Fablehaven I (9 page)

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