Fablehaven: The Complete Series (124 page)

“They were fast,” Kendra said.

Doren nodded as he tried to wipe mud from his collarbone. “They can run. And they can fight. Cloudwing pinned a pair of dark satyrs to a tree with a single arrow. Broadhoof hurled the dark dryad into a ditch. Toward the end, a dark centaur showed up and forced them to retreat.”

Broadhoof and Cloudwing trotted away from their admirers. Kendra gazed despairingly at the heavily muscled topography of Broadhoof’s back. If Seth survived the escapade at the manor, the brawny centaur would be waiting. Kendra wondered whether her brother might be better off as a shadow.

* * *

Beneath the tent with four other bodies, Seth breathed hot, stale air. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on something other than his discomfort, imagining how refreshing it would feel to poke his head out and feel the wind rushing by as Hugo loped down the road. The day was hot and muggy, but nothing compared to the stifling atmosphere under the tent.

The morning had felt surreal for Seth, watching goats and deer roaming about the field, and groundhogs congregating in their camp by the pond. Grandpa had spent a good deal of time going over plans with a pair of horses and issuing commands to a strangely mobile pile of rocks.

Kendra had pointed out which goat was Doren, and had served as translator when they wished each other good luck. All Seth heard was baaing and bleating.

The entire scene around the pond looked so ridiculous that Seth had briefly wondered whether the milk simply made everyone crazy. But when the rock pile lifted him off his feet and gently set him in the cart, it was plain there was more much going on than his eyes could distinguish.

The cart jounced sharply, and Seth rapped his head against the side. Cradling his cranium, he wormed toward the center of the crowded cart, then rested his head on his folded arms, trying to relax as he inhaled the warm, stifling air.

For the first leg of the cart ride, he had been anxious, aware that dark creatures could fall upon them at any moment. But as the journey progressed, interference seemed less likely. The plan was apparently working. All they had to do was reach the manor without suffocating.

The uncomfortable tedium of the ride became Seth’s chief concern. Lying virtually motionless, his body slick with sweat, he pictured his face over the vent of an air conditioner, the coolness washing over him. He imagined himself gulping down a tall glass of ice water, the glass so cold it hurt his hands, the water so frigid it made his teeth tingle.

He was stretched out beside Warren, and wanted to make conversation, or at least exchange a few whispered complaints, but he had been strictly admonished not to utter a word. He resolutely followed orders, holding still and keeping silent, even choking back coughs when the urge arose. Meanwhile, the cart rolled endlessly forward.

Seth slipped a hand into his pocket, fingering the dollop of walrus butter wrapped in plastic film. They each had a little, in case the time arrived when seeing magical creatures became preferable to deliberate blindness. He wished he could eat it simply for a sensation to divert his mind from his unfortunate surroundings. Why hadn’t he brought candy? Or water? He lamented to think of his precious emergency kit sitting under his bed. How had he forgotten to bring it when he had gone down the trapped staircase? He had jelly beans in there!

The ride became more jarring, as if Hugo were dragging the cart over a giant washboard. Seth clenched his jaw to prevent his teeth from clacking. The stuttering vibrations made it difficult to think.

At last the cart came to an abrupt stop. Seth heard rustling as Grandpa peeked out.

“We’re at the edge of the yard,” Grandpa announced quietly. “As I feared, Hugo can go no farther. Out we go; I see no present threat.”

Seth gratefully crawled out from under the tent, feeling validated that the others were at least as red-faced and drenched in sweat as he was. His clothes felt clingy and sticky, and although the air was not as fresh as he had hoped, it was still much preferable to the stuffiness in the cart.

Behind the cart stretched a weathered flagstone road, flanked by the remnants of old cabins and shacks. Many of the flagstones were out of place, and tall weeds throve in the gaps. The uneven stone road explained the washboard feeling at the end of the ride. Seth had walked that road before—he should have guessed!

Ahead of them, the road doubled back on itself to form a looping driveway that granted access to an impressive manor. Compared to the timeworn road and the decrepit shelters bordering it, the manor was in excellent repair. The building rose three stories, with four stately pillars out front. Climbing plants had invaded the gray walls, and heavy green shutters shielded the windows.

Seth gaped at the manor, taking in a ghastly difference since his previous visit. Now, hundreds of slender black cords converged on the mansion from all directions, entering through the walls, a few of them fairly thick, most slender and hard to see. The shadowy cords snaked away from the estate in all directions, many disappearing into the ground, some winding through the surrounding vegetation.

“What’s with all the wires?” Seth asked.

“Wires?” Grandpa questioned.

“Ropes, strings, whatever,” Seth clarified. “They’re everywhere.”

The others regarded him with concern.

“You don’t see them?” Seth already knew the response.

“No wires,” Warren confirmed.

“I’ve noticed cords like this before,” Seth said. “Connected to the dark creatures. It looks like all the cords lead to the manor.”

Grandpa puckered his lips and exhaled noisily. “We’ve uncovered hints that the culprit was a creature who had somehow merged with Kurisock. And we had information that the apparition who haunts this property has some relation to the demon.”

“What could the creature be?” Warren asked.

“Anything,” Grandpa said. “When it merged with Kurisock, it became a new entity.”

“But if it merged with the demon, how can it be here?” Dale asked. “Kurisock must remain in his domain.”

Grandpa shrugged. “Best guess? Some sort of distant connection. Something like the dark cords that apparently unite the monster in the manor to the darkened creatures all over the preserve.”

“Do we still go after the artifact?” Warren asked.

“I see no alternative,” Grandpa said. “Fablehaven may not survive another week. This could be our only shot. Besides, we can’t plan to defeat whatever dwells here until we confirm what it is.”

“I agree,” Grandma said.

Dale and Warren nodded.

Grandpa glanced at his wristwatch. “We’d better get moving or the opportunity will pass us by.”

Leaving Hugo behind, Grandpa led them to the front steps of the manor. Seth remained on high alert, watching for suspicious animals, but saw no signs of life. No birds, no squirrels, no insects.

“Quiet,” Dale murmured suspiciously.

Grandpa raised his hand and twirled a finger, suggesting they do a lap around the manor. So near the building, Seth could not avoid touching some of the dark cords. He was relieved to find them as intangible as a shadow. As they progressed, Seth stayed ready for an attack at any instant, especially as they rounded each new corner, but they finished a complete circuit around the manor without encountering any interference. They identified a few windows low enough to grant them access, as well as a back door.

“Last time the front door was unlocked?” Grandpa whispered to Seth.

“Yes.”

“Ruth and I will enter through the front,” Grandpa said. “Warren will take the back door. Dale, choose a side window. Seth, you wait outside. Should we fail, unless there is a monumentally compelling reason to do otherwise, return immediately to Hugo and take word to your sister and the other creatures. If we become shadows ourselves, we’ll try to contact you. Remember, everyone, we want the northernmost room on the third floor.” He gestured to show which was the northern side of the manor. “Probably at the end of a hall. The combination is 33–22–31.” He checked his wristwatch. “We have about seven minutes.”

“What’s the go signal?” Warren asked.

“I’ll whistle,” Grandpa said, raising a pair of fingers to his lips.

“Let’s get this over with,” Dale said.

Warren and Dale jogged around the manor out of sight while Grandpa and Grandma mounted the steps. Grandpa tried the front door, found it unlocked, and stepped back, eyes on his watch. Seth’s hands were clenched into such tight fists that when he uncurled his fingers, he found that his nails had printed tiny crescents in his palms.

Eyes on his wristwatch, Grandpa slowly raised his fingers to his lips. A piercing whistle shattered the silence. Clutching her crossbow in one hand and flash powder in the other, Grandma followed Grandpa through the front door. Grandpa closed the door behind them.

From the side of the house, Seth heard wood splintering and glass breaking. He figured it was Dale gaining access through a window. Silence returned.

Seth flexed his fingers and tapped his toes. He could feel his heart beating in his hands. Staring at the quiet house was torture. He needed to see what was happening inside. How could he judge whether there was a monumentally compelling reason to enter and help if he didn’t know what was going on?

Seth climbed the steps to the front porch, nudged the front door open, and peered through the resulting crack. The house was much as he remembered—well furnished but heavily powdered with dust and festooned with cobwebs. Grandma and Grandpa stood frozen at the foot of a sweeping staircase. At the top of the stairs, dust swirled in a vortex from floor to ceiling. All of the wires and cords of varying thickness converged on the whirlwind in a clot of shadow vaguely shaped like a human figure.

Seth took a step through the doorway. The air felt severely chilled. His breath plumed white in front of him. Grandma’s hand with the crossbow trembled as if she were striving to lift it under tremendous duress.

The spinning column of dust glided down the stairs. Seth’s petrified grandparents made no move to get out of the way. Although he did not experience the same paralyzing terror that gripped Grandma and Grandpa, the cold was real, and the sight horrifying. If he failed to act, his grandparents were doomed—the black hub of the shadow plague was bearing down on them.

He pulled the walrus butter from his pocket, tore the plastic, smeared a fingertip in the paste, and stuck the finger into his mouth. As he swallowed, the scene resolved itself more clearly. The pillar of dust vanished, replaced by a spectral woman swathed in flowing black garments, her bare feet hovering several inches above the stairs.

Seth recognized her! She was the same apparition who had appeared outside the attic window on Midsummer Eve the previous year! She had fought alongside Muriel and Bahumat in the battle at the Forgotten Chapel!

All of the dark threads converged on her. Her clothes and skin were drenched in shadow. Her eyes were black voids. Undulating ribbons of material stretched from the apparition toward his grandparents, moving as if coaxed by a slow breeze.

“Grandpa! Grandma!” Seth yelled. They did not budge. “Stan! Ruth! Run!” Seth screamed the words, his voice cracking. Neither of his grandparents flinched. The apparition paused. Her soulless pits gazed at Seth for a heartbeat. Seth ran toward his grandparents, moving quicker than the fabric, but with more ground to cover. The tendrils of black fabric arrived first, seizing Grandpa and Grandma Sorenson like tentacles. Seth skidded to a stop, staring in shock as shadow overcame them.

Seth turned and ran out of the front door. His grandparents were shadows. He had to hurry. Maybe he could still rescue Dale or Warren.

While racing around the house, Seth struggled to convince himself that he would find a way to restore his grandparents to normal. And Tanu. And Coulter. He wondered how much time remained before the safe was scheduled to appear. Even if everyone else failed, he had to make it to that upper room and claim the artifact.

It was apparent which window Dale had entered, courtesy of the unhinged shutters and broken glass. With a hop, Seth grabbed the windowsill and boosted himself up. Dale stood in a dusty parlor, unmoving, his back to the window.

“Dale, back up,” Seth hissed. “You have to get out.”

Dale gave no indication of having heard the warning. He did not twitch. Beyond him, through a doorway, Seth saw the apparition gliding in their direction.

Seth dropped from the window and dashed to the back of the house. Maybe while the shadow lady claimed Dale, he could bolt up the stairs.

He flung open the back door and found Warren sprawled on the far side of the kitchen floor, positioned as if he had been trying to crawl forward.

How long would it take to lug Warren outside? Would the time spent dragging Warren cause him to miss his window of opportunity for slipping up the stairs? Maybe, but he couldn’t just leave him there! Crouching, Seth looped his arms under Warren’s and began hauling the larger man backward across the tile floor toward the door.