House of Secrets (14 page)

A second tree landed outside with a thud, shaking the house.

“What’s
doing
that?” Eleanor said. “Another plane?”

“Pray it’s not a German zeppelin,” said Will.

Another crack. Another long, creaking groan, this one from a tree that sounded like it was about to make the house cave in. Instead it landed just outside the utterly busted front door.

“I’m not scared of any zeppoles,” Eleanor said firmly. She pulled the door aside and stepped out over Cordelia’s protests: “No! Stop! What are you—”

“Come and
look
, guys!”

Brendan, Cordelia, and Will followed Eleanor out. Three enormous trees lay in front of Kristoff House. Brendan remembered the three pines that stood on the lawn back in San Francisco . . . but these were jungle trees, ramrod straight all the way to the top, with bristly primitive leaves.

“Odd,” Cordelia said. “None of them have any roots.”

Brendan walked to the base of one. It was snapped on a diagonal, like a blade of grass someone had ripped up.

“What could have done this?” Cordelia asked.

“I don’t know . . . ,” said Will. Another crack sounded to the right. They turned to look, but immediately snapped their heads at another crack to the left. Then at another, hundreds of yards in front of them. And another behind them.

Suddenly, four enormous, snapped-off trees floated upward, hundreds of feet in the air. The Walkers and Will squinted in disbelief as the trees began to spin, their branches dipping under their trunks and up again, until they were whirling like pinwheels, performing a surrealistic air ballet, blowing down air that pushed everyone’s hair away from their faces.

“Not what I expected!” yelled a stunned Will—and then the trees began to drop.

“Run!”
screamed Cordelia. They all sprinted forward as the trees crashed around them. Each time one hit the ground, it produced a shock wave that blew them over; they had to scramble up to avoid the next massive, plummeting trunk. The final tree crashed directly in front of Eleanor, missing her by inches.

“Raining trees. This is a first!” said Brendan.

“What’s doing it?” asked Cordelia.

“Magic!” Brendan said. They huddled by one of the fallen trees.

“But we haven’t seen any magic. Not like that. The only person who can do things like that is—”

“Don’t say her name!” said Eleanor, but now the tree trunks were moving again. The farthest one, by the open door to Kristoff House, rose as if pulled by a string attached to its top. Once it was at a forty-five-degree angle to the ground, it stopped and stood there impossibly, like an optical illusion, before a second tree rose to mirror it, forming an arch that dwarfed the house. Soon enough all the trees rose to form a majestic tunnel, with the house at one end and the Walkers and Will at the other.

Striding toward them under the unbelievable timber formation, in a fine purple robe, was the Wind Witch.

“Heck of a way to make an entrance,” said Brendan.

T
he Wind Witch walked barefoot on the flattened undergrowth. She held her arms out to her sides, clearly unashamed of her missing right hand. She had a beatific smile on her face. She was still bald, and her skin was still wrinkled and mottled, but her gold and silver necklaces gave her a royal appearance. She seemed more comfortable here than in San Francisco.

“My friends!” she announced. “Congratulations on still being alive!”

Will drew his gun. “Stop. No further. Who are you? What do you want?”

“Such a brave young man,” said the Wind Witch, “pointing a gun at an unarmed woman.”

“Unarmed? You tried to drop a bloody forest on us! It’s not my fault you’ve got bad aim—”

“Will, remember we told you about the Wind Witch?” whispered Cordelia. “That’s her. You might not want to upset—”

“
You’re
the one with bad aim, Mr. Draper,” said the Wind Witch. “You can’t even hit someone from fifteen feet.”

Will snarled. He couldn’t abide lies about his marksmanship. He squeezed the trigger twice:
BLAM! BLAM!

The Wind Witch kept walking forward.

“Look at that. Missed. And what a temper you have! Cordelia, do you really have a crush on him?”

Cordelia blushed but held her tongue. She didn’t know how the Wind Witch had gotten in her head. Will checked his gun to make sure it was loaded and shrank back, terrified.

Now the Wind Witch was close enough for them all to smell her: the same sulfur smell that she had emitted during her first attack, augmented by the compost odor that came from her mouth.

Brendan stood tall. “You want to kill us? Give it your best shot, jock breath. But you tried once and failed. We’re a lot tougher than you think!”

“You’re right. You’re as resilient as I’d hoped,” the Wind Witch said. “If I’d wanted to kill you, I would’ve done so. I sent you here to test your mettle. And you Walkers have done brilliantly!”

“What do you mean?” Cordelia asked, joining her brother.

“The world you’ve been flung into is not a kind one.”

“You think?” said Eleanor.

“You survived the attack of Slayne. You avoided getting eaten by the more . . . active wildlife. You have even begun to theorize where you are. You have succeeded where many others have failed.”

“It’s not a theory,” protested Cordelia. “We know we’re trapped in your father’s books.”

“Yeah, and what about our parents?” shouted Eleanor, mimicking the defiant stances of her brother and sister. “Where’d you put ’em?”

“Oh, they’re safe, little one,” said the Wind Witch.

“I want to see them
now
!” cried Eleanor. “Where are they?”

“Patience,” said the Wind Witch. “Soon I will reunite you with them, so long as you follow my instructions.”

The Wind Witch waved her hand in a small arc in front of her. The air shimmered and spun where her fingers passed through it, and out of the disturbance came a book.

It wasn’t a real book; it flickered and twinkled, with a burgundy cover and no title. A hologram.

“Is that another Denver Kristoff book?” Cordelia asked.

“Not quite,” said the Wind Witch, waving her hand again. Now a symbol began to burn into the holographic book’s cover. It started in the middle, like fire running along an oil-filled trough, and traced two half circles: a bigger one that curved down like a rainbow over a smaller one that curved up like a smile. Between the two, an iris . . .

“That’s what Dad carved in that guy’s stomach!” Eleanor blurted.

“The eye of God, used by the ancients to signify great power.” The Wind Witch smiled. “Your father carved it because this book was calling to your family. It wanted to be found. And when this book wants something, it gets it. It’s the most seductive, most powerful book in human history. Do you know its name?”

They all shook their heads.

“The Book of Doom and Desire.”

“That was on my summer reading list,” Brendan said, “but I read
Jaws
instead. What’s this one about?”

The Wind Witch didn’t appreciate his humor, answering in a hushed snarl, “It’s not ‘about’ anything. If you were to open the pages, you would find them blank. But this book possesses a power that was only meant for gods. My father once owned it but was too weak for it. He hid the book—and I want it back.”

“What kind of power does the book have?” asked Brendan.

“That’s not for you to know!” The Wind Witch spasmed as if she were going to sprout wings again. “I have searched for the book since before you brats were hatched. I cannot find it, because my father, in his misguided desire to ‘protect’ me, put a curse on it. Anytime I get too close to it, it disappears. So I need you to find it for me.”

“Why us?” Cordelia asked.

“Because you’re Walkers,” said the Wind Witch, “and the Walkers and the Kristoffs have a strong connection to the book.”

“Hold on a second: you sent us into your dad’s creepy old stories to find one stupid book?” said Brendan.

The Wind Witch nodded.

“But that could take years!” said Cordelia.

“Don’t worry, children. To find the book, just follow your hearts, your wishes, and most importantly . . . your selfish desires.”

“Follow our selfish desires? What does that mean?” asked Cordelia.

“Do something that isn’t in the best interest of your family. Something for your own . . . hedonistic fulfillment. The book responds to that. Reveals itself to those who are consumed by ego. Seeks readers who seek power.”

“Sounds like you, baldy,” said Brendan.

Will spoke up: “You reprehensible old troll. Making these poor innocent children do your dirty work? You’re bent as a nine-bob note!”

“I’m pure as a silver crown, Mr. Draper,” said the Wind Witch. “
The Book of Doom and Desire
belongs to me and was taken away from me by deceit and dark magic. I deserve to have it back.”

“And what about all that stuff you were saying before, back in our house?” Brendan said. “Who is Dr. Hayes?”

“And if our parents are safe, can we at least see them?” pressed Cordelia. “That’s what kidnappers do. They show a picture or play a video so—”

“Silence!”
the Wind Witch snapped. “Find the book. Then I will send you home and reunite you with your parents. Not a moment sooner. You have my word. And if you find yourself in a real bind, a situation you can’t get out of . . . call for me. Perhaps I’ll help.”

“We’ll never ask you for help!” said Cordelia.

“So you say. But it can be hard to see the future.”

“Say! Miss Witch! Where do I fit into all of this?” asked Will.

The Wind Witch scoffed. “What does it matter, you preening puppet? You’re nothing but a storybook character! One of my father’s more paper-thin and forgettable protagonists, I might add.”

Will’s face fell. Cordelia glared at the Wind Witch. “Was that really necessary?”

“Yeah, the guy’s still in shock from finding out he’s not a real person,” said Brendan. “No offense, Will.”

“None taken,” said the pilot. “I may have originated from a novel, I may not be considered ‘real’ in the traditional sense, but my feelings of hatred and disgust for this bald creature are very real, as is my duty to protect you three children! I owe you a life debt.”

“Then stay with the Walkers, Mr. Draper. Help them find the book, and I will send you back with them. But betray me . . . and all of you will be obliterated.”

“Excuse me?” Brendan asked. “Can you define ‘obliterated’?”

The Wind Witch growled at this, but Brendan was on a roll. “Like . . . does ‘obliterated’ mean that you’re gonna set us on fire and burn us alive? Or does it mean that you’re gonna blow us up in this big explosion that will turn us into tiny dust particles? Or will you just obliterate us by sending us into outer space—”

“
Enough!
I will obliterate you in the most horribly painful way possible!”

“Okay. Good. Thanks. Just curious—”

The Wind Witch raised her arms above her head. She clasped the stump of her right hand with her left hand and began to spin in a circle, faster and faster, like a top, becoming a purple blur as she rose off the ground . . . and then she was gone.

“The woman may be a monster, but she certainly has a flair for the dramatic exit,” said Will.

Though its conjurer had departed, the vision of
The Book of Doom and Desire
remained, hovering, turning back and forth as if it were on the Home Shopping Network. Cordelia approached it.

“So in order to get our parents back, to do what’s right, we have to do what’s wrong?”

“Deal? What are you doing?”

Cordelia reached forward. Her hand went through the book. It vanished in an instant—along with the rest of the Wind Witch’s enchantments. The trees lost their resistance to gravity and crashed to the ground. The Walkers and Will dove back to avoid being crushed, landing facedown in dirt and, in Brendan’s case, inches from a huge slug.

“Deal! You’ve gotta not
touch
things!” Brendan yelled as they stood up and brushed themselves off. The birds and bugs were bringing the forest back to life. “What do we do now?”

Something selfish,
thought Cordelia.
Hedonistic. Impulsive. Against the best interest of your family.
She knew that she shouldn’t believe the Wind Witch’s promises, but she respected the way the woman spoke—the way she had a plan. Maybe if they did what she said, things
would
go back to normal. After all, what reason did the Wind Witch have to double-cross them? She wasn’t a madwoman; she just wanted a book. Cordelia could relate.