Fablehaven1-Fablehaven

by Brandon Mull

  Kendra got off her stool and crouched beside her

  brother. Sure enough, there was a tiny keyhole on the

  underside of the unicorn. She retrieved her keys from the

  nightstand drawer. The third key Grandpa Sorenson had

  given her did the trick. A small hatch swung open. Out fell

  several rose-shaped chocolates wrapped in gold foil, identical

  to the one she had found in the miniature armoire.

  What are those? Seth asked.

  Soap, Kendra said.

  Kendra reached up into the hatch and felt around

  inside the hollow rocking horse. She found a few more

  rosebud chocolates and a tiny golden key like the one from

  the armoire. The second key to the locked journal!

  They look like candy, Seth said, snatching one of the

  ten chocolates.

  Have one. They’re perfumed. You’ll smell pretty.

  He unwrapped it. Funny color for soap. Smells a lot

  like chocolate. He popped the whole thing in his mouth.

  His eyebrows shot up. Holy cow, this is good!

  Since you found the keyhole, how about we split them

  fifty-fifty. She was a little worried he would eat all of them

  otherwise.

  Sounds fair, he said, grabbing four more.

  Kendra placed her five chocolates in the nightstand

  drawer and retrieved the locked book. As she expected, the

  second gold key unlocked another clasp. Where could the

  third one be?

  She slapped her forehead. The first two had been hidden

  inside things the other keys had opened. The other one must

  be in the jewelry box!

  Opening the jewelry box, she rummaged through the

  compartments of glittering pendants, brooches, and rings.

  Sure enough, disguised on a charm bracelet, she found a

  tiny golden key matching the other two.

  Kendra eagerly crossed the room and inserted the key

  into the final lock on the journal of Secrets. The final clasp

  unlatched and she opened the book. The first page was

  blank. So was the second. She thumbed quickly through

  the pages. The whole book was blank. Just an empty journal.

  Was Grandpa Sorenson trying to encourage her to

  keep a diary?

  But the whole game with the keys had been so sneaky.

  Maybe there was a trick to this as well. A hidden message.

  Disappearing ink or something. What was the trick with

  disappearing ink? Spray it with lemon juice and hold it up

  to a light? Something like that. And there was another

  trick where you rubbed gently with a pencil and a message

  appeared. Or maybe something even more devious.

  Kendra surveyed the journal more carefully, hunting for

  clues. She held a few pages up against the window to see if

  the light would betray hidden watermarks or other mysterious

  evidence.

  What are you doing? Seth asked. He had only one

  chocolate rosebud left. She would need to hide her chocolates

  someplace more secure than the nightstand drawer.

  She held up a final page. The light revealed nothing.

  Practicing for my audition at the insane asylum.

  I bet you’ll win first prize, he teased.

  Unless they see your face, she retorted.

  Seth went over and scooped some kernels for

  Goldilocks. She laid another egg. He opened the cage to

  retrieve it and stroked her soft feathers.

  Kendra plopped down on the bed, leafing through the

  last pages. Suddenly she stopped. There was writing on one

  of the final pages. Not really hidden, just tucked away in

  an unlikely spot. Three words written near the binding,

  toward the bottom of an otherwise empty page.

  Drink the milk.

  Folding the corner, she flipped through the remaining

  pages. Then she skimmed the rest of the pages from the

  start to make sure she had missed no similar messages.

  There were no other cryptic clues.

  Drink the milk.

  Maybe soaking a page in milk would make words

  appear. She could soak one in the tins of milk Dale left out.

  Or that could be the milk the message was talking

  about! A challenge to drink unprocessed cow’s milk-what

  purpose could that serve? To give her diarrhea? Dale had

  made a special point of warning her not to drink the milk.

  Of course, he had acted sort of peculiar about it. He could

  be hiding something.

  Drink the milk.

  All the hassle of finding holes for the keys Grandpa

  Sorenson gave her, in order to uncover extra keys that fit a

  locked journal, for that odd message? Was she missing

  something, or overanalyzing? The hunt might have simply

  been meant to occupy her time.

  Do you think Mom and Dad would let us get a pet

  chicken? Seth asked, holding the hen.

  Probably right after they get us a pet buffalo.

  Why don’t you ever hold Goldilocks? She’s really

  good.

  Holding a live chicken sounds disgusting.

  Better than holding a dead one.

  I’m fine just petting her.

  You’re missing out. Seth held the hen up to his face.

  You’re a good chicken, aren’t you, Goldilocks? The hen

  clucked softly.

  She’s going to peck your eyes out, Kendra warned.

  No way, she’s tame.

  Popping one of the rosebud chocolates in her mouth,

  Kendra replaced the Journal of Secrets in the nightstand

  drawer and returned to her painting. She scowled. Between

  the gazebos, pond, and swans, the picture required more than

  thirty shades of white, gray, and silver. Using the sample

  hues Lena had given her, she prepared her next color.

  * * *

  The sun was bright the next day. There was no evidence

  that it had ever rained or that it would ever rain

  again. Hummingbirds, butterflies, and bumblebees had

  returned to the yard. Lena gardened in the back beneath a

  large sun hat.

  Kendra sat in the shade on the back porch. No longer a

  prisoner in the attic, she felt better able to enjoy the fine

  weather. She wondered if the diverse butterflies she saw in

  the yard were among the species Grandpa Sorenson had

  imported. How did you keep a butterfly from leaving your

  property? The milk, perhaps?

  She passed the time with a game she had found on a

  shelf in the attic-a triangular board with fifteen holes and

  fourteen pegs. The object was to jump pegs like checkers

  until you had only one left, which sounded simple at first.

  The problem was that in the process of jumping, certain

  pegs ended up stranded, unable to jump or be jumped. The

  number of pegs you left stranded on the board determined

  your score.

  Her best effort so far was three, which the directions

  labeled typical. Leaving two was good. One was genius.

  Five or more labeled you hopeless.

  While resetting the pegs for a fresh attempt, Kendra

  saw what she had been waiting for. Dale was walking along

  the perimeter of the yard with a pie tin. Setting the peg

  game on a table, she hurried to intercept him.

  Dale looked mildly distressed at her approach. I can’t


  let Lena see you talking to me like this, he murmured in

  low tones. I’m supposed to put the milk out on the sly.

  I thought nobody knew you put the milk out.

  Right. See, your grandfather doesn’t know, but Lena

  does. We try to keep it our secret.

  I was wondering what the milk tastes like.

  He looked nervous. Didn’t you hear me last time? You

  could get… shingles. Scabies. Scurvy.

  Scurvy?

  This milk is a bacterial stew. That’s why the insects

  like it so well.

  I have friends who have tried milk fresh from the cow.

  They survived.

  I’m sure those were healthy cows, Dale said. These

  cows are… never you mind. Idea is, this ain’t just any

  milk. It’s highly contaminated. I wash my hands good after

  even handling the stuff.

  So you don’t think I should taste it.

  Not unless you’re aiming for a premature burial.

  Would you at least take me in the barn to see the

  cows?

  See the cows? That would be breaking your grandfather’s

  rules!

  I thought the point was we might get hurt, Kendra

  said. I’ll be fine if you’re with me.

  Your grandfather’s rules are your grandfather’s rules.

  He has his reasons. I’m not about to go breaking them. Or

  bending them either.

  No? Maybe if you let me see the cows, I’ll keep your

  secret about putting out the milk.

  Now see, that’s blackmail. I’ll not stand for blackmail.

  I wonder what Grandpa will say when I tell him at

  dinner tonight.

  He’ll likely say you ought to mind your own affairs.

  Now, with your leave, I have chores to do.

  She watched him walk away with the tin of milk. He

  surely had acted defensive and strange. There was definitely

  some mystery surrounding the milk. But all the talk

  about bacteria made her reluctant to try it. She needed a

  guinea pig.

  Seth tried a flip off the boulder into the pool, but

  landed on his back. He never could quite make it all the

  way around. He surfaced and stroked to the side to try

  again.

  Nice back-flop, Kendra said, standing beside the

  pool. That was one for the blooper reel.

  Seth climbed out of the water. I’d like to see you do a

  better one. Where have you been?

  I found out a secret.

  What?

  I can’t explain. But I can show you.

  Good as the lake?

  Not quite. Hurry up.

  Putting a towel over his shoulders, Seth stepped into

  his sandals. Kendra led him away from the pool through

  the garden to some flowering shrubs on the outskirts of the

  yard. Behind the plants lay a large pie tin full of milk where

  a crowd of hummingbirds were feeding.

  They drink milk? he asked.

  Yeah, but that isn’t the point. Taste it.

  Why?

  You’ll see.

  Have you tried it?

  Yes.

  What’s the big deal?

  I told you, try it and you’ll see.

  Kendra watched curiously as he kneeled by the tin. The

  hummingbirds dispersed. Seth dipped a finger into the milk

  and put it on his tongue. Pretty good. Sweet.

  Sweet?

  He lowered his head and puckered his lips against the

  surface of the milk. Pulling back, he wiped his mouth.

  Yeah, sweet and creamy. A little warm, though. Looking

  beyond Kendra, his eyes bulged. Seth jumped to his feet,

  screaming and pointing. What the heck are those?

  Kendra turned. All she saw was a butterfly and a couple

  of hummingbirds. She looked back at Seth. He was turning

  in circles, eyes darting around the garden, apparently perplexed

  and amazed.

  They’re everywhere, he said in awe.

  What are?

  Look around. The fairies.

  Kendra stared at her brother. Could the milk have

  totally fried his brain? Or was he messing around with her?

  He didn’t appear to be faking. He was over by a rosebush

  gazing at a butterfly in wonder. Tentatively he reached a

  hand toward it, but it fluttered out of reach.

  He turned back to Kendra. Was it the milk? This is

  way cooler than the lake! His excitement seemed genuine.

  Kendra eyed the tin of milk. Drink the milk. If Seth was

  playing a prank, his acting skills had suddenly improved

  tenfold. She dipped a finger and put it in her mouth. Seth

  was right. It was sweet and warm. For an instant the sun

  gleamed in her eyes, making her blink.

  She glanced back at her brother, who was creeping up

  on a small group of hovering fairies. Three had wings like

  butterflies, one like a dragonfly. She could not suppress a

  shriek at the impossible sight.

  Kendra looked back at the milk. A fairy with hummingbird

  wings was drinking from her cupped hand. Other

  than the wings, the fairy looked like a slender woman not

  quite two inches tall. She wore a glittering turquoise slip

  and had long, dark hair. When Kendra leaned closer, the

  fairy zipped away.

  There was no way she was really seeing this, right?

  There had to be an explanation. But the fairies were everywhere,

  near and far, shimmering in vivid colors. How could

  she deny what was before her eyes?

  As Kendra continued to survey the garden, startled disbelief

  melted into wonder. Fairies of all conceivable varieties

  flitted about, exploring blossoms, gliding on the

  breeze, and acrobatically avoiding her brother.

  Roaming the pathways of the garden in a daze, Kendra

  saw that the fairy women appeared to represent all nationalities.

  Some looked Asian, some Indian, some African,

  some European. Several were less comparable to mortal

  women, with blue skin or emerald green hair. A few had

  antennae. Their wings came in all varieties, mostly patterned

  after butterflies, but much more elegantly shaped

  and radiantly colored. All the fairies gleamed brilliantly,

  outshining the flowers of the garden like the sun outshines

  the moon.

  Rounding a corner on a pathway, Kendra stopped short.

  There stood Grandpa Sorenson, wearing a flannel shirt and

  work boots, arms folded across his chest.

  We need to talk, he said.

  The grandfather clock tolled the hour, chiming three

  times after the introductory melody. Sitting in a high backed

  leather armchair in Grandpa Sorenson’s study,

  Kendra wondered if grandfather clocks got their name

  because only grandparents owned them.

  She looked over at Seth, seated in an identical chair. It

  looked too big for him. These were chairs for adults.

  Why had Grandpa Sorenson left the room? Were they

  in trouble? After all, he had given her the keys that ended

  up leading her and the guinea pig to sample the milk.

  Even so, she could not quit worrying that she had discovered

  something that was meant to stay hidden. Not

  only were fairies real, but Grandpa Sorenson had hundreds

  in his yard.

  Is that a fairy skull? Se
th asked, pointing to the flat-bottomed

  globe with the thumb-sized skull on Grandpa’s

  desk.

  Probably, Kendra said.

  Are we busted?

  We better not be. There were no rules against drinking

  milk.

  The study door slid open. Grandpa entered along with

  Lena, who carried three mugs on a tray. Lena offered

  Kendra a mug, then Seth and Grandpa. The mug contained

  hot chocolate. Lena left the room as Grandpa took a

  seat behind his desk.

  I am impressed how quickly you solved my puzzle, he

  said, taking a sip from his mug.

  You wanted us to drink the milk? Kendra said.

  Assuming you were the right kind of people. Frankly, I

  don’t know you that well. I hoped that the kind of person

  who would take the trouble to solve my little puzzle would

  be the kind of person who could handle the notion of a

  preserve full of magical creatures. Fablehaven would be too

  much to swallow for most people.

  Fablehaven? Seth repeated.

  The name the founders gave this preserve centuries

  ago. A refuge for mystical creatures, a stewardship passed

  down from caretaker to caretaker over the years.

  Kendra tried the hot chocolate. It was superb! The flavor

  made her think of the rosebud chocolates.

  What do you have besides fairies? Seth asked.

  Many beings, great and small. Which is the true reason

  the woods are off-limits. There are creatures out there

  much more perilous than venomous snakes or wild apes.

  Only certain orders of magical life forms are generally permitted

  in the yard. Fairies, pixies, and such. Grandpa took

  another sip from his mug. You like the hot chocolate?

  It’s wonderful, Kendra said.

  Made from the same milk you sampled in the garden

  today. Same milk the fairies drink. Just about the only food

  they’ll eat. When mortals drink it, their eyes are opened to

  an unseen world. But the effects wear off after a day. Lena

  will prepare you a cup every morning so you can stop stealing

  from the fairies.

  Where does it come from? Kendra asked.

  We make it special in the barn. We have some dangerous

  creatures in there, too, so it’s still off-limits.

  Why’s everything off-limits? Seth complained. I’ve

  been a long way into those woods four times and I’ve

  always been fine.

  Four times? Grandpa said.

  All before the warning, Seth amended hastily.

  Yes, well, your eyes were not yet opened to what truly

  surrounded you. And you were fortunate. Even when you