Fablehaven I (13 page)

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.