Grip of the Shadow Plague

Page 36

It was apparent which window Dale had entered, courtesy of the unhinged shutters and broken glass. With a hop, Seth grabbed the windowsill and boosted himself up. Dale stood in a dusty parlor, unmoving, his back to the window.
"Dale, back up," Seth hissed. "You have to get out."
Dale gave no indication of having heard the warning. He did not twitch. Beyond him, through a doorway, Seth saw the apparition gliding in their direction.
Seth dropped from the window and dashed to the back of the house. Maybe while the shadow lady claimed Dale, he could bolt up the stairs.
He flung open the back door and found Warren sprawled on the far side of the kitchen floor, positioned as if he had been trying to crawl forward.
How long would it take to lug Warren outside? Would the time spent dragging Warren cause him to miss his window of opportunity for slipping up the stairs? Maybe, but he couldn't just leave him there! Crouching, Seth looped his arms under Warren's and began hauling the larger man backward across the tile floor toward the door. "Seth," Warren breathed.
"You with me?" Seth asked, surprised.
Warren tucked his feet beneath himself, and Seth helped him stand. "So cold... like the grove," Warren mumbled.
"We have to hurry," Seth exclaimed. He started across the kitchen, but Warren did not follow. Once again, he appeared paralyzed.
Seth returned to Warren and grabbed his hands. Life rekindled in his eyes.
"Your touch," Warren murmured.
"Run," Seth said, leading his friend by the hand through the house toward the entry hall. Staggering along with stilted strides, Warren managed a respectable pace. They reached the bottom of the stairs and started up. Breathing hard, Warren stumbled, fighting his way up the steps with his free arm and both legs. Seth tried his best to pull the struggling man forward.
Glancing down the steps, Seth saw the shadowy apparition return to the entry hall. Garments unfurling and billowing with dreamlike slowness, she drifted toward them, levitating forward and upward.
Seth and Warren reached the second-story hall, passing a photograph of Patton and Lena hanging on the wall. Seth held Warren with both hands-the added contact seemed to invigorate him. Shambling forward, they arrived at the foot of a staircase to the third level just as the spectral woman reached the second floor and came floating down the hall. They were most of the way up the stairs when Warren stumbled badly. Seth lost his grip and Warren tumbled down several steps, coming to rest in a motionless heap. Seth leaped down to him, clasping one of Warren's hands in both of his.
Warren stared at him, pupils unevenly dilated, blood trickling from the corner of his lips. "Go," Warren mouthed. He dug a hand into a pouch at his waist, pulling out a fistful of flash powder.
The shadowy apparition appeared at the base of the stairs, dragging her numberless dark wires. Warren flung the powder at her. There was no crackle or flash. Her fluttering garments flowed toward them.
Seth released his friend and charged up the stairs two at a time. If he failed to claim the artifact, all these sacrifices would be in vain. He dashed down the third-story corridor to the north end of the manor, relieved at how fast he could run without towing Warren, eyes fixed on the door at the end of the hall. His legs and arms pumped hard until he rammed the door with his shoulder, clawing at the knob.
It was locked.
Seth stepped back and kicked the door. It shuddered but did not open. The shock of the impact hurt his shin. He kicked the door a second time to no avail. Taking a few steps back he crouched and charged, shoulder lowered, transforming himself into a projectile, aiming not at the door but beyond it. Wood cracked and split, the door flew open, and Seth tumbled through to land on his hands and knees.
Rising, he shut the splintered door as best he could. The room he had broken into was broad, with two shuttered windows. A huge oriental rug covered the hardwood floor. Bookshelves lined one wall. There were a couple of chairs in a sitting area beside a canopied bed. He saw no safe.
Had they been correct to account for daylight saving time? Had the safe come and gone? Or was it yet to arrive? Perhaps the safe was currently there, but hidden. Whatever the answer, Seth had only seconds before he joined the others as a shadow.
He raced to the bookshelf, frantically scooping armfuls of volumes out of place, hoping to find a hidden safe in the wall. When that yielded no result, he turned, eyes darting around the room, and there it was, standing in a corner where it had not been a moment before-a heavy, black safe, almost as tall as Seth, with a silver combination dial in the center.
Bounding across the room to the safe, he began turning the dial. It rotated smoothly, unlike the dial on his locker, which was jerky and clicked a little when you reached the correct number. He spun the dial right twice to 33, left once to 22, then directly back to 31. When he pulled the handle, the door swung open silently.
A single object rested on the floor of the safe, a golden sphere approximately a foot in diameter, its polished surface interrupted by several dials and buttons. Seth could not imagine what the peculiar device did.
He pulled the sphere from the safe, finding it somewhat heavier than it looked. The room had been cold when he entered, but the temperature was now dropping rapidly. How near was the shadow lady? Perhaps just outside the door.
Seth dashed to a window and threw open the shutters. There was no roof outside this window, just a three-story drop to the yard. Desperate, he began pressing the sphere's buttons.
And suddenly he was not alone in the room.
A tall man with a mustache appeared in front of him. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled back, gray trousers with suspenders, and black boots. He was fairly young, with a solid build. Seth instantly recognized the mustached man from his photographs. It was Patton Burgess.
"You must be the youngest safecracker I have ever seen," Patton said amiably. His expression changed. "What is going on?"
The door to the room blew open. The shadowy apparition hovered at the threshold. Sweat beaded on Patton's brow, and he stiffly tried to turn, his body jerking weakly. Seth took his hand, and Patton swiveled to face the apparition. "Hello, Ephira."
The apparition recoiled.
"What has happened to you?" Patton backed toward the window, keeping hold of Seth's hand. "I suppose darkness always was a downward spiral."
"No roof," Seth warned quietly.
Turning, Patton leaped onto the windowsill. Releasing Seth's hand, he jumped, not down, but up, twisting to catch hold of the eaves of the roof above. His legs scissored as he hoisted himself up. Then he reached a hand down. "Come on."
Ephira glided into the room, face enraged, fabric unwinding, rippling toward Seth. Clutching the sphere in one arm and blindly trusting Patton, he climbed onto the windowsill, stretched out his free hand, and pushed off.
Patton's hand closed tightly around his wrist and swung him onto the roof.
"We need to get out of here," Seth said.
"Who are you?"
"The caretaker's grandson. Fablehaven is at the brink of destruction."
Patton rushed along the roof, shingles groaning and splitting beneath his boots. Seth followed. Patton ran toward the corner of the roof near where a tall tree grew. Surely he wasn't going to jump!
Without hesitation, Patton sailed off the roof, catching hold of a limb that sagged and broke. Releasing it, he caught hold of a lower limb. Hand over hand, Patton made his way toward the trunk. When he got there, he swung up, straddling the bough. "Toss me the Chronometer."
"You expect me to jump?"
"When jumping is the sole option, you jump, and try to make it work. Toss it."
Seth threw the sphere to Patton, who deftly caught it in one hand. "What branch should I aim for?"
"Go left of where I went," Patton said. "See it? I left the best branch for you."
The branch was at least ten feet from the roof, and five or six feet lower. It would be easy to miss it. He pictured his hands slapping against the limb, failing to grasp it securely.
"Do not think," Patton ordered. "Back up a few steps and take the leap. Looks worse than it is. Anyone could do it."
Seth stared at the distant ground. To fall from this height was almost certain death. He backed up, the shingles creaking underfoot.
Peering over his shoulder, Seth saw the apparition floating toward him along the roof. That was the extra incentive he needed. He took three steps and flung himself off the roof. As he fell, the branch rose to meet his outstretched hands. The impact was jarring, but he held on. The limb drooped and bobbed, but it did not break.
Like Patton had done, Seth advanced hand over hand toward the trunk of the tree. Patton was already climbing down below him. Seth descended recklessly, concerned about the shadow lady above. There were no limbs for the last ten feet. He hung and dropped. Patton caught him.
"You have a way out of here?" Patton asked.
"Hugo," Seth said. "The golem."
"Lead on."
They dashed across the yard. When Seth looked back, he could no longer see Ephira. "Where'd she go?"
"Ephira detests sunlight," Patton said. "Coming out on the roof like that pained her. She never was very fast, and she looks more weighed down than ever. She knows she won't catch us, at least not by giving chase. Any notion what happened to her?"
"You know the revenant in the grove in the valley between four hills?"
Patton shot him a surprised glance. "Matter of fact, I do."
"We think Kurisock got hold of the nail that gave the revenant his power."
"How did the revenant lose the nail?"
They reached the cart and clambered into the bed. "Go, Hugo," Seth panted, "fast as you can, run to the pond." The cart began rattling over the unkempt road. Seth located the spare flash powder and shared some with Patton. "Actually, I pulled the nail out."
"You did?" Patton looked astonished. "How?"
"Pair of pliers and some courage potion."
Patton regarded Seth with a broad grin. "I think the two of us are going to get along just fine."
"Keep an eye out for dark creatures," Seth said.
"Somehow between Kurisock, the shadow lady, and the nail, a plague has spread through Fablehaven turning the light creatures dark. Dark fairies, dwarfs, satyrs, dryads, centaurs, brownies-you name it. If the darkness spreads to humans, they turn into shadow people."
Patton smirked. "Looks like I landed in hotter water than I planned on."
"Which reminds me," Seth said, "how are you here? You're not even old."
"The Chronometer is one of the artifacts. It has power over time. Nobody knows all it can do. I've learned a few tricks. I pressed a certain button on the Chronometer, knowing that when the button was pressed again, I would leap forward to that point in time and remain there for three days. You must have pushed the button and called me here."
"No kidding," Seth said.
"I only hit the button as an additional precaution to protect the artifact. I figured if a thief ever got hold of it, the culprit would eventually push the button, and then I could steal it back. I never dreamed I would land myself in a predicament like this."
"My Grandpa Sorenson is a shadow. So is my Grandma. Everyone but my sister, Kendra."
"Why are we going to the pond?"
"Dark brownies took over the house. The pond repels the dark creatures."
"Right. The shrine." Patton looked thoughtful. He spoke hesitantly. "What about Lena? Has she passed yet?"
"No, actually, she's a naiad again."
"What? That is not possible."
"Lots of impossible things have been happening lately," Seth said. "It's a long story. Lena was the person who told us about the safe. We should probably get under the tent." Seth started pulling the tent up.
"Why?"
"The dark creatures are everywhere. When we came to the manor, none of us drank the milk. We hid under the tent, and no dark creatures bothered us."
Patton stroked his mustache. "I don't have to drink milk to see the creatures here."
"I just ate some walrus butter, so I can see them now too. Hiding may not do as much good."
"After what happened at the manor, I wager we can expect a serious ambush. We ought to avoid the paths. Have Hugo abandon the cart and carry us to the pond cross country."
Seth considered the idea. "That might work."
"Of course it will." Patton winked.
"Hugo, stop," Seth ordered. The golem complied. "We're leaving the cart here, and you're going to carry us as quickly as you can through the woods back to the pond. Try not to let any creatures see us. And grab that tent; we'll need it back at the refuge."
The golem slung the tent over his shoulder, cradled Seth in one arm and Patton in the other, and then tromped off the road into the trees.
Chapter Nineteen
Duel
Hooves clomping over the whitewashed planks, Doren sprinted along the boardwalk after Rondus, a portly satyr with butterscotch fur and horns that curved away from each other. Puffing hard, Rondus cut through a gazebo and started down the stairs to the field. Only a few steps behind, Doren went airborne and slammed into the heavyset satyr. Together they pitched violently forward into the grass, staining their skin green.
Doren rose swiftly and started after a petite hamadryad with short, feathery hair. Rondus lunged at a small, thin satyr, wrapping his legs together in a savage embrace. The small satyr toppled with a yelp.
Kendra sat on a wicker chair in a nearby gazebo watching the game of tackle tag. Each new individual tackled became a tackler until the last participant was brought down. The last person tackled became the first tackler of the next round.