She was crying now, and so was Brendan in spite of his best efforts to hide it. They all watched the Wind Witch silently.
They watched her expression soften. She suddenly appeared twenty years younger, free from all the tension and anger. Her eyes filled with tears for the first time in decades. She stepped forward and gently knelt down, tenderly embracing her dying father, who was still cradling Adie’s body.
It was the first time they had been at peace since The Book of Doom and Desire had entered their lives all those years ago. And as they held each other, something shocking happened. The Wind Witch started to transform.
The Walkers and Celene watched in awe as she changed back into the little girl she had been when she had first used The Book of Doom and Desire. The father and daughter in front of them were no longer the Storm King and Wind Witch.
They were Denver and Dahlia Kristoff.
Together again, at last.
Once the Wind Witch changed, the evil characters and creatures from Denver’s books lost their purpose. As if coming out of a trance, they all stopped attacking the city. They turned and headed back to the portal between the two worlds, back to their own book worlds.
But the city of San Francisco was still in ruins. There was no celebrating the end of this battle. There was still work to be done.
“You can fix all of this,” Denver Kristoff said to the Walkers weakly. “Take the Worldkeepers to the Door of Ways. It can undo this madness. If all three pass through the door at the same time, it will reverse the magic, returning the city to its normal state and severing the link between the two worlds forever.”
“But how will we get there?” Eleanor asked.
“I’ve summoned some friends of yours,” Denver said. “They’ll take you there.”
Just then, two P-51 Mustangs came soaring in and landed in the clearing behind them. The two pilots hopped out of their planes and walked over.
“I heard you Yanks need a lift,” Will Draper said.
“Will!” Cordelia yelled, running over to him and giving him a huge hug.
He laughed and hugged her back.
“What about your ex-husband?” Felix asked, holding open his arms, pretending to be hurt.
Cordelia laughed and gave him a hug as well.
“Go now, you must hurry,” Denver said. “The battle may be over for my book characters, but I can do nothing to stop the real US military reinforcements that are on their way here—they may not know who is friend or foe and ultimately do more harm than good.”
Brendan spun around and faced Celene. He wanted to send her off with a legendary and epic speech that would be repeated and retold in Tinz for years to come. But the words that came out of his mouth were certainly not something for the history books.
“You are . . . um . . . I like . . . you know . . .”
And then she stunned him by moving in and pressing her lips to his. His eyes widened.
It was his first kiss. And he definitely would not be forgetting it anytime soon. She pulled away from him several seconds later and smiled. He opened his mouth to talk, but she shook her head.
“Don’t say it, Brendan,” she said, smiling. “Sometimes it’s better to just not talk. Good-bye. I’ll never forget you.”
He nodded in a daze and then allowed Cordelia to pull him toward the waiting P-51 Mustangs. She grinned at him, and he blushed.
“Eleanor, come on!” Cordelia yelled.
The youngest Walker stood in front of a twelve-year-old Dahlia, who looked remarkably like Adie. She smiled at her and then the two embraced. They had been through a lot together the past few days, even if it was as slightly different people. They saw Dahlia whisper something into Eleanor’s ear, and Eleanor responded. Then she broke away and ran over to join her brother and sister.
“What did she say to you?” Cordelia asked.
Eleanor grinned. “Can’t tell you that.”
“Oh great,” Brendan said, still a little dazed. “I hope you didn’t ask her for ten million bucks again.”
“Did you really just say that you hope we don’t get ten million dollars?” Cordelia asked, shocked.
Brendan paused. Then he nodded.
“Yeah, I guess I did,” he said. “And I actually meant it.”
“Come on, then. Let’s go,” Will said with a grin. “You haven’t actually saved the world just yet!”
Brendan, Eleanor, and Cordelia Walker stood in front of the Door of Ways. The talisman dangled from Cordelia’s neck. The Invictum was secured to one of the belt loops on Eleanor’s jeans. Gilbert’s heart was cradled in Brendan’s hand.
Together, they took a deep breath inside the cave as they faced the shimmering waterfall of light that was the Door of Ways.
“I just realized something,” Cordelia said suddenly, breaking the silence.
“What’s that?” Brendan asked.
“Well, you had a crush on Adie, right?” Cordelia asked.
“Noooo . . .”
“Brendan, admit it.”
“Okay, yeah,” Brendan said. “Maybe I had a small, tiny, infinitesimal crush on her . . . before we ran into Celene, that is.”
“You know what that means right?” Cordelia said.
“What?”
“That you technically had a crush on the Wind Witch!”
“On your own great-great-grandmother!” Eleanor added, laughing. “Gross!”
Brendan shook his head, but then he couldn’t help himself from bursting out laughing. Then they went quiet again as they looked at the shimmering Door of Ways. The last time they had stepped through the doorway, it had challenged them. They had no idea what to expect this time.
“Are you guys really ready for this to be over?” Cordelia asked.
“That’s supposed to be a joke, right?” Brendan said.
“No, I mean it,” Cordelia said. “Think about it . . . once we walk through these doors, we can never come back here again. Ever. All the friends we’ve made here will be gone forever. . . .”
Brendan didn’t say anything, actually considering her question this time.
“Plus,” Eleanor added, “even in spite of all the dangers and terrible things we went through, you have to admit that part of you had fun, right?”
“Somehow, this crazy world actually made us all better people,” Brendan added, nodding.
“And made us all a lot closer in the end,” Cordelia said.
The three of them stood there for several minutes and let their words linger. They reveled in the moment as they stared at the magical Door of Ways.
“Okay, it was a pretty cool experience overall, and I’ll never forget it,” Brendan finally said, breaking the silence. “But I think it’s definitely time to save the world and get out of here now, right?”
“Let’s do it,” Cordelia and Eleanor said in tandem, which caused them all to grin.
And then, the three Walker children, still holding hands, took several steps forward and entered the light.
“There you are!” Mrs. Walker shouted. “You’re always running off. Come on, we need your help.”
The three Walker kids opened their eyes and stared at the sunlit Kristoff House from the front driveway. There was no hole in the ceiling where Fat Jagger had spat them inside. His dead body was no longer draped on the front lawn. Everything in San Francisco looked to be back to normal, just as the Storm King had promised.
“What are we doing back here?” Cordelia asked, too overcome by the relief and joy of seeing San Francisco in one piece again to notice the moving truck sitting in the driveway.
“What’s the matter with you three?” their mom said. “Don’t you remember? The estate lawyer found an updated version of Denver Kristoff’s last will and testament in a safe-deposit box downtown. It turns out that he left the house in the care of his next of kin. And since Dahlia Kristoff passed away last week, that made your father the next in line.”
“So the house is officially ours?” Eleanor asked, hardly da
ring to believe it was true.
“Yes, honey,” Mrs. Walker said. “It’s our new home . . . for good this time.”
“So we can finally stop moving every week?” Eleanor asked.
“Definitely,” Mrs. Walker said with a laugh. “Now, come on, let’s all pitch in. I want us to have everything moved in when your father gets back from treatment . . . which could be any moment now! Who’s up for some pizza and The Three Stooges tonight?”
She didn’t wait for them this time as she walked toward the large moving truck to grab another box to carry inside.
“Dad’s coming home?” Eleanor asked hopefully.
“It sounds like it!” Brendan said. “Let’s go help.”
He headed toward the truck, passing by one of the movers. It was the same guy Brendan had remembered talking to the other two times they’d moved recently.
“Wow, kid, your family sure has some commitment issues,” the guy said as he lugged a box up the walkway.
Brendan shrugged but couldn’t keep a grin off his face. He boarded the moving truck and happily grabbed a box to carry. Before, Brendan probably would have complained about having to help carry boxes, but at that moment it sounded like the most fun (and safe) activity in the world.
Meanwhile, at the end of the driveway, Eleanor stood and stared at a small boy slowly skateboarding his way toward her. Her jaw dropped open as he smiled and waved. He continued rolling down the slight incline and then pulled up just short of her, kicking the board into his hand.
She knew it was impossible. It couldn’t be him, even in spite of what Dahlia had told her before they left.
“Do I know you?” he asked. “You look familiar.”
“M-my name’s Eleanor,” she stammered. “We’re just moving in. I mean . . . we already lived here once before. But now we’re coming back and . . . well, it’s complicated.”
“Sounds like it,” he said, smiling at her.
And then she knew it was him. It may not have actually been him, but it was in a way.
“My name is Michael,” he said. “We just moved in down the street. Just yesterday. All my friends call me Mick. You know, because of that old singer, Mick Jagger. My parents and their friends all say I look just like him.”
Eleanor nearly passed out. When Dahlia had asked her what was the one thing she wanted most in the world aside from her family, she had said a real, human friend like Fat Jagger. She hadn’t expected anything to come from it, and she certainly hadn’t expected to find a colossus waiting for her when she got back home. But this was the best option of them all.
“Can I call you Mick?” she asked.
He cocked his head to the side.
“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” he said. “I do feel like we’re friends already for some reason. . . .”
Eleanor could only manage to smile in response.
“Well, I gotta go,” he said. “But I’ll see you around, I hope?”
She nodded and he hopped back onto his skateboard and rolled away. Eleanor walked back up toward the moving van to help unload the boxes. Cordelia was standing next to it gaping at her little sister.
“Was that who I think it was?” she asked.
“I think so,” Eleanor said, grinning ear to ear.
“Will the Kristoffs ever stop surprising us?” Cordelia asked.
Eleanor shrugged and grabbed a box. Cordelia paused, then grabbed her sister and hugged her. She squeezed so hard Eleanor almost couldn’t breathe.
“Come on,” Cordelia said, finally releasing her. “Let’s help get unpacked so the house will be all ready for dad when he comes home.”
As if on cue, a cab pulled up the long driveway. The three Walker children turned and watched eagerly as the back passenger door opened and their father stepped out into the sunlight.
The three children dropped their boxes and rushed forward, engulfing Dr. Walker in a series of hugs. It was the ultimate Walker Hugwich.
“Wow, I was only gone for a few days,” Mr. Walker said as he hugged them back, stunned and delighted at the same time. “I guess I should leave more often. . . .”
“No,” Eleanor said, nearly in tears. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Dr. Walker promised. “I’m here to stay this time, I promise. Now, let’s get settled, shall we?”
As the three Walker children headed back toward the house, Eleanor looked up at her older siblings hopefully.
“You really think it’s finally all over?” she asked.
“Actually, no,” Cordelia said, but she was smiling. “Somehow, I think this is just the start. The Walker family’s new beginning.”
Epilogue
It took the Walker children several weeks to realize that Kristoff House had several new residents besides their family. It had started with small things, such as items disappearing, only to be found weeks later, and the house cleaning itself while the kids were at school and Dr. and Mrs. Walker at work during the day.
Then, over time, the kids would swear they heard voices whispering to them at night. It frightened them at first, but slowly the voices became more distinct, clearer. And it became obvious that they were friendly voices.
Three weeks after moving back in, Brendan was the first to actually see one of the house’s new residents. He’d been up in his room, trying on a new hat he’d bought for himself using birthday money. It was a San Francisco 49ers hat: the kind with a perfectly straight brim and all the stickers still on it. He was checking himself out in the mirror, adjusting the hat so it was slightly off to one side, when a face suddenly appeared behind him.
Denver Kristoff’s face.
“That hat looks ridiculous, Brendan,” Denver said.
His face wasn’t as ragged and gaunt and horrific as it had been when he was the Storm King. Instead he looked just like any ordinary, writerly old guy with a large, gray beard. Even still, Denver Kristoff was dead and gone. And so no matter what he looked like, seeing him in the mirror was still terrifying.
Brendan screamed and spun around.
Nobody was there.
His sister Cordelia poked her head up into the attic, looking panicked.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I heard you screaming!”
“I’m fine,” Brendan said, sure he was going crazy. “I’m just . . . seeing stuff, I guess.”
“Okay,” she said slowly as if she didn’t believe him. “But take off that hat; you look ridiculous.”
Brendan wasn’t seeing things, however. Several nights later, Cordelia sat in her room, writing in her journal, struggling over whether or not to tell a boy in her English class that she liked him. Not just liked him, but really liked him. She was even debating asking him to the homecoming dance. She looked up into the mirror on her vanity and nearly screamed when she saw Dahlia Walker’s twelve-year-old face staring back at her.
“You should definitely tell him,” Dahlia said.
Cordelia whirled around but saw only an empty bedroom.
It didn’t take long for the three Walker children to conclude that the ghosts of Dahlia and Denver Kristoff were now living alongside them in Kristoff House.
One night, they brought a Ouija board to the attic at three a.m., the hour of the dead, and staged a séance. Dahlia and Denver made their presence known almost immediately by flicking Brendan’s twice-severed earlobe, which he didn’t find very funny. He’d become very sensitive about his earlobe since his adventures inside Denver’s books.
But the ghosts of Denver and Dahlia eventually appeared before them as translucent, smiling figures that dimmed with the lights. They assured the Walker children that they meant no harm. They merely wished to live with their last remaining family members. To watch them grow and help out whenever possible.
And the three Walker children believed their promise.
Well, mostly. Because with the Kristoffs, you never really could be sure of anything.
About the Authors
CHRIS COLUMBUS has writt
en, directed, and produced some of the most successful box-office hits in Hollywood history. He first made his name by writing several original scripts produced by Steven Spielberg, including the back-to-back hits Gremlins and The Goonies. As a director, Columbus has been at the helm of such iconic projects as Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Home Alone, Stepmom, and Mrs. Doubtfire. As a producer, Columbus was also behind the hit films Night at the Museum and The Help.
NED VIZZINI (1981–2013) began writing for the New York Press at the age of fifteen. At nineteen, he published Teen Angst? Naaah . . . , his autobiography of his years at Stuyvesant High School. His debut teen novel, Be More Chill, was named a Best Book of the Year by Entertainment Weekly and was selected for the Today Show Book Club by Judy Blume. It’s Kind of a Funny Story, a cult classic, was adapted into a feature film and was named one of the 100 Best-Ever Teen Novels by National Public Radio. The Other Normals, his third novel, was a Junior Library Guild selection. He also wrote for television, including MTV’s hit show Teen Wolf.
CHRIS RYLANDER is the author of the Codename Conspiracy series and the Fourth Stall saga. A fan of chocolate, chips, and chocolate chips, he lives in Chicago. You can visit him online at www.chrisrylander.com.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
Books by Chris Columbus and Ned Vizzini
House of Secrets
House of Secrets: Battle of the Beasts
Credits
Cover art © 2016 by Greg Call
Cover design by Amy Ryan
Copyright
Balzer + Bray is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
HOUSE OF SECRETS: CLASH OF THE WORLDS. Text copyright © 2016 by Novel Approach LLC. Illustrations copyright © 2016 by Greg Call. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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