by Brandon Mull
Page 8
Yes. This house and the yard around it is the most protected location in Fablehaven. Only the gentlest creatures are allowed here. Of course, there are a few nights a year when all the creatures run amuck, and one of those is coming up. But I'll tell you more about it when the time comes.
Seth scooted forward in his chair. I want to hear about the evil creatures. What's out there?
For the sake of your ability to sleep at night, I'm going to keep that to myself.
I met that weird old lady. Was she really something else?
Grandpa gripped the edge of the desk. That encounter is a frightening example of why the woods are forbidden. It could have been disastrous. You ventured toward a very hazardous area.
Is she a witch? Seth asked.
She is. Her name is Muriel Taggert.
How come I could see her?
Witches are mortal.
Then why don't you get rid of her? Seth suggested.
The shack is not her home. It is her prison. She personifies the reasons why exploring the woods is unwise. Her husband was a caretaker here more than a hundred and sixty years ago. She was an intelligent, lovely woman. But she became a frequent visitor to some of the darker portions of the forest, where she consorted with unsavory beings. They tutored her. Before long, she became enamored with the power of witchcraft, and they acquired considerable influence over her. She became unstable. Her husband tried to help her, but she was already too demented.
When she tried to aid some of the foul denizens of the woods in a treacherous act of rebellion, her husband called in assistance and had her imprisoned. She has been trapped in that shack ever since, held captive by the knots in the rope you saw. Let her story serve as another warning-you have no business in those woods.
I get it, Seth said. He looked solemn.
Enough jabbering about rules and monsters, Grandpa said, standing up. I have chores. And you have a new world to explore. The day is fading, go make the most of it.
But stay in the yard.
What do you do all day? Kendra inquired, walking out of the study beside Grandpa.
Oh, I have many chores to keep this place in order.
Fablehaven is home to many extraordinary wonders and delights, but it requires a great deal of maintenance. You might be able to accompany me some of the time, now that you know the true nature of the place. Mundane work, mostly. I expect you'd have more fun playing in the garden.
Chapter Seven
Kendra laid a hand on Grandpa's arm. I want to see as much as I can.
Maddox Kendra snapped awake with her sheets tented over her head. She was supposed to be excited about something.
It felt like Christmas morning. Or a day she was going to take off school so her family could visit an amusement park. No, she was at Grandpa Sorenson's. The fairies!
She pushed off the sheets. Seth lay in a contorted position, hair wildly disheveled, mouth open, legs tangled in his covers. Still out cold. They had stayed up late discussing the events of the day, almost like friends rather than siblings.
Kendra rolled out of bed and padded over to the window.
The sun was peeking over the eastern horizon, streaming gilded highlights across the treetops. She grabbed some clothes, went down to the bathroom, took off her nightshirt, and got dressed for the day.
Downstairs, the kitchen was empty. Kendra found Lena out on the porch balancing atop a stool. Lena was hanging wind chimes. She had already hung several along the length of the porch. A butterfly flitted around one of the chimes, playing a sweet, simple melody.
Good morning, Lena said. You're up early.
I'm still so excited from yesterday. Kendra looked out at the garden. The butterflies, bumblebees, and hummingbirds were already going about their business. Grandpa was right-many clustered around the newly refilled birdbaths and fountains, admiring their reflections.
Just a bunch of bugs again, Lena said.
Can I have some hot chocolate?
Let me hang these last chimes, she said, moving the stool and climbing fearlessly on top of it. She was so old! If she fell she would probably die!
Be careful, Kendra said.
Lena waved a dismissive hand. The day I'm too old to climb on a stool will be the day I throw myself off the roof.
She hung the final chime. We had to take these down for you kids. Might have made you suspicious to see hummingbirds playing music.
Kendra followed Lena back into the house. Years ago, there used to be a church within earshot that would play melodies on the bells, Lena said. It was so funny to watch the fairies imitate the music. They still play those old songs sometimes.
Lena opened the refrigerator, removing an old-fashioned milk bottle. Kendra sat at the table. Lena poured some milk into a pot on the stove and began adding ingredients.
Kendra noticed that she was not just scooping in chocolate powder-she was stirring in contents from multiple containers.
Grandpa said to ask you about the story of the guy who built the boathouse, Kendra said.
Lena paused in her stirring. Did he? I suppose I am more familiar with that story than most. She resumed stirring.
What did he tell you?
He said the guy had an obsession with naiads. What's a naiad, anyhow?
A water nymph. What else did he say?
Just that you know the story.
The man was named Patton Burgess, said Lena. He became caretaker of this property in 1878, inheriting the position from his maternal grandfather. He was a young man at the time, quite good-looking, wore a moustache - - there are pictures upstairs. The pond was his favorite place on the property.
Mine too.
He would go and gaze at the naiads for hours. They would try to tease him down to the water's edge, as was their custom, in order to drown him. He would draw near, sometimes even pretending he meant to jump in, but always stayed tantalizingly out of reach.
Lena sampled the hot chocolate and stirred some more.
Unlike most of the visitors, who seemed to regard the naiads as interchangeable, he paid special attention to a particular nymph, asking for her by name. He began to pay little heed to the other naiads. On the days when his favorite would not show herself, he left early.
Lena poured the milk from the pot into a pair of mugs.
He became fixated on her. When he built the boathouse, the nymphs wondered what he could be doing. He constructed a broad, sturdy rowboat so he could go out on the water and be closer to the object of his fascination. Lena brought the mugs to the table and sat down. The naiads tried to upset his craft every time he set forth, but it was too cleverly constructed. They succeeded only in pushing it around the pond.
Kendra took a sip. The hot chocolate was perfection.
Barely cool enough to sip comfortably.
Patton began trying to coax his favorite naiad to leave the water, to come walk with him on the land. She responded by urging him to join her in the pond, for to leave the water would mean to enter mortality. The tug-of-war went on for more than three years. He would serenade her on his violin, and read her poetry, and make her promises about the joys their life together would hold. He showed such sincerity, and such perseverance, that on occasion she would gaze into his kind eyes and falter.
Lena sipped the hot chocolate. One day in March, Patton got careless. He leaned too close to the gunwale, and a naiad caught hold of his sleeve as he conversed with his favorite. A strong man, he resisted her, but the struggle pulled him to one side of the boat, upsetting his typical equilibrium. A pair of naiads heaved upward on the other side and it capsized.
He died? Kendra was horrified.
He would have died, yes. The naiads had their prize.
In their domain he was no match for them. Giddy with the long-awaited victory, they rushed him toward the bottom of the pond to add him to their collection of mortal victims.
But it was more than his favorite could bear. She had grown fond of Patton, seduced by his diligent attention, and, unlike the others, she did not consider his death an amusement. She fought off her sisters and returned him to the shore. That was the day I left the pond.
Kendra spewed hot chocolate across the table. You're the naiad?
I was, once.
You became mortal?
Lena absently blotted up the hot chocolate Kendra had sprayed, using a small towel. If I could go back, I would make the same decision every time. We had a joyful life.
Patton managed Fablehaven for fifty-one years before passing it off to a nephew. He lived twelve years after that - - died at ninety-one. His mind was sharp to the end. Helps to have a young wife.
How are you still alive?
I became subject to the laws of mortality, but they have taken effect gradually. As I sat by his deathbed, I looked perhaps twenty years older than I had on the day when I carried him from the water. I felt guilty about looking so young as his frail body was shutting down. I wanted to be old like him. Of course, now that my age is finally catching up with me, I don't care for it much.
Kendra sipped more of her hot chocolate. She was so enthralled that she barely tasted it. What did you do after he passed away?
I took advantage of my mortality. I had paid a steep price for it, so I traveled the world to see what it had to offer. Europe, the Middle East, India, Japan, South America, Africa, Australia, the Pacific Islands. I had many adventures. I set some swimming records in Britain, and could have set even more except I was holding back-no sense raising a lot of questions. I worked as a painter, a chef, a geisha, a trapeze artist, a nurse. Many men pursued me, but I never loved again. Eventually, there was a sameness to the traveling, so I returned home, to the place my heart never left.
Do you ever go back to the pond?
Only in memory. It would be unwise. They despise me there, all the more intensely because of their secret envy.
How they would laugh at my appearance! They have not aged a day. But I have experienced many things that they will never know. Some painful, some wonderful.
Kendra finished the last of her hot chocolate and wiped her lips. What was it like being a naiad?
Lena gazed out the window. Hard to say. I ask myself the same question. It wasn't just my body that became mortal; my mind transformed as well. I think I prefer this life, but it might be because I have changed fundamentally.
Mortality is a totally different state of being. You become more aware of time. I was absolutely content as a naiad. I lived in an unchanging state for what must have been many millennia, never thinking of the future or the past, always looking for amusement, always finding it. Almost no self-awareness. It feels like a blur now. No, like a blink. A single moment that lasted thousands of years.
You would have lived forever, Kendra exclaimed.
We weren't quite immortal. We did not age, so I suppose some of our kind could endure forever, if lakes and rivers last forever. Difficult to say. We did not really live, not like mortals. We dreamed.
Wow.
At least that was the way of things until Patton, Lena said, more to herself now. I began looking forward to his visits, and back on them in memory. I suppose that was the beginning of the end.
Kendra shook her head. And I thought you were just the half-Chinese housekeeper.
She smiled. Patton always liked my eyes. She batted them. He said he was of the Asian persuasion.
What's Dale's story? Is he a pirate king or something?
Dale is a regular man. A second cousin of your grandfather.
A man he trusts.
Kendra looked into her empty mug. A ring of chocolate sediment circled the bottom. I have a question, she said, and I want you to answer honestly.
If I can.
Is my Grandma Sorenson dead?
What makes you ask that?
I think Grandpa makes up phony excuses for her not being around. This is a dangerous place. He has lied about other things. I get the feeling he's trying to protect us from the truth.
I often wonder if lies are ever a protection.
She's dead, isn't she.
No, she's alive.
Is she the witch?
She's not the witch.
Is she really visiting Aunt Whoever in Missouri?
That is for your grandfather to tell.
Seth looked over his shoulder. Besides the fairies fluttering about, the garden looked still. Grandpa and Dale were long gone. Lena was in the house dusting. Kendra was off doing whatever boring things kept her occupied. He had his emergency kit in hand, along with a few strategic additions. Operation See Cool Monsters was about to begin.
He hesitantly stepped off the edge of the lawn into the woods, half-expecting werewolves to leap out at him.
There were a few fairies up ahead, not as many as in the garden. Otherwise things looked pretty much the same.
He marched forward, setting a brisk pace.
Where do you think you're going?
Seth whirled. Kendra was approaching from the garden.
He walked back to meet her at the edge of the lawn. I want to see what's really at the pond. Those nai-thingies and stuff.
How brain-damaged are you? Didn't you hear a word Grandpa told us yesterday?
I'm going to be careful! I won't go near the water.
You could get killed! I mean really killed, not bitten by a tick. Grandpa made those rules for a reason!
Adults always underestimate kids, Seth said. They get all protective because they think we're babies. Think about it. Mom used to complain all the time about me playing in the street. But I always did it. And what happened?
Nothing. I paid attention. I stayed out of the way when a car came.
This is so different!
Grandpa goes all over the place.
Kendra clenched her hands into fists. Grandpa knows the places to avoid! You don't even know what you're dealing with. Besides, when Grandpa finds out, you'll be stuck in the attic the rest of our stay.
How's he going to find out?
He knew we went into the woods last time! He knew we drank the milk!
Because you were there! Your bad luck rubbed off on me. How did you know where I was going?
Your secret agent skills need some work, Kendra said.
A good start might be not wearing your camouflage shirt every time you go exploring.
