The Stone Child (3 page)

Eddie didn’t know what it was supposed to mean. “
The Enigmatic Manuscript?
What is this?” he said.

“Isn’t it one of your books?” said Mom.

Shaking his head, Eddie held it open and showed it to her.

Realization washed across her face. “Oh,” she said, “I remember now. … I picked up that book when your father and I came down for the Black Hood Antiques Fair a few months ago. I thought it looked interesting, like an old-fashioned artifact. We didn’t know what it was, but your father thought it might be worth something. Isn’t it odd Nathaniel Olmstead’s name keeps coming up today?”

Odd is an understatement, Eddie thought. He suddenly felt as if this entire day could have been written by the missing author himself. A piece of the man seemed to be everywhere Eddie looked.

But the author’s name on the first page was nothing compared to what was on the next page.

Eddie nearly dropped the book on the floor when he read:

Puzzled, Eddie flipped through all of the pages. He found the rest of the book to be the same: filled with three-letter, nonsense words. He showed the book to his mother. “What does it mean? Is it a sort of code or something?”

“Whatever it is,” said Mom, heading back toward the house, “you’ve got a day to figure it out before school starts.”

“Do you think Dad will mind if I hang on to it?”

“We’ll ask him at dinner. If you do figure out what it means, he’ll probably thank you. Especially if it
did
belong to this Olmstead person. Maybe it actually is worth something.”

“Wow!” said Eddie. “This is so cool! Thanks!”

After dinner, Eddie’s mother came upstairs to say good night. She kissed his cheek while he sat at his desk. “I’m going to try to write a little bit tonight, before I totally crash into pieces,”
she said. “I know it’s been a long day, but try to organize your room before bed. Okay?”

“I’ll try,” Eddie said as she closed the door. “Good night.”

Like the rest of the quaint bungalow, Eddie’s new bedroom on the second floor was a mess. Empty boxes, crumpled pieces of newspaper, and piles of clothes littered the floor, a mess he’d managed to make since coming in from the barn. Much of the room lay beneath the tilt of the roof, but there was still plenty of space to stand. A gabled window with a southern view over the town cut into the sloping ceiling. The sun had set, and the sky was indigo.

Eddie picked up the book his mother had found in the barn. It smelled awful, like dirt or mold. Weird. He opened to the first page again. The strange symbol leapt out at him. Eddie placed the book onto his quilt and scrambled under his covers.

He reached out and ran his index finger down the spine of the book, feeling the impression of the title stamped vertically onto the cover.
A story by Nathaniel Olmstead?

What if
The Enigmatic Manuscript
was in fact a handwritten Olmstead book? A new novel that no one had read before? It was possible. After all, his parents had found the book only a few towns away. Nathaniel Olmstead’s name on the first page might actually be his signature! But if it was an unpublished novel, why would he have written it in a code language? Whatever the reason, Eddie was certain that there
was something inside the book its author hadn’t wanted anyone to know.

Eddie stared at the ceiling, his shoulder throbbing faintly where the seat belt had caught him. It had been such a weird day. Leaving his old house behind and driving from Heaver-hill would have been unusual enough, but then his father had to go and hit that creature in the road.

Its gash of a mouth lolled open when Eddie shut his eyes for a moment. He shuddered and sat up, propping his pillows against his headboard.

After the accident, seeing the author’s house and learning about the supposed Olmstead Curse only added to the day’s peculiarity. Eddie knew that every town has its legends, but before he’d even had a chance to look around Gatesweed, it seemed as though, in a way, the spirit of Nathaniel Olmstead had come to haunt him. The funny thing was, Eddie didn’t mind. Figuring out the book would be like exploring Nathaniel Olmstead’s world, almost as if he were a character
inside
one of his stories. Plus, Sam had mentioned that Olmstead wrote about places in Gatesweed. Living here, Eddie could explore his world from the
outside
too!

Like the characters in Nathaniel Olmstead’s books, Eddie had several questions: What exactly
is
the Olmstead Curse? Why do people move out of Gatesweed but not in? What exactly had happened to Jeremy, Sam’s childhood friend?

This last question left Eddie feeling queasy instead of
excited, the way he felt about the others. Strangely, this third question was the one he was most afraid of answering.

Where should he begin?

Eddie looked down at the book in his lap.

In
The Rumor of the Haunted Nunnery
, Ronald found the key to decode a secret message. The message allowed Ronald to find the lake in the woods. Eddie knew Nathaniel Olmstead liked to include codes in his books. Could the writing in
The Enigmatic Manuscript
be one of those codes? If the town library had books about secret codes, maybe Eddie wouldn’t need to find a key, like the one Ronald had discovered. Maybe Eddie could solve the code himself.

Shouldn’t be too hard, he thought. After reading all of Nathaniel Olmstead’s books several times, he’d become pretty good at figuring out stuff like this. One more day until school? Plenty of time, he thought with a smile.

After breakfast the next morning, Eddie begged his parents to let him explore the town. They agreed, but only after he had organized his closet, bureau, and desk. They also made him promise to be home for lunch.

Less than an hour later, he was out the door.

It was warm now that the sun had finally come out from behind the clouds. He didn’t even need his hooded sweatshirt. Inside his backpack, he carried the two Olmstead books that weren’t still packed away, as well as
The Enigmatic Manuscript
.

Standing next to his bike in the middle of his house’s gravel driveway, Eddie had a perfect view of the town. The roads were laid out in concentric circles, linked by lanes and small side streets, like a labyrinth. A long, thin park divided the town in half. On the western end of the park, at the base of the surrounding hills, sat an old wooden church,
and on the east, along the Black Ribbon River, huddled several mills.

He wished he’d been able to find the rest of his books the night before. He thought they might act as a map for his journey. Even though he could probably list certain places for which he should keep a lookout, like the ones Sam had mentioned yesterday, Eddie figured there must be hundreds of secret Gatesweed spots he’d never on his own think to look for. Then again, Eddie knew he had all the time in the world to explore Gatesweed. Right now, however, he had a mystery to solve.

The library had to be down there somewhere.

Heights Road wound down to the town center. Eddie’s bike kicked up clouds of dust. Before he realized what he was doing, he’d sped by several empty houses, a few deserted storefronts, and a brick fortresslike town hall. He braked in front of the park, where the long grass rustled in the warm breeze. He was on Center Street. True to its name, it circled the center of the park and came back to the spot where Eddie stood.

Eddie glanced behind him, where an old movie theater sat quietly, the front of it blockaded haphazardly by a loose chain-link fence. When Eddie noticed the marquee over the entrance to the building, his skin went cold. He expected to see an old movie title hanging on the yellowed white panel, but instead, broken black letters spelled out strange words that reminded Eddie of the code from
The Enigmatic Manuscript
.

LO ED UN L FU HER NO ICE
.

As he stared at the theater, Eddie realized he was wrong. The words were not part of any code—some of their letters were missing. Feeling like a contestant on a weird game show, Eddie slowly filled in the gaps.

CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
.

The sign had fallen apart over time. Eddie suddenly felt entirely alone. The town seemed to be deserted.

Across from the park stood a wide brick building covered in ivy. Stone steps led up to a high arch, over which was carved
GATESWEED PUBLIC LIBRARY
. Near the roof, around the top of the cornice, more words decorated the building.
A PLACE WHERE STORIES ARE TOLD
. Eddie beamed.

Eddie had never had tons of friends. In Heaverhill, the kids didn’t understand stuff like studying astrological star signs, or reading about old Babylonian statues, or researching ancient Aztec gods at the library. People in Heaverhill tended to ignore the way things could be or might have been, and so they tended to ignore Eddie. His mom was always trying to get him to talk to people. Once, she’d signed him up for baseball and soccer and karate. But Eddie only learned that he wasn’t very good at hitting or kicking. Plus, there was never very much talking involved. So Eddie had found friends in books. Nathaniel Olmstead’s stories were so vivid and strange, it was as if they had been plucked directly from Eddie’s own brain. Maybe here, he thought, people would understand what that felt like.

He locked his bike to the stand and made his way up the stairs. When he pulled hard on the heavy glass door, the scent of old books wafted out. Eddie took a deep breath and stepped inside.

In the center of the main room, two shallow balconies stretched from wall to wall, fenced in by intricate wrought-iron railings. Tall shelves lined up vertically like teeth, running along the entire length of each floor. The books were a sight to behold—their spines were a jumbled mishmash of different sizes and colors. Some were new, but most were dusty, musty, and worn. Spiral staircases wound their way up through each floor. Though much of the room was cast in shadow, a skylight allowed the sun to spill down to the main level where Eddie stood. He gaped up at the beauty of the place and didn’t realize his mouth was open until he heard a voice ask, “Can I help you?”

The librarian sat behind a large wooden desk. A name-plate on top of the desk said
MRS. SINGH, ASSOCIATE LIBRARIAN
. Her hair was wavy and dark, and her happy face was round. She smiled at Eddie, so he smiled back. Sometimes, book people were easier to talk to.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m looking for a book about solving puzzles.”

“Crossword puzzles?” she asked.

“No. Puzzles written in code.”

“What kind of code?”

Eddie thought about that. “Like … this,” he said, reaching into his bag and pulling out the book his mother had found the night before. He opened it to the middle and handed the book to her.

The librarian flipped through the pages. When she happened upon the first page, she glanced at him, squinting with what looked like concern. “Where did you get this?” said Mrs. Singh quietly.

“My mom gave it to me,” said Eddie, suddenly unsure of himself. “Do you know what it means?”

The librarian’s face turned red. “Of course I
don’t
know what it means,” she said, too forcefully. “Why would
I
know what it means?”

“I just thought …,” he said. He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. Maybe it wasn’t so easy to talk to book people, after all. “Can you recommend a book that might help?”

“No, actually,” she said suddenly. “I’m quite busy, and the library closes at noon today.” She turned her back on him and started typing something at the computer on the table behind her.

Eddie’s face burned. Her attitude toward him had changed when she saw the first page. He wondered if the symbol written there had upset her? Or had it been Nathaniel Olmstead’s name that sparked her irritation? Eddie decided not to ask. Instead, he quietly made his way to a cluster of computers near the back spiral staircase.

Pulling up the library’s online catalog, Eddie suddenly had an idea. Since his own Nathaniel Olmstead books were packed away, it might be worth checking out a few from here—just to acquaint (or reacquaint) himself with some of the town’s locations.

When he typed the author’s name, a message appeared:
WE DID NOT FIND RESULTS FOR “NATHANIEL OLMSTEAD.”
Confused, Eddie checked his spelling and entered the name again. But he received the same message. No results? How could that be? He glanced at the librarian at the front desk.

She was watching him.

When she saw him looking at her, she flinched and turned back to her computer. Eddie shivered. The librarian must not be a fan of Nathaniel Olmstead.

Eddie understood that some people didn’t think Olmstead’s books were very good, that they weren’t considered literature. Still, it seemed odd that the man’s hometown library wouldn’t carry his own books, even if there was supposed to be an—

Olmstead Curse …

The tow truck driver’s words echoed in Eddie’s head. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Don’t be silly, he told himself. It’s only a story, right?

After searching the catalog for books about codes, Eddie climbed the stairs to the second floor and wandered into a row of shelves hidden in shadow. Even in the dim light, he
managed to find
The History of Cryptography
. At least this should get me started, he thought.

Eddie headed back downstairs and reluctantly approached the front desk, where Mrs. Singh pretended to ignore him. After a few seconds, he said, “I’d like to check out this book, please.”

Finally, she turned around with a huff and a sigh. “Your library card?” she said, holding out her hand to him. She waved her fingers impatiently.

“I … don’t have one.”

“Mmm-hmm,” said Mrs. Singh. Eddie almost expected her to tell him that they were not issuing any new cards, but she reached under her desk, pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil, and handed them to him. Without looking at him, she said, “Fill this out.” Eddie wrote down his new address and phone number and handed the paper back to Mrs. Singh.