by John August
Arlo was reeling. “You’re saying that someone is trying to kill me?”
“Of course not,” she said. “They were trying to kill Connor. You were just wearing his coat.”
9
THE GOLD PAN
THE GOLD PAN WAS PINE MOUNTAIN’S ONLY RESTAURANT, unless you counted the hot dogs at the gas station.
The little diner had been operating in the same spot as long as anyone could remember. Framed photos on the walls showed the building with every era of car parked in front of it—even some horses. In one picture, two men with shovels were carving a path through a massive snowdrift to the door. Only the Gold Pan sign on the roof was visible.
“That was your grandfather,” said Arlo’s mom, pointing to one of the men.
Arlo squinted, but he couldn’t see any details in the man’s face. The black-and-white photo was grainy, and the glass in the frame had a layer of dust and grease.
“Did Granddad work here?” asked Jaycee as she set up the laptop in a corner booth.
“No, but the snow that year was so bad everyone had to help out. The town was cut off for weeks until they finally got the pass back open.”
Jaycee’s laptop made a familiar series of bloops. “We’re connecting,” she said. Arlo slid in next to her in the booth, watching as gibberish scrolled up the laptop’s screen. Because of what happened with the FBI, they had to use special software to talk with their father in China.
“You smell like a sweaty campfire,” said Jaycee. Arlo sniffed his sleeve, but he couldn’t smell it. She was probably right. Arlo had come straight from the campout.
Suddenly, his father was on the screen. “Hey kiddos. How’s life on the mountain?” The video stuttered a bit, but eventually sharpened. Arlo’s dad was skinny and bearded, with glasses that seemed an essential part of his face. Arlo was relieved that as crazy as things seemed, his dad remained exactly the same.
Over pancakes and french fries—it was more lunchtime than breakfast—Arlo and Jaycee filled their father in on what had happened since they’d arrived in Pine Mountain. Arlo omitted a few things, like nearly being killed in a pit of sharp spikes by glowing wisps that came from the Long Woods. And he left out other details, such as thunderclaps and snaplights and Cooper the ghost dog who kept silent watch over the house.
He mostly told his father about school (“It’s fine.”) and Rangers (“It’s fun.”).
Jaycee did the bulk of the talking anyway, describing in detail her classes and her locker and why she was thinking about switching from clarinet to drums in marching band. She said that one of the snares had come down with mononucleosis, which sounded like something from a superhero movie but was actually really common, and that left an opening for a new drummer. Arlo marveled at how different Jaycee was when she was talking with their father. In normal life, she was grouchy and sullen. But with Dad, she lit up, smiling and laughing.
Their mom didn’t chime in much. Arlo knew his parents e-mailed and sometimes spoke on the phone, particularly about money and this lawyer in California who was trying to make it safe for his dad to come back to the States. The video calls were just for Arlo and Jaycee, so it wouldn’t feel like their dad was so far away.
After about fifteen minutes, a familiar alert popped up in the corner of the screen. It warned they were “losing the proxy,” which meant they had less than ten seconds before the call would drop. Squeezing to fit in front of the camera, they each gave a quick “love you” and “bye.” Then the connection terminated.
They were left hugging themselves, watching a frozen, pixelated image of their dad. Jaycee took a screenshot and added it to a folder.
While Arlo finished his pancakes, his mom went to the counter to pay the bill.
Jaycee kept her voice low, which was never a good sign. “I’m getting a job.”
“Where?” asked Arlo.
“Here at the diner. There’s a sign in the window. They’re hiring a part-time waitress.”
“You’ve never been a waitress.” Arlo couldn’t imagine his sister carrying a tray of food. She was strong enough, certainly. She was stronger than most girls her age. But she was clumsy. Back when they used to play tag in the park, she was constantly tripping. She blamed her shoes, but Arlo was pretty sure her feet weren’t connected to her brain quite right.
“I can do it,” Jaycee said. “And we need the money. So if it comes up, tell mom you don’t need me to babysit you.”
“I don’t!” he exclaimed.
“Exactly.”
Their mom came back from the counter with a smile Arlo hadn’t seen in a while. “Good news!” she said. “Your mom just got hired as a waitress. I start tomorrow.”
Arlo was careful not to glance at his sister. He didn’t need to. He knew the look in her eyes.
* * *
Back at the house, Arlo started a load of laundry, careful to make sure the water didn’t overflow as the washing machine tub filled up. “One time in twenty, it’ll just keep running,” Uncle Wade had warned him. “And then the carpet will be squishing for weeks.”
Water rose to an inch below the rim, but the machine finally clicked as the valve switched off. Arlo watched as the agitator began churning back and forth. The last peaks of cloth sank beneath the waves.
Arlo’s brain felt a lot like his uniform, swirling back and forth, never able to rest. Too many questions were competing for his attention. Who built the trap in the woods? Was it actually meant for Connor? Did someone send the wisps? If so, who? And why? What did it have to do with the girl he had seen in the reflection? Could she actually be Connor’s lost cousin? And why was she warning Arlo that he was in danger?
Every time he tried focusing on one question, another one took its place. They were all hopelessly entangled.
Arlo imagined his father facing the same situation. Every big problem is just a bunch of little problems, his dad would say. Doesn’t matter if it’s making dinner or flying to the moon. You’ve just got to break it into steps.
When his father was working, there were whiteboards and index cards and little black notebooks with lists. Arlo didn’t really understand what his dad was doing—something about how to tell when someone is eavesdropping on a private conversation—but he understood the process. His father started with complicated things and found ways to make them smaller and easier.
Maybe Arlo could do that.
He didn’t have a whiteboard, so he wrote with his finger on the dust of the window:
Wisps?
Cousin?
Then he added a final item:
Why me?
10
THE BESTIARY
ARLO DECIDED TO START WITH THE WISPS.
The Field Book wasn’t much help, offering only two short sentences: “Seen at a distance, wisps are often mistaken for lanterns or torches. They may seek to lure unwary travelers into deadly traps.”
Based on his encounter, Arlo found this description accurate but unhelpful. It was like saying rocks were heavy and hard and dangerous when thrown at your head.
Arlo wanted to know whether the wisps knew what they were doing when they coaxed him into the woods. Was it planning or instinct? Maybe they were like spiders who race out to grab whatever lands in their web. Or maybe they were smarter, more like lions who stalk their prey and wait for the right moment to attack.
If they were just dumb flying spiders, Arlo could feel confident they weren’t trying to kill him specifically. He had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But if they were like lions—or smarter than lions—they might still be stalking him. This time, he would know enough not to follow them into a trap, but it was unnerving to think that something might be out in the woods, watching him. Waiting.
Giving up on the Field Book, Arlo turned to his uncle’s encyclopedias, finding the W volume holding up a corner of the couch in the living room. The gold-edged pages were thin and stuck together in places. Arlo finally made it to the proper page.
* * *
“We need to look in the bestiary,” whispered Indra in class the next morning. “If there’s anything about wisps, it’ll be there.”
At the front of the room, Mrs. Mayes pointedly cleared her throat. They were supposed to be finishing their math worksheets.
“Sorry, Mrs. Mayes,” said Indra with a sweet smile.
Arlo tried to focus on his fractions, but his curiosity wouldn’t let him. He watched as their teacher poured the remains of her coffee over the struggling African violet on her desk. While she was rinsing out the mug in the classroom sink, Arlo whispered to Indra, “What’s a bestiary?”
“It’s a book,” answered Indra and Wu together. Wu was sitting in front of Arlo.
All three watched as Mrs. Mayes stared at her mug, silently deliberating whether she wanted more coffee. She checked the clock, surveyed the silent classroom and reached a decision.
She walked out the door.
Wu immediately turned around in his desk. “We can go after lunch, while the second graders have library time.”
Indra agreed. “That’s perfect.”
“Fitzrandolph will be distracted, so we can sneak in behind the counter. She keeps it in a locked drawer, but I’ve been working on picking locks, so I think I can do it. The question is whether we take it or just photograph the pages we need and put it back before she knows it’s gone. Either way, one of you is going to need to be lookout.”
Arlo quickly volunteered.
“Or we could just ask to see the book,” said Indra.
Wu considered her suggestion, his fingers tracing the air as if planning a series of steps and outcomes. Finally: “I guess that would work, too.”
Mrs. Mayes returned to find Wu facing backwards in his seat, talking with Arlo and Indra. It was pretty obvious they weren’t working on fractions.
* * *
At lunch, they finished quickly and half ran to the library, hoping to get there before the second graders swarmed in.
Mrs. Fitzrandolph, the school librarian, was a kindhearted woman with a collection of hand-knitted sweaters and tartan-plaid skirts. A burbling humidifier sat on the counter next to a figurine of a Scottie dog playing bagpipes.
“Finch? Well, you must be Celeste Bellman’s son,” she said. Arlo nodded. “I babysat your mother when she was little, not that she needed much supervision. Your uncle, on the other hand…” She trailed off, a shrug that went all the way to her fingers.
Arlo hadn’t mentioned his uncle to Indra or Wu, deliberately vague about exactly which house he lived in on Green Pass Road.
“We wanted to show Arlo the bestiary,” said Indra. “He’s never seen one.”
“I’m afraid I have the second graders coming in.”
“We’ll be quick,” Indra promised. “He’s never seen a faerie beetle, and we want to let him know what to watch out for.”
“Well, that is a good idea,” said Mrs. Fitzrandolph. Looking to Arlo: “I remember your uncle had a few run-ins with faerie beetles. And stink razors, too.”
Flipping through her ring of keys, Mrs. Fitzrandolph reached below the counter to unlock an unseen drawer. Then she placed a well-worn book up on the counter.
Culman’s Bestiary of Notable Creatures looked like an old textbook, not much different from the math book they used every day. “I have to keep it back here because if it was on the shelf, children wouldn’t read anything else,” said Mrs. Fitzrandolph. “Hundreds of years of literature all around us, books on every subject and corner of the world, but all anyone wants to look at is this gruesome little catalog.”
Just then, a line of second graders arrived. Arlo always forgot how small and squirmy they were.
“You can have two minutes,” Mrs. Fitzrandolph said, moving around the counter to herd the second graders to the reading tables.
Indra quickly flipped through the book, past fascinating drawings of all manner of strange creatures. Arriving at the W’s, she slowed her pace until she finally came upon Wisp.
Arlo’s heart skipped as he saw the illustration. It was a simple sketch, but it included all the right details: the shadowy skeleton, the inner glow, the faint trail of glowing ash that fell off it. Whoever drew this picture had seen a wisp just as clearly as Arlo had.
He felt his hands sweating from the memory.
Wu read the text out loud, careful to keep his voice low. “‘Malevolent spirits of uncertain origin, wisps—also known as Fool’s Fire—feed upon the essence of dying creatures, often after luring victims into natural hazards such as quicksand.’”
“Or traps,” said Indra. “Like the one you almost fell into.”
Wu kept reading. “‘Perimeter wards are generally effective but unnecessary, as wisps are unlikely to engage directly. Sometimes summoned and controlled by eldritch spell casters.’”
Arlo felt himself nodding, but then realized: “I don’t know what most of that means.”
Indra took it on herself to explain, pointing to the relevant words. “Spirits means that wisps are like ghosts or phantoms.”
“They’re not alive,” said Wu.
“Well, they sort of are, but they’re not alive like people or animals.” She stopped herself to clarify. “You do know there are ghosts, right?”
“I do,” said Arlo, happy to be caught up on at least one thing. Arlo reasoned that wisps must be something like Cooper the dog, who existed partially in this world and partially in another. “It says that wisps feed on the energy of dying creatures. So they’re like vampires?”
“There are no vampires,” said Wu.
“Really?”
“No. That’s just in stories.”
It seemed strange that Pine Mountain had ghosts without vampires, but Arlo was relieved nevertheless.
Indra returned to the book. “Wards are protections,” she explained. “A perimeter ward is a circle that spirits can’t cross. You don’t learn those until Owl, when you get your Elementary Wards patch. There’s also Advanced Wards and Abjurations, but that’s an elective.”
“We should have had a ward around the camp, right?” asked Arlo.
“We did,” said Wu. “Don’t you remember when we were setting up the tents, Connor went around and stacked up rocks? He was building the ward.”
Arlo did remember, but he hadn’t asked about it at the time. “So why didn’t it work?”
“Because you stepped outside it,” said Wu.
Arlo felt foolish, realizing that none of this would have happened if he’d stayed by the tents, or asked why Connor was stacking rocks, or asked more questions in general. He’d been so afraid of seeming stupid that he’d nearly gotten himself killed.
Indra went back to the final sentence in the entry. “‘Sometimes summoned and controlled by eldritch spell casters.’ That’s what I was saying in the tent. I think someone built that trap with the spikes, and sent the wisps to lure you into it.”
“You mean, lure Connor into it,” said Wu.
“I guess. Unless they really were meant for Arlo. Think about it: Connor has been camping dozens of times in the woods, and nothing ever went after him. This was Arlo’s first time.” Indra turned to him. “Can you think of anyone who would want to kill you?”
“No,” he said. “I mean, I just got here.”
Wu agreed. “It has to be Connor. There’s a reason they were targeting him. It’s something about his cousin.”
Arlo only nodded. He wasn’t ready to tell them about the girl in the reflection yet. He wouldn’t even know where to begin.
He pointed to the last few words he didn’t understand in the book. “What does eldritch spell caster mean?”
“Eldritch means ‘otherworldly,’” said Indra. “Things in the Long Woods are eldritch.”
“And a spell caster is anything that casts spells,” said Wu. “Like a witch.”
“There are witches?” asked Arlo.
&nbs
p; Indra kept her voice low so the second graders wouldn’t hear. “There are things much worse than witches.”
* * *
They returned from lunch to find Mrs. Mayes holding a seating chart. One by one, she assigned students to new desks.
Arlo felt a sinking dread. He had a sense how this would turn out.
Indra was placed in the first row, close to the teacher’s desk. Wu was two rows back, on the left edge of the room next to the windows.
Arlo was assigned a desk on the right side of the room by the cabinets. Merilee Myers was seated next to him. She scrubbed the stray marks off her new desk with her pink eraser, occasionally holding it up to her nose.
“I love how they smell.” She offered it to Arlo. He passed. “Everything has a smell, you know. Even the inside of your nose,” she said. “But you can’t smell it anymore because you’re used to it.”
Indra turned back in her seat, looking plaintively at Arlo and Wu. While almost every student had a new spot, their teacher had deliberately moved the three of them as far away as possible from one another. It felt like a great injustice had been done, separating friends.
I have friends, Arlo thought. That sudden realization eclipsed the pain.
During his brief time in Pine Mountain, he had encountered fantastical creatures and mystical powers. He had nearly been killed. But without even noticing it, he had also made two close friends.
That was as unexpected as anything.
11
THE SPLITTER
IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM THAT AFTERNOON, Arlo dragged his finger through Wisps? on the dusty window, crossing it off. It felt good to accomplish something, even if the answers he’d gotten raised still more questions.
The next item on the list was Cousin? Hearing the hum of a familiar motor, Arlo knew where to start.
* * *
“Yeah, I remember when she went missing,” said Uncle Wade, hefting another log into the splitter. “Katie Cunningham. Her family’s loaded. They own half the mountain.”
He pulled the lever and the splitter squealed into motion. The hydraulic arm pushed the log into the wedge, where the wood cracked in half as easily as water against the bow of a ship. Wade then took each half and ran it through again, dividing it into quarters.
