Heartwood Hotel Book 3

by Kallie George

  “Owls have attacked the Heartwood, Henry.”

  Henry’s tail exploded into a poof. “OWLS?” he cried. “Tilly’s outside and there are OWLS?!”

  “Not just Tilly,” said Mona.

  Henry started up the stairs. “Come on, Mona. We have to do something. We HAVE to!”

  Mona shook her head. “It won’t be easy. We can’t trick them away like the wolves or face them like the snowstorm. We’d need an army to attack the owls. But every…everyone else is stuck under the stage.”

  She almost felt hopeless again, but Henry looked at her.

  “Not everyone,” said Henry. “Not me. And aren’t the…”

  “The bees,” Mona finished for him.

  There was an army—a squadron—in the hotel. A squadron with stingers.

  Mona and Henry climbed out of the secret room and hurried up the stairs to the hive room, in the hollow knot. The hotel was so quiet it was frightening. The higher they climbed, the tighter Henry clasped her paw, and she understood why. Mona could feel the danger, coursing through the tree, thicker than sap.

  When at last they reached the sticky hallway, Mona knocked on the tiny door.

  “We are off duty and packing,” came the captain’s voice from within. “Leave us be.”

  “It’s Mona the maid. Please, Captain, it’s an emergency.”

  The door opened, and Captain Ruby looked up at her. Mona could see, behind the captain, the hollow chamber that was built into the knot in the tree. All the honeycombs were empty. The bees were buzzing loudly behind the captain, arguing about where to go next. They must have been arguing for a while and had not heard the attack.

  “I am serious when I say we are leaving,” said the captain.

  “You can’t,” cried Mona. “We need your help.”

  “With honey production?” said the captain.

  “No, with protection, not production,” said Mona. “Owls. Owls have attacked the Heartwood.”

  “BZZT!” Immediately, Captain Ruby sprang to attention. The bees stopped arguing and were on the alert. “Owls! I heard some shrieks but assumed that was part of the festivities. That explains it. Our flank was exposed. What of your defense?”

  “We don’t have any,” said Mona. “We only have Tony to warn us. But he’s stuck under the stage in the courtyard.” As she described everything that had happened, the captain paced.

  “Owls, you say. More than one? Owls don’t usually attack in squadrons. This is highly unusual. I could lead a counterattack but…”

  “But what?” asked Mona. “Buts” were never good when it came to plans.

  “Their feathers are thick. Our stingers might get stuck.”

  Mona gulped. “So you can’t attack?”

  “No, I didn’t say that. I doubt we’d need to sting them; a good swarm would scare them away. Especially a precise, persistent formation that stays with them until they leave. I could lead that type of counterattack, but in the dark it is difficult to maneuver. Or even find the owls. We must wait until daybreak….”

  “We can’t,” said Mona. “By daybreak it’ll be too late.”

  Just then, to prove her point, there was another shriek. The unmistakable shriek of the Robinsons, louder than it had ever been before.

  Henry tugged Mona’s paw. But Mona was lost in thought.

  “What about lanterns?” she suggested.

  The captain shook her head. “We can’t carry lanterns. They will weigh us down. No, we must find another way….”

  Henry tugged Mona’s paw again.

  “What is it, Henry?” she asked.

  “The fireflies,” he said. “The fireflies are here, too. They could light up the sky, Mona. They could do it. I know they could.”

  “Henry, that’s it!” said Mona.

  But the captain didn’t seem to think so. “Florian and the Flares? I could never work with those fireflies!”

  To Mona’s dismay, the fireflies didn’t want to work with the bees either. Mona and Henry gathered both groups in the lobby, on the rug in front of the fireplace.

  “We’re artists. We’re not trained for this,” said Florian. His light trembled. “You are. You always boast you have the best formations. Isn’t this your chance?”

  “Believe me, I’d rather we attack on our own,” the captain buzzed back.

  Every second wasted felt like a whole season. Mona couldn’t hear any more shrieks outside, but silence was almost worse. She didn’t know what might be happening.

  “Please,” said Mona. “We have to save everyone. We have to save the Heartwood!” She tried to think of how the captain would say it, but all she could think of was, “If we work together, we stand a chance.”

  Captain Ruby paused. “I see the makings of a captain in you, Mona. And in time of need, a good captain does what she must, but…it’s not like they know the Encircle Maneuver.”

  “You mean Ring Around the Treetop? Of course we do,” said Florian. “It’s one of our favorites.”

  “You do?” The captain looked surprised. “What about Thread the Needle?”

  Florian and his troupe nodded.

  “Blast Off?”

  “Do you mean a sudden burst of flight? That’s what we call a Flash of Fire,” said the firefly. “We’ve done that a thousand times. We could perform it in our sleep.” He hesitated, then at last said, “I suppose we are trained. I suppose—”

  “Just this once…” interrupted Captain Ruby.

  “We can work together,” they finished at the same time.

  “Oh, thank you,” cried Mona.

  “Don’t thank us yet,” said the captain. “The night is far from over. The real battle has yet to begin.”

  All was silent on the stargazing balcony, except for the thump of Mona’s heart and the soft skittering as a few fireflies flew up to the top branches to scout out the owls.

  Once the fireflies found the owls, they’d give a signal, and the rest of the troupe would join them. Then the bees would swarm.

  Mona huddled with Henry, safe in the doorway. The cluster of lanterns lit the balcony like a tiny moon. But in the sky, the real moon was hidden by clouds. Around and above them the darkness was thick and threatening.

  Henry clutched Mona’s paw tightly.

  “You can go below,” whispered Mona.

  “Nuh-uh,” said Henry. “I want to stay with you.”

  Mona was glad. She wanted him there as well.

  In the shadows at the side of the balcony, Captain Ruby and her squadron, and Florian and his troupe, waited in position. Would the scouts find the owls? And if they did, would the plan work? Would the bees scare them away?

  Mona’s worrying grew until, through a break in the black branches above…

  BLINK, BLINK!

  The signal.

  It all happened in a heartbeat.

  The sky lit up and buzzing filled the air. First the bees flew in a single giant V. Then they split into smaller Vs to target the enemies, and the attack began.

  SCREEECH!

  The owls shot into the air.

  The fireflies flashed, the bees swarmed—was that Ring Around the Treetop or Flash of Fire?—and the owls screeched in surprise and dismay. Firefly works, indeed! The attack was spectacular. Never had such a sight been seen in the skies over Fernwood Forest. In a swirl of feathers, the owls swooped off into the night. First one, then two, then three.

  “They did it!” cried Henry, now clearly more excited than scared. “Look! Captain Ruby is coming back!”

  But what about the fourth owl? It must have flown off, too. Mona just hadn’t seen it.

  Captain Ruby landed in front of Mona and Henry. The rest of her squadron and the fireflies followed. They were all excited, giving one another buzzes and blinks of congratulations.

  “Mission complete!” announced the captain. “I’m here to report our counterattack has been effective! Thanks to the Flares. Top-notch, those fireflies.”

  “Your formations are top-notc
h, too,” said Florian, alighting next to the bee. “I’ve never seen Flash of Fire—I mean, Blast Off—performed so well.”

  “Did all the owls…” Mona searched for the word.

  “Retreat?” replied Captain Ruby. “Indeed.” She turned to Florian. “I suppose our formations ARE full of feeling. They make the enemy feel scared.”

  “Truth be told, I felt a little scared myself,” said Florian.

  The captain buzzed. “Me too. Though don’t tell my squadron.” And this time, she chuckled.

  “But…” Mona tried again. The bees and fireflies weren’t letting Mona get a word in once more—this time not because they were arguing, but because they were complimenting one another.

  “Speaking of fear,” said the captain, “we must tell the staff and guests what has happened. We don’t want them to be afraid a moment longer.” Captain Ruby signaled and was joined this time by not only her squadron but the Flares as well. Together, they flew away, down off the balcony, toward the stage.

  They must be sure all the owls are gone, thought Mona, relieved.

  Until she heard Florian’s and Ruby’s voices, faintly in the distance.

  “You just reinvented the Bye-Bye-Blink!” Florian said.

  “Bye-bye indeed!” said the captain. “We won’t be seeing those three owls for a long time.”

  Three! They had only scared away three owls—not four! There was still one left. She was sure she told them there were four. But she couldn’t remember. And now it didn’t matter. If everyone came out from under the stage and there was an owl waiting above…

  “Wait, Captain!” Mona cried, tugging her paw from Henry’s.

  “What’s going on?” asked Henry, startled.

  There was no time to explain.

  “You stay here!” said Mona.

  “But…” Henry’s tail bristled.

  Mona scurried into the darkness. “Wait!” she cried, louder this time.

  But only silence answered her. She couldn’t even hear the buzzing of the bees.

  Still, she tried to call one last time, but her voice came out as a squeak.

  Her tail and whiskers trembled, and her fur stood on end. The wood below her paws was cold. She could feel the light from the cluster of lanterns on her back, like the stare of a big blazing eye. It made her shiver. And she knew—it wasn’t just the lights. There was an eye—a real eye staring at her.

  It was the fourth owl, in the branches above.

  He was waiting. Waiting for her.

  “YOU!” came a low hoot.

  Mona spun around. Claws extended, one eye glowing, the other a mass of scars, the owl swooped down upon Mona.

  She dove across the balcony, out of reach of the owl, safe for the moment. But she kept sliding, sliding, right to the balcony’s edge. She grasped for the railing and grabbed it, just in time.

  The owl landed.

  “YOU,” he called, furiously snapping his beak. “YOU.” The owl began to make his way oh-so-slowly toward her. His claws scraped against the wood. If only the fireflies and bees hadn’t left!

  “Help!” Mona wanted to cry, but her voice was stuck in her throat.

  The owl’s eye glowed brighter.

  “YOU!” It was the hooting cry that marked the end of many a mouse’s life.

  Mona shook. There was nowhere left to go. Only branches and air loomed below her.

  “YOU!” The owl lunged at Mona.

  TWEET!

  It happened in an instant. The owl swiveled his head toward the sound of Henry’s whistle. Suddenly, he was surrounded by fireflies and bees.

  He turned away from Mona, but as he did so, his wing grazed her side, and she lost her grip.

  Was that Captain Ruby she saw in the darkness? And Henry, too?

  It was all a blur as she fell down, down, down….

  Mona groaned.

  Her head ached. Her tail ached. But most of all, one of her paws ached—so much she didn’t think she’d ever be able to walk on it again.

  Slowly she opened her eyes. She was in the nicest and biggest bed imaginable. She had fluffed its feathers before, but never slept in it. It was the bed in the penthouse suite. Was she dreaming?

  Sunlight streamed through the window. How long had she been sleeping? How did she get here? What had happened? Was everyone okay?

  “Mona! You’re awake.”

  It was Tilly.

  Mona wasn’t dreaming. Tilly was sitting beside the bed. Her fur was a mess. The bow hung lopsided between her ears, and her face was all matted, as if she’d been crying.

  Mona tried to sit, but Tilly said, “Don’t move too quickly. You’ve twisted your paw.”

  Mona peeked under the blanket to see her left paw all bandaged up.

  The red squirrel wiped her eyes, then crossed her arms. “Humph. What were you thinking, Mona? You almost got yourself killed! I KNEW you were going to try something like that. I knew it.”

  Tilly took a deep breath. “Oh, Mona. I…I was so scared for you, and for Henry. I didn’t know where he was. But I couldn’t leave, not just ’cause of the owls but ’cause I was trapped by quills. I mean, it’s one thing to be stuck under a stage, and quite another to have porcupines on one side and hedgehogs on the other. Then I saw your face in the ballroom window. I knew…I knew you were okay. I hoped Henry was, too. But then…” She rolled her eyes. “Why do you always have to be a hero?”

  “It wasn’t just me…it was mostly the bees and fireflies and…Henry! Where is he? Is he okay?”

  “I’m here.” Henry peeked over the side of the bed.

  “You saved my life,” squeaked Mona.

  “I just blew my whistle. I almost couldn’t. I could barely breathe. I hate owls. I hate them!”

  “It’s okay,” said Tilly. “They’re gone now and won’t be coming back.” Tilly pulled her brother close.

  Henry looked up at her. “It was Tilly who ran into the branches and rescued you, Mona. I’ve never seen her scurry so quickly, right out to the limbs.”

  “You did?” Mona asked Tilly.

  “Of course I did,” replied the squirrel softly. “I’d do anything for you. You’re my best friend.”

  It was the nicest thing Tilly had ever said.

  “That’s the only kind of best that matters,” added Mona. And it was true. She felt warm and happy all over. The grump was gone.

  “Okay, okay,” said Tilly with a humph. “We’re getting as sappy as the tree.”

  “Not as sappy as Ms. Prickles. She even made sap soup yesterday, and it was icky,” said Henry.

  “What do you mean?” asked Mona.

  “Oh boy,” said Tilly. “Ms. Prickles is in love.”

  “What?!” cried Mona. “With who?”

  “Can you believe it? It’s one of the guests,” said Tilly. “I guess they had been sweet on each other years ago when he came to the hotel, but she had refused him. Ms. Prickles said she always regretted it. When he saw the Splash flyer with ‘Prickles’s Petal Pastries’ on it, he knew she still worked here and decided to come and try one last time to win her over. He was planning on talking to her at once, but lost his nerve….Ms. Prickles showed me where he carved a heart for her on the tree trunk and also a poem he wrote for her…”

  “In the guest book,” finished Mona, remembering the one that said, “Seedcakes warm, soufflés soft, you’ll be with me in my thoughts.—Q.”

  Q was Mr. Quillson. Mr. Quillson wasn’t a spy. He was in love with the Heartwood’s cook!

  “How do you…never mind,” said Tilly. “Speaking of guest books, that reminds me. One of the guests wanted me to give this to you when you woke up.”

  “I thought staff weren’t allowed to get gifts from guests.”

  “Well, staff aren’t allowed to sleep in guest rooms either,” Tilly teased.

  Mona smiled as Tilly handed over the gift. It was a book—a guest book. Several pages were marked with blades of grass.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance
to read the books with you,” said Tilly. “Apparently this guest is a speed reader. He was worried he read the books too fast the first time. He reread them and found these entries. He wanted to stay and show you them himself, but he had to go on his way. It takes him a long time to get anywhere since he’s a snail.”

  Skim, thought Mona. Her heart beat fast as she opened the book to the first blade of grass and began to read.

  The Heartwood Hotel was a wonderful place for a mole like myself to make art. The stay was even more productive than I expected thanks to the helpful suggestions of two mice guests I befriended.

  —Mr. Moltisse

  Two mice. Her parents!

  Mona flipped to the next bookmark.

  Twelve kits are a handful. Thank whiskers for those two mice who were so great with them. What a surprise it was to discover we’d met a relative of theirs in the village.

  —Mme. Hana the hedgehog

  Her parents again. And relatives? Mona couldn’t believe it. What village? Where?

  She flipped the page to another entry, but this one had no writing.

  There were two big ♥’s on the page, with eyes and whiskers drawn on them. It must have been drawn by those kits.

  Tilly peeked over her shoulder.

  “This isn’t from your parents!” she said, disappointed. “Mona, I’m so sorry.”

  Mona shook her head. “Don’t be, Tilly. My parents might not have written an entry, but they are part of so many. And…well.” She was about to tell her about her relatives, but…

  Instead of sharing the secret, she decided not to—at least not right away. Although most secrets were better shared, sometimes it was nice to hold on to something good that was just meant for you. At least for a moment. It felt like a whole family of mice had entered the room, filling it with warmth.

  But it was another someone who actually filled the doorway. A big, whiskery, wonderful someone.

  Mr. Heartwood!

  Mr. Heartwood strode into the suite. His black-and-white fur was glossier than ever. Gone were his cap and cardigan, and the keys were back around his neck. Was it Mona’s imagination, or was there a new key added to the collection? Instead of having a heart-shaped top, however, this key was wavy and shaped like a raindrop.