Chapter 47
LEO’S NOTES
Where: Cairo, Egypt
Favorite quote: Like smoke blown to heaven on the wings of the wind,
our country, our conquered country, perishes.
Its palaces are overrun by the fierce flames
and the murderous spear.
Misc: Discovered copy in museum, considered to be original. Notified curators of forgery
“Have you heard from my parents?” Leo asked Grace, as she hugged him just as fiercely as she’d hugged Pan.
“They’re here,” she told him. “It seemed safer to hole up in one spot. The one with the food. We, uh, told your mom that a pack of aggressive coyotes is on the loose.”
“What about Deja and my parents?” Shrig asked.
“Everyone is alive,” Grace said. “For now.”
“In that case,” Shrig said, swaying slightly, “it’s long past time for me to pass out.”
Leo grabbed Shrig as he collapsed, and hefted him over his shoulder fireman-style. “Where can I put him?”
“Follow me.”
Grace headed for the kitchen, past the nook with comfy chairs, bestsellers in the shelves, and chess boards.
Except the nook was shredded. Broken pawns and rooks lay scattered among eviscerated pillows.
Violet gasped as she inspected the diagonal slashes in the watercolor paintings of the Maine coast, then wrinkled her tiny nose at what Leo was pretty sure was goblin pee staining the wall.
Not a single book remained on the bookshelves, though only a handful of mauled ones were shredded on the floor. Leo shuddered to think what had happened to the missing books, considering what they’d found in the runaway golf cart.
“The little green bastards love books,” Grace said.
“All kinds of jerks love books,” Pan said, glaring at Leo.
He grunted. “Where can I put down this lump of Shrig?”
“Kitchen.” Grace bustled past the destroyed grandfather clock and along the hallway with gouges in the walls. Splatters of foul liquid dried on shattered ceramic figurines. When she reached the end of the hall, she whacked the door with her wiffle bat and shouted, “It’s me, open up!”
There was a click of the door unlocking, and Leo—still carrying Shrig—followed Pan and Grace inside.
The kitchen was an armed camp. Sacks of dried beans were stacked like sandbags below a barricade of copper pots and pans.
Pan’s dad stood guard at the side door with a garden hoe while Sheila was returning to the kitchen island after having unlocked the door for them.
She had a bandage wrapped around her head like a Civil War soldier, and was sharpening her knives and cleavers.
“Still quiet outside, Gracie,” Frank reported, not moving from his post.
“Look who I found,” Grace told him.
He glanced over his shoulder, caught sight of Pan, and burst into happy tears. He gave her a huge hug, and bonked Shrig in the head with the handle of his hoe.
“Ow,” Shrig cried.
Violet flew to kiss Shrig’s head better, because apparently his appeal crossed species.
“At least he’s alive,” Grace said. “Bring him to the basement, Leo. He’s in no shape to fight.”
As Leo crossed the kitchen, Bob dove into his shirt pocket from a nest in the exposed beams. “Bob! Feeling better?”
“He should,” Sheila said. “He’s been sleeping for hours—when he’s not stealing berries.”
“Aw, I’m so glad you—”
Leo’s father emerged from the door to the finished basement. “The guests are settled, they need—Leo! Thank Dames you’re okay. Are you okay? You’re okay. Here, give me Shrig. Your mother’s downstairs, keeping everyone calm.”
“What the hell is happening?” Pandora asked, her voice trembling.
“The goblins came out of nowhere,” Grace explained. “Started terrorizing the guests. Especially since the normal ones can’t see them. Then they chased the other wee folk from the Inn. We got the guests downstairs and we’re just… trying not to lose our minds.”
“They fucked with my potatoes,” Frank said, as angry as Leo had ever heard him.
“Oh Dad, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I told you I didn’t want a gift!”
“Don’t be silly, Pandora. That’s not—”
“We need the manuscript,” Leo interrupted.
“He’s right,” Pan said. “That’s the only way to stop this.”
Grace cracked her neck. “How?”
“I don’t know yet, but we—” She took a sharp breath. “No, I unleashed the folk, so I have to leash them back up. And the manuscript is our only hope.”
“We unleashed them,” Leo said.
“There’s more going on than you two,” Frank said. “How did the manuscript get to the library? Hell, how did it get to the island? There’s something else happening.”
“True.” Leo nodded. “Someone planted the manuscript in Gabe’s grandfather’s books.”
“Not Gabe?” Sheila asked.
“I don’t think so. The manuscript absorbed magic from the faerie-kin on the island, right? Then once it concentrated enough power, Pan released it. But that would’ve happened even without her. The manuscript is like a reservoir, and once it was full it had to overflow.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Pan said. “They almost killed Shrig, they destroyed the Inn, and they took a bite out of my mother! Nobody takes a bite out of my mother!”
“Except your father,” Grace murmured.
Pan ignored her. “And no matter what would’ve happened, I’m the one who set the folk free. This is my gift. My curse. Whatever. This is on me.”
Violet flew to Pan’s side to cuddle against her neck, trying to comfort her despite looking exhausted.
“Frank’s right, though,” Leo said. “There’s someone else behind this. We need to stop them if we want to stop all this.”
Pan looked from her dad to her mom. “I told you all I didn’t need a gift and none of you believed me. Now look what’s happened! You just had to name me Pandora. Talk about ill omens.”
“The runes told me to name you that,” her dad admitted.
“Rest first,” Grace told her. “Eat and rest, then—”
“Mom, they’re rampaging across the island as we speak!”
“Your mom is right, Pandora,” his dad said. “Goblins are scary, but there’s only three of them. How much more damage can they do?”
“I beg your pardon?” Leo said.
“We can handle them,” his dad told him. “The only reason they did this much damage is because they had the element of surprise.”
“And shark teeth,” Sheila called, with a long pointy knife held up in her hand. “But I warned Jamar and he says everyone in the village is fine.”
“They think there’s only three of them,” Pan told Leo.
“We counted,” Grace explained.
“There’s dozens, at least,” Leo said. “They buried Shrig alive and crashed our golf cart and swarmed us in the forest. There aren’t just three.”
“Babes, what now?” Sheila asked.
“But we counted,” her mother repeated.
“There are dozens of goblins,” Pan told them. “For all we know, there could be hundreds.”
“Oh,” Grace said. “In that case, we’re all dead.”