Authors: Brandon Mull,Brandon Dorman
Tags: #Science Fiction, #Fiction, #Juvenile Fiction, #General, #American, #Magic, #Fantasy, #Fantasy fiction, #Children: Young Adult (Gr. 7-9), #Action & Adventure, #Fantasy & Magic, #& Magic, #Ages 9-12 Fiction, #Children's Books, #Fairies, #Brothers and sisters, #Family, #Siblings, #Good and evil, #Family - Siblings, #Multigenerational, #Grandparents, #Family - Multigenerational, #Connecticut, #Authors, #Grandparent and child
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.