by Brandon Mull
stretched toward her and then stopped, wooden fingers
twitching, hooks clinking softly.
They can’t touch you, Kendra, Grandpa called from
where he hung shackled to the wall. You have caused no
mischief, worked no magic, inflicted no harm. Run,
Kendra, they can’t stop you!
Kendra pushed between a pair of imps, heading for the
door. Then she stopped short. Can’t I help you?
Muriel is not bound by the laws restraining her minions,
Grandpa shouted. Run all the way home, straight
down the road you came by. Do no harm along the way!
Don’t stray from the path! Then get off the property! Ram
the gate with my truck! Fablehaven will fall! One of us has
to survive!
Muriel, clutching her wounded shoulder, was already in
pursuit. Kendra raced up the stairs and dashed across the
chapel to the front door.
Child, wait! called the witch.
Kendra paused at the threshold of the church and looked
back. Muriel leaned in the doorway that led to the basement.
She looked pale. Blood drenched the arm of her gown.
What do you want? Kendra said, trying to sound
brave.
Why rush off in such a hurry? Stay, we can talk this
through.
You don’t look so good.
This trifle? Loosing a single knot will mend it.
Then why haven’t you done it?
I wanted to talk before you hurried away, the witch
soothed.
What is there to talk about? Let my family go!
demanded Kendra.
I may, in time. Child, you do not want to run off into
the woods at this late hour. Who can say what horrors
await out there?
They can’t beat what’s going on in here. Why are you
releasing that demon?
You could never understand, said Muriel.
Do you think it will be your friend? You’re going to
end up chained to the wall along with the others.
Make no speeches about matters far beyond your
comprehension, Muriel snapped. I have made covenants
that will place me in a position of unfathomable power. After
biding my time for long years, I feel my hour of triumph at
hand. The evening star is rising.
Evening star? Kendra repeated.
Muriel grinned. My ambitions extend far beyond
hijacking a single preserve. I am part of a movement with
much broader objectives.
The Society of the Evening Star.
You could never imagine the designs already in
motion. I have been locked away for years, yes, but not
without means of communicating with the outside world.
The imps.
And other collaborators. Bahumat has been orchestrating
this day since his capture. Time has been our ally.
Watching and waiting, we have quietly leveraged countless
opportunities to gradually secure our release. No prison
stands forever. At times our efforts have borne little fruit.
On gladder occasions, we have toppled many dominoes
with a single nudge. When Ephira succeeded in coaxing
you to open the window on Midsummer Eve, we were
hopeful that events would unfold much as they have.
Ephira?
You looked into her eyes.
Kendra cringed. She did not appreciate a reminder of
the translucent woman in the gauzy black garments.
Muriel nodded. She and others are about to inherit this
sanctuary, a vital step toward reaching our ultimate ends.
After decades of persistence, nothing can forestall me.
Then why not just let my family go? Kendra pleaded.
They would try to interfere. Not that they could at
this point-they had their chance and failed-but I will
take no risks. Come, face the end with your loved ones,
instead of alone in the night.
Kendra shook her head.
Muriel extended her uninjured arm. The fingers, red
with her own blood, contorted into an unnatural shape.
She spoke in a garbled language that made Kendra think of
angry men whispering. Kendra ran out of the church, down
the steps, and over to the wagon. She paused to look back.
Muriel did not appear in the doorway. Whatever spell the
witch had tried to cast apparently had no effect.
Kendra raced down the road. The sunset was still fairly
bright. They had been inside the church for only a few
minutes. Tears began to blind her, but she kept running,
unsure whether she was being pursued.
Her whole family was lost! Everything had happened
so fast! One moment Grandma was confidently offering
assurance; the next, Hugo was destroyed and Seth and
Grandma were captured. Kendra should have been captured
as well, except she had been so overcautious since
arriving at Fablehaven that she was still apparently
shielded by the full power of the treaty. The imps had not
been able to lay a finger on her, and Muriel had been too
injured to give proper chase.
Kendra looked back along the empty road. The witch
would have cured the injury by now, but would probably
not come after her until freeing Bahumat, since Kendra
had such a big head start.
Then again, Muriel could possibly use magic to catch
up with her. But Kendra suspected that the urgency of
unleashing the demon would prevent Muriel from giving
chase for now.
Should she turn around and head back? Try to rescue
her family? How? Throw rocks? Kendra could envision
nothing but certain capture if she were to return.
But she had to do something! When the demon was
released, it would destroy the treaty, and Seth would die,
along with Grandpa, Grandma, and Lena!
The only possibility she could think of was returning to
the house and trying to find a weapon in the attic. Could
she remember the combination to the vault door? She had
watched Grandma open it an hour ago, heard her speak the
numbers aloud. She could not recall them, but felt she
might once she saw it.
Kendra knew she was without hope. The house was miles
away. How many? Eight? Ten? Twelve? She would be lucky to
make it there, let alone back, before Bahumat was free.
There were many knots, and it looked like Muriel
could undo only one at a time. Each knot seemed to take
at least a few minutes. But still, at that rate, it would be a
matter of hours, not days, before the demon was free.
At least finding a weapon at the house was a goal. No
matter how desperate the odds, it gave her a direction to
head and a reason for going there. Who knew what the
weapon would be, or how she would use it, or whether she
could even get into the attic? But at least it was a plan. At
least she could tell herself there was a brave reason for running
away.
A Desperate Gamble
Dreading nightfall did nothing to prevent it. The sunset
diminished and disappeared, until Kendra had
only the light reflected from half a moon to guide her. The
night grew cooler, but not cold. The forest was swathed in
gloomy shadow. Occasio
nally she heard unsettling sounds,
but she never caught sight of what made them. Although
she glanced back frequently, the road behind remained as
empty as the road ahead.
Kendra alternated between jogging and walking.
Without landmarks, it was difficult to discern how much
ground she was covering. The dirt road seemed to stretch
on forever.
She worried about Grandma Sorenson. Since she had
shot Muriel and used Hugo to cripple the imps, there would
probably be no protection for Grandma from similar torture.
Kendra began to wish she had accepted Muriel’s invitation
to stay at the church with her family. The guilt of
being the only escapee was almost too much to bear.
It was hard to calculate the passage of time. The night
wore on, as endless as the road. The moon gradually
migrated across the sky. Or was it the road changing
direction?
Kendra felt certain she had been on the road for hours
when she reached an open area. The moonlight showed a
scant trail branching away from the road. It ran toward a
tall, shadowy hedge.
The pond with the gazebos! Finally, a landmark. She
could not be more than half an hour from the house, and
there was still no hint of dawn.
How long before Bahumat would be set free? Maybe
the demon was already loose. Would she know when it
happened, or would she not find out until she was mobbed
by monsters?
Kendra rubbed her eyes. She felt weary. Her legs did
not want to walk any farther. She noticed that she was very
hungry. She stopped and stretched for a minute. Then she
started jogging. She could run the rest of the way, right? It
wasn’t too far.
As she passed the meager trail branching from the road,
Kendra skidded to a halt. A new thought had occurred to
her, inspired by the irregular hedge looming off to the side
of the road.
The Fairy Queen had a shrine on the island in the
middle of the pond. Wasn’t she supposed to be the most
powerful person in all the fairy world? Maybe Kendra could
try asking her for help.
Kendra folded her arms. She knew so little about the
Fairy Queen. Apart from hearing that the queen was powerful,
she had heard only that to set foot on her island
meant certain death. Some guy had tried it and turned into
dandelion seeds.
But why was he trying it? Kendra did not think she had
been given a specific reason, just that he had a desperate
need. But the fact that he had tried meant he thought he
might succeed. Maybe he just didn’t have a good enough
reason.
Kendra considered her need. Her grandparents and
brother were about to be killed. And Fablehaven was about
to be destroyed. That would be bad for the fairies too,
wouldn’t it? Or would the fairies not care? Maybe they
would just go elsewhere.
Indecisive, Kendra stared at the faint trail. What
weapon did she expect to find at the house? Probably nothing.
So she would most likely end up crashing through the
gate or climbing it to get away before Bahumat and Muriel
caught up and finished her off. And her family would
perish.
But this Fairy Queen idea might work. If the queen was
so powerful, she would be able to stop Muriel and maybe
even Bahumat. Kendra needed an ally. Despite her noble
intentions, she could not see any way she could succeed on
her own.
Kendra had felt a new sensation inside ever since the
idea had popped into her head. The feeling was so unexpected
that it took a moment to recognize it as hope. There
were no combination locks in the way. She just had to
throw herself at the mercy of an all-powerful being and
plead for her family.
What was the worst that could happen? Death, but on
her terms. No bloodthirsty imps. No witches. No demons.
Just a big poof of dandelion fluff.
What was the best possibility? The Fairy Queen could
turn Muriel into dandelion seeds and rescue Kendra’s
family.
Kendra started down the trail. She felt butterflies in her
stomach. It was an encouraging kind of nervousness, much
preferable to the dread of certain failure. She started
running.
No crawling under the hedge this time. The path led
to an archway. Kendra ran under the archway and onto the
manicured lawn beyond.
By moonlight the whitewashed pavilions and boardwalk
were even more picturesque than during the day.
Kendra really could envision a Fairy Queen living on the
island at the center of the tranquil pond. Of course, the
queen didn’t actually live there. It was just a shrine. Kendra
would have to go petition her and hope the queen would
respond.
Getting to the island would be the first challenge. The
pond was full of naiads who liked to drown people, which
meant she needed a sturdy boat.
Kendra hurried across the lawn toward the nearest
gazebo. She tried to ignore the shifting shadows she saw
ahead-various creatures ducking out of sight. Anticipating
what she was about to attempt, Kendra felt like her
intestines were caught in an eggbeater. She forced away all
fear. Would Grandpa turn and flee? Would Grandma?
Would Seth? Or would they try their best to save her?
She charged up the steps of the nearest pavilion and
started running along the boardwalk. Her shoes pounded
noisily against the boards, defying the silence. She saw her
destination-the boathouse, three gazebos away.
The surface of the lake was a black mirror reflecting the
moonlight. A few twinkling fairies hovered just above the
water. Otherwise there was no sign of life.
Kendra reached the pavilion attached to a small pier.
She dashed down the steps and out onto the quay. She
reached the boathouse and tried the door. Just like before,
it was locked. The door was not big, but it looked sturdy.
Kendra kicked it hard. The impact jolted up the length
of her leg, making her wince. She rammed the door with
her shoulder, again hurting herself instead of the door.
Kendra stepped back. The boathouse was basically a
large shed floating on the water. It had no windows. She
hoped it still had boats inside. If it did, they would be
sitting in the water, protected by walls and a roof but no
floor. If she jumped into the lake, she could surface inside
the boathouse and climb into a boat.
She studied the water. The black, reflective surface was
impenetrable. There could be a hundred naiads waiting in
ambush, or none-it was impossible to tell.
The whole plan would be pointless if she drowned
before reaching the island. Based on what she had heard
from Lena, there would be naiads eagerly waiting for her to
get near the water. Jumping in would be suicide.
She sat down and started bucking the door with both
feet, the same m
ethod Seth had used to break into the
barn. She made a lot of noise, but did not seem to be harming
the door at all. Kicking harder only made her legs hurt
more.
She needed a tool. Or a key. Or some dynamite.
Kendra ran back up to the pavilion, searching for something
she could use to pry the door open. She saw nothing.
If only there were a sledgehammer lying around.
She tried to calm herself. She had to think! Maybe if
she just kept pounding, the door would eventually give.
Sort of like erosion. But it hadn’t budged yet, and she
didn’t have all night. There had to be a smarter solution.
What did she have to work with? Nothing! Nothing but a
few shadowy creatures who ducked out of sight at her
approach.
Okay, listen up! she shouted. I know you can hear
me. I have to get inside the boathouse. A witch is setting
Bahumat free, and all of Fablehaven is going to be
destroyed. I’m not asking for anybody to stick their necks
out. I just need somebody to beat down the boathouse door.
My grandfather is the caretaker here, and I give you full
permission. I am going to turn my back and close my eyes.
When I hear the door break, I’ll wait ten seconds before
turning back around.
Kendra turned around and closed her eyes. She heard
nothing. Anytime, just smash down the door. I promise I
won’t look.
She heard a gentle splash and a tinkling sound.
Okay! Sounds like we have a taker! Just break down
the door.
She heard nothing. She suddenly realized that something
could have emerged from the water and be sneaking
up behind her. Unable to resist, she turned and peeked.
No dripping creatures were in sight. All was quiet.
There were ripples on the previously glassy pond. And
lying on the dock near the boathouse was a key.
Kendra rushed down the stairs and picked up the key.
It was wet, corroded, and a little slimy. Longer than a regular
key, it looked old-fashioned.
Wiping it against her shirt, she carried the key to the
boathouse and inserted it in the keyhole. It fit perfectly.
She turned it, and the door swung inward.
Kendra shivered. The implications were disturbing.
Apparently a naiad had tossed her the key. They wanted
her out on the water.
With only the moonlight seeping through the door to
provide illumination, the boathouse was very dim.
Squinting, Kendra could see three boats tied to the narrow
pier: two large rowboats, one slightly broader than the
