Chapter 49
LEO’S NOTES
Place: Viewed in private collection, Philadelphia, PA
Misc: Why was he selling invasive poisonous species to Europeans?
Leo drove across the island, following the tug of the manuscript, which felt almost like an ocean current pulling him closer.
He kept glancing at Pan and not saying anything.
Because she didn’t want to hear anything he had to say.
Which was okay, except he wanted to comfort her.
He knew how badly she wanted to keep the folk on the island, and how much the goblins frightened her.
Dames knew he was shaking in his own boots.
Still, he drove in silence until, a few minutes from Albert’s house, the trees loomed larger. The canopy soaked up the late sunlight and left only muddy darkness behind. Bare branches jutted like bones and the ever-present sound of rolling surf sounded more like uncanny whispering.
The pixies bravely gathered in Pan’s lap and huddled together, trembling. The brownies… well, those numbskulls didn’t seem to notice the difference. The gnomes, on the other hand, swarmed over their weird medieval umbrella in the back seat, adding gears and levers.
Leo slowed as they approached the junction that led toward Albert’s house, then stopped at a mound of vines blocking the road. He peered into the overgrown woods and the stretching shadows, and after a moment spotted a rusted and bent street sign.
“Uh, I guess we’re here.”
“This can’t be it.” Pan looked both directions. “I’ve been to the Shrigleys’ a zillion times and nothing looks the same.”
“This is the turn,” Leo told her.
“You still feel the manuscript?” Pan asked.
“Stronger than ever.” He turned the ignition off. “Uh, I guess we have to walk from here. We can’t drive over those mounds.”
“Okay,” she said, but she didn’t leave the cart.
Neither did he. “I’m scared, Pan.”
“That’s nothing,” she told him. “I’m terrified.”
For one moment, he considered turning the cart around.
He’d race home for a boat and sail Pan to the mainland where she’d be safe.
Except she wouldn’t let him. She loved Beane Isle, she loved the residents, and she loved the folk.
With the goblins free, no one was safe. And she’d never leave anyone to fend for themselves.
Except maybe him.
“Here goes,” he said, and stepped from the cart.
Pandora turned to the folk in the back seat. “Y’all ready? You can stay here if you want.”
A few of the brownies gestured rudely by way of rejecting the offer, then they all scampered from the cart and milled around Leo’s feet.
Behind them, Jera directed the gnomes to work together to wheel along an undersized catapult wrapped in mosquito netting—apparently constructed from that weird umbrella.
Leo had never understood their magic. The pixies took to the air and hovered as close as possible to Pan while Leo pressed his hand to his shirt pocket, worried about Bob.
He headed between the twisted trunks, trying to stay on the remains of the now-crumbled road that led to the neighborhood. Trees overhung the path, crowding them from the sides, and the air smelled wrong, too wet and too chemical. The road narrowed to a trail—
And a hand grabbed Leo’s ankle and yanked.
He fell on his ass and started whacking away with his oar before he even realized that a vine had curled around his leg.
A dozen more were slithering at him and Pan through the undergrowth, across the pitted pavement.
One grabbed her and he heard her swear but he couldn’t look away, he kept battering at the vines wrapping around his knees and dragging him into the woods.
“Fuck!” he cried. “Pan, are you all right?”
He smashed one vine into pulp and another grabbed him—and Bob shot from his pocket.
The tips of Bob’s wings turned sharp and he slashed at the vines, which recoiled at his pixie magic. Leo pulled himself free, and a moment later, Pan appeared above him, a cut on her temple and worry in her face.
“The pixies saved me,” she said.
Bob pounded his chest like King Kong, and Leo almost fainted with relief. Pan was okay. She wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t… worse than hurt.
“Bob!” she said. “You hero!”
Bob flushed, then flopped back into Leo’s pocket, exhausted from using his magic.
Pan nodded at the other pixies who were dusting the ground with sparkly magic. “Let’s go.”
“We’re following the pixies?” Leo asked, a little lightheaded with relief.
“No, they’re just clearing a path through the vines. We’re following them.”
Pan gestured to the brownies on the forest floor, who were standing in a V that pointed to the spot where Albert’s home should be.
“Brownies,” Leo said. “Brownies are going to lead?”
Violet shrugged and the brownies scampered ahead, looking like stuffed animals on a recon mission in a jungle.
Still, after a moment, the one in a lobster suit reappeared and gestured for them to follow.
Leo and Pan exchanged a look then went after them.
The woods had transformed into a sodden swamp and they pushed through the dripping undergrowth.
Finally, Leo spotted a trail of ripped book pages leading to what used to be a little library mailbox. “That’s Albert’s mailbox.” His gaze shifted to the shack barely visible through the thick, sluggish mist. “Which means that’s his house.”
“It’s like it aged hundred years in a day.” Pandora took a breath. “Okay, we grab the manuscript and then I—” She glanced at Leo. “What do I do?”
“Fix everything,” Leo said.
“Right, of course. How?”
“You’re you,” Leo told her. “You’ll find a way.”
What he didn’t say, what he couldn’t express, was how he’d felt when he’d watched those vines attacking her.
What if he’d lost Pan? The thought unmoored him, left him cold and adrift.
If he lost her, what then? He wouldn’t survive without Pan.
He knew that now. But Pan could live without him.
So Leo would do whatever it took to keep her alive.