a masseuse, Kendra said.

I learned from Lena. She has collected expert instruction

from around the globe. If you ever get a chance to

receive a massage from her, don’t turn it down. Grandma

tucked some errant strands of hair behind her ear. She

became distant again for a moment, pursing her lips and

staring remotely as she walked. I have a few questions for

you two, things we can talk about in the open. Have you

met a man named Warren?

Warren? Seth repeated.

Handsome and quiet? White hair and skin? Dale’s

brother.

No, Kendra said.

They might have brought him to the house on

Midsummer Eve, Grandma prodded.

We were with Grandpa, Dale, and Lena until after

sundown, but never saw anybody else, Seth said.

I never even heard him mentioned, Kendra added.

Me neither, Seth agreed.

Grandma nodded. He must have stayed at the cabin.

Have you met Hugo?

Yeah! Seth said. He’s awesome. I wonder where he

went?

Grandma gave Seth a measuring glance. I trust he has

been attending to his chores in the barn.

I don’t think so, Kendra said. We had to milk the

cow yesterday.

You milked Viola? Grandma said, plainly astonished.

How?

Kendra described how they had set up the ladders and

slid down her teats. Seth added details about how milky

they had gotten.

Resourceful children! Grandma said. Stan had told

you nothing about her?

We found her because she was mooing so loud, Seth

said. She was shaking the whole barn.

It looked like her udder was going to explode, Kendra

said.

Viola is our milch cow, Grandma said. Every preserve

has such an animal, though not all are bovine. She is

older than this preserve, which was founded in 1711. At

that time, she was brought over from Europe by ship. Born

from a milch cow on a preserve in the Pyrenees Mountains,

she was about 100 years old when she made the voyage,

and was already larger than an elephant. She has been here

ever since, gradually gaining size each year.

Looks like she’s about to outgrow the barn, Seth said.

Her growth has slowed over the years, but yes, she may

one day become too colossal for her current confines.

She provides the milk the fairies drink, Kendra said.

More than the fairies drink it. Her ancient breed is

nourished and worshipped by all creatures of fairydom.

They place daily enchantments on her food and make

secret offerings to honor and strengthen her. In return, her

milk functions as an ambrosia central to their survival. It is

no wonder that cows are still considered sacred in certain

parts of the world.

She must make tons of dung, Seth said.

Another blessing. Her manure is the finest fertilizer in

the world, coaxing plants to mature much more quickly

than usual and sometimes to reach incredible proportions.

By the power of her dung we can reap multiple harvests

from a field in a season, and many tropical plants flourish

on this property that would otherwise perish. Did you kids

happen to put milk out for the fairies?

No, Seth said. We spilled it all down the drain. We

were mainly trying to calm down the cow.

No matter. The absence of milk might make the fairies

a little ornery, but they’ll get over it. We’ll see they get

some tomorrow at the latest.

So normally Hugo milks Viola, Kendra surmised.

Correct. It is a standing order, so there must be a reason

he has not carried it out during the past couple of days.

You have not seen him since Midsummer Eve?

No.

He was probably assigned to watch over Warren and

the cabin until summoned. He should come if we call.

Could something have happened to him? Seth asked.

A golem may seem like little more than animated

matter granted elementary intelligence, but most creatures

on this preserve fear Hugo. Few could harm him if they

tried. He will be our chief ally in rescuing your grandfather.

What about Warren? Kendra asked. Will he help

too?

Grandma frowned. You have not met him because his

mind has been ruined. Dale has remained on this preserve

mainly in order to care for him. Warren is lost in a catatonic

stupor. Fablehaven has many stories. His is another

tragic tale of a mortal venturing where he did not belong.

Warren will be no help to us.

Anybody else? Seth asked. Like the satyrs?

Satyrs? Grandma exclaimed. When have you met

satyrs? I may have some choice words for your grandfather

when we find him.

We met them by accident in the woods, Kendra

assured her. We were taking stew from what looked like a

well, and they warned us that we were actually stealing

from an ogress.

Those rogues were protecting their underhanded operation

more than you, Grandma huffed. They have been

pilfering her stew for years. The scoundrels didn’t want to

have to rebuild their thieving device-probably sounded

too much like work. Satyrs live for frivolity. The ultimate

fair-weather friends. Your grandfather and I share a mutual

respect with various beings on this preserve, but there is

not much more loyalty than one would find out in the

wild. The herd looks on as the sick or injured are brought

down by predators. If your grandfather is to be rescued on

such short notice, it will be our doing, with none but Hugo

to aid us.

* * * *

It was late afternoon when they reached the yard.

Grandma stood with her hands on her hips, taking in the

scene. The ruined tree house. The damaged furniture

strewn about the garden. The gaping, glassless windows.

I’m afraid to go inside, she muttered.

You don’t remember how bad it is? Kendra asked.

She was a chicken, remember? Seth said. We ate her

eggs.

Creases appeared on Grandma’s brow. It feels like such

a betrayal to have your home violated, she said softly. I

know sinister evils lurk in the woods, but they have never

crossed that boundary.

Kendra and Seth followed Grandma across the yard

and up the porch steps. Grandma stooped and picked up a

copper triangle, attaching it to a hook hanging from a nail.

Kendra remembered noticing the triangle dangling among

the wind chimes. A short copper rod was linked to the

triangle by a chain of beads. Grandma clanged the rod

noisily around the inside of the triangle.

That should bring Hugo, Grandma explained. She

crossed the porch and paused in the doorway, staring into

her home. It looks like we were bombed, she murmured.

Such senseless vandalism!

She roamed the gutted house in a somber daze, occasionally

pausing to pick up a damaged frame and examine

the torn photograph inside or to run her hand along the

remnants of a beloved piece of furniture. Grandma climbed

the stairs and went to her room. Kendra and Seth watched

her rummage through the closet, finally withdrawing a

metal lunch box.

At least this is intact, Grandma said.

Hungry? Seth asked.

Kendra slapped him on the shoulder with the back of

her hand. What is it, Grandma?

Follow me.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Grandma opened the lunch

box. She removed a handful of photographs. Help me lay

these out.

The photos were of the house. Each room was shown

from several angles. The exterior was also displayed from

multiple perspectives. In total there were more than a hundred

pictures. Grandma and the children began spreading

them across the kitchen floor.

We took these pictures in case the unthinkable ever

occurred, Grandma said.

Kendra suddenly made the connection. For the

brownies?

Clever girl, said Grandma. I’m not sure whether

they will be up to the challenge, considering the extent of

the damage, but they have worked miracles in the past. I’m

sorry this calamity befell us during your stay.

You shouldn’t be, Seth said. It happened because of

me.

You mustn’t assume all the blame, Grandma insisted.

What else can we do? Kendra said We caused it.

Kendra didn’t do anything, Seth said. She tried to

stop me. The whole thing is my fault.

Grandma regarded Seth pensively. You did not mean

to harm Grandpa. Yes, you made him vulnerable through

your disobedience. As I understand, you were commanded

not to look out the window. Had you heeded the order, you

would not have been tempted to open the window, and

your grandfather would not have been taken. You must face

that fact, and learn from it.

But the full blame for Stan’s predicament is considerably

more guilt than you deserve. Your grandfather and I

are the caretakers of this estate. We are responsible for the

actions of those we bring here, especially children. Stan

allowed you to come here to do your parents a favor, but

also because we need to start selectively sharing this secret

with our posterity. We will not be around forever.

The secret was shared with us, and a day came when the

responsibility of this enchanted refuge fell on our shoulders.

One day we will have to pass the responsibility on to

others.

She took Seth and Kendra by the hands and fixed

them with a loving gaze. I know the mistakes you made

were not deliberate or malicious. Your grandfather and I

have made plenty of mistakes ourselves. So have all the

people who ever lived here, no matter how wise or cautious.

Your grandfather must share the blame for placing

you children in a situation where opening a window with

kind intentions could cause such harm and destruction.

And clearly the fiends who abducted him are ultimately

the most culpable.

Kendra and Seth were silent. Seth scrunched up his

face. If it wasn’t for me, Grandpa would be fine right now,

he said, fighting hard not to cry.

And I would still be a chicken in a cage, Grandma

said. Let’s worry about fixing the problem instead of the

blame. Don’t despair. I know we can set things right. Take

me to Dale.

Seth nodded, sniffing and rubbing his forearm across

his nose. He led the way across the back porch, weaving

through the garden toward their destination.

There really aren’t many fairies, Grandma said. I’ve

never seen the yard so devoid of life.

There haven’t been many around ever since they

attacked Seth, Kendra said. Since Grandpa vanished

there have been even fewer.

When they stood over the painted, life-size metal

statue of Dale, Grandma shook her head. I’ve never seen

this particular enchantment, but that’s certainly Dale.

Can you help him? Kendra asked.

Perhaps, given sufficient time. Part of counteracting

an enchantment is understanding who placed it, and how.

We found tracks, Seth said. He showed Grandma the

print in the flowerbed. Although the impression had faded

a bit, it remained recognizable.

Grandma frowned. It doesn’t look familiar. Many creatures

run wild on festival nights that we otherwise never

encounter-which is why we take cover indoors. The print

may not even be a relevant clue. It could belong to the perpetrator,

or to the mount the perpetrator rode, or it could

belong to something that just happened to step there sometime

during the night.

So we just ignore Dale for now? Kendra asked.

We have no alternative. Time is short. We can only

hope that by rescuing your grandfather, we can shed more

light on what caused Dale’s condition and find a way to

reverse the curse. Come.

They returned to the house. Grandma spoke over her

shoulder as they mounted the stairs to the second floor.

There are a few special strongholds within the house. One

is the room where you have been staying. Another is a second

room on the other side of the attic.

I knew it! Kendra said. I could tell from outside

there had to be more to the attic. But I could never find a

way in.

You were probably searching in the wrong place,

Grandma said, leading them down the hall to her room.

The two sides of the attic are not interconnected. When

we get up there, I’ll fill you in on my strategy. Grandma

crouched and picked through a broken nightstand. She

found a few hairpins and used them to pile her hair into a

matronly bun. Searching more, she located a key. She led

them into the master bathroom, where she used the key to

unlock a closet door.

Instead of a closet, the door opened to reveal a second

door, this one made of steel with a large combination

wheel. A vault door. Grandma began spinning the wheel.

Four turns right to 11, three left to 28, two right to 3, one

left to 31, and half a turn right to 18.

She pulled a lever, and the heavy door clacked open.

Carpeted stairs led up to another door. Grandma went up

first. Seth and Kendra joined her in the attic.

This side of the attic was even larger than the playroom.

Grandma flipped a switch, and several lights dispelled

the dimness. A long workbench dominated one side

of the room, the wall above it covered with tools supported

on pegs. Handsome wooden cabinets lined the other walls.

Various unusual objects littered the room-a birdcage, a

phonograph, a battle-ax, a hanging scale, a mannequin, a

globe the size of a beach ball. Trunks and boxes were

arranged in rows on the floor, leaving just enough aisle

space to access them. Heavy curtains concealed the

windows.

Grandma motioned them over to the workbench,

where they perched on stools. What’s in all the boxes?

Seth asked.

Many things, most of them unsafe. This is where we

guard our most prized weapons and talismans. Spell books,

ingredients for potions, all the good stuff.

You can tell us more about Grandpa now? Kendra

said.

Yes. You heard Nero say that Stan and Lena are being

held in the Forgotten Chapel. Let me summarize some history

to bring the ramifications into view.

Long ago, this land was possessed by a powerful demon

named Bahumat. For centuries, he terrorized the natives

who dwelt in the region. They learned to avoid certain

areas, yet even with these precautions, nowhere in the

vicinity was truly safe. The natives made whatever offerings

the demon seemed to require, but still they lived in

fear. When a group of Europeans offered to overthrow the

demon in exchange for a claim to the lands it haunted, the

incredulous local leaders consented.

Aided by mighty allies and potent magic, the

Europeans successfully subdued and imprisoned the demon.

Some years later, they founded Fablehaven on the land

they wrested from Bahumat.

Years passed. In the early 1800s, a community comprised

chiefly of extended family had developed on this

preserve. They built a number of dwellings around the original

mansion. This was before the current house and barn

were constructed. The old mansion still stands deep within

this property, though most of the flimsier structures around

it have been swallowed by time and the elements.

Although their homes are gone, they did construct one

lasting structure-a church.

In 1826, thanks to human frailty and foolishness,

Bahumat nearly escaped. It could have been a serious disaster,

because none who remained on the preserve possessed

the resources or knowledge to contend successfully with an

entity of his power. Although the jailbreak was prevented,

the experience proved too unnerving for most who lived

here, and the majority departed.

The prison that held the demon had been damaged.

With outside help, Bahumat was moved to a new holding

area in the basement of the church. Meetings there ceased

a few months after that, and in the intervening years it has

become known as the Forgotten Chapel.

So Bahumat is still there? Kendra said.

Believe me, we would know if Bahumat had been

loosed. I doubt anyone in the world has the capacity to

recapture that fiend if he were to get free. His kind have

been absent for too long, imprisoned or destroyed. Those

who knew how to defeat such a foe have passed on, with

none to replace them. Which brings me to my greatest

concern: that Muriel might try to release Bahumat.

Would she do something that stupid? Seth cried.

Muriel is a student of evil. She was originally imprisoned

for tampering with such things. If she reaches the

Forgotten Chapel first, which she may have already done,

assuming her imps have apprised her of the situation, we

will have to neutralize her in order to save your grandfather.

If we allow her enough time to release Bahumat, we

will all need saving. That is why I must try to stop her

immediately.

Not just you, Seth said.

Hugo and I will handle this. You kids have done

enough.

What? Seth exclaimed. No way!

Retrieving your grandfather should not be too difficult.

But if the worst-case scenario transpires, and I fail,

Fablehaven could fall. Bahumat never agreed to the treaty

that protects this sanctuary. None of his kind would. He

has a claim to this land and is a being of sufficient power

to overthrow the treaty, plunging the preserve into endless

darkness. Every day would become like those fearful festival

nights, and this property would be forever uninhabitable

for all but the denizens of shadow. Any mortal trapped

here would fall prey to horrors too terrible to contemplate.

Could that really happen? Kendra asked quietly.

It would not be the first time, Grandma said,

Preserves have fallen ever since they were instituted. The

causes are myriad, usually stemming from human folly.

Some have been reclaimed. Others fell beyond redemption.

Currently there are at least thirty fallen preserves in the

world. Perhaps most unnerving are the recent whispers

about the Society of the Evening Star.

Maddox told us about them, Seth said.

Grandpa got a letter warning him to be on the lookout,

Kendra added.

Traditionally, the fall of a preserve was an uncommon

occurrence. Maybe one or two a century. About ten years

ago, rumors began to circulate that the Society of the

Evening Star was working mischief again. Around the same

time, preserves began falling at an alarming rate. Four have

fallen over the past five years.

Why would anybody do that? Kendra asked.

Many have sought the answer to that question,

Grandma said. To gain riches? Power? We who safeguard

the preserves are essentially conservationists. We don’t

want to see the magnificent magical creatures of the world

go extinct. We try not to discriminate against creatures of

shadow-we want them to survive as well. But we do

compartmentalize them when necessary. Members of the

Society of the Evening Star mask their true intentions with

rhetoric, alleging that we wrongfully imprison creatures of

darkness.

Do you? Seth asked.

The most violent and malevolent demons are imprisoned,

yes, but that is for the safety of the world. In pursuit

of endless carnage and unlawful dominion, they clashed

anciently with good humans and creatures of light, and are

paying a heavy price for losing. Many other sinister entities

were admitted to preserves only on condition that they

would agree to certain limitations-agreements they

entered voluntarily. A common restriction is that they are

not permitted to leave the preserve, so the Society considers

many of these creatures also incarcerated. They argue

that the covenants of the preserves create artificial rules

that upset the natural order of things. They consider the

majority of humanity expendable. Their premise is that

chaos and bloodshed are preferable to just regulations. We

disagree.

Do you think the Evening Star people are involved in

kidnapping Grandpa? Kendra asked.

Grandma shrugged. Possibly. I hope not. If so, it was

done with great subtlety. There are powerful limits to how

any outsider can intrude on a preserve. And our preserve is

more secret than most.

Grandma opened a drawer and pulled out a rolled

parchment. Unrolling it, she revealed a map of the world.

Large dots and X’s were located on diverse portions of the

map, aside from the labeling of major cities.

The X’s mark fallen preserves, Grandma said. The

dots mark active ones.

Fablehaven isn’t marked, Kendra noticed.

Sharp eyes, Grandma said. There are thirty-seven

active preserves noted on the map. And five unmarked preserves,

of which Fablehaven is one. Even among those

most trusted in our community, very few people know

about the unmarked preserves. None know of them all.

Why? Seth asked.

Special artifacts of great power are hidden on those

five preserves.

What artifacts? Seth asked, excited.

I cannot say. I don’t know most of the details myself.

The artifact here at Fablehaven is not in our possession. It

is guarded at an undisclosed location on the property.

Evildoers, particularly the Society of the Evening Star,

would like nothing more than to collect the artifacts from

the hidden preserves.

So there are many reasons Fablehaven must be protected,

Kendra said.

Grandma nodded. Your grandfather and I are prepared

to give our lives if necessary.

Maybe none of us should go after Grandpa, Kendra

said. Can’t we get help?

There are some who would come to our aid if summoned,

but I need to stop Muriel and find your grandfather

today. Nobody could reach us that quickly. Fablehaven is

protected by secrecy. At times this becomes a hindrance. I

do not know what spells bind Bahumat, but I am certain

that, given sufficient time, Muriel will find a way to

unravel them. I must act now.

Grandma slid off the stool, walked down an aisle,

opened a trunk, and withdrew an ornate box embossed

with vines and flowers. From the box she removed a small

crossbow not much larger than a pistol. She also took out a

small arrow with black fletching, an ivory shaft, and a silver

head.

Cool, Seth cried. I want one!

This dart will slay any being that was ever mortal,

including the enchanted or undead, if I can lodge it in a

lethal place.

Where is lethal? Kendra asked.

The heart and the brain are surest. Witches can be

tricky. This is the only talisman I am certain will slay

Muriel.

You’re going to kill her? Kendra whispered.

Only as a last resort. First I will try to have Hugo capture

her. But the stakes are too high for us to sally forth

without a failsafe. If the golem should unforeseeably disappoint

me, I lack the skills to subdue Muriel myself. Believe

me, the last thing I want is her blood on my hands. Killing

a mortal is not quite as grievous a crime as killing a mystical

being, but it would still dissolve most of the protection

afforded me by the treaty. I would probably have to banish

myself from the preserve.

But she’s trying to destroy the whole preserve! Seth

complained.

Not by directly killing anyone, Grandma said. The

chapel is neutral ground. If I go there and kill her, even if I

can justify the act, the protection of the treaty will never

again be mine.

I heard Dale shooting guns and stuff the night the

creatures came through our window, Kendra said.

Creatures were invading our territory, Grandma

explained. Regardless of the reason, by coming into this

house, they surrender all their protections. Under those circumstances,

Dale could slay them with no fear of retribution,

meaning his status under the treaty would remain

secure. This same principle could work against you if you

were to venture into certain forbidden areas of Fablehaven.

If you were thus stripped of all protection, it would be open

hunting season on Kendra and Seth. Which is precisely

why those areas are prohibited.

I don’t get who would punish you for killing Muriel,

Seth said.

The mystical barriers that protect me would be lifted,

and the punishment would naturally follow. You see, as

mortals, we can choose to break the rules. The mystical

creatures that seek asylum here are not afforded that luxury.

Many would break the rules if they could, but they are

bound. As long as I obey the rules, I am safe. But if I lose

the protections afforded by the treaty, the consequences of

my vulnerability would inevitably follow.

So does that mean Grandpa is alive for sure? Kendra

asked in a small voice. They can’t kill him or anything.

Stan has kept the rules pertaining to bloodshed, and

so, even on their night of revelry, the dark creatures of this

preserve would not be able to kill him. Nor would they be

able to force him to go to a place that would enable them

to kill him. Imprisoned, tortured, driven insane, turned to

lead-maybe. But he has to be alive. And I have to go after

him.

And I have to come with you, Seth said. You need

backup.

Hugo is my backup.

Seth scrunched his face, resisting tears. I’m not going

to lose you guys, especially when it’s my fault.

Grandma Sorenson embraced Seth. Sweetheart, I

appreciate your courage, but I’m not about to risk losing a

grandchild.

Won’t we be in just as much danger here as we would

be if we were with you? Kendra said. If the demon gets

loose, we’ll all be fried.

I mean to send you away, off the preserve, Grandma

said.

Kendra folded her arms. So we can wait outside the

gate until our parents get back, tell them you were killed

by a demon, and insist that we can’t go to the house

because it’s really a magical preserve that has fallen into

darkness?

Your parents do not know the true nature of this

place, Grandma said. Nor would they believe without

seeing.

Exactly! Kendra said. If you fail, the first thing Dad

will do is go straight to your house and investigate.

Nothing we could say would keep him away. And he’ll

probably call the cops, and the whole world will find out

about this place.

They wouldn’t see anything, Grandma said. But

many would die inexplicably. And actually, they could see

the cow, even without the milk, because Viola remains a

mortal being.

We came in handy with the troll, Seth said. And no

matter what you do or say, I’ll follow you anyways.

Grandma tossed up her hands. Sincerely, children, I

think all will be fine. I know I described a dire scenario, but

things like this happen on preserves from time to time, and

we normally get them resolved. I don’t see why this would

be any different. Hugo will mend the problem without serious

incident, and if it comes to it, I am a crack shot with

the crossbow. If you will just wait outside the gates, I’ll

come for you before it gets too late.

But I want to see Hugo pound Muriel, Seth insisted.

If we’re supposed to possibly inherit this place someday,

you won’t always be able to protect us from danger,

Kendra said. Wouldn’t it be a good experience for us to

watch you and Hugo handle the situation? Maybe we can

even help?

Field trip! Seth cried.

Grandma eyed them lovingly. You kids are growing up

so fast, she sighed.

The Forgotten Chapel

As the sun hesitated above the horizon, Kendra stared

out the side of the wagon, watching the trees streak

past. She remembered staring at trees out the window of

the SUV on the way to the preserve with her parents. This

ride was much noisier, bumpier, and windier. And the destination

was much more intimidating.

Hugo pulled the oversized rickshaw. Kendra doubted

that a team of horses could have matched the tireless speed

of his loping strides.

They reached an open area, and Kendra saw the tall

hedge that surrounded the pond with the gazebo boardwalk.

Strange to think that Lena had once lived there as a

naiad.

Before they had boarded the wagon, Grandma had

commanded Hugo to obey any instructions from Kendra

and Seth. She told Kendra and Seth that if things went

wrong, they should make a hasty retreat with Hugo. She

also cautioned them to be careful what they told Hugo to

do. Since he had no will of his own, the punishments for

his actions would fall upon the heads of those issuing the

orders.

Grandma had changed out of her bathrobe. She was

now dressed in faded jeans, work boots, and a green top ——

clothing scavenged from the attic. Seth had taken great

satisfaction in her choice of a green shirt.

Seth clutched a leather pouch. Grandma had explained

it was full of special dust that would keep undesirable creatures

away from them. She told Seth he could use it in the

same way he had used the salt in the bedroom. She also

warned him to use it only as a last resort. Any magic they

used would only lead to less tolerable retribution if they

failed. She had a pouch of the dust as well.

Kendra was empty-handed. Since she had not yet used

magic, Grandma said it would be a mistake for her to start

now. Apparently the protections of the treaty were quite

strong for those who totally abstained from magic and

mischief.

The wagon jolted over a particularly rough spot. Seth

caught hold of the side to avoid falling. He looked over his

shoulder and smiled. We’re hauling!

Kendra wished she could be so obliviously calm about

the whole thing. She was getting a sick feeling in her

stomach. It reminded her of the first time she had to sing a

solo in a school play. Fourth grade. She had always done

fine in the practices, but when she peeked out past the curtains

at the audience, a queasy feeling began brooding in

her belly, until she became certain that she would throw

up. At her cue, she walked out onto the bright stage, peering

into the dim crowd, unable to find her parents in the

throng. Her intro was playing, the moment arrived, and, as

she started singing, the fear dissipated and the nausea

vanished.

Would it be the same today? Was the anticipation

worse than the event itself? At least once they got there,

reality would replace uncertainty and they would be able

to do something, to act. All she could do at present was

worry.

How far away was this crazy church? Grandma said it

wouldn’t take Hugo much more than fifteen minutes, since

there was a decent road all the way. Although she kept an

eye out for unicorns, Kendra saw no fanciful creatures.

Everything was hiding.

The sun dipped below the horizon. Grandma was

pointing. Up ahead, in the middle of a clearing, sat an old

fashioned church house. It was a boxy structure with a row

of large windows fanged with broken glass and a single

cupola that probably contained a bell. The roof sagged.

The wooden walls were gray and splintered. There was no

guessing what the original color might have been. A short

flight of warped steps led up to an empty doorway, where

double doors had once granted access. It looked like a perfect

lair for bats and zombies.

Hugo slackened his pace, and they came to a stop in

front of the shadowy doorway. The church was completely

still. There was no sign anybody had been there in a hundred

years.

I’d rather have the sun, but at least we still have some

light, Grandma said, using a tool to set the silver-headed

arrow to the string of her undersized crossbow and pull it

into position. Let’s get this over with as soon as we can.

Evil likes darkness.

Why is that? Seth asked.

Grandma thought about the question a moment before

answering. Because evil likes to hide.

Kendra did not appreciate the tingles she got when

Grandma said that. Why don’t we talk about happy

things? she suggested as they climbed down from the

wagon.

Because we’re hunting witches and monsters, Seth

said.

Kendra’s right, Grandma said. It does us no good to

dwell on dark thoughts. But we do want to be on the road

and away from here before the twilight is gone.

I still say we should have brought some shotguns,

Seth said.

Hugo! Grandma said. Lead the way quietly into the

basement. Protect us from harm, but do not kill.

Kendra felt comforted just looking at the hulking

goliath of earth and stone. With Hugo as their champion,

she could not picture anything giving them much trouble.

The steps groaned beneath Hugo as he climbed them.

Stepping gingerly, he ducked through the large doorway. The

others followed, staying close to their massive bodyguard.

Grandma draped a red scarf over the crossbow, apparently to

conceal it.

Please let Muriel not be here, Kendra prayed silently.

Please let us just find Grandpa and Lena and nothing else!

The inside of the church was even gloomier than the

exterior. The decaying pews had been smashed and overturned,

the pulpit at the front had been thrown down, and

the walls were graffitied with maroon scrawlings.

Spiderwebs festooned the rafters like gossamer banners.

Amber light from the sunset found entry through the windows

and some irregular holes in the roof, but not enough

to dispel the murkiness. There was no token indicating

that this had once been a house of worship. It was just a

big, dilapidated, vacant room.

The floorboards creaked as Hugo tiptoed toward a door

on the far side of the chapel. Kendra found herself worrying

that the floor would give way and Hugo would take an

abrupt shortcut to the basement. He had to weigh a thousand

pounds.

Hugo eased the corroded door open. Since the doorway

was of a normal size, he had to crouch and twist in order to

squeeze through.

Everything will be fine, Grandma said, placing a

bracing hand on Kendra’s shoulder. Stay behind me.

The stairs wound down and ended at a doorway without

a door. Light poured through into the stairwell. Peering

around Hugo as he contorted to pass through the doorway,

Kendra glimpsed that they were not alone. As she followed

Grandma Sorenson into the spacious basement, the implications

of the scene began to register.

The room was cheerfully illuminated by no fewer than

two dozen bright lanterns. It had a high ceiling and sparse

furnishings. Grandpa Sorenson and Lena were each shackled

spread-eagle to the wall.

A peculiar figure stood in front of Grandpa and Lena.

Fashioned entirely of smooth, dark wood, it looked like a

primitive puppet not much shorter than Grandpa. Instead

of proper joints, the wooden parts were connected by

golden hooks at the wrists, elbows, shoulders, neck, ankles,

knees, hips, waist, and knuckles. The head made Kendra

think of a wooden hockey mask, though that was not quite

right, because it was cruder and simpler. The unusual mannequin

was dancing a little jig, arms swaying, feet tapping

and shuffling, gazing toward the far end of the basement.

Is that her limberjack? Seth asked quietly.

Of course! It was Muriel’s creepy dancing puppet, only

much bigger, and no longer guided by a rod in its back!

At the far side of the basement was a large alcove. It

looked like someone had torn down some planks to access

the niche. A net of knotted ropes crisscrossed the alcove,

preventing a view inside the dismal recess. A dark form

loomed beyond the ropes. A tall, beautiful woman with a

lustrous cascade of honey-blonde hair stood beside the

recess blowing on one of the many knots. She wore a spectacular

azure gown that emphasized her seductive figure.

The striking woman was surrounded by what looked

like human-sized versions of the imps Kendra had seen in

Muriel’s shack. They were all facing the alcove, staring at

the ground. They ranged from five to six feet tall. Some

were fat, some were thin, a few were muscular. Some had

crooked backs, or humps, or horns, or antlers, or bulging

cysts, or tails. A couple were missing a limb or an ear. All

had scars. All had weathered, leathery skin and nubs

instead of wings. At the feet of the human-sized imps were

a multitude of the tiny, fairy-sized versions.

The air shimmered. A pair of black wings made of

smoke and shadow unfurled from the alcove. Kendra experienced

the sense of vertigo that had overwhelmed her

when they were changing Grandma back from being a hen.

It seemed like the alcove was growing more distant, like

she was looking at it through the wrong end of a telescope.

A burst of darkness momentarily eclipsed the steady luminance

of the lanterns, and suddenly, in the midst of where

all the imps were focusing their attention, a new human-sized

imp sprouted up.

Kendra covered her mouth with both hands. The beautiful

woman had to be Muriel. Bahumat was imprisoned by

a web of knotted ropes, similar to the rope that had trapped

her, and she was using wishes to increase the size of her

imps, gradually freeing the demon in the process!

Hugo, Grandma said softly. Incapacitate the imps

and capture Muriel, on the double.

Hugo charged forward.

An imp turned and let out a disgusting yowl, and others

spun to face the intruders, revealing cruel, devilish faces.

The gorgeous blonde turned, eyes widening in surprise.

Seize them! she shouted.

There were more than twenty of the big imps, and ten

times that many small ones. Led by the biggest and most

muscular of the lot, they rushed at Hugo, a motley mob of

wiry fiends.

Hugo met them in the center of the room. With fluid

precision, he snatched the leader by the waist with one

hand, seizing both feet with the other, and twisted briskly

in opposite directions. Hugo tossed the howling leader

aside as the others descended on him.

Fists flailing like battering rams, Hugo sent imps sailing

in wild cartwheels. They swarmed, making agile leaps to

land on his shoulders and scratch at his head. But Hugo

just kept twirling and twisting and heaving, a violent ballet

that sent as many imps as pounced on him careening across

the basement.

Some of the imps nimbly dodged around him to sprint

toward Grandma and Kendra and Seth. Hugo whirled and

charged after them, grabbing a pair of them by the knees

and then wielding them like clubs to swat others away.

The resilience of the imps was impressive. Hugo would

fling one into the wall, and the tenacious creature would

stumble to its feet and wade back in for more. Even the

burly leader was still in the fray, staggering awkwardly on

mangled legs.

Looking beyond the tumult, Kendra noticed Muriel

blowing on a knot. Grandma, she’s up to something.

Hugo, Grandma cried. Leave the imps to us and go

capture Muriel.

Hugo hurled the imp he was holding. The whining

creature skimmed the ceiling the entire distance to the

wall, where it impacted with a revolting crunch. Then the

golem dashed at Muriel.

Mendigo, protect me! Muriel squealed. The wooden

man, who still danced near Grandpa and Lena, sprinted to

intercept Hugo.

Free from the indomitable onslaught of the golem, the

injured imps converged on Grandma, who placed herself in

front of Kendra and Seth. Holding a pouch in one hand,

Grandma swung it so that it scattered a twinkling cloud of

dust. As the imps reached the cloud, electricity crackled,

hurling them back. A few lunged into the cloud, trying to

force their way through it, but electricity flared brighter

and sent them tumbling. Grandma spread more dust in the

air.

Great dark wings were spreading out from the alcove.

The air undulated. Kendra felt like she was viewing the

basement from far away, through a narrow tunnel.

Hugo had almost reached Muriel. The overgrown limberjack

dived at the golem’s feet, using both arms and legs

to entangle Hugo’s ankles. The golem toppled forward.

Hugo kicked free of Mendigo, sending the wooden puppet

skidding across the floor, then rose to his knees and

reached for Muriel. His outstretched hands were inches

from taking hold of her when a thunderclap shook the

basement, accompanied by a brief moment of blackness.

The massive golem crumbled into a pile of rubble.

Muriel brayed in triumph, eyes crazed, delirious at having

so narrowly avoided Hugo’s clutches. Off to one side of

the room, Mendigo sat up. The puppet had lost an arm at

the shoulder. He picked up the limb and reattached it.

Muriel’s eyes sharpened as she sensed certain victory.

Bring them all to me, she trumpeted.

A red scarf fluttered to the floor. Grandma Sorenson

raised the crossbow in one hand while scattering the last of

the contents of her pouch with the other. She discarded

the pouch and stepped forward into the glittering dust

cloud, gripping the crossbow in both hands.

The arrow took flight. Mendigo sprang, desperately trying

to block the dart, but Hugo had knocked the puppet

too far away. Muriel shrieked and toppled back against the

net of knotted ropes, a manicured hand covering the front

of her shoulder. She rebounded forward, falling to her

knees, panting, still clutching her shoulder, black feathers

protruding between her slender fingers. You will pay for

that sting! she screamed.

Run! Grandma Sorenson shouted to the children.

Too late. Eyes closed, lips moving soundlessly, Muriel

stretched forth a bloody hand, and a gust of wind stripped

away the sparkling dust. The injured imps rushed in, seizing

Grandma Sorenson roughly.

Seth sprang forward, throwing a handful of dust over

Grandma and the imps. Lightning crackled and the imps

stumbled away.

Mendigo, bring me the boy! Muriel called.

The wooden servant charged toward Seth, racing on all

fours. The imps had fanned out, several clustering near the

door to prevent escape. Seth flung dust as Mendigo leaped.

The electric cloud repelled the puppet. At the same time,

an imp darted in from behind, knocking the pouch from

Seth’s grasp with a chopping motion.

The tall imp twisted Seth around, grabbed his upper

arms, and hoisted him into the air so they were staring eye

to eye. The imp hissed, mouth open, black tongue dangling

grotesquely.

Hey, Seth said, recognition dawning. You’re the fairy

I caught!

The imp draped Seth over its shoulder and ran toward

Muriel. Another imp seized Grandma to bring her to the

witch.

Kendra stood frozen with terror. Imps surrounded her.

Escape was impossible. Hugo had been reduced to a pile of

debris. Grandma had missed with the arrow, wounding but

not killing Muriel. Seth had done his best, but he and

Grandma had been captured. There was no more defense.

No more tricks. Nothing between Kendra and whatever

horrors Muriel and her imps wished to inflict.

Except that the imps were not taking hold of her. They

stood all around her, yet they seemed unable to reach out

their hands and grab her. They would lift their arms part of

the way and then stop, as if their limbs refused to obey.

Mendigo, bring me the girl, Muriel commanded.

Mendigo shouldered through the imps. His hand

stretched toward her and then stopped, wooden fingers

twitching, hooks clinking softly.

They can’t touch you, Kendra, Grandpa called from

where he hung shackled to the wall. You have caused no

mischief, worked no magic, inflicted no harm. Run,

Kendra, they can’t stop you!

Kendra pushed between a pair of imps, heading for the

door. Then she stopped short. Can’t I help you?

Muriel is not bound by the laws restraining her minions,

Grandpa shouted. Run all the way home, straight

down the road you came by. Do no harm along the way!

Don’t stray from the path! Then get off the property! Ram

the gate with my truck! Fablehaven will fall! One of us has

to survive!

Muriel, clutching her wounded shoulder, was already in

pursuit. Kendra raced up the stairs and dashed across the

chapel to the front door.

Child, wait! called the witch.

Kendra paused at the threshold of the church and looked

back. Muriel leaned in the doorway that led to the basement.

She looked pale. Blood drenched the arm of her gown.

What do you want? Kendra said, trying to sound

brave.

Why rush off in such a hurry? Stay, we can talk this

through.

You don’t look so good.

This trifle? Loosing a single knot will mend it.

Then why haven’t you done it?

I wanted to talk before you hurried away, the witch

soothed.

What is there to talk about? Let my family go!

demanded Kendra.

I may, in time. Child, you do not want to run off into

the woods at this late hour. Who can say what horrors

await out there?

They can’t beat what’s going on in here. Why are you

releasing that demon?

You could never understand, said Muriel.

Do you think it will be your friend? You’re going to

end up chained to the wall along with the others.

Make no speeches about matters far beyond your

comprehension, Muriel snapped. I have made covenants

that will place me in a position of unfathomable power. After

biding my time for long years, I feel my hour of triumph at

hand. The evening star is rising.

Evening star? Kendra repeated.

Muriel grinned. My ambitions extend far beyond

hijacking a single preserve. I am part of a movement with

much broader objectives.

The Society of the Evening Star.

You could never imagine the designs already in

motion. I have been locked away for years, yes, but not

without means of communicating with the outside world.

The imps.

And other collaborators. Bahumat has been orchestrating

this day since his capture. Time has been our ally.

Watching and waiting, we have quietly leveraged countless

opportunities to gradually secure our release. No prison

stands forever. At times our efforts have borne little fruit.

On gladder occasions, we have toppled many dominoes

with a single nudge. When Ephira succeeded in coaxing

you to open the window on Midsummer Eve, we were

hopeful that events would unfold much as they have.

Ephira?

You looked into her eyes.

Kendra cringed. She did not appreciate a reminder of

the translucent woman in the gauzy black garments.

Muriel nodded. She and others are about to inherit this

sanctuary, a vital step toward reaching our ultimate ends.

After decades of persistence, nothing can forestall me.

Then why not just let my family go? Kendra pleaded.

They would try to interfere. Not that they could at

this point-they had their chance and failed-but I will

take no risks. Come, face the end with your loved ones,

instead of alone in the night.

Kendra shook her head.

Muriel extended her uninjured arm. The fingers, red

with her own blood, contorted into an unnatural shape.

She spoke in a garbled language that made Kendra think of

angry men whispering. Kendra ran out of the church, down

the steps, and over to the wagon. She paused to look back.

Muriel did not appear in the doorway. Whatever spell the

witch had tried to cast apparently had no effect.

Kendra raced down the road. The sunset was still fairly

bright. They had been inside the church for only a few

minutes. Tears began to blind her, but she kept running,

unsure whether she was being pursued.

Her whole family was lost! Everything had happened

so fast! One moment Grandma was confidently offering

assurance; the next, Hugo was destroyed and Seth and

Grandma were captured. Kendra should have been captured

as well, except she had been so overcautious since

arriving at Fablehaven that she was still apparently

shielded by the full power of the treaty. The imps had not

been able to lay a finger on her, and Muriel had been too

injured to give proper chase.

Kendra looked back along the empty road. The witch

would have cured the injury by now, but would probably

not come after her until freeing Bahumat, since Kendra

had such a big head start.

Then again, Muriel could possibly use magic to catch

up with her. But Kendra suspected that the urgency of

unleashing the demon would prevent Muriel from giving

chase for now.

Should she turn around and head back? Try to rescue

her family? How? Throw rocks? Kendra could envision

nothing but certain capture if she were to return.

But she had to do something! When the demon was

released, it would destroy the treaty, and Seth would die,

along with Grandpa, Grandma, and Lena!

The only possibility she could think of was returning to

the house and trying to find a weapon in the attic. Could

she remember the combination to the vault door? She had

watched Grandma open it an hour ago, heard her speak the

numbers aloud. She could not recall them, but felt she

might once she saw it.

Kendra knew she was without hope. The house was miles

away. How many? Eight? Ten? Twelve? She would be lucky to

make it there, let alone back, before Bahumat was free.

There were many knots, and it looked like Muriel

could undo only one at a time. Each knot seemed to take

at least a few minutes. But still, at that rate, it would be a

matter of hours, not days, before the demon was free.

At least finding a weapon at the house was a goal. No

matter how desperate the odds, it gave her a direction to

head and a reason for going there. Who knew what the

weapon would be, or how she would use it, or whether she

could even get into the attic? But at least it was a plan. At

least she could tell herself there was a brave reason for running

away.

A Desperate Gamble

Dreading nightfall did nothing to prevent it. The sunset

diminished and disappeared, until Kendra had

only the light reflected from half a moon to guide her. The

night grew cooler, but not cold. The forest was swathed in

gloomy shadow. Occasionally she heard unsettling sounds,

but she never caught sight of what made them. Although

she glanced back frequently, the road behind remained as

empty as the road ahead.

Kendra alternated between jogging and walking.

Without landmarks, it was difficult to discern how much

ground she was covering. The dirt road seemed to stretch

on forever.

She worried about Grandma Sorenson. Since she had

shot Muriel and used Hugo to cripple the imps, there would

probably be no protection for Grandma from similar torture.

Kendra began to wish she had accepted Muriel’s invitation

to stay at the church with her family. The guilt of

being the only escapee was almost too much to bear.

It was hard to calculate the passage of time. The night

wore on, as endless as the road. The moon gradually

migrated across the sky. Or was it the road changing

direction?

Kendra felt certain she had been on the road for hours

when she reached an open area. The moonlight showed a

scant trail branching away from the road. It ran toward a

tall, shadowy hedge.

The pond with the gazebos! Finally, a landmark. She

could not be more than half an hour from the house, and

there was still no hint of dawn.

How long before Bahumat would be set free? Maybe

the demon was already loose. Would she know when it

happened, or would she not find out until she was mobbed

by monsters?

Kendra rubbed her eyes. She felt weary. Her legs did

not want to walk any farther. She noticed that she was very

hungry. She stopped and stretched for a minute. Then she

started jogging. She could run the rest of the way, right? It

wasn’t too far.

As she passed the meager trail branching from the road,

Kendra skidded to a halt. A new thought had occurred to

her, inspired by the irregular hedge looming off to the side

of the road.

The Fairy Queen had a shrine on the island in the

middle of the pond. Wasn’t she supposed to be the most

powerful person in all the fairy world? Maybe Kendra could

try asking her for help.

Kendra folded her arms. She knew so little about the

Fairy Queen. Apart from hearing that the queen was powerful,

she had heard only that to set foot on her island

meant certain death. Some guy had tried it and turned into

dandelion seeds.

But why was he trying it? Kendra did not think she had

been given a specific reason, just that he had a desperate

need. But the fact that he had tried meant he thought he

might succeed. Maybe he just didn’t have a good enough

reason.

Kendra considered her need. Her grandparents and

brother were about to be killed. And Fablehaven was about

to be destroyed. That would be bad for the fairies too,

wouldn’t it? Or would the fairies not care? Maybe they

would just go elsewhere.

Indecisive, Kendra stared at the faint trail. What

weapon did she expect to find at the house? Probably nothing.

So she would most likely end up crashing through the

gate or climbing it to get away before Bahumat and Muriel

caught up and finished her off. And her family would

perish.

But this Fairy Queen idea might work. If the queen was

so powerful, she would be able to stop Muriel and maybe

even Bahumat. Kendra needed an ally. Despite her noble

intentions, she could not see any way she could succeed on

her own.

Kendra had felt a new sensation inside ever since the

idea had popped into her head. The feeling was so unexpected

that it took a moment to recognize it as hope. There

were no combination locks in the way. She just had to

throw herself at the mercy of an all-powerful being and

plead for her family.

What was the worst that could happen? Death, but on

her terms. No bloodthirsty imps. No witches. No demons.

Just a big poof of dandelion fluff.

What was the best possibility? The Fairy Queen could

turn Muriel into dandelion seeds and rescue Kendra’s

family.

Kendra started down the trail. She felt butterflies in her

stomach. It was an encouraging kind of nervousness, much

preferable to the dread of certain failure. She started

running.

No crawling under the hedge this time. The path led

to an archway. Kendra ran under the archway and onto the

manicured lawn beyond.

By moonlight the whitewashed pavilions and boardwalk

were even more picturesque than during the day.

Kendra really could envision a Fairy Queen living on the

island at the center of the tranquil pond. Of course, the

queen didn’t actually live there. It was just a shrine. Kendra

would have to go petition her and hope the queen would

respond.

Getting to the island would be the first challenge. The

pond was full of naiads who liked to drown people, which

meant she needed a sturdy boat.

Kendra hurried across the lawn toward the nearest

gazebo. She tried to ignore the shifting shadows she saw

ahead-various creatures ducking out of sight. Anticipating

what she was about to attempt, Kendra felt like her

intestines were caught in an eggbeater. She forced away all

fear. Would Grandpa turn and flee? Would Grandma?

Would Seth? Or would they try their best to save her?

She charged up the steps of the nearest pavilion and

started running along the boardwalk. Her shoes pounded

noisily against the boards, defying the silence. She saw her

destination-the boathouse, three gazebos away.

The surface of the lake was a black mirror reflecting the

moonlight. A few twinkling fairies hovered just above the

water. Otherwise there was no sign of life.

Kendra reached the pavilion attached to a small pier.

She dashed down the steps and out onto the quay. She

reached the boathouse and tried the door. Just like before,

it was locked. The door was not big, but it looked sturdy.

Kendra kicked it hard. The impact jolted up the length

of her leg, making her wince. She rammed the door with

her shoulder, again hurting herself instead of the door.

Kendra stepped back. The boathouse was basically a

large shed floating on the water. It had no windows. She

hoped it still had boats inside. If it did, they would be

sitting in the water, protected by walls and a roof but no

floor. If she jumped into the lake, she could surface inside

the boathouse and climb into a boat.

She studied the water. The black, reflective surface was

impenetrable. There could be a hundred naiads waiting in

ambush, or none-it was impossible to tell.

The whole plan would be pointless if she drowned

before reaching the island. Based on what she had heard

from Lena, there would be naiads eagerly waiting for her to

get near the water. Jumping in would be suicide.

She sat down and started bucking the door with both

feet, the same method Seth had used to break into the

barn. She made a lot of noise, but did not seem to be harming

the door at all. Kicking harder only made her legs hurt

more.

She needed a tool. Or a key. Or some dynamite.

Kendra ran back up to the pavilion, searching for something

she could use to pry the door open. She saw nothing.

If only there were a sledgehammer lying around.

She tried to calm herself. She had to think! Maybe if

she just kept pounding, the door would eventually give.

Sort of like erosion. But it hadn’t budged yet, and she

didn’t have all night. There had to be a smarter solution.

What did she have to work with? Nothing! Nothing but a

few shadowy creatures who ducked out of sight at her

approach.

Okay, listen up! she shouted. I know you can hear

me. I have to get inside the boathouse. A witch is setting

Bahumat free, and all of Fablehaven is going to be

destroyed. I’m not asking for anybody to stick their necks

out. I just need somebody to beat down the boathouse door.

My grandfather is the caretaker here, and I give you full

permission. I am going to turn my back and close my eyes.

When I hear the door break, I’ll wait ten seconds before

turning back around.

Kendra turned around and closed her eyes. She heard

nothing. Anytime, just smash down the door. I promise I

won’t look.

She heard a gentle splash and a tinkling sound.

Okay! Sounds like we have a taker! Just break down

the door.

She heard nothing. She suddenly realized that something

could have emerged from the water and be sneaking

up behind her. Unable to resist, she turned and peeked.

No dripping creatures were in sight. All was quiet.

There were ripples on the previously glassy pond. And

lying on the dock near the boathouse was a key.

Kendra rushed down the stairs and picked up the key.

It was wet, corroded, and a little slimy. Longer than a regular

key, it looked old-fashioned.

Wiping it against her shirt, she carried the key to the

boathouse and inserted it in the keyhole. It fit perfectly.

She turned it, and the door swung inward.

Kendra shivered. The implications were disturbing.

Apparently a naiad had tossed her the key. They wanted

her out on the water.

With only the moonlight seeping through the door to

provide illumination, the boathouse was very dim.

Squinting, Kendra could see three boats tied to the narrow

pier: two large rowboats, one slightly broader than the

other, and a smaller paddleboat. The paddleboat was the

kind with bicycle pedals. Kendra had once ridden in one at

a park with a lake.

On one wall hung several oars of varying length. Near

the door were a crank and a lever. Kendra tried to turn the

crank, but it would not move. She pulled the lever.

Nothing happened. She tried the crank again, and this

time it turned. A sliding door on the opposite side of the

boathouse from the dock began to open, letting in more

light. Kendra kept cranking, relieved that she would be

able to paddle a boat directly out of the boathouse onto the

pond.

Standing in the gloom of the boathouse, staring out the

open door at the pond, Kendra began to doubt. She felt

nauseated with fear. Was she really prepared to go to her

death? To have naiads drown her, or to fall victim to a spell

protecting a forbidden island?

Grandpa and Grandma Sorenson were resourceful.

They might have already escaped. Was she doing this for

nothing?

Kendra remembered an occasion three years ago at a

community pool. She had desperately wanted to jump off

the high dive. Her mom had warned her that it was higher

than it looked, but nothing could dissuade her. Many kids

were jumping off it, several her age or younger.

She stood in line at the base of the ladder. When her

turn came, she started climbing, amazed at how much

higher she seemed with each step. When she arrived at the

top, she felt like she was standing on a skyscraper. She

wanted to turn back, but all the kids in line would know

she was scared. Plus her parents were watching.

She walked forward along the diving board. There was

a slight breeze. She wondered if the people on the ground

could feel it. When she approached the end of the board,

she stared down at the rippling water. She could see all the

way to the bottom of the pool. Jumping no longer seemed

like a fun thing to do.

Realizing that the longer she hesitated, the more attention

she would draw, she turned around quickly and

descended the ladder, trying to avoid eye contact with the

people waiting in line at the bottom. She had not been up

a high dive since. In fact, she rarely took any sort of risk.

Once again she was standing on the brink of something

frightening. But this was different. Jumping off a high dive,

or riding a roller coaster with multiple loops, or passing a

note to Scott Thomas-those were all voluntary thrills.

There was no real consequence to avoiding the risk. In her

current situation, her family would probably die if she failed

to act. She had to stand by her previous decision and carry

out her plan, regardless of the consequences.

Kendra considered the oars. She had never rowed a

boat and could easily picture herself floundering, especially

if nasty naiads were giving her a hard time. She examined

the paddleboat. Designed for a single passenger, it was

wider than it needed to be, presumably for additional stability.

The childish craft was not nearly as big as the rowboats,

and she would be close to the water, but at least

Kendra thought she could maneuver it.

Kendra sighed. Kneeling, she untied the little boat,

tossing the slender rope onto the seat. The paddleboat

wobbled when she stepped aboard, and she had to crouch

and use her hands to avoid falling into the water. The bottom

of the novelty craft was completely closed, which

meant nothing could grab at her feet.

After getting situated, Kendra sat facing the dock.

There was a steering wheel to control lateral movement.

Turning the wheel all the way to one side, she pedaled

backwards and slid away from the dock. Cranking the

wheel the other way, she started pedaling forward, and the

boat quietly slid out of the boathouse.

Ripples radiated out from the front of the paddleboat

as she steered it toward the island, pedaling briskly. The

island was not far-maybe eighty yards. The paddleboat

moved steadily closer to her destination. Until it started

moving away from the island.

She pedaled harder, but the boat kept sliding diagonally

backward. Something was towing her. The boat began to

spin. Turning the wheel and paddling did nothing. Then

the boat suddenly tilted precariously to one side. Something

was trying to tip her!

Kendra leaned to prevent the boat from capsizing, and

the boat abruptly rocked the other way. Kendra changed

position, counterbalancing desperately. She saw wet fingers

holding the side of the boat and slapped at them. The

action was rewarded by giggling.

The boat began to rotate quickly. Leave me alone!

Kendra demanded. I have to get to the island. This

earned a longer titter from multiple voices.

Kendra paddled furiously, but it did no good. She kept

spinning and getting hauled in the wrong direction. The

naiads started rocking the boat again. Thanks to the low

center of gravity, Kendra found that leaning was enough to

prevent the boat from capsizing, but the naiads were relentless.

They tried to distract her by banging the bottom of the

vessel and by waving at her. The boat pitched and rocked

and spun, and then suddenly the naiads would heave in

earnest, trying to catch her off balance. Time after time,

Kendra reacted quickly, shifting her weight to spoil their

attempts to flip her. It was a stalemate.

The naiads did not show themselves. She heard their

laughter and glimpsed their hands, but never saw a face.

Kendra decided to quit paddling. It was getting her

nowhere, and wasting energy. She resolved to exert herself

only to keep the boat from tipping.

The attempts grew less frequent. She said nothing,

made no response to the taunting giggles, ignored the

hands on the side of the boat. She simply leaned as needed

when they tried to tip the boat. She was getting better at

it. They were not able to tilt it as much.

The attempts stopped. After about a minute of no

activity, Kendra started paddling toward the island. Her

progress was soon halted. She quit paddling immediately.

The naiads spun her and rocked her some more.

She waited. After another minute of tranquility she

paddled again. Again they pulled her away. But less eagerly.

She sensed them giving up, getting bored.

On her eighth try using this technique, the naiads

apparently lost interest. The island grew closer. Twenty

yards. Ten yards. She expected them to stop her at the last

moment. They didn’t. The front of her paddleboat scraped

against the shore. Everything remained still.

The moment of truth had arrived. When she set foot

on the island, either she would transform into a cloud of

dandelion fluff and drift away, or she wouldn’t.

Almost indifferent at this point, Kendra leaped out of

the boat and landed on the shore. There did not seem to

be anything magical or even special about it, and she did

not turn into a cloud of seeds.

There was, however, a barrage of laughter from behind

her. Kendra whirled in time to see her paddleboat drifting

away from the island. It was already too late to do anything

without jumping into the water. She slapped herself on the

forehead with the heel of her hand. The naiads had not

given up-they were trying a different strategy! She had

been so distracted by the prospect of becoming dandelion

fluff that she had not hauled the boat out of the water as

she should have. She could have at least kept hold of the

rope!

Well, one more favor to ask the Fairy Queen.

The island was not large. It took only about seventy

paces for Kendra to walk around the edge of it. Her tour of

the perimeter revealed nothing interesting. The shrine was

probably near the center.

Although the island had no trees, it had many shrubs,

many of them taller than Kendra. There were no trails, and

pressing through them was irritating. What would the

shrine look like? She pictured a little building, but after

crisscrossing the island a few times, she realized there was

no such structure.

Maybe she had not turned to dandelion seeds because

the island was a hoax. Or maybe the shrine was no longer

here. Either way, she was stranded on a tiny island in the

middle of a pond full of creatures who wanted to drown

her. What would drowning feel like? Would she actually

inhale water, or just pass out? Or would the demon get her

first?

No! She had come this far. She would look again, more

carefully. Maybe the shrine was something natural, like a

special bush or stump.

She walked around the perimeter of the island again,

more slowly this time. She noticed a thin trickle of water.

It was strange to find a stream, no matter how small, on

such a tiny island. She followed the stream toward the

center of the island until she found the place where it came

bubbling out of the ground.

There, at the source of the spring, was a two-inch-tall

statue of a fairy, finely carved. It rested on a white pedestal

that added a few more inches to the height. A small silver

bowl sat in front of it.

Of course! Fairies were so tiny, it made sense that the

shrine would be miniature as well!

Kendra fell to her knees beside the spring, directly in

front of the small figurine. The night was very still.

Looking to the sky, Kendra noticed that the eastern horizon

was turning purple. Night was coming to an end.

All Kendra could think to do was pour her heart out in

complete sincerity. Hello, Fairy Queen. Thank you for letting

me visit you without changing me into dandelion

seeds.

Kendra swallowed. This felt weird, talking to a diminutive

statue. There was nothing regal about it. If you can

help me, I really need it. A witch named Muriel is about to

set free a demon named Bahumat. The witch has my

Grandpa and Grandma Sorenson prisoner, along with my

brother, Seth, and my friend Lena. If that demon gets out,

it will wreck this whole preserve, and there is no way I can

stop it from happening without your help. Please, I really

love my family, and if I don’t do something, that demon is

going to, he’s going to-

The reality of what she was saying hit her like a great

weight and spilled out as tears. For the first time, the fact

that Seth was going to die fully entered her mind. She

thought of moments with him, both endearing and annoying,

and realized that there would be no more of either.

She shook with sobs. Hot tears streamed down her

cheeks. She let them come. She needed the release, to stop

trying to suppress the horror of it all. The tears she had

shed while fleeing the Forgotten Chapel had been of shock

and terror. These were tears of realization.

Tears slid down her chin and plopped into the silver

bowl. Her breathing came in ragged gasps between sobs.

Please help me, she finally managed.

An aromatic breeze drifted over the island. It smelled

of rich soil and new blossoms, with just a hint of the sea.

Her crying began to subside. Kendra brushed the tears

from her cheeks and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She

sniffed, amazed at how swiftly congestion could appear.

The miniature statue was wet. Had she cried on it? No!

Water was seeping from its eyes, trickling down into the silver

bowl.

The air stirred again, still redolent with potent aromas.

Kendra inexplicably sensed a presence. She was no longer

alone.

I accept your offering, and join you in weeping.

The words were not audible, but they struck her mind

with such a forceful impression that Kendra gasped. She

had never experienced anything similar. Clear fluid continued

to leak from the statue into the bowl.

From tears, milk, and blood, devise an elixir, andmy handmaidens

will attend you.

The tears were obvious. All Kendra could picture was

Viola for the milk. Whose blood? Her own? The cow’s? The

handmaidens had to be the fairies.

Wait, what do I do? Kendra asked. How do I get off

the island?

In reply, the wind swirled for a moment, and then

gusted. The pleasant aromas vanished. The little statue no

longer wept. The indefinable presence had departed.

Kendra picked up the bowl. About the size of her palm,

it was nearly a third of the way full. She had hoped the

Fairy Queen would resolve the situation for her. Instead she

had apparently shown her a way to resolve the problem

herself. The telepathic message felt as precise as spoken

words. Her family was still in danger, but the spark of hope

was now a flame.

How would she get off the island? Rising, Kendra

walked to the shore. Unbelievably, the paddleboat was

drifting in her direction. It steadily approached until reaching

the island.

Kendra stepped inside the boat. It pulled away from the

shore spontaneously, turned around, and started toward the

little white pier.

Kendra said nothing. She did not paddle. She was

afraid to do anything that might disrupt the effortless

progress to the pier. She held the bowl in her lap, careful

not to spill a drop.

Then she saw it, a dark figure standing on the pier,

awaiting her return. A puppet the size of a man. Mendigo.

Her throat constricted with fear. She had worked magic

on the island! Getting the tears from the statue-that was

magic, right? Her protected status was finished. And

Mendigo had come to apprehend her.

Can you drop me off someplace else? she asked.

The boat moved steadily forward. What could she do?

Even if they dropped her off elsewhere, Mendigo would just

follow.

The boat was twenty yards from the pier, then ten. She

had to protect the contents of her bowl. And she could not

let Mendigo haul her away. But how could she stop him?

The paddleboat brushed up against the pier, coming to

a stop alongside it. Mendigo made no move to grab her. He

seemed to be waiting for her to disembark. Kendra set the

bowl on the pier and stood up, noticing that the boat was

being held steady.

When she stepped onto the pier, Mendigo moved forward,

but as before, he could not seem to grab her. He

stood with both arms half-raised, fingers fluttering. Kendra

picked up the bowl and walked around the limberjack.

Mendigo followed her along the length of the pier.

Why would Muriel have sent Mendigo after her if he

could not seize her? Did Muriel know she had communed

with the Fairy Queen? If so, the puppet sure moved quickly.

His being there was probably precautionary.

The problem it posed was severe. Evidently Kendra had

not actually worked magic on the island; she had merely

collected an ingredient. But in concocting the elixir the

Fairy Queen described and giving it to the fairies, she

would certainly be performing magic. The moment her

protected status ended, Mendigo would be on her.

That was not an option.

Kendra set the silver bowl on the steps leading up to

the gazebo. Then she turned and confronted Mendigo. The

puppet was more than half a head taller than her. I think

you work like Hugo. You have no brain and just do what

you’re told. Is that right, Mendigo?

The limberjack stood still. Kendra tried not to get

creeped out. I have a feeling you won’t obey me, but it’s

worth a try. Mendigo, go climb a tree and sit up there forever.

Mendigo stood motionless. Kendra walked straight at

him. He was trying to lift his arms to grab her, but was

unable to carry out the intention. Standing close to him,

she reached out a tentative finger and touched his wooden

torso. He did not react, except to continue struggling

against whatever force prevented him from seizing her.

You can’t touch me. I haven’t done anything mean or

used any magic. But I can touch you. She gently stroked

both of his arms just beneath the shoulders. The limberjack

jittered with the effort of trying to grasp her.

Want to see my second decisive move of the night?

she asked. Mendigo quivered, hooks jingling, but remained

powerless to take hold of Kendra. Unconsciously biting her

lower lip, she grabbed both arms just below the shoulders,

unhooked them, and dashed away from the limber jack. She

heard the overgrown puppet chasing her as she raced to the

edge of the pond and hurled the wooden arms into the

water.

Something clipped Kendra’s shoulder and sent her

spinning to the ground. A crushing force pressed against

her back, pinning her down. She could hardly breathe.

Craning her neck, she saw Mendigo looming over her,

using his foot to hold her in place. How could a creature

that looked so flimsy be so strong? The spot where he had

kicked her stung deep-it would certainly bruise.

Kendra reached for his other leg, hoping to unhook the

shin, but the puppet danced out of reach. For a moment

Mendigo appeared indecisive. Kendra prepared to roll away

in case he charged and tried to kick her again. If she could

just unhook a leg!

Instead, Mendigo hurried onto the pier. Both of his

arms were floating on the water. One had almost drifted

within reach of the pier. Mendigo crouched, balancing

carefully on one foot, and stretched out a leg toward the

nearest arm.

Just as his toes made contact, a white hand shot out of

the water and seized Mendigo by the ankle, yanking him

into the pond with a splash. Kendra waited, holding her

breath as she watched. The limberjack did not resurface.

She dashed back to the steps and picked up the bowl.

Kendra dared not run while holding the tears. Instead she

walked swiftly, careful not to waste any of her precious

cargo. She walked across the lawn, through the arch, down

the path, and onto the road.

Stars continued to fade in the eastern sky. Kendra hurried

along the road. She was pretty sure her sheltered status

was at an end. But, if mischief had to be done, at least it

had felt worthwhile. She had a feeling it would not be her

final mischievous act of the night.

Bahumat

By the time Kendra reached the barn, a predawn gray

dominated the eastern horizon. Her journey from the

pond had been uneventful. Not a drop had spilled from the

silver bowl. She went around to the little door Seth had

kicked open and ducked inside.

The titanic cow stood munching hay from the loft.

Every time Kendra saw Viola, she marveled anew at her

enormity. The cow’s udder was bloated, nearly as badly as

the first time they had milked her.

Kendra had the tears. Now she needed milk and blood.

Since the Fairy Queen had been communicating mentally,

Kendra trusted her first impressions. The milk would

have to be Viola’s. And the blood? Her own? The cow’s?

Probably both to be safe. Maybe both were required. But

first the milk.

Kendra set the silver bowl in a protected corner and

retrieved one of the ladders. She intended to steal only a

few squirts. There was no time for a proper milking.

Kendra had never tried to collect Viola’s milk. She and

Seth had simply been relieving pressure for the cow and

letting it spill all over the floor. There were plenty of barrels,

but trying to dump a barrel into a little silver bowl

seemed tricky. And considering that she would be sliding

down a teat to get milk out, it seemed like it would be hard

to avoid falling in the barrel herself.

She located a large pie tin, the kind Dale used to leave

milk around the yard. Perfect. Small enough to dodge, but

big enough to catch all the milk she would need. She positioned

the tin under the teat, trying to estimate where the

milk would squirt.

Kendra climbed the ladder and jumped, embracing the

fleshy teat. Milk gushed to the floor. Only a little splashed

into the tin. She adjusted the tin, climbed the ladder, and

tried again. This time was a direct hit, filling the tin almost

to the brim, and she even managed to keep her feet on the

landing.

Kendra brought the tin over to the silver bowl. She

poured milk until the bowl was three-quarters of the way

full. Only blood remained.

Viola mooed thunderously, apparently upset at having

her milking abruptly halted right after it began. You’re

going to moo louder than that, Kendra muttered under

her breath.

How much blood would she need? The Fairy Queen

had not specified quantities. Kendra went through the closets

looking for tools. She ended up with a weed digger and

another pie tin. Getting enough blood to pour from a pie

tin into the bowl would be disgusting, but she was scared

that if she tried to put blood from the source directly into

the bowl she would end up spilling everything.

Viola! Kendra called. I don’t know if you can understand

me. I need some of your blood in order to save my family.

This might sting a little, so try to be brave.

The cow gave no sign of comprehension. Kendra

returned to the teat she had been milking. It was the one

area not protected by fur, so she figured it would be the best

place to harvest some blood.

She climbed the ladder only a couple of steps. She

wanted to stab the teat low, so it would drip. If she had

found a knife, she would have tried to make a cut. The

only thing sharp about the weed digger were the points at

the end, so she would have to go with a puncture wound.

Up close, as she contemplated stabbing it, the pink teat

looked alien. She needed to stab hard. On an animal this

big, the skin would be pretty thick. She told herself it

would just feel like a thorn to the enormous cow. But would

she want somebody jabbing a thorn into her? The cow

would probably get upset.

Kendra raised the weed digger, holding the pie tin in

her other hand. Sorry, Viola! she yelled, plunging the

weed digger into the spongy flesh. The tool sank almost to

the handle, and Viola made a terrified bellow.

The heavy teat swung into Kendra, slamming her off

the ladder. She kept hold of the weed digger, wrenching it

free of the wound as she fell. The ladder clattered to the

floor beside her.

Viola sidestepped and tossed her head, bellowing again.

The barn shook, and Kendra heard timbers splitting. The

roof shuddered. The walls swayed and cracked. Kendra covered

her head. Gigantic hooves thumped against the floor,

and Viola let out a long, plaintive moo. Then the cow

settled down.

Kendra looked up. Dust and hay floated down from

above. Blood trickled down the teat, already dripping from

the tip.

Since Viola had calmed down, and the blood was flowing

freely, Kendra cast aside the pie tin and retrieved the

silver bowl. Standing under the teat, she started catching

drops of blood. She had toured a cave with her family once,

and the sight reminded her of water dripping from a

stalactite.

Soon the mixture in the bowl turned from white to

pink. The flow of blood slowed. The lower side and tip of

the teat were stained red. Kendra supposed it was enough.

She went and sat by the little door. Now for her blood.

Maybe she could just try the cow blood and see if that

worked. No, haste was essential. How would she get blood

out? No way was she using the weed digger unless she could

sterilize it.

Leaving the bowl, she hunted through the closets

again. She noticed a safety pin on a pair of coveralls. She

unpinned it and ran back to the bowl.

Holding her hand over the bowl, she hesitated. Kendra

had always hated needles, the idea of being fully aware that

something was about to hurt but having to endure it

calmly. But today was not a day to be squeamish. Gritting

her teeth, she stuck her thumb with the pin and then

squeezed two drops of blood into the mixture. That would

have to do.

Kendra looked at the pie tin. She should probably

drink some milk herself, since a new day was beginning.

She took a sip. Then she realized that her family would

need milk as well when she found them.

There had been bottled water in one of the closets.

Kendra hurried to the closet, selected a bottle, unscrewed

the cap, dumped the contents, and filled it with milk from

the pie tin. The bottle barely fit in her pocket.

Kendra retrieved the small silver bowl. Swirling the

solution a bit, she exited the barn. Predawn colors streaked

the horizon. Sunrise was approaching.

Now what? There were no fairies in sight. When the

Fairy Queen had given instructions, Kendra had felt no

doubt that the handmaidens she referred to were the fairies.

She was supposed to make a potion for them that would

somehow get them to help her.

What would it do? Kendra realized that she had no

idea. What could it do? Win their affection? Then what?

Lacking other options, she had to trust the reassurance she

had felt when the Fairy Queen spoke to her mind.

First she needed to find fairies. She wandered the garden.

There was one, clad in orange and black with matching

butterfly wings. Hey, fairy, I have something for you!

she cried.

The fairy darted over to her, looked at the bowl, started

chirping in a squeaky voice, and zoomed away. Kendra

roamed until she found another fairy, and ended up with an

identical reaction. The fairy acted excited and then flew

away.

Soon multiple fairies were flying up to Kendra, peeking

in the bowl, and then soaring off. They were apparently

spreading the news.

Kendra ended up beside the metal statue of Dale. She

set the bowl on the ground and backed away, in case her

proximity might discourage the fairies. The morning grew

brighter. Before long, dozens of fairies hovered around the

bowl. They were no longer showing up only to zip away. A

crowd was forming. Occasionally one would fly right up to

the bowl and peer inside. One even laid a tiny hand on the

rim. But none took a drink. Most stayed several feet away.

The crowd swelled to more than a hundred. Still they

would not drink. Kendra tried to be patient. She did not

want to frighten them away.

Suddenly the sound of a mighty wind interrupted the

quiet morning. Kendra felt no breeze, but she could hear a

shrieking gale in the distance. As the sound of the wind

tapered off, a ferocious roar echoed across the yard. The

fairies scattered.

It could mean only one thing. Wait, please, you have

to drink this! Your queen had me make it for you! The

fairies darted around in confusion. Hurry, time is running

out!

Whether it was her words or simply that they were no

longer startled, the fairies gathered around the bowl again.

Try it, Kendra said. Have a taste.

None of the fairies took her up on her offer. Kendra

dipped a finger into the bowl and sampled the elixir. She

tried not to make a disgusted face-it tasted salty and nasty.

Mmmm… delicious.

A fairy with raven black hair and bumblebee wings

approached the bowl. Mimicking Kendra, she dipped a finger

and tasted it. In a whirling shower of sparks the fairy

grew to nearly six feet tall. Kendra smelled the fertile aroma

that had accompanied the Fairy Queen. The enlarged fairy

blinked in astonishment, then glided high into the air.

The other fairies mobbed the bowl. A blizzard of sparks

flashed across the yard as the fairies transformed into much

larger versions of themselves. Kendra backed away, shielding

her eyes from the dazzling pyrotechnics. In moments,

she was surrounded by a glorious host of human-sized

fairies, some standing on the ground, most hovering.

The fairies were uniformly tall and beautiful, with the

lithe musculature of professional ballerinas. They wore

vivid, exotic apparel. They still had magnificent wings.

They still emitted light, although the gentle twinkle had

become a brilliant blaze. The biggest change was in their

eyes. Merry mischief had been replaced by something stern

and smoldering.

A fairy with lustrous silver wings and short blue hair

alighted in front of Kendra. You have summoned us to

war, she announced in a heavy accent. What is your bidding?

Kendra swallowed. A hundred human-sized fairies took

up much more space than a hundred tiny ones. They used

to be so cute. Now they were quite imposing. She would

not want to be the enemy of these proud seraphim.

Can you restore Dale? Kendra asked.

A pair of fairies crouched over Dale, placed their hands

on him, and then helped him to his feet. He regarded

Kendra with befuddled wonder, patting himself, as if surprised

he was intact. What’s going on? he asked. Where’s

Stan?

The fairies healed you, Kendra said. Grandpa and

the others are still in trouble. But I think these fairies will

help us.

Kendra returned her gaze to the stunning silver fairy.

Muriel the witch is trying to release a demon named

Bahumat.

The demon is free, the fairy said. You have but to

command.

Kendra pressed her lips together. We have to lock him

up again. The witch, too. And we have to rescue my

Grandpa and Grandma Sorenson, and my brother, Seth,

and Lena.

The blue-haired fairy nodded and issued instructions in

a musical language. Some of the fairies began rummaging

in nearby plants. They pulled out weapons. A yellow fairy

produced a crystal sword from the soil of a flowerbed. A

violet fairy transformed a thorn from a rosebush into a

spear. The silver fairy with blue hair changed a snail shell

into a beautiful shield. The petal of a pansy became a blazing

ax in her other hand.

This is your will, the silver fairy confirmed.

Yes, Kendra said firmly.

All together, the fairies took flight. Kendra turned to

watch them go. Then a hand grabbed her left arm and

another seized her right and she was soaring between two

fairies-a slender albino with black eyes and a blue, furry

fairy. Kendra recognized the blue one as the downy fountain

sprite she had seen in Grandpa’s office.

The sudden acceleration took her breath away. They

cruised low to the ground, skimming over bushes, dodging

tree trunks, and swishing past branches. Flying near the

rear, Kendra marveled at the squadron of fairies ahead of

her effortlessly weaving through obstacles at such reckless

speed.

The exhilaration was overwhelming. The wind of their

velocity brought tears to her eyes. The pond with the

gazebos streaked by beneath her. At this rate, they would

reach the Forgotten Chapel in moments.

But what about when they got there? Bahumat was supposed

to be incredibly powerful. Even so, considering the

legion of fierce fairies surrounding her, Kendra liked her

odds.

Glancing back, Kendra saw no fairies behind her. They

had apparently left Dale in the yard.

The mad dash through the forest continued until the

fairies ahead swooped skyward. Kendra’s escorts followed,

rocketing up beyond the treetops. The sudden ascent left

her mouth dry and her stomach tingling.

And then she was no longer moving. Kendra and her

escorts hovered above the treetops, watching the others

plunge toward the Forgotten Chapel. Kendra tried to

recover from the thrill of flying and digest what was happening

below.

Four winged creatures were rising to meet the fairies.

The huge gargoyles were at least ten feet tall, with razor

claws and horns like rams. A few fairies broke off from the

main group to intercept them. The winged beasts clawed

at their smaller opponents, but the fairies adroitly evaded

the blows and slashed off their wings, sending the gargoyles

hurtling to the ground.

Something flashed in Kendra’s eyes. The sun was peeking

over the horizon. Let’s go, Kendra said to her escorts.

The fairies dove. Kendra felt her stomach rise to her

throat as they plunged toward the church. Human-sized

imps were spilling out of the front doorway, shaking their

fists and hissing at the incoming fairies. Many of the fairies

cast their weapons aside and soared straight at the imps,

catching them in vicious embraces and kissing them on the

mouth. In radiant bursts of sparks, every imp that was

kissed transformed into a human-sized fairy!

Kendra saw the silver fairy with blue hair plant a kiss

on an obese imp. The imp instantly metamorphosed into a

plump fairy with coppery wings. As the silver fairy glided

away, the plump fairy tackled another imp, forced a kiss,

and in a flash the imp became a thin, Asian-looking fairy

with hummingbird wings.

The fairies streamed into the church. Most did not

bother with the door. They glided through windows or

smashed through the corroded roof.

Kendra’s escorts held her over a gap in the roof. She

saw fairies kissing imps. Other fairies drove back a variety

of foul beasts. One fairy used a golden lash to send a toad-like

monstrosity crashing through the wall. Another fairy

grasped a scabby beast by its mane of white hair and hurled

it through a window. A gray fairy with mothlike wings

chased a brawny minotaur out the front door with a scalding

blast of steam from the end of her rod. Many of the

unsavory creatures voluntarily fled before the terrible

onslaught.

Others fought back.

A demonic dwarf with a hide of black scales bounded

around the room wreaking havoc with a pair of knives. A

rampaging atrocity that looked like a cross between a bear

and an octopus battered fairies with its thrashing tentacles.

A greasy creature coughed globs of slime into the air. It had

the general appearance of a large tortoise without a shell,

its body an amoeboid puddle beneath a long neck. Several

fairies crashed to the church floor, wings snarled in the

goopy substance.

The undaunted fairies counterattacked. The bottom

half of the dwarf was turned to stone. Tentacles severed,

the octobear retreated. A torrent of water flushed away the

greasy creature. Some fairies attended their fallen comrades,

healing injuries and washing away slime.

As the room cleared, fairies charged through the door

to the basement.

Take me to the basement! Kendra said. Her escorts

immediately responded, nearly giving Kendra whiplash as

they plummeted into the church and glided to the basement

door. The fairies had to tuck in their wings to

descend the stairs, so Kendra ran down beside the furry

fairy and the albino.

The basement had expanded. A massive excavation

and renovation had occurred. It was deeper, broader, and

longer. The alcove at the far side had grown as well, now

completely unfettered by knotted ropes.

The basement was not lighted as brightly as before,

although the fairies carried their own luminescence with

them. Hideous carvings sneered from the walls. One

corner was piled with strange treasures-jade idols, spiked

scepters, and jeweled masks.

Kendra scanned the room for her family. The easiest to

spot was Seth. He was inside an enormous jar with breathing

holes punched in the lid. There were some leaves and

branches in it with him. He had grown no taller, but he

looked a hundred years old. Saggy wrinkles creased his face,

and he had only a few wisps of white hair left atop his head.

He placed a pruned palm against the glass.

Kendra guessed that the orangutan chained to the wall

was Grandpa. The large catfish swimming in the tank

beside him was probably Lena. She saw no sign of

Grandma.

Flanked by her fairy escorts, Kendra dashed toward her

family. Scores of hideous imps scuffled with fairies. Those

fights did not last long as kisses transformed the imps back

into their original forms.

Kendra reached the gigantic jar. Are you all right,

Seth?

Her elderly brother nodded feebly. His smile showed

that he had no teeth.

A snarling imp pounced at Kendra. The blue, furry fairy

caught the creature in midflight, pinning its arms to its

sides. It resembled the same imp that had apprehended her

brother earlier. The albino fairy flew up and gave the imp a

kiss on the mouth, and it became a striking fairy with fiery

red hair and iridescent dragonfly wings.

Seth began tapping on the glass. He was pointing

excitedly at the fairy. Kendra realized that it was the fairy

he had unwittingly transformed.

The redheaded fairy approached the jar, shaking a

scolding finger at Seth. I’m sorry, Seth mouthed from

inside the container. He clasped his hands and made pleading

motions. The fairy regarded him through narrowed

eyes. Then she snapped her fingers, and the jar shattered.

She leaned forward and kissed Seth on the forehead. His

wrinkles smoothed and his hair filled in until he promptly

looked like himself again.

Kendra pulled the bottle of milk from her pocket and

handed it to Seth. Save some for Grandma and Grandpa.

But I can see-

An earsplitting roar shook the room. A creature who

could only have been Bahumat emerged from the alcove.

The loathsome demon stood three times as tall as a man

and had the head of a dragon crowned by three horns. The

demon walked upright, possessing three arms, three legs,

and three tails. Oily black scales bristling with barbed

spikes covered its grotesque body. Malevolent eyes gleamed

with wicked intelligence.

To one side of Bahumat floated the spectral woman

Kendra had seen outside her window on Midsummer Eve.

Her ebony wrappings flowed unnaturally, as if she were

underwater. The unearthly apparition made Kendra think

of a negative photograph.

At the other side of Bahumat stood Muriel, now clad

in a gown as black as midnight. She leered at the fairies

and glanced confidently at the towering demon.

No imps remained in the room. A crowd of shining

fairies faced these final opponents.

Bahumat crouched. Inky darkness gathered around

him. The demon sprang forward with a roar like a thousand

cannons firing together. A black wall of shadow flowed

from Bahumat like a wave of tar. Total darkness engulfed

the room. Kendra felt like she had been struck blind. Even

with her hands over her ears, the prolonged bellowing of

the demon was practically deafening.

There seemed to be no substance to the shadow

Bahumat had emitted. It was just darkness. Where were the

fairies? Where was their light?

The ground rumbled, and a sound like an avalanche

overpowered the demon’s roar. Suddenly daylight flooded

the room. Looking up, Kendra beheld a blue sky. The

slanted rays of the rising sun fell into the basement. The

entire church had been hurled aside!

Descending from above, and charging from all directions,

fairies swarmed Bahumat. The demon slashed a fairy

with one of its tails, raked another with an impossibly

quick swipe of its claws. Jaws snapping, the creature swallowed

a yellow fairy whole. Many fairies were falling.

While the majority attacked, other fairies laid hands on the

injured, curing most of them rapidly.

Muriel stood in a theatrical pose chanting spidery

words. A pair of fairies near her turned to glass and

shattered. She extended a contorted hand, and another

fairy turned to ash and disintegrated in a gray cloud.

Long streamers of ebony fabric flowed from the spectral

woman, entangling nearby fairies. The ensnared fairies

began to lose their luster and wither. The silver fairy

appeared, slicing through the fabric with her ax of fire.

Other fairies joined her, using gleaming swords to sever the

black material.

The fairies swirling around Bahumat now held ropes.

They looked like the ropes that had crisscrossed the front

of the alcove, except now they appeared to be woven out

of gold. Bahumat kept roaring and swinging and biting, but

the ropes were beginning to tangle him up. Knots were

forming in them. The draconic creature was slowing down.

His great jaws clamped shut, tearing off the gauzy wing of

a fairy with markings like a ladybug.

The spectral woman turned and drifted away, her ethereal

wrappings no longer quite as flowing. The fairies

ignored her departure. A pair of fairies had taken hold of

Muriel, and they flung her at Bahumat. Soon she was

bound to the demon by flaxen cords. She screeched as her

body shriveled with age and her gown turned to rags.

Three fairies alighted atop the demon’s head. They

each grabbed a horn and tore it out. The demon wailed.

Dozens of fairies seized the ropes binding the demon and

hurled Bahumat back into the alcove. Busily the fairies

began threading knotted ropes back and forth over the

entrance.

Kendra turned. The blue, furry fairy gestured toward

the orangutan, and the shackles binding it to the wall fell

apart. Another gesture and a burst of light changed the

orangutan into Grandpa Sorenson.

The albino fairy pulled the convulsing catfish from the

aquarium and changed her back into Lena. Where’s my

Grandma? Kendra cried.

The red-haired fairy who had freed Seth approached

the aquarium. She lifted out a small, putrid slug that had

been clinging to the side above the water and changed it

back into Grandma.

Grandma Sorenson massaged her temples. And I

thought my mind was muddy as a chicken, she muttered.

Grandpa hurried over and embraced her.

Do you need milk? Kendra asked, holding out the

bottle to her grandfather.

He shook his head. We have not slept, and so the veil

has not yet covered our eyes.

A group of fairies gathered near the alcove, extending

their arms, palms downward. Soil, clay, and stone began

flowing together and piling up until Hugo was reborn. The

golem stretched and let out a groan to rival the roars of the

banished demon.

The fairies busily healed one another, mending wings

and closing wounds. One circle of fairies spread their arms,

and fragments of glass skittered together, took the form of a

pair of fairies, and came back to life. Several other fairies

joined hands and started humming. Particles of ash swirled

loosely in their midst, but refused to coalesce. The fairies

released one another, and the ash dissipated. Some fairies,

it seemed, were beyond rescue.

Several fairies took hold of Hugo and lifted him out of

the basement. Others did the same for Grandpa, Grandma,

Lena, Seth, and Kendra. Airborne again, Kendra had a

view of the destroyed church. The wreckage spread across

the clearing for a couple hundred yards. The Forgotten

Chapel had not simply been flung aside-it had been

obliterated.

The fairies set them down a good distance from the

wreckage and the basement. All except Lena. Two fairies

were carrying her away. The former naiad was having harsh

words with them in a foreign tongue, struggling in their

grasp.

Kendra touched Grandpa Sorenson’s arm and nodded

toward the commotion.

Nothing to be done about it, he sighed as the fairies

hauled Lena away. He had an arm around Grandma, holding

her close.

Hey! Kendra shouted. Bring Lena back here! The

fairies holding Lena paid her no heed, passing out of sight

into the woods.

The remainder of the fairies assembled above the basement,

floating in an enormous ring. They had more than

tripled their numbers with all the imps they had reclaimed.

Kendra had seen many fairies fall during the battle, but

most had been revived and healed by the magic of their

comrades.

The radiant fairies raised their arms together and

started singing. The music sounded impromptu, full of

hundreds of interweaving melodies with almost no harmonies.

As they sang, the ground in the clearing began to

undulate. The wreckage from the church slid across the

field, clattering into the open basement. The ground began

to quake. The walls of the basement crumbled. The surrounding

area folded in and swallowed it up. The field

heaved like a stormy sea.

As the undulations subsided, the basement had been

replaced by a low hill. The fairy choir became more shrill.

Wildflowers and fruit trees began sprouting throughout the

clearing and on the hill, coming to full bloom in a matter

of seconds. Flowers blossomed all over Hugo, who offered

no reaction. When the singing finally ceased, a cheery hill

covered by a fragrant array of brilliant blossoms and mature

fruit trees had replaced the Forgotten Chapel.

They made Hugo look all fruity, Seth complained.

The legion of fairies glided toward them, scooped them

up, and carried them on a breakneck flight for home.

Kendra relished being part of the mercurial procession,

overjoyed at the fortunate ending to the terrible night.

Seth whooped the whole way, as if he were riding the

coolest roller coaster on the planet.

Finally the fairies deposited them in the yard, where

Dale stood waiting. Now I’ve seen everything, he said as

Grandpa and Grandma Sorenson were set down beside

him.

The fairy with short blue hair and silver wings stood

before Kendra. Thank you, Kendra said. You did wonderfully.

We can never repay you.

The silver fairy gave a single nod, eyes glittering.

As if responding to a signal, the fairies crowded Kendra,

each in turn giving her a quick kiss. As each kiss was

bestowed, the fairy reverted to her former size amid dazzling

sparks and darted away. The rapid succession of kisses

brought overpowering sensations. Again Kendra smelled

the earthy aromas of the Fairy Queen-rich soil and young

blossoms. She tasted honey and fruit and berries, all sweet

beyond comparison. She heard the music of rainfall, the cry

of the wind, and the roar of the sea. She felt as if the

warmth of the sun were embracing her, flowing through

her. The fairies kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her ears, her

brow.

When the last of more than three hundred fairies kissed

her, Kendra stumbled backwards and sat down hard on the

grass. She felt no pain. In fact, she was mildly surprised that

she did not float away, she felt so light and drowsy.

Grandpa and Dale helped Kendra to her feet. I would

wager that this young lady has quite a story to tell,

Grandpa said. And I would also wager that now is not the

time. Hugo, attend to your labors.

Dale was helping Kendra to the house. She felt

euphoric and distant. She was glad her family was safe. But

she felt so inexplicably blissful, and the troubles of the

evening seemed so remote, that she began to wonder

whether it had all been a surreal dream.

Grandpa was holding hands with Grandma. I’m sorry

it took so long to get you back, he said softly.

I can guess at the reasons, she said. We need to talk

about you eating my eggs.

They weren’t your eggs, Grandpa protested. They

were the eggs of the hen your mind was inhabiting.

I’m glad you can be so detached.

There may still be a couple in the fridge.

Kendra stumbled on her way up the porch steps.

Grandpa and Dale helped her onto the porch and into the

house. The furniture was back! Nearly all of it had been

restored, with some alterations. A couch had been reconstructed

as a chair. Some lampshades were made of different

material. Jewels had been added to a picture frame.

Could the brownies have worked so fast? Her eyes were

drooping. Grandpa was holding Grandma’s hand, whispering

something in her ear. Seth was chattering, but the

words made no sense. Dale held her shoulders, guiding her.

They were almost to the stairs, but she could not keep

her eyes open. She felt herself falling, and hands catching

her, and then consciousness fled.

Farewell to Fablehaven

Kendra and Grandpa reclined in the wagon while

Hugo pulled them down the road at a leisurely pace.

The morning was clear and bright, with a few thin, high

clouds barely clinging to existence, accidental brush strokes

on a blue canvas. The day would be hot, but for now it was

pleasant.

A couple of fairies drifting alongside the wagon waved

at Kendra. She waved back and they sped away, weaving

around one another. The garden now teemed with fairies,

and they paid Kendra a lot of special attention. They

seemed pleased whenever she acknowledged them.

We haven’t really gotten to talk since it all happened,

Kendra said.

You were sleeping half of the time, Grandpa replied.

It was true. She had slept for two days and two nights

straight after the ordeal-a personal best.

All those kisses knocked me out, she said.

You excited to see your parents? asked Grandpa.

Yes and no. It was the third day since Kendra had

awakened. Her parents were coming to pick them up this

afternoon. Going home will seem bland after all this.

Well, you’ll have fewer demons to worry about.

Kendra smiled. True.

Grandpa folded his arms. What you did was so special,

I don’t know how to speak about it.

It barely seems real.

Oh, it was real. You mended an irreparable situation,

and saved all of our lives in the process. The fairies have

not gone to war for centuries. In that state, their power is

virtually unrivaled. Bahumat did not stand a chance. What

you did was so brave, and so doomed to failure, I can’t

think of anyone I know who would have even tried it.

It felt like my only hope. Why do you think the Fairy

Queen helped me?

Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe to save the preserve.

Maybe she sensed the sincerity of your intentions.

Your youth must have helped. I’m sure fairies would much

rather follow a little girl into battle than some pompous

general. But the truth is, I never would have guessed it

would have worked. It was a miracle.

Hugo stopped the cart. Grandpa climbed down and

then helped Kendra. She held the silver bowl that she had

taken from the island. They started down a faint path

toward an archway in a tall, unkempt hedge.

Weird how I don’t have to drink the milk anymore,

Kendra said. On the morning she awoke after the fairy

kisses, when she went to the window, she saw fairies fluttering

about. It had taken a moment to register that she

had not yet consumed any milk that day.

I’ll admit that it worries me somewhat, Grandpa said.

Creatures of whimsy are not solely confined to the preserves.

The blindness of mortals can be a blessing. Take

care where you look.

I’d rather see things how they are, Kendra declared.

They passed under the archway. A group of satyrs were

playing tag with several slender maidens wearing flowers in

their hair. The paddleboat was adrift in the middle of the

pond. Fairies skimmed the surface of the water and soared

among the gazebos.

I’ll be curious to know what other changes the fairies

wrought in you, Grandpa said. I’ve never heard of such a

thing. You’ll let me know if you discover any other oddities?

Like if I turn Seth back into a walrus?

I’m glad you can joke about it, but I’m serious.

They walked up the steps to the nearest pavilion. Just

toss it in? Kendra asked.

I think it would be best, Grandpa said. If the bowl

came from that island, you should give it back.

Kendra threw the bowl like a Frisbee. It landed in the

water. Almost immediately a hand shot up and snatched it.

That was quick, Kendra said. It will probably end up

down with Mendigo.

The naiads respect the Fairy Queen. They’ll make sure

the bowl ends up where it belongs.

Kendra looked at the pier.

She may not know you, Grandpa said.

I just want to say good-bye, whether she gets it or

not.

They walked along the boardwalk until they reached

the gazebo adjoining the pier. Kendra walked out to the

end of the pier. Grandpa stayed a few steps behind her.

Remember, not too close to the water.

I know, Kendra said. She leaned forward to look

down into the pond. It was much clearer than it had been

at night. She jumped a little when she realized that the face

looking up at her was not her reflection. The naiad looked

like a girl of about sixteen, with full lips and a profusion of

golden hair swirling about a face shaped like a valentine.

I want to talk to Lena, Kendra said loudly, over pronouncing

the words.

She may not come, Grandpa said.

The naiad kept staring up at her. Get Lena, please,

Kendra repeated. The naiad swam away. She’ll come,

Kendra asserted.

They waited. Nobody came. Kendra studied the water.

She turned her hands into a megaphone around her mouth.

Lena! This is Kendra! I want to speak with you!

Several minutes passed. Grandpa waited with her

patiently. Then a face rose almost to the surface of the

water, right at the end of the dock. It was Lena. Her hair

was still white with a few black strands. Though she looked

no younger, her face had the same ageless quality.

Lena, hi, it’s Kendra, remember?

Lena smiled. Her face was barely an inch from the

surface.

I just wanted to say good-bye. I really enjoyed our

talks. I hope you don’t mind being a naiad again. Are you

mad at me?

Lena motioned for Kendra to come closer. She put her

hand by her mouth like she wanted to share a secret. Her

almond eyes looked mirthful and excited. They did not

match the white hair. Kendra bent down a little.

What? Kendra asked.

Lena rolled her eyes and motioned for her to come

closer. Kendra crouched a little more, and in the same

instant that Lena reached up for her, Grandpa Sorenson

pulled her back.

I told you, Grandpa said. She is no longer the

woman she was back at the house.

Kendra leaned forward just enough to peer over the

edge again. Lena stuck her tongue out and swam away. At

least she isn’t suffering, Kendra said.

Grandpa walked her back to the gazebo in silence. She

told me she would never choose to return to life as a

naiad, Kendra said after a while. She said it more than

once.

I’m sure she meant it, said Grandpa. From where I

stood, it didn’t look like she went willingly.

I noticed the same thing. I worried she might be suffering.

I thought maybe she needed us to save her.

Are you satisfied? Grandpa asked.

I’m not even sure she remembered me, Kendra admitted.

At first I thought she did, but I bet she was faking,

trying to get me close enough to drown me.

Probably.

She doesn’t miss being human.

Not from her current point of view, Grandpa agreed.

Much like how being a naiad did not sound very fulfilling

to her from a mortal perspective.

Why would the fairies do that to her?

I don’t think they saw it as a punishment. Lena was

probably a victim of good intentions.

But Lena was arguing with them. She didn’t want to

go.

Grandpa shrugged. The fairies might have known that

once they restored her, she would change her mind. Looks

like they were right. Remember, the fairies experience existence

like the naiads. From their point of view, Lena was

out of her mind wanting to be mortal. They probably

thought they were curing her insanity.

I’m glad they restored everybody else, Kendra said.

They just restored Lena too much.

Are you sure? She was a naiad to begin with.

She didn’t like the idea of aging. At least she won’t die

now. Or get any older.

No, she won’t.

I still think she would rather be human.

Grandpa frowned. You may be right. Truth be told, if I

knew a way to reclaim Lena, I would. I believe once she

was mortal again, she would be grateful. But a naiad can

only descend to mortality voluntarily. In her current state,

I doubt she would make that choice. I am sure she is very

disoriented. Perhaps in time she will gain some perspective.

What’s it like for her?

No way to be sure. For all I know, this is a unique

occurrence. Her memories of mortality are apparently distorted,

if she retains them at all.

Kendra unconsciously twisted the sleeve of her shirt, a

pained expression on her face. So we just leave her there?

For now. I will do some research and give the matter

considerable thought. Don’t tear yourself up about it. Lena

would not want that. The alternative was being devoured

by a demon. She looked all right to me.

They started back toward the wagon. What about the

Society of the Evening Star? asked Kendra. Are they still

a threat? Muriel said she was in contact with them.

Grandpa pinched his bottom lip. The Society will be a

threat as long as it endures. It is difficult for an uninvited

guest to gain access to a preserve-mortal or not. Some

would say impossible, but the Society has shown repeated

resourcefulness at circumventing so-called impossible

obstacles. Fortunately we foiled their attempt to use Muriel

to free Bahumat and overthrow the preserve. But we now

know they have learned the whereabouts of Fablehaven.

We will have to be more vigilant than ever.

What secret artifact is hidden here?

It is unfortunate that your grandmother had to share

that secret with you. I realize it was a precaution in case

both of us were incapacitated, but the knowledge is a terrible

burden to place on children. You must never speak of

it. I have tried to impress that idea on Seth as well —— heaven

help us all. I am the caretaker of Fablehaven, and

I know little about the artifact save that it is hidden somewhere

on this property. If members of the Society of the

Evening Star are aware that the artifact is here, and we

have every reason to believe they are, they will stop at

nothing to penetrate our defenses and lay their hands on

it.

What will you do? Kendra said.

What we always do, Grandpa said. Consult with our

allies and take every measure to ensure that our defenses

remain intact. The Society has known the location of

dozens of preserves for centuries and yet has failed to infiltrate

them. They may pay us extra attention, but unless we

let our guard down, there is little they can do.

What about that ghost lady? The one who escaped

while the fairies were trapping Bahumat?

I do not know her story, except that she was obviously

colluding with our enemies. I have never met many of the

dark beings who lurk in the inhospitable corners of

Fablehaven.

They reached the wagon. Grandpa boosted Kendra up

and then climbed in himself. Hugo, take us home.

They rode in silence. Kendra considered all they had

discussed-the fate of Lena and the impending threat of

the Society of the Evening Star. The fateful night that had

seemed like the end of her problems was starting to look

like the beginning.

Up ahead, off to the side of the road, Dale was chopping

a fallen tree into firewood. Drenched in sweat, he

swung the ax aggressively. As the wagon rolled by, he

glanced up at Kendra. She smiled and waved. Dale gave a

tight smile and looked away, returning to his chore.

Kendra frowned. What’s up with Dale lately? Do you

think being turned to lead traumatized him?

I doubt he felt a thing. He’s beating himself up over

something else.

What?

Don’t say a word about this to him. Grandpa paused,

glancing back toward Dale, then went on speaking. He

feels bad that his brother Warren wasn’t present when the

fairies were curing everybody.

Grandma said Dale’s brother is catatonic. I still

haven’t met him. Could the fairies have helped?

Grandpa shrugged. Considering that they put Lena

back in the water, changed imps back into fairies, and

remade Hugo out of a pile of rubble, yes, I imagine they

could have cured Warren. Theoretically, any magic that

can be done can also be undone. Grandpa scratched his

cheek. You have to understand, last week I would have

said there was no possible way of curing Warren. Believe

me, I have investigated the subject thoroughly. But I’ve

never heard of an imp changing back into a fairy, either. It

simply doesn’t happen.

I wish I’d thought of it, Kendra said. Warren didn’t

even cross my mind.

Not your fault in the slightest. Warren just wasn’t in

the right place at the right time. I’m grateful the rest of us

were.

How did Warren get like that?

That, my dear, is part of the problem. We have no

idea. He disappeared for three days. On the fourth he

returned, white as a sheet. He sat down in the garden, and

hasn’t said a word or responded to anyone since. He can

chew food, and walk if you lead him. He can even do some

simple chores if you get him started. But no communication.

His mind has flown.

Hugo stopped at the edge of the yard. Grandpa and

Kendra climbed down. Hugo, see to your chores. The

golem hauled the cart away.

I’m going to miss this place, Kendra said, taking in

the bright flowers attended by glittering fairies.

Your grandmother and I have waited a long time to

find somebody like you among our posterity, Grandpa said.

Trust me. You’ll be back.

* * *

Kendra, Grandma called up the stairs. Your folks are

here!

I’ll be right down. Kendra sat alone on her bed in the

playroom. Seth was already downstairs. She had packed her

bags and helped him with his.

Kendra sighed. When her parents had first dropped her

off, she had counted the days until their return. Now she

almost felt reluctant to see them. Since they knew nothing

about the magical nature of the preserve, there was no way

they could possibly relate to what she had experienced.

The only person she could share it with was Seth. Anyone

else would think she was insane.

Just thinking about it made her feel isolated.

Kendra crossed the room to the painting she had done

of the pond. It was a perfect keepsake from her stay-a

paint-by-numbers drawn by a naiad depicting the location

of the bravest act of her life.

Yet she hesitated to bring it. Would the image stir too

many painful memories? Many of her experiences here had

been dreadful. She and her family had nearly been killed.

And she had lost a new friend when Lena was returned to

the pond.

At the same time, the painting might make her long

for the enchanted world of the preserve. So many aspects

of Fablehaven were wonderful. Life would seem so dry after

the extraordinary events of the past couple of weeks.

Either way, the painting might cause her pain. But of

course those memories would persist with or without the

picture of the pond. She picked it up.

The rest of her bags were already downstairs. She cast

a final glance around the playroom, treasuring up the

details, and walked out the door. She went down the stairs,

along the hall, and started down the staircase to the entry

hall.

Her mom and dad stood in the entry hall smiling up at

her. They had notably gained weight, especially Dad-he

looked twenty pounds heavier. Seth stood near Dad clutching

his painting of the dragon.

You did a painting too! Mom exclaimed. Kendra, it’s

gorgeous!

I had help, she said, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

How was the cruise?

We made a lot of memories, Mom said.

Looks like Dad ate plenty of snails, Seth said.

Dad rubbed his belly. Nobody warned me about all the

desserts.

You ready, honey? Mom said, putting an arm around

Kendra.

Aren’t you going to look around? Kendra asked.

We walked the grounds a bit while you were upstairs,

and toured the lower rooms. Was there something in particular

you wanted to show us?

Not really.

We should probably get going, Dad said, opening the

front door. Not too many days ago that door had been

mangled and an arrow had protruded from the frame.

Outside, Dale was loading the last of the bags into the

SUV. Grandma and Grandpa waited nearby on the driveway.

Dad helped Kendra and Seth load their paintings

while Mom thanked Grandma and Grandpa Sorenson

profusely.

It was our pleasure, Grandma said earnestly.

You’ll have to let them visit again sometime soon,

Grandpa insisted.

I’d like that, Kendra said.

Me too, Seth agreed.

Seth and Kendra hugged their grandparents good-bye

and then climbed into the SUV. Grandpa winked at

Kendra. Dad started the engine. You kids have a good

time?

Yeah, Seth said.

Amazing, Kendra added.

Remember how worried you were when we dropped

you off? Mom said as she buckled her seatbelt. I bet it

wasn’t half as scary as you imagined.

Kendra and Seth shared a very special look.

The Adventure

Continues in

Book Two

FABLEHAVEN

AND THE RISE OF THE

EVENING STAR

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to Chris Schoebinger for seeing the

potential in this story and making it a reality. Thanks also

to Brandon Dorman for his wonderful illustrations; to

Emily Watts, whose editorial talents smoothed out the

rough edges; and to Richard Erickson, Sheryl Dickert

Smith, and Tonya Facemyer, whose design prowess made

everything look really cool. My appreciation to the entire

Shadow Mountain team for doing a tremendous job.

Thanks go out to the friends who provided feedback on

early drafts: Jason and Natalie Conforto, Randy and Rachel

Davis, Mike Walton, Lisa Mangum, Tony Benjamin, the

Excel crew, Nancy, Liz, T mara, Bryson and Cherie,

Summer, Mary, my dad, my mom, and all the others. See,

Ty, you should have read it.

Thanks to Aaron Allen and family for the laptop and

the support. Thanks to Tiffany for untying certain knots.

Thanks to Ryan Hamilton and Dean Hale for extended

encouragement. Thanks to Tuck for the dictionary and the

eleventh-hour contributions.

Thanks to my parents for so much more than genetic

material, and to my siblings for helping me learn how to

tease, and to my extended family for being there more than

many would consider normal.

Thanks to all former teachers, schoolmates, associates,

dates, friends, acquaintances, comedy troupe members,

rivals, enemies, and disinterested third parties. Keep on

keeping on.

Thanks to you for reading these acknowledgments and

hopefully the rest of the book. And the next. And the

next.

Most important, a special acknowledgment to my

enchanting wife, Mary, and my beautiful children, Sadie

and Chase. Thank you for giving my life something to

revolve around besides the sun.

Reading Guide

The following questions may be useful in promoting

discussion about some of the themes and ideas found in

Fablehaven. They are intended as a starting point for interactions

in classrooms and with reading groups.

. There can be great protection from exact obedience.

How was this principle reinforced for Seth? For Kendra?

How does the principle of obedience function in your life?

. Kendra was generally a rule keeper, Seth a rule

breaker. How did their attitudes evolve over the course of

the book? What are advantages to both attitudes?

Disadvantages?

. Consequences serve an essential role for maintaining

order and justice and harmony. How do laws help to

keep order in Fablehaven? How were Kendra and Seth

affected by the consequences of their decisions? How have

the consequences of past decisions helped or hindered you?

. Many of the problems in Fablehaven arose as a result

of decisions the characters made, often without bad intentions.

Sometimes, what we don’t know can hurt us. How

was that true for Kendra and Seth? Are there similar

examples in the world around you?

. It can be a challenge to find the courage to do what

we fear the most. What enabled Kendra to do something

that terrified her? What circumstances do you find most

intimidating? How do you find the strength to make it

through difficult situations?

. Circumstances arose where many of the characters

in Fablehaven had to risk their lives. Do you think you

would risk your life for anything? If so, what?

. Many of the creatures in Fablehaven have roots in

various mythologies, particularly Greek. Can you identify

which creatures come from which mythologies? Did you

recognize any vocabulary in the book with mythological

roots? What are some common words that come from

mythologies?

. Several of the creatures of Fablehaven personified

specific attributes. What did the fairies seem to personify?

The satyrs? The cliff troll? What are the strengths and

weaknesses of those characteristics?

. Lena spent part of her life as a naiad, in an unchanging

state. What aspects of mortality did she like? What did

she dislike? How do you think she felt about being returned

to the water? Was it fair for the fairies to do that?

. Fablehaven existed to help protect and conserve

vanishing magical species. Why would that be worthwhile?

Why do you suppose Grandpa Sorenson even wanted to

protect the dangerous creatures? What non-magical plants

or animals in our world are in danger of extinction? What

are we doing to protect them?

. There is a promise at the front of the book that

none who enter Fablehaven will leave unchanged. How

did their experiences at Fablehaven change Seth and

Kendra? What do you take from the book?

These are just a few topics to initiate discussion.

We would love to hear your discussion topics, your

reactions, and your questions on the message board at

Fablehaven.com.

To find out more about all things Fablehaven, or to get

in touch with the author, be sure to visit Fablehaven.com

Table of Contents

Start