The Seeing Stone
Page 1
LIST OF FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
LETTER FROM HOLLY BLACK
LETTER FROM THE GRACE KIDS
MAP OF THE SPIDERWICK ESTATE
CHAPTER ONE: IN WHICH
MORE THAN A CAT GOES MISSING
CHAPTER TWO: IN WHICH
SEVERAL THINGS ARE TAKEN, INCLUDING A TEST
CHAPTER THREE: IN WHICH
MALLORY FINALLY GETS TO PUT HER RAPIER TO GOOD USE
CHAPTER FOUR: IN WHICH
JARED AND MALLORY FIND MANY THINGS, BUT NOT WHAT THEY’RE LOOKING FOR
CHAPTER FIVE: IN WHICH
THE FATE OF THE MISSING CAT IS DISCOVERED
CHAPTER SIX: IN WHICH
JARED IS FORCED TO MAKE A DIFFICULT CHOICE
CHAPTER SEVEN: IN WHICH
SIMON OUTDOES HIMSELF AND FINDS AN EXTRAORDINARY NEW PET
ABOUT TONY DITERLIZZI AND HOLLY BLACK
MAP OF THE SPIDERWICK ESTATE AND SURROUNDING AREAS
THE PLACE LOOKED AS BAD AS JARED FELT.
“HEY, GOOD JOB GETTING DETENTION, NUTCASE.”
THE LITTLE BROWNIE WAS POINTING EXCITEDLY.
IT SMELLED OF GASOLINE AND MILDEW.
THE STRANGEST EYEPIECE
“THEY’RE HEADED RIGHT FOR US.”
HE WAS BEING DRAGGED BACKWARD.
ALL FIVE GOBLINS WERE CIRCLING THEM.
TIME TO FIND SIMON
THE AIR WAS DIFFERENT.
ONE ALIGHTED ON HIS FINGER.
SOMETHING BEGAN TO SURFACE.
A SINGLE BROWN SHOE
SINISTER WIND CHIMES
“SKIN IT RAW, SKIN THE FAT.”
“YOU OKAY?”
THE FLAMES BLAZED GREEN.
IT STOOD AT THE EDGE OF THE BANK.
THE FULL MOON OVERHEAD
“I’M NOT GOING TO HURT YOU.”
AT THE CARRIAGE HOUSE
For my grandmother, Melvina, who said I should write a book just like this one and to whom I replied that I never would
—H. B.
For Arthur Rackham, may you continue to inspire others as you have me
—T. D.
Dear Reader,
Over the years that Tony and I have been friends, we’ve shared the same childhood fascination with faeries. We did not realize the importance of that bond or how it might be tested.
One day Tony and I—along with several other authors—were doing a signing at a large bookstore. When the signing was over, we lingered, helping to stack books and chatting, until a clerk approached us. He said that there had been a letter left for us. When I inquired which one of us, we were surprised by his answer.
“Both of you,” he said.
The letter was exactly as reproduced on the following page. Tony spent a long time just staring at the photocopy that came with it. Then, in a hushed voice, he wondered aloud about the remainder of the manuscript. We hurriedly wrote a note, tucked it back into the envelope, and asked the clerk to deliver it to the Grace children.
Not long after, a package arrived on my doorstep, bound in red ribbon. A few days after that, three children rang the bell and told me this story.
What has happened since is hard to describe. Tony and I have been plunged into a world we never quite believed in. We now see that faeries are far more than childhood stories. There is an invisible world around us and we hope that you, dear reader, will open your eyes to it.
Holly Black
Dear Mrs. Black and Mr. DiTerlizzi:
I know that a lot of people don’t believe in faeries, but I do and I think that you do too. After I read your books, I told my brothers about you and we decided to write. We know about real faeries. In fact, we know a lot about them.
The page attached* to this one is a photocopy from an old book we found in our attic. It isn’t a great copy because we had some trouble with the copier. The book tells people how to identify faeries and how to protect themselves. Can you please give this book to your publisher? If you can, please put a letter in this envelope and give it back to the store. We will find a way to send the book. The normal mail is too dangerous.
We just want people to know about this. The stuff that has happened to us could happen to anyone.
Sincerely,
Mallory, Jared, and Simon Grace
* Not included.
The place looked as bad as Jared felt.
Chapter One
IN WHICH More Than a Cat Goes Missing
The late bus dropped Jared Grace at the bottom of his street. From there it was an uphill climb to the dilapidated old house where his family was staying until his mother found something better or his crazy old aunt wanted it back. The red and gold leaves of the low-hanging trees around the gate made the gray shingles look forlorn. The place looked as bad as Jared felt.
He couldn’t believe he’d had to stay after school already.
It wasn’t like he didn’t try to get along with the other kids. He just wasn’t good at it. Take today, for example. Sure, he’d been drawing a brownie while the teacher was talking, but he was still paying attention. More or less. And she didn’t have to hold up his drawing in front of the whole class. After that, the kids wouldn’t stop bothering him. Before he knew it, he was ripping some boy’s notebook in half.
He’d hoped things would be better at this school. But since his parents’ divorce, things had gone from bad to worse.
Jared walked into the kitchen. His twin, Simon, sat at the old farmhouse table with an untouched saucer of milk in front of him.
Simon looked up. “Have you seen Tibbs?”
“I just got home.” Jared went to the fridge and took a swig of apple juice. It was so cold that it made his head hurt.
“Well, did you see him outside?” Simon asked. “I’ve looked everywhere.”
Jared shook his head. He didn’t care about the stupid cat. She was just the newest member of Simon’s menagerie. One more animal wanting to be petted or fed, or jumping on his lap when he was busy.
Jared didn’t know why he and Simon were so different. In movies, identical twins got cool powers like reading each other’s minds with a look. It figured that the most real-life twins could do was wear the same-size pants.
Their sister, Mallory, thundered down the stairs, lugging a large bag. The hilts of fencing swords stuck out from one end.
“Hey, good job getting detention, nutcase.” Mallory slung the bag over her shoulder and walked toward the back door. “At least this time, no one’s nose got broken.”
“Don’t tell Mom, okay, Mal?” Jared pleaded.
“Whatever. She’s going to find out sooner or later.” Mallory shrugged and headed out onto the lawn. Clearly this new fencing team was even more competitive than the last. Mallory had taken to practicing at every spare moment. It bordered on obsessive.
“Hey, good job getting detention, nutcase.”
“I’m going to Arthur’s library,” Jared said, and started up the stairs.
“But you have to help me find Tibbs. I waited for you to get home so you could help.”
“I don’t have to do anything.” Jared took the stairs two at a time.
In the upstairs hall he opened the linen closet and went inside. Behind the stacks of mothball-packed, yellowed sheets was the door to the house’s secret room.
It was dim, lit faintly by a single window, and had the musty smell of old dust. The walls were lined with crumbling books. A massive desk covered in old papers and glass jars dominated one side of the room. Great-Great-Uncle Arthur’s secret library. Jared’s favorite place.
He glanced back at the painting that hung next to the entrance. A portrait of Arthur Spiderwick peered down at him with small eyes half hidden behind tiny, round glasses. Arthur didn’t look that old, but he had a
pinched mouth and he seemed stuffy. He certainly didn’t seem like someone who would believe in faeries.
Opening the first drawer on the left-hand side of the desk, Jared tugged free a cloth-wrapped book: Arthur Spiderwick’s Field Guide to the Fantastical World Around You. He’d only found it a few weeks before, but already Jared had come to think of it as his. He kept it with him most of the time, sometimes even sleeping with it under his pillow. He would have even brought it to school, but he was afraid someone would take it from him.
There was a faint sound inside the wall.
“Thimbletack?” Jared called softly.
He could never be sure when the house brownie was around.
Jared put the book down next to his latest project—a portrait of his dad. No one, not even Simon, knew that Jared had been practicing drawing. He wasn’t very good—in fact, he was awful. But the Guide was for recording stuff, and to record well, he was going to have to learn to draw. Still, after today’s humiliation, he didn’t feel much like bothering. To be honest, he felt like tearing the picture of his father to pieces.
“There is a fell smell in the air,” said a voice close to Jared’s ear. “Best take care.”
He whirled around to see a small nut-brown man dressed in a doll-size shirt and pants made from a dress sock. He was standing on one of the bookshelves at Jared’s eye level, holding on to a piece of thread. At the top of the shelf, Jared could see the glint of a silver needle that the brownie had used to rappel down with.
“Thimbletack,” Jared said, “what’s wrong?”
“Could be trouble, could be nought. Whatever it is, it’s what you wrought.”
“What?”
“You kept the book despite my advice. Sooner or later there’ll be a price.”
“You always say that,” said Jared. “What about the price for the sock you cut up to make your outfit? Don’t tell me that was Aunt Lucinda’s.”
Thimbletack’s eyes flashed. “Do not laugh, not today. You will learn to fear the fey.”
Jared sighed and walked to the window. The last thing he needed was more trouble. Below, he could see the whole backyard. Mallory was close to the carriage house, stabbing at the air with her foil. Further out, near the broken-down plank fence that separated the yard from the nearby forest, Simon stood, hands cupped, probably calling for that stupid cat. Beyond that, thick trees obscured Jared’s view. Downhill, in the distance, a highway cut through the woods, looking like a black snake in tall grass.
Thimbletack grabbed hold of the thread and swung over to the window ledge. He started to speak, then just stared outside. Finally he seemed to get his voice back. “Goblins in the wood. Doesn’t look good. My warning comes too late. There’s no help for your fate.”
“Where?”
“By the fence. Have you no sense?”
Jared squinted and looked in the direction the brownie indicated. There was Simon, standing very still and staring at the grass in an odd way. Jared watched in horror as his brother started to struggle. Simon twisted and struck out, but there was nothing there.
“Simon!” Jared tried to force the window open, but it was nailed shut. He pounded on the glass.
Then Simon fell to the ground, still fighting some invisible foe. A moment later, he disappeared.
“I don’t see anything!” he shouted at Thimbletack. “What is going on?”
Thimbletack’s black eyes gleamed. “I had forgotten, your eyes are rotten. But there is a way, if you do what I say.”
“You’re talking about the Sight, aren’t you?”
The brownie nodded.
“But how come I can see you and not the goblins?”
“We can choose to show what we want you to know.”
Jared grabbed the Guide and ruffled through pages he knew nearly by heart: sketches, watercolor illustrations, and notes in his uncle’s scratchy handwriting.
“Here,” Jared said.
The little brownie leapt from the ledge to the desk.
The page beneath Jared’s fingers showed different ways to get the Sight. He scanned quickly. “ ‘Red hair. Being the seventh son of a seventh son. Faerie bathwater’?” He stopped at the last and looked up at Thimbletack, but the little brownie was pointing excitedly down the page. The illustration showed it clearly, a stone with a hole through the middle, like a ring.
“With the lens of stone, you can see what’s not shown.” With that, Thimbletack jumped from the desk. He skittered across the floor toward the door to the linen closet.
The little brownie was pointing excitedly.
“We don’t have time to look for rocks,” Jared yelled, but what could he do except follow?
It smelled of gasoline and mildew.
Chapter Two
IN WHICH Several Things Are Taken, Including a Test
Thimbletack sprinted across the lawn, hopping from shadow to shadow. Mallory was still fencing against the wall of the old carriage house, her back to where Simon had been.
Jared walked up behind her and tugged the headphones off her ears by the cord.
She turned, foil pointing at his chest. “What?”
“Simon’s been grabbed by goblins!”
Mallory’s eyes narrowed. She looked around the lawn. “Goblins?”
“Must make haste.” Thimbletack’s voice was as shrill as a bird’s. “No time to waste.”
“Come on.” Jared gestured toward the carriage house where the little brownie was waiting. “Before they get us.”
“SIMON!” Mallory shouted.
“Shut up.” Jared took her arm and yanked her into the carriage house, closing the door after them. “They’re going to hear you.”
“Who is going to hear me?” Mallory demanded. “Goblins?”
Jared ignored her.
Neither one of them had been inside the building before. It smelled of gasoline and mildew. A tarp covered an old black car. Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with metal tins and mason jars half-filled with brown and yellow liquids. There were even stalls where horses must have been stabled long ago. A stack of boxes and leather trunks occupied one corner.
Thimbletack hopped up on a can of paint and pointed toward the boxes. “Hurry! Hurry! If they come, we must scurry!”
“If Simon got grabbed by goblins, why are we rooting through garbage?” Mallory asked.
“Here,” Jared said, holding out the book and pointing to the picture of the stone. “We’re looking for this.”
“Oh, great,” she said. “It’ll be so easy to find in this mess.”
“Just hurry,” said Jared.
The first trunk contained a saddle, a few bridles, some combs, and other equipment for taking care of horses. Simon would have been fascinated. Jared and Mallory opened the next box together. It was full of old, rusted tools. Then they found a few boxes stuffed with tableware wrapped in dirty towels.
“Aunt Lucinda must have never thrown out anything,” Jared said.
“Here’s another one.” Mallory sighed as she dragged a small wooden crate over to her brother. The top slid open in a dusty groove, revealing wadded up newspapers.
“Look how old these are,” Mallory said. “This one says 1910.”
“I didn’t even think there were newspapers in 1910,” said Jared.
Inside each crumpled piece of paper was a different item. Jared unrolled one to discover a pair of metal binoculars. In another he found a magnifying glass. The print below it was made huge. “This one’s from 1927. They’re all different.”
Jared picked up another page. “ ‘Girl drowns in empty well.’ Weird.”
“Hey, look at this.” Mallory straightened one of the sheets. “1885. ‘Local boy lost.’ Says he was eaten by a bear. Look at the surviving brother’s name! ‘Arthur Spiderwick.’ ”
“There it is! This is his!” Thimbletack said, climbing into the box. When he resurfaced, he held the strangest eyepiece Jared had ever seen.
It covered only a single eye and attached to the face
with an adjustable nose clip as well as two leather straps and a chain. Backed in stiff, brown leather, four metal clamps waited to hold a lens of some kind. But the strangest thing about the device was the series of magnifying lenses on movable metal arms.
The strangest eyepiece
Thimbletack let Jared take the eyepiece and turn it over in his hands. Then he took a smooth stone with a hole through the center from behind his back.
“The lens of stone.” Jared reached for it.
Thimbletack stepped back. “Here you must prove yourself or get nothing from this elf.”
Jared stared in horror. “We don’t have time for games.”
“Time or not, you must tell if you will use this stone well.”
“I only need it to find Simon,” Jared said. “I’ll give it right back.”
Thimbletack cocked an eyebrow.
Jared tried again. “I promise that I won’t let anyone use it—except Mallory—and, well, Simon. Come on! You’re the one that suggested the stone in the first place.”
“A human boy is like a snake. His promises are easy to break.”
Jared’s eyes narrowed. He could feel the frustration and anger rising up in him. His hands curled into fists. “Give me the stone.”
Thimbletack said nothing.
“Give it to me.”
“Jared?” Mallory cautioned.
But Jared barely heard her. There was a roaring in his ears as he reached out and grabbed hold of Thimbletack. The little brownie squirmed in his grasp, abruptly changing shape into a lizard, a rat that bit Jared’s hand, then a slippery eel that flailed wetly. Jared was bigger, though, and he held fast. Finally, the stone dropped free, hitting the floor with a clatter. Jared covered it with his foot before he let Thimbletack go. The brownie disappeared as Jared picked up the stone.