by Holly Black
Jared sat down on the gleaming floor of Arthur’s newly cleaned library and leaned against Aunt Lucinda’s leg. Mallory knelt next to him, making stacks of old letters written in languages that none of them spoke. Simon flipped through an old book of sepia photographs while their mother poured hot tea into mugs.
All of that might have seemed normal if Hogsqueal wasn’t seated on a nearby footstool, playing checkers with a bandaged and annoyed-looking Thimbletack.
Lucinda held up one of the paintings of the little girl from Arthur’s desk. “I can’t believe it. All this time and I never knew.”
It had been three weeks since they had defeated Mulgarath, and Jared was finally starting to think things were going to stay okay. The goblins had dispersed into bickering groups. Byron was gone by the time they had left the palace, and he appeared to have eaten every last dragonet. Jared, Simon, Mallory, and their mother had all walked home from the dump. It had been a long walk, and they had been so tired that once they’d arrived home, they had collapsed into the piles of feathers and cloth that had been their beds without complaint or comment. It was dark when Jared had finally woken and noticed Thimbletack curled up on a pillow beside him, with Simon’s tiny, marmalade cat nestled against the little brownie. Jared had smiled, taken a deep breath, and choked on the feathers.
Downstairs he’d found his mother cleaning up the kitchen. When Jared had walked into the room, she had hugged him tightly.
“I’m so sorry,” she’d said.
Even though it had kind of made him feel like a baby, he’d hugged her back for a long time.
Later that week their mother had arranged for Lucinda to leave the asylum and come stay with them. Jared had been amazed to find his great-aunt, with a haircut and a new suit, sitting in the parlor one day after school. When Mulgarath died, his magic must have died with him, and although Lucinda often walked with a cane now, her back was as straight as it had ever been.
Mrs. Grace had been less miraculous in curing Jared’s school troubles; he had been expelled. His mother had enrolled him and Simon in a private school nearby. She claimed the school had excellent art and science programs. Mallory decided to stay at the old school. She only had one year till she was in high school anyway and plenty still to prove to the J. Waterhouse fencing team.
For his part, Jared had locked Arthur’s field guide in its metal trunk again. But after all that he still didn’t know what to think. Were there creatures still after them? Had the ogre been the worst—or just the worst yet?
A breeze blew through the office, scattering papers and snapping Jared out of his thoughts. Simon jumped up, trying to catch hold of the letters.
“Did you leave a window open?” their mother asked Aunt Lucinda.
“I don’t recall doing so,” their great-aunt replied.
“I’ll get it,” Mallory said, and started toward the window.
Then a single leaf blew inside. It danced in the air, swooping and swirling, until it fell directly in front of Jared. The leaf was greenish brown, and Jared thought it might be from a maple tree. Written on the leaf in a delicate hand was Jared’s name. He turned it over and read:
“It doesn’t say where,” Mallory said, reading over his shoulder.
“The grove, I guess,” Jared said.
“You’re not going to go, are you?” Simon asked.
“I’m going,” said Jared. “I promised. I need to give them Arthur’s field guide. I don’t want anything like this to happen again.”
“Then we’re going with you,” said Simon.
“I’m coming too,” their mother said.
The three children looked at her with surprise, then glanced at each other.
“Don’t forget me, dizzinits,” Hogsqueal said.
“Don’t forget us,” Thimbletack corrected.
Aunt Lucy reached for her cane. “I hope it isn’t much of a walk?”
That night they left the house carrying lanterns, flashlights, and the field guide. It was weird to go looking for faeries with their mother in tow and Simon helping Aunt Lucy along. Up the hill they went, and then they carefully made their way down the other side.
Jared thought he heard a whisper of “Clever is as clever does,” but it might have been only his memory or the wind.
The grove was lit with dozens upon dozens of sprites, whirring through the air, twinkling like giant fireflies, alighting on tree branches and settling in the grass. Elves sat on the ground—many more than the three the children had seen on their first visit—all clad in the deep colors of autumn as though to camouflage themselves with the forest.
The elves went quiet as the small group of humans made their way to the center of the clearing. There, standing among all of those seated, was the green-eyed elf, her expression unreadable. Beside her stood the leaf-horned elf, looking stern, and red-haired Lorengorm, who was smiling.
Thinking of Thimbletack, Jared made an awkward bow. The others followed his example.
“We brought the book,” Jared said, and held it out to the green-eyed elf.
She smiled. “That is well. We must abide by our promises, and had you not, Simon would have had to stay with us for a very long time.”
Simon shivered and stepped closer to Mallory. Jared scowled.
“But since you have done so,” she continued, “we wish to return it to you for safekeeping.”
“What?” Mallory said. Jared was astonished.
“You have proven that humans may use the knowledge it contains for good. Therefore we return the Guide to you.”
Lorengorm stepped forward. “We also wish to give you some measure of our gratitude for restoring peace to these lands. To that end we offer you a boon.”
“A boon?” Hogsqueal puffed out his chest. “What do I get? How come these ninnyhammers get a reward when I’m the one that defeated Mulgarath?”
Several of the elves began to laugh, and Thimbletack gave Hogsqueal a stern look.
“Figures he wasn’t coming along to be supportive,” Mallory said.
“So what would you like, little hobgoblin?” asked the green-eyed elf.
“Well,” Hogsqueal said, putting a finger to his mouth as if considering. “I’d like some kind of medal, definitely. Gold, with ‘fearsome killer of ogres’ on it. No, wait, how about ‘supreme slayer of monsters’? Or—”
“Is that all?” asked Lorengorm.
“It should say ‘supreme beetlehead,’ ” Simon whispered to Jared.
“I don’t think so,” said the hobgoblin. “I want a victory feast in my honor. And it should have quail’s eggs—I love those—and pigeon baked in a pie shell and barbequed ca—”
“We’ll consider your requests,” the green-eyed elf said, barely hiding a smile behind her delicate hand. “But now I must ask the children to name the desire of their heart.”
Jared looked at his brother and sister. At first they seemed thoughtful, and then smiles started to grow on their faces. Jared glanced back at his mother, who still seemed a bit confused, and his great-aunt, her face full of hope.
“We would like our great-great-uncle, Arthur Spiderwick, to have a choice whether to stay in Faerie or not.”
“You understand,” Lorengorm said, “that if he chooses to return to the mortal world, the first time his foot touches the earth, he will become dust and ash.”
Jared nodded. “I understand.”
“We have anticipated your request,” said the green-eyed elf. With a wave of her hand the trees parted, and Byron stepped through. On his back was Arthur Spiderwick.
Jared heard the others gasp behind him. Arthur smiled at Jared briefly, and this time Jared noticed that his eyes were like Lucinda’s, both sharp and kind. Arthur sat on the griffin awkwardly and petted him with a kind of awe. Then he looked over at Mallory and Simon. He adjusted his glasses.
“You are my great-great-niece and nephew, aren’t you?” he said softly. “Jared didn’t mention that he had a brother and a sister.”
Jared
nodded. He wondered if there was any way he could apologize for the things he had said earlier. He wondered what Arthur thought of him.
“This is fine work.”
“I’m Simon,” said Simon. “This is Mallory, and this is our mom.” Simon looked at Lucinda and hesitated.
“I’m glad to meet you,” said Arthur. “You three children clearly have my inquisitive blood running through your veins. You might have had cause to regret it.” He shook his head wryly. “It seems to have gotten you into a lot of scrapes. Luckily you three seem far more adept at getting yourselves out of trouble than I ever was.” He smiled again, and this time his smile wasn’t the least bit tentative. It was a wide grin that made him look very unlike the man in the painting.
“We’re glad to see you too,” Jared said. “We want to give your book back to you.”
“My field guide!” Arthur said. He took it from Jared’s hands and started flipping through it. “Look at this—who did these sketches?”
“I did,” Jared said, his voice as soft as a whisper. “I know they aren’t very good.”
“Nonsense!” Arthur said. “This is fine work. I predict that you are going to be a great artist someday.”
“Really?” Jared said.
Arthur nodded. “Really.”
Thimbletack walked up to Arthur’s shoes. “Good to see you, my old friend, but there are some things to mend. Here is Lucinda, who you know. She is not as she was long ago.”
Arthur’s breath caught as he finally recognized her. She must look so old to him, Jared thought. He tried to picture his mother as a young woman, looking at an elderly version of him, but it was too hard, too sad.
Lucinda smiled, and tears ran down her cheeks. “Daddy!” she said. “You look just the way you did the day you left.”
Arthur made a move to dismount.
“No!” Lucinda said. “You’ll turn to dust.” Leaning on her cane, she walked closer to where he stood.
“I’m sorry for all of the sadness I caused you and your mother,” he said. “I’m sorry I tried to trick the elves. I should have never taken the risk. I’ve always loved you, Lucy. I always wanted to come home.”
“You are home now,” said Lucinda.
Arthur shook his head. “Elven magic has kept me alive too long. I have lived past the span of my years. It is my time to go, but seeing you, Lucy—I can go without sorrow.”
“I just got you back,” she said. “You can’t die now.”
Arthur bent down and spoke to her—soft words that Jared could not hear—before he stepped off the griffin and into her embrace. As Arthur’s foot touched the ground, his body turned to dust and then smoke. It swirled around Jared’s great-aunt and then whirled up into the night sky and was gone.
Jared turned to Lucinda, expecting to see her crying, but her eyes were dry. She stared up at the stars and smiled. Jared slid his hand into hers.
“It’s time for us to go home,” Aunt Lucinda said. Jared nodded. He thought about everything that had happened, all of the things that he had seen, and suddenly realized how much he still had to sketch. After all, he was only at the beginning.
About TONY DiTERLIZZI . . .
A New York Times bestselling authorand illustrator Tony DiTerlizzi has been creating books with Simon and Schuster for over a decade. From fanciful picture books such as Jimmy Zangwow’s Out-of-This-World Moon-Pie Adventure, The Spider & The Fly (a Caldecott Honor book), and those in the Adventure of Meno series (with his wife, Angela) to middle-grade fiction like Kenny and the Dragon and The Search for WondLa, Tony has always imbued his stories with a rich imagination. His middle-grade series the Spiderwick Chronicles (with Holly Black) has sold millions of copies, been adapted into a feature film, and been translated in over thirty countries. You can visit him at www.diterlizzi.com.
and HOLLY BLACK
Holly Black is the author of bestselling contemporary fantasy books for kids and teens. She is the co-creator and writer of the Spiderwick Chronicles and the author of the Modern Faerie Tale series, the Good Neighbors graphic novel trilogy (with Ted Naifeh), the Curse Workers series, and her newest novel, Doll Bones. She has been a finalist for the Mythopoeic Award, a finalist for an Eisner Award, and the recipient of the Andre Norton Award. She currently lives in New England with her husband, Theo, in a house with a secret door. You can visit her at www.blackholly.com.
Through field, cave, and forest this yarn has unspun with our heroes victorious and evil undone!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Tony and Holly would like to thank
Steve and Dianna for their insight, Starr for her honesty, Myles and Liza for sharing the journey, Ellen and Julie for helping make this our reality, Kevin for his tireless enthusiasm and faith in us, and especially Angela and Theo—there are not enough superlatives to describe your patience in enduring endless nights of Spiderwick discussion.
The text type for this book is set in Cochin.
The display types are set in Nevins Hand and Rackham.
The illustrations are rendered in pen and ink.
Production editor: Dorothy Gribbin
Art director: Dan Potash
Production manager: Chava Wolin
SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2004 by Tony DiTerlizzi and Holly Black
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.
Book design by Tony DiTerlizzi and Dan Potash
CIP data for this book is available from the Library of Congress.
ISBN 978-0-689-85940-3 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4424-8704-8 (jacketed hc)
ISBN 978-1-4424-8703-1 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-4424-9625-5 (eBook)
