Fablehaven: The Complete Series (150 page)

“I’ll have to check what Grandpa thinks,” Seth said.

“Stan?” Newel cried, exasperated. “Since when are you Stan’s lackey? He’ll put a damper on our dealings no matter what! He’s against us watching TV in the first place!”

“What happened to you, Seth?” Doren asked. “You don’t quite seem like yourself.”

“It’s hard to explain,” Seth said.

“Doren, you missed your vocation!” Newel exclaimed. “You should have been a therapist. There it was right in front of us but we missed it. Something is troubling the boy. What is it, Seth? What’s taken the wind out of your sails?”

“The Society killed Kendra,” he said reluctantly.

Both of the satyrs fell silent, their expressions melancholy.

“It wasn’t very long ago. I can hardly think about anything else. We don’t even really understand what happened. I have to figure it out.”

“Sorry to hear it, Seth,” Doren said gently.

“Don’t mention it to Verl,” Newel cautioned. “He might dive into a chasm. Kendra’s all he can talk about these days. The poor guy is hopelessly smitten. I keep reminding him that she’s Stan’s granddaughter. He doesn’t care that she’s too young. Says he’ll wait. I tell him satyrs don’t tie themselves down to one maiden. He says he’s not tying himself down. He says she captured him against his will, and he’s forever her prisoner. Those exact words.”

Seth chuckled.

“The phase will pass,” Doren said. “Verl is a nut.”

“We’ll give you some time,” Newel relented. “We can talk business when you’re feeling more like yourself again.”

“Guys, I know how much those batteries mean to you. Maybe I could just go and get a bunch of them and bring them to you without any—”

Doren sat up swiftly, setting his hammock rocking. “Something is coming.”

“Something big,” Newel confirmed, cupping a hand to his ear. “Coming fast. But Seth was sharing an idea. About batteries?”

Seth propped himself up on his elbows. He could now barely hear the distant thump of heavy footfalls. “Hugo?” Seth guessed.

“Must be,” Newel said. “But why is he coming so fast?”

“Who knows?” Doren replied. “The big guy has been acting strange lately.”

Hugo bounded into view, a humanoid conglomeration of rock, soil, and clay. The last time Seth had seen him, the golem had been enlarged and outfitted for battle by the fairies. Now he looked like his old self, except perhaps a bit taller and thicker.

Hugo took a final tremendous leap, landing solidly near the hammocks, the impact making everything tremble. “Hugo . . . miss . . . Seth,” the golem declared in a voice like a rockslide. The words were enunciated more clearly than Seth had ever heard the golem manage.

“Hi, Hugo!” Seth said, rolling out of the hammock. “It’s good to see you too! You’re talking so well!”

The golem gave a craggy smile.

“Looks like our party has officially been crashed,” Newel lamented.

Hugo stared at Seth.

“Want to play?” Seth asked.

“Yes,” Hugo said.

“You know a fun game?” Newel murmured softly to Seth. “Pulling treasure out of the tar pit.”

“Newel, that’s really far from the yard,” Seth whispered.

“Keep . . . Seth . . . safe,” the golem rumbled.

“Right,” Newel said. “Just an idle thought. I was brainstorming. You two run along.”

“We’ll have another hammock party soon,” Doren promised.

“Okay, sure, guys,” Seth said. “What do you want to do, Hugo?” The simple question was something of a test. The golem was still getting used to having a will of his own. He typically struggled to come up with an activity without some suggestions.

“Come,” Hugo said, extending a stony arm.

Seth grabbed on, and Hugo hoisted him onto his shoulder. Seth liked the satyrs, but he felt relieved to escape their company. The conversation had become too serious once the subject of Kendra came up. He wished he could make a general announcement to everyone he had ever known that his sister was dead and that he needed some time to cope with it in his own way. Recounting the tragedy to new people inflamed the pain too much. Maybe while hanging out with Hugo he could finally ignore the loss for a while.

The golem tromped over to the unseasonably green lawn of the yard and approached a large tree in the far corner. Seth recognized it as the former site of the tree house before he had infuriated the fairies and they had torn it down with him inside. The rubble had been cleared away long ago, but now Seth saw that a new tree house had been constructed, bigger and sturdier than the previous one, buttressed by a pair of heavy stilts.

“Make,” Hugo said, pointing at the tree house.

“You rebuilt it?” Seth asked. How could those big hands manipulate tools with the skill necessary to construct something like a tree house?

“Seth . . . see,” Hugo said, lifting Seth and setting him on the narrow wooden ledge outside a door in the side of the tree house.

Seth went inside. There were few furnishings, but the room was spacious. The floor felt solid, and the walls were thick. An old iron stove sat in the middle of the floor, with a pipe that extended through the roof. Since the golem was much too big to enter, Seth didn’t stay inside very long. He uncoiled the rope ladder by the door and climbed down.

“Hugo, that is the awesomest hideout ever!”

“Happy,” Hugo said.

Seth hugged the earthy creature, his arms barely reaching halfway around Hugo’s waist. The golem patted his shoulder.

Seth stepped back. “Did you do that on your own?”

“Hugo . . . idea. Stan . . . help.”

“Let’s go over to the house. I want to thank Grandpa too.”

Hugo picked up Seth and trotted to the house, setting him down near the deck. Seth charged inside. “Hugo is talking so well!” he called, not seeing anyone from where he stood by the back door. “He showed me the tree house! Guys?”

He heard a faint banging. The sound seemed to come from the basement. Was everyone down in the dungeon?

When Seth opened the door to the basement, the banging became much louder. Somebody was hitting the door beyond the bottom of the stairs. He heard a female voice shouting, muffled by the heavy door into the dungeon. “Dale! Stan! Hello! Ruth! Tanu! Help! Someone? Hello!”

Seth charged down the stairs. “Vanessa?”

“Seth? Get your grandparents. Hurry!”

“What are you doing out of the Quiet Box?”

“No time to explain. You have a spy among you. Hurry, bring them here quickly!”

Seth turned and ran up the stairs, his head spinning. What could possibly explain Vanessa’s being outside the Quiet Box? Was she no longer being kept there? Had his grandparents lied? Could she have been the person controlling Kendra? That was ludicrous, right?

He dashed through the kitchen, reached the entry hall, and raced up to the second floor. “Grandpa! Grandma! Hello?”

Still no answer.

He ran through his grandparents’ room and pulled open a door in their bathroom. Instead of a bathroom closet, a steel door awaited, with a large combination wheel. Seth dialed in the numbers he had memorized the previous summer, yanked a lever, and the heavy door clacked open.

“Hello?” Seth shouted up the stairs to the secret side of the attic.

“Seth?” called Grandpa.

“Vanessa is out of the Quiet Box,” Seth announced. “She wants to talk to you.”

He heard footsteps. Grandpa, Grandma, and Tanu rushed down the stairs.

“What were you doing?” Seth asked.

“Having a meeting,” Grandma said. “Where is she?”

“At the door to the dungeon,” Seth said. “She’s banging on it and calling for you guys.” The three adults charged past Seth. Grandma held a crossbow. Tanu scrabbled in a pouch for potions. “Where is everybody else?”

“Dale went to the stables to check on the animals,” Tanu said. “Maddox went into the dungeon to help Coulter search for the hidden chamber in the Hall of Dread.”

Tanu took a detour to his room to grab a flashlight and handcuffs. Seth trailed after his grandparents as they descended the stairs to the entry hall, and then down to the basement. Tanu caught up as they arrived at the bottom of the stairs.

Grandpa approached the door to the dungeon. “What are you doing out of the Quiet Box?” he called through it.

“Open the door, Stan,” Vanessa answered. “We need to talk.”

“How do I know every prisoner in the dungeon isn’t at your side, ready to storm past us?”

“Because I called you,” Vanessa replied. “If this were a trap, I would have used surprise to my advantage.”

“You have to do better than that,” Grandma said. “Where is Coulter?”

“In the Quiet Box.”

Grandpa and Grandma shared a concerned glance.

“What about Maddox?” Tanu asked.

“He’s the problem,” Vanessa said. “Look, I have a key, Stan. I’m contacting you this way only to reduce the shock and avoid a fight. I’m on your side.”

A key rattled in the lock and the door opened. Vanessa stood alone beyond the doorway, holding a flashlight. A dark corridor lined with cell doors extended behind her. Even wearing one of Grandma’s housecoats, she was strikingly attractive with her long black hair, dark eyes, and smooth olive complexion. “Maddox released me,” she said. “He wanted me to help him subdue the rest of you and access a secret room beyond the Hall of Dread.”

“What?” Grandpa cried.

“He’s not really Maddox, Stan,” Vanessa said. “I put him to sleep with a bite. Come with me.”

The three adults followed the narcoblix down the dreary corridor. Seth brought up the rear, relieved that nobody had forbidden him from tagging along.

“What do you mean it wasn’t Maddox?” Grandma asked. “Who was it?”

“A stingbulb,” Vanessa said.

“There are no more stingbulbs,” Tanu protested. “They’ve been extinct for centuries.”

Vanessa glanced back at him. “The Sphinx has access to stingbulbs. I knew that even before this phony version of Maddox confirmed it.”

“He confessed?” Grandma asked.

“He assumed I was on his side,” Vanessa said. “He was enlisting my help.”

The corridor ended, branching left or right. Vanessa turned right.

“The Quiet Box is the other way,” Grandpa pointed out.

“Maddox is this way,” Vanessa said. “I extracted as much information as I could before incapacitating him outside the Hall of Dread.”

“Does this mean the real Maddox is dead?” Tanu asked.

“He was alive when they made the copy,” Vanessa said. “Stingbulbs can only replicate the living. But Maddox was in bad shape, as was reflected in the copy. The stingbulb maintained that Maddox was alive the last he saw.”

“What exactly is a stingbulb?” Seth asked.

“A species of magical fruit that can extract a sample of living tissue and then grow into an imitation of that organism,” Vanessa explained. “The copy is almost exact, even duplicating most memories.”

Seth furrowed his brow. “So they could impersonate somebody pretty good. But they might be a little off.”

“Right,” Vanessa said.

“What if that explains what happened to Kendra?” Seth gushed. “Maybe she was replaced by a stingbulb!”

Grandpa stopped walking, and the others paused along with him. He slowly turned to face Seth, two fingertips resting on his lips, his expression unreadable. “That could be,” he murmured. “That fits really well.”

“She could still be alive,” Grandma gasped.

Seth made a choked little sob as he tried to fight back the tears of hope and relief that sprang unbidden to his eyes.

“What happened to Kendra?” Vanessa inquired.

“We thought she was dead,” Grandpa said. “We caught her trying to leak secrets to the Society, and when Warren confronted her about it, she poisoned herself. Our best guess was that she was under the influence of some kind of mind control.”

“You’re right,” Vanessa said. “Sounds like a stingbulb. The Sphinx would be in no hurry to harm Kendra. He knows how valuable she could be. Come.”

They started walking again, and turned a corner.

“What do we do?” Seth asked.

“We’ll get this info to Trask,” Grandpa said. “Vanessa, if the Sphinx sent the stingbulb to free you, why tell us?”

“The Sphinx only sought to free me once I regained strategic value,” she said coldly. “He didn’t think the stingbulb could access the hidden room unaided, so suddenly Vanessa Santoro deserved to be rescued. I should have secured that loyalty long ago. For years, I functioned as one of his top operatives, risking my neck time and again, succeeding in mission after mission. He discarded me at the first moment I might have become an inconvenience. The stingbulb had an entire speech memorized, explaining how my incarceration was always planned to be temporary, a tactical necessity. In his pride, the Sphinx thinks I’ll come whimpering back at the first opportunity. He is in for a surprise. I no longer trust his character and, by extension, I no longer believe in his mission. I won’t rest until I take him down.”