by Brandon Mull
accustomed to it.
Maybe after your nerves die, Seth said, brushing more
tears away. What now?
Errol held up an empty hand. His fingers fluttered, and
a garage-door opener materialized. Enter through the
garage, Errol said. You will probably find the door from the
garage to the house unlocked. If not, force it open. Once
inside, to the left of the door, on the wall you will see a keypad.
On top of the protective charms, the funeral home has
a conventional security system. Press 7109 and then hit
enter.
enter, Seth echoed.
How do you know that? Kendra asked.
The same way I know Archibald is gone, Errol replied.
Reconnaissance. I wouldn't send Seth in there unprepared.
What do you think I've been doing since I first contacted
You.
How do I find the statue? Seth asked.
My best guess would be down in the basement. Access
it by the elevator adjoining the viewing room. If you turn
right after entering, you can't miss it. You'll be looking for a
toadlike statue not much bigger than my fist. Very likely in
plain view. Look in off-limits areas. When you find the figurine,
feed it this. Errol held up a dog biscuit shaped like a
bone.
Feed the statue? Seth questioned doubtfully.
Until you feed it, the figurine will be immovable. Feed
the statuette, pick it up, bring it to us, and I will drive you
home. Errol handed Seth the garage-door opener and the
dog biscuit. He also gave him a small flashlight, with the
warning to use it only if necessary.
We haven't covered what I do if I run into the living
dead, Seth reminded Errol.
You run, Errol said. Reanimated corpses are not particularly
swift or nimble. You won't have trouble staying
ahead of them. But don't take any chances. If you encounter
any undead adversaries, statue or no statue, retreat to the
van.
Seth nodded gravely. So just run, huh? He did not
sound fully satisfied with the plan.
I doubt you'll have any trouble, Errol reassured him.
I've scouted this location thoroughly, and there has been
no hint of undead activity. Should be a snap. In and out.
You don't have to do this, Kendra said.
Don't worry, I won't blame you if my brain gets eaten,
Seth said. He opened the door and hopped out. Although I
can't help it if you blame yourself.
Seth jogged across the street and walked toward the
lighted sign. A few cars came down the road toward him,
and he averted his eyes from the bright headlights until they
passed. On his way to the mortuary, Seth passed a small
house that had been converted into a barber shop, and then
a larger one that housed dental offices.
Even though he knew Kendra and Errol were close by,
facing the forbidding mortuary was a lonely feeling.
Glancing back at the Volkswagen van, Seth could not see
the occupants inside. He knew they could see him, though,
so he tried to look relaxed.
Beyond the illuminated sign at the edge of the yard was
a neatly trimmed lawn bordered by tidily rounded hedges
that came no higher than his knees. Large potted plants
crowded the shadowy porch. Three balconies with low railings
projected from the upper story. All the windows were
dark and shuttered. A pair of cupolas crowned the mansion,
along with several chimneys. Even forgetting the dead bodies
inside, the house looked haunted.
Seth considered turning back. Going into the funeral
home with Errol and Kendra had sounded like an adventure.
Going inside alone felt like suicide. He could probably stomach
a spooky house full of dead bodies. But he had seen
amazing things at Fablehaven-fairies and imps and monsters.
He knew such things really existed, and so he knew
there was a serious possibility that he was walking into an
actual zombie lair, presided over by a real-life vampire
(regardless of what Errol called him).
Seth fidgeted with the garage-door opener. Did he really
care this much about getting rid of the kobold? If Errol was
such a pro, why was he having kids do his dirty work?
Shouldn't somebody with more experience tackle this sort
of problem, instead of a sixth-grader?
If he had been unaccompanied, Seth probably would
have walked away. The kobold alone was just not worth it.
But people were watching, expecting him to do this, and
pride would not allow him to wimp out. He had followed
through on some intimidating dares-going down steep hills
on his bike, fighting a kid two grades older, eating live
insects. He had almost died climbing an escalating series of
wooden poles. Yet this was the worst so far, because going
into a zombie lair alone not only meant you could die, it
meant you could die in a really upsetting way.
No cars were coming down the road. Pressing the button
on the garage-door opener, Seth hustled across the
driveway. The door opened loudly. It made him feel conspicuous,
but he told himself that anybody who saw a person
going into a garage would not think twice about it. Of
course, any zombies inside the mortuary now knew he had
arrived.
An automatic light brightened the garage. The black,
curtained hearse did little to make the mansion feel more
cheery. Neither did the assemblage of taxidermic animals
positioned on a workbench along one wall: a possum, a
raccoon, a fox, a beaver, an otter, an owl, a falcon-and, in
the corner, a huge black bear standing upright.
Seth entered the garage and tapped the button again.
The garage door shut with a prolonged mechanical groan.
He hurried to the door that would lead into the funeral
home. The knob turned, and Seth eased the door open. He
heard an immediate beeping. Light from the garage spilled
into a hallway.
To the left of the door was a keypad, exactly where Errol
had described. Seth punched in 7109 and hit enter. The
beeping stopped. And the growling started.
Seth whipped around. The door was still open, and light
from the garage revealed a mass of white dreadlocks
approaching down the carpeted hall. At first Seth thought
it was a monster. Then he realized it was a huge dog with
such thick cords of fur that one of its ancestors must have
been a mop. Seth did not know how the animal could see,
it had so much hair dangling in its eyes. The growls continued
rumbling, deep and steady, the kind of sound that meant
at any second the dog might make a violent charge.
Seth had to reach a quick decision. He could probably
leap out the door and shut it behind him before the dog
reached him. But that would be the end of going after the
statue. Maybe it would serve Errol right, for carrying out
such lousy reconnaissance.
Then again, he was holding a dog biscuit. Surely the
statue would not need the whole thing. Sit, Seth commanded,
calmly but firmly, extending his hand palm
outward.
The dog grew silent and stopped advancing.
That's a good dog, Seth said, trying to exude confidence.
He had heard that dogs could sense fear. Now sit,
he ordered, repeating the gesture.
The dog sat, its shaggy head higher than Seth's waist.
Seth snapped the biscuit in two and tossed half to the dog.
The canine caught the biscuit on the fly. Seth had no idea
how it saw the treat coming through all that fur.
Seth approached the dog and let it sniff his hand. A
warm tongue caressed his palm, and Seth rubbed the top of
the animal's head. You're a good boy, Seth said in his special
voice reserved for babies and animals. You're not going
to eat me, right?
The automatic light in the garage switched off, plunging
the hall into darkness. The only glow came from a tiny green
bulb on the security keypad, so faint that it was useless. Seth
remembered the shutters covering the windows. Even moonlight
and the light from the sign could not penetrate the
house. Well, that probably meant that people on the outside
would not notice his flashlight, and he could not risk zombies
sneaking up on him in the blackness, so he turned it on.
Once again he could see the dog and the hall. Seth
moved down the hall to a large room with plush carpeting
and heavy drapes. He swung the beam of his flashlight
around, checking for zombies. Several couches and armchairs
and a few tall lamps lined the perimeter of the room.
The center of the room was empty, apparently so mourners
could mingle. There was a place on one side where Seth figured
they laid the casket for people to view the deceased. He
had visited a room not too different from this one when his
Grandma and Grandpa Larsen had died just over a year ago.
Several doors led out of the room. The word Chapel was
written above a set of double doors. Some other doors were
unmarked. A brass gate blocked access to an elevator. A sign
above it announced, Authorized Personnel Only.
The dog followed Seth as he crossed the room to the elevator.
When Seth pushed the gate sideways, it collapsed like
an accordion. Seth entered the elevator and shut the gate,
preventing the dog from following. Black buttons projected
from the wall, looking very old-fashioned. The floor buttons
were marked B, 1, and 2. Seth pushed B.
The elevator lurched downward, rattling enough that
Seth wondered if it was about to break. Through the gate
Seth could see the wall of the elevator shaft scrolling by.
Then the wall of the shaft disappeared. With a final squeal
the ride came to an abrupt halt.
Without opening the gate, and keeping one hand near
the elevator buttons, Seth shone the flashlight around the
room. The last thing he wanted was to get cornered by zombies
inside of an elevator.
It appeared to be the room where the bodies were prepared.
It was much less fancy than the parlor above. He saw
a worktable, and a table with wheels that had a casket on it.
There were multiple storage cabinets and a big sink. Seth
estimated that the casket would barely fit inside the elevator.
One side of the room had what appeared to be a large
refrigeration unit. He tried not to dwell upon what was kept
in there.
He saw no statues, toadlike or otherwise. There was a
door marked Private on the wall opposite the elevator.
Satisfied that the room was zombie-free, Seth slid the gate
open. He stepped out, tense, ready to leap back into the elevator
at the slightest provocation.
The room remained silent. Walking between the
worktable and the casket, Seth tried the private door. It was
locked. The knob had a keyhole.
The door looked neither particularly strong nor unusually
flimsy. It was built to open into the next room. Seth
tried kicking it near the knob. It shuddered a bit. He tried a
few more times, but, despite the repeated shuddering, the
door showed no sign of weakening.
Seth supposed he could use the wheeled table to ram the
door with the casket. But he doubted he could generate
enough speed to strike the door much harder than he could
kick it. And he could picture knocking the casket off the
table and creating a huge mess. The casket might not be
empty!
Another door, this one unmarked, also led out of the
room. It was against the same wall as the elevator, so Seth
had not seen it until after he had stepped into the room.
Seth found that door unlocked. Behind it was a bare hall
with doors along one side and an open doorway at the end.
Seth cautiously ventured down the hall. He realized that
if zombies came at him from behind, he could become
pinned in the basement, so he listened very carefully. The
large room at the end of the hall was crammed almost from
floor to ceiling with cardboard boxes. Seth hurried through
the narrow aisles that granted access to the room, scanning
for the statue. All he found was more boxes.
Back in the hall, Seth tried the other doors. One led to a
bathroom. Behind the other door was a large storage closet
full of cleaning supplies and various tools. One object among
the mops and brooms and hammers caught his attention: an
ax.
Seth returned with the ax to the private door. So much
for stealth. If the garage door and elevator had not alerted
the zombies, this should do the job. The ax was fairly heavy,
but, choking up a little, he gave it a solid swing, and the bit
crunched into the wood about a foot away from the doorknob.
He wrenched it free and attacked the door again. A
few more strokes and he had chopped a hole in the door
large enough to reach his hand through. Seth wiped the
handle of the ax with his shirt before setting it aside, just in
case vampires knew how to check for fingerprints.
Seth shone his flashlight through the hole in the door.
He could not see any reanimated corpses, but a zombie could
easily be standing off to the side, out of view, waiting for his
hand to appear. Reaching into the splintery hole, worried
that clammy fingers might close around his wrist at any second,
Seth felt the doorknob on the far side and unlocked it.
Twisting the knob, he pushed the door open. Seth used the
flashlight to examine the room. It was large and L-shaped,
so the entirety was not in view at once. Funeral paraphernalia
littered the room: nameless headstones, caskets lying
horizontal or upended, easels with colorful wreaths of fake'
flowers. A long desk with a rolling chair and a computer was
covered with a mess of papers. Beside the desk stood a row
of tall filing cabinets.
Half-expecting slobbering zombies to burst from the caskets
at any moment, Seth wove through the cluttered room
until he could see around the corner of the L. He found a
red felt pool table underneath a ceiling fan
. Inside an arched
niche beyond the table, a statuette squatted atop a variegated
block of marble.
Seth rushed to the recess in the wall. The statue was not
on all fours like a toad. Rather, it sat upright on two legs
with a pair of short arms folded across its chest. The figurine
looked like a pagan idol with froglike features. A polished
dark green, it appeared to be carved out of speckled jade, and
stood about six or seven inches tall. Above the statue a sign
read:
Do NOT Feed
the Frog
The brief message filled Seth with foreboding. What
exactly would happen once he fed the frog? Errol had made
it sound like it would simply enable him to carry the statue
out of the mortuary.
The statue did not look too heavy. Seth tried to pick it
up. The figurine would not budge. It felt welded to the block
of marble, which in turn felt firmly anchored to the base of
the niche. Seth could not even slide the statuette or slightly
tip it- Maybe Errol knew what he was talking about after all.
Not wanting to spend more time than necessary inside
the funeral home, Seth held out the remaining half of the
dog biscuit. Would the statuette actually eat it? Seth inched
the treat forward. When the biscuit was almost touching the
mouth, the froglike lips began to twitch. He moved the treat
back, and the lips stopped moving. Holding the biscuit
closer than ever, he saw the lips pucker outward, quivering.
Apparently it was going to work! Seth slid the biscuit
into the eager jade mouth, careful not to let the figurine nip
his fingertip. The statue gulped down the food, and once
again sat motionless.
Nothing seemed to have changed, except that when
Seth tried to pick up the statuette, it lifted off the marble
block easily. Without warning, the statue squirmed and bit
the side of his thumb. Yelling in surprise, Seth dropped the
figurine and the flashlight onto the carpeted floor. The sensation
of a jade statue wriggling like a living thing was
extremely unnerving. Retrieving the flashlight, Seth
checked the side of his thumb and found a row of tiny puncture
wounds. The frog had teeth.
Seth nudged the fallen figurine with his foot. It did not
twitch. Warily he picked it up, holding it near the base so if
it tried to bite him again he could avoid the tiny fangs. The
statue did not move. He tapped it on the head. The statuette
