Quest for the Golden Arrow

by Carrie Jones

  “You can’t time stop your way out.” Eva shook her head, disgusted. Blood dripped everywhere. Bloom handed her a tissue. Annie would have asked if she was okay but she worried it would make Eva even crankier and scream about how dwarfs are always okay.

  “I’m not doing that, Eva.” Annie tried to be patient as she filled in the circle. She was about seven eighths of the way through, but the marker was drying out. “My magic has to do with drawing, right? I mean even when I stop time I have to visualize the words in my head. Every time I draw a bunny, a bunny appears.”

  “So you are drawing a hole …,” Eva said.

  Johann started wailing.

  Eva kicked his shin. “You sound like a banshee. We’re trying to have a conversation here.”

  He began to hiccup sob instead. “You’re so mean.”

  “She’s terribly mean,” SalGoud agreed in a big sob that was barely understandable.

  “I am not mean!” Eva shouted. “I am just cranky!”

  “Anyway, what I was saying before,” Annie said, pressing down hard with the marker, concentrating, “is that the globe thing that sprayed Johann and me was a mood thing, too. We giggled. Remember? I think it’s all connected.”

  Annie stared at the hole she had drawn. It was just wide enough for SalGoud’s shoulders. She stuck her hand through it.

  “Whoa …” Eva swore under her breath. “That totally worked. Would you look at that.”

  “Where do you think it leads?” Bloom asked.

  “Our doom?” SalGoud sobbed. “A worse place?”

  “Everything leads to our doom!” Johann fell down crying and rolled right into the hole.

  Annie made big eyes at Bloom.

  “I’ll go first,” he said. “I’ll tug once if I need to get pulled back up and twice if all is safe.”

  He tied a rope to his waist and gave Eva the end to hang onto, just in case. Annie was not fond of “just in cases,” but she said nothing as she watched Bloom jump into the hole.

  “Two tugs!” Eva announced.

  “Are you sure?” SalGoud asked.

  “Of course I’m freaking sure.” She kicked him toward the hole. “Go down there. You, too, Annie. Hurry. Bloom’s light balls are fading.”

  Indeed they were. Annie followed the scurrying, sobbing SalGoud and lost hold of the rope, landing with a thud in the middle of the hotel’s reception area. Eva plummeted down next to her, landing squarely on Annie’s lap. They sat in the middle of the room on top of the massive table that was full of pamphlets and papers about tourist destinations.

  Jamie stood there at the end of the room, his arm around the sobbing SalGoud. Annie’s grandparents stood next to him. Well, she assumed they were both her grandparents. The little man looked so much like her, he had to be.

  “Where were the children?” Mr. Tullgren demanded in a whisper that was much scarier than a full-blown yell. He wiped a tear from his cheek.

  “I didn’t know …” Mrs. Tullgren’s lips trembled, and she gave up being tough and mean and instead rushed to Annie, engulfing her in her arms. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl, so terribly sorry.”

  Annie seemed to not know how to respond. For a moment, her arms stayed down at her sides, but then … they lifted. She circled them around her grandmother and murmured, “It’s okay.”

  Her grandmother felt soft and smelled of the woods and cooked potatoes. For a second, Annie let herself relax into the hug—a real hug—and tried to forget about the buzzards and the snakes and the cow poop. She sighed. Her grandmother was hugging her … Annie!

  “She can never stay mad. It’s ridiculous,” Eva huffed, but even she smiled the tiniest of bits.

  “I’m sure you have a good reason for treating your own relative so badly … Don’t you?” SalGoud asked, sobbing still.

  Mr. Tullgren snapped his head up. “You boys need to be doctored. Was anyone else bitten?”

  One by one, Eva, Johann, Bloom, and SalGoud confessed they had indeed been bitten, and the Tullgrens snapped into action, sending the buzzards into the night to pick up supplies. Eva, they said, was an easy fix with the magical first aid supplies on hand in the hotel. Mrs. Tullgren created a potion and poured in hot chocolate, which ended up smelling like white sugar cookies. Eva gulped it down, and Jamie wished he’d been cranky if that was the treatment.

  Mrs. Tullgren made a lot of excuses about how she hadn’t realized the children had been trapped in the room, that she’d been too busy trying to determine if the Raiff was still in the Badlands and so on. At first, Mr. Tullgren wasn’t hearing any of it, actively blocking his ears and singing “la-di-da-la,” but eventually he gave up, putting his arm around Mrs. Tullgren’s slumping shoulders and kissing the top of her head.

  “I love her too much to stay mad,” he said.

  “Not me,” said Eva.

  “Me, neither.” Johann shuddered. “It’s not right for there to be snakes in Ireland. I can’t believe you put snakes in there.”

  Bloom studied him. “I thought you said they weren’t snakes.”

  Johann began sobbing again, which made Eva curse and everyone wish the buzzards would hurry back. While they waited, Mrs. Tullgren explained that the Raiff was known to be terrified of snakes, which is why they were set up in the trap room.

  “And the emotions?”

  “Oh, that’s just my added touch.” She flushed.

  “She’s a genius with emotional warfare.” Mr. Tullgren beamed proudly, coming back into the room, even though nobody had noticed him leave. He carried a plate of cookies.

  “Could you make the dwarfs less grumpy?” Bloom asked.

  “Oh, sweet elf, why would I? They are adorable just the way they are.” Mrs. Tullgren tweaked Eva under the chin.

  “I am not adorable,” Eva said, but it was obvious that Mrs. Tullgren’s charm was working because Eva smiled with half of her mouth.

  Jamie wished that they could just tell them what they were here for, but Lichen had demanded that no adults know about the arrow and bow and rescue mission. He had insisted that the Raiff would know if an adult knew.

  The buzzards landed, carrying a massive purple flower in their talons. Mrs. Tullgren thanked them and tossed them dead fish as treats while Mr. Tullgren sprinkled what looked like rainbow pixie dust onto the flower, which suddenly grew to ten feet tall, its tips touching the ceiling.

  “Wow …” Annie’s eyes shone.

  “Here, help me,” her grandfather offered. He held a yellow crayon in his hand. “Take this and touch the stem. Think of something happy.”

  Eva started to say something, but Bloom clamped his hand over her mouth and whispered, “Be still, Eva. No snarky comments.”

  SalGoud slumped into the farthest chair, still sobbing. “Taraji Henson said, ‘Every human walks around with a certain kind of sadness. They may not wear it on their sleeves, but it’s there if you look deep.’ ” He coughed. “How could you not know that Annie was alive? That’s so mean. She was stuck going from foster home to foster home and not one of them was nice. NOT ONE! She was never loved. Never. Agh … It’s so sad. So sad.”

  “Maybe you should have covered SalGoud’s mouth,” Eva suggested as Bloom’s hand dropped.

  Both the Tullgrens had horrified expressions, and Annie’s lip trembled. She refused to make eye contact with anyone, and the fingers in which she held the yellow crayon seemed to twitch. Her grandfather pulled some more crayons out of his pocket and offered them to her.

  “I might not be able to think of anything happy right now,” she said slowly.

  Mr. Tullgren sighed. “Me, either.”

  But Mrs. Tullgren’s eyes watered and she fluttered up in the air to the top of the center table, scattering pamphlets about the Doolin Cave. “It has nothing to do with not loving Annie. It has everything to do with loving Annie.” She snapped her fingers and Annie began to float, too, drifting toward her grandmother. “We didn’t know you were alive until just a few days ago, and even then we couldn’t
believe it—not really. All that time in the past, we truly thought you were dead. And when the globe alerted us that a Stopper was here and actually in Ireland, well, we didn’t think it could possibly be you … And even if it were, we couldn’t bring you here with us because if you were with us, you’d be in danger.”

  Mr. Tullgren sighed and added, “It was easier that way.”

  “Easier that way?” Annie raised an eyebrow. “To just let me flounder out there, to leave me unprotected?”

  “Annie, I couldn’t—I couldn’t feel you,” Mrs. Tullgren said.

  “Feel me?”

  “I usually can feel those I love. Feel their emotions, their hearts beating, their distress.”

  “Even if you aren’t with them?” Jamie asked, excited. It sounded a bit like what happened with him. Sometimes it felt as if others’ emotions were his own. Like when his grandmother was angry, even if it wasn’t at him, he felt it battering away at his insides. Or when Annie was really scared, Jamie felt that way, too … Only different. Lighter and frantic.

  “Even if I’m not with them,” Mrs. Tullgren said. “And then suddenly I felt Annie. Felt all of her emotions and her fear and her grasping at happiness … And my heart … my heart … it broke … When Miss Cornelia sent the arkan sonney to tell us what had happened, about Annie’s miraculous return … Well, I … I was overwhelmed. What had happened to you for so long … Those people you lived with …” She turned white. “It’s hard for a grandmother to deal with.”

  Annie hovered above the table again.

  “Please put me down,” she whispered sadly.

  “I’m not doing that.” Mrs. Tullgren’s hand went to her mouth. “You poor thing, you know nothing of your powers, do you? You are so vulnerable to him.” Mrs. Tullgren turned to Mr. Tullgren. “See? See! I was right! She is totally unprotected!”

  Eva bristled. “I will protect her!”

  “As will I,” sobbed Johann.

  “And me.” Bloom grabbed Annie’s hand and pulled her back down to the ground.

  Jamie swallowed hard. He would protect Annie, too. He would. He would protect all of them. He just didn’t know how.

  Annie tried to calm her nerves and think happy thoughts as she and her grandfather—her grandfather! Who could believe it!—clutched the yellow crayon, but she had so many questions about everything. About them and their magic, about her dad, their son. Annie knew nothing about him. Nothing about anything.

  “Just take the crayon and think of something happy. Then draw that happiness on the stem of the flower,” her grandfather coached as he did that exact thing.

  Annie peeked over at his drawing. He had drawn her scrawny arms and too-big eyes and limp hair. She was hugging a man, her grandfather. She was what he thought of when he thought of happiness. Her heart hiccupped a bit and she focused on her own crayon, drawing yellow lines across the green stem. First came the legs, then the body and shaggy waggy tail, and then the face: Tala. Tala made her happy. He always did.

  The flowers burst into rainbow-colored raindrops, and Mrs. Tullgren hurried to catch the drops in two goblets. She brought one over to SalGoud, who was still flopped in the big chair by the door, quietly crying, and she took the other goblet to Johann, who was full-on sobbing while curled up under the table.

  “Drink,” she said calmly. “Drink in the happiness.”

  Once SalGoud, Johann, and Bloom were cured, Mrs. Tullgren proceeded to worry intensely that the Raiff or his minions would find Annie. Her grandparents’ home was the first place he’ll look, she had insisted. But she couldn’t bear to kick Annie out again, certainly not in the middle of the night. Mrs. Tullgren stalked and paced, fretting while the rest of them watched. Eva had taken residence in the big chair that SalGoud had been in previously, and she started to fall asleep, but her own snoring kept jolting her back awake.

  “We should just send you off right now. That would be safest,” Annie’s grandmother said.

  Annie gave everyone a panicked look. If they left now, they wouldn’t be able to find the Golden Bow and Arrow. Plus, she’d finally met some relatives—real relatives, her dad’s parents. And they were a bit quirky—okay, a lot quirky—but cool. She sniffed.

  Mr. Tullgren stood up straight and wrapped his arm around Annie’s shoulders. “We will not be sending our granddaughter off into the night. We will soldier up, increase the house’s defenses and alarm systems, and she will have a good night’s sleep at least. We will decide what to do in the morning.” He clapped his hands authoritatively and then rethought it. “Unless, we have a party?”

  Mrs. Tullgren’s eyes lit up. “A party?”

  “Wake up our guests! I think it’s time for a celebration!” Mr. Tullgren roared.

  A party seemed the exact opposite of what people hiding from the Raiff should do, but Mr. Tullgren explained that it was not what a demon would expect. A demon would expect them to hunker down, to boost up their defenses and security (which is what Mrs. Tullgren was doing), and try to hide. A party, he explained, would throw the Raiff or his minions off, confuse them.

  “We would never draw attention to ourselves if the Stopper was here,” he explained as he drew a picture of how he wanted the restaurant to look for the festivities. There were trees and lights filling the entire room and tables full of happy faces.

  And so it was determined that they would have a party, but Annie still had a big question, which was why the Raiff would even want her now that he had Miss Cornelia.

  “She doesn’t know.” Mr. Tullgren’s hand went to his mouth.

  “Know what?” Annie asked, but Mr. Tullgren frantically paced away and called for his wife.

  “What is it?” she yelled down to him. She was hovering up by the ceiling, installing spikes of garlic to keep any bad vampires away. Sadly, there were no good vampires in Ireland.

  “SHE DOESN’T KNOW! CORNY DIDN’T TELL HER!” he shouted.

  Annie bristled. Miss Cornelia, it seemed, hadn’t told her a lot.

  “Oh, dear …” Mrs. Tullgren fluttered down. “Let me hold your hand. I need to make sure you don’t— Well, people have been known to spontaneously combust when they hear news like this.”

  Bloom raced to Annie’s side. “News like what?”

  Mrs. Tullgren took a deep breath and stroked Annie’s hand like a frightened puppy. “Annie, my dear. Annie, you are no ordinary child. And I don’t mean because you are a Stopper. Your power is strong because you come from many lines of magic. You’re the strongest Stopper there could ever be. In your blood, there’s my magic and Mr. Tullgren’s, plus your father’s. Plus … well, Annie, the other side of your family is magic, too. Your mother was … Well, she was the daughter of a very magical woman. And her grandfather, your other great-grandfather … He’s … There’s no easy way to say this, dear. Your great-grandfather is the Raiff.” Mrs. Tullgren petted Annie’s hand absently, and stared into her eyes. “He wants you because you are his blood. And if you turned evil, the way the Raiff wants you to, you would be the strongest demon alive. Together you two would be …”

  “Unstoppable,” Annie whispered, stomach clenching. “We would be unstoppable.”

  20

  The Arrow

  “All this time, I thought I was supposed to be saving everyone,” Annie said bitterly, as the buzzards hung streamers for the Party of Midnight, which is what Mrs. Tullgren decided to call it, “but it turns out that I might be the biggest evil of all …”

  It hadn’t been exactly easy going from the kid nobody wanted to the girl who was supposed to save the world to the girl who may ruin everything by turning evil, but Annie was struggling to maintain her calm. Nothing had been easy about her life; she didn’t know why she expected it to suddenly change.

  “No wonder everyone wanted to believe I was dead. It would have been easier,” she muttered to Jamie.

  Blue, green, and yellow paper vines made of cut-leaf shapes and twirls dangled from tree branches that sprang up out of the tables and fro
m the ceiling. Mr. Tullgren clapped his hands, delighted. “Just as I drew it! Do you like it, Annie?”

  “Of course,” she said, smiling because it was beautiful but also because she wanted her grandfather to be happy.

  “You aren’t going to be evil at all,” Jamie said. “Do you remember the Raiff? Do you remember his eyes, Annie? You are nothing like him.”

  She wanted Jamie to be right, but she just … She was so worried. All these emotions twisted up in her head and confused her. Happiness at finding her grandparents (well, the good ones at least) and the feather, worry about failing to find the arrow and bow and not being able to tell them about it, fear of the Raiff and horror over the news that they are related, stress at trying to save Miss Cornelia and the elves. Annie’s heart fluttered anxiously. So much stuff was just pounding around in her head that it hurt. She decided that she was just going to have to ignore all of the emotions and instead focus on what they had to do.

  “After the party,” she whispered to Jamie, “we will all pretend to go to bed, meet up in your room, and go looking for it.”

  She didn’t want to say what “it” was out loud. It seemed too risky to say “bow and arrow.” Jamie had already told them his idea that it was in the castle, and it made perfect sense to her. Jamie always seemed to make a lot of sense. She smiled fondly at him as he admired the paper trees, vast and brilliant. He was a good friend, the best kind of friend, and she felt so lucky to have him.

  Mr. Tullgren blew on a tin whistle and all sorts of creatures and people streamed through the front door, not just hotel guests, but magics who lived in the surrounding town and hills. There were cliff dwellers with rocky hands and algae hair, leprechauns who already seemed tipsy and cantankerous, dwarfs who began arm wrestling upon arrival, several ghosts of kings and queens, a banshee who had tape over her mouth to keep from howling, brounies, shifters, a unicorn, and a few ponies and cats who could talk.