Fablehaven1-Fablehaven

by Brandon Mull

  Fablehaven

  (Fablehaven Series, Book 1)

  Brandon Mull

  A Mandatory Vacation

  Kendra stared out the side window of the SUV, watching

  foliage blur past. When the flurry of motion

  became too much, she looked up ahead and fixed her gaze

  on a particular tree, following it as it slowly approached,

  streaked past, and then gradually receded behind her.

  Was life like that? You could look ahead to the future

  or back at the past, but the present moved too quickly to

  absorb. Maybe sometimes. Not today. Today they were

  driving along an endless two-lane highway through the

  forested hills of Connecticut.

  Why didn’t you tell us Grandpa Sorenson lived in

  India? Seth complained.

  Her brother was eleven and heading into sixth grade.

  He had grown weary of his handheld video game —- evidence

  that they were on a truly epic drive.

  Mom twisted to face the backseat. It won’t be much

  longer. Enjoy the scenery.

  I’m hungry, Seth said.

  Mom started rummaging through a grocery bag full of

  snack food. Peanut butter and crackers?

  Seth reached forward for the crackers. Dad, driving,

  asked for some Almond Roca. Last Christmas he had

  decided that Almond Roca was his favorite candy and that

  he should have some on hand all year long. Nearly six

  months later he was still honoring his resolution.

  Do you want anything, Kendra?

  I’m fine.

  Kendra returned her attention to the frantic parade of

  trees. Her parents were leaving on a seventeen-day

  Scandinavian cruise with all the aunts and uncles on her

  mother’s side. They were all going for free. Not because

  they’d won a contest. They were going on a cruise because

  Kendra’s grandparents had asphyxiated.

  Grandma and Grandpa Larsen had been visiting relatives

  in South Carolina. The relatives lived in a trailer. The

  trailer had some sort of malfunction involving a gas leak,

  and they all died in their sleep. Long ago, Grandma and

  Grandpa Larsen had specified that when they died, all their

  children and their spouses were to use an allocated sum of

  money to go on a Scandinavian cruise.

  The grandchildren were not invited.

  Won’t you get bored stuck on a boat for seventeen

  days? Kendra asked.

  Dad glanced at her in the rearview mirror. The food is

  supposed to be incredible. Snails, fish eggs, the works.

  We’re not all that thrilled about the trip, Mom said

  sadly. I don’t think your grandparents envisioned an accidental

  death when they made this request. But we’ll make

  the best of it.

  The ship stops in ports as you go, Dad said, deliberately

  redirecting the conversation. You get to disembark

  for part of the time.

  Is this car ride going to last seventeen days? Seth

  asked.

  We’re nearly there, Dad said.

  Do we have to stay with Grandma and Grandpa

  Sorenson? asked Kendra.

  It’ll be fun, Dad said. You should feel honored. They

  almost never invite anyone to stay with them.

  Exactly. We barely know them. They’re hermits.

  Well, they were my parents, Dad said. Somehow I

  survived.

  The road stopped winding through forested hills as it

  passed through a town. They idled at a stoplight, and

  Kendra stared at an overweight woman gassing up her

  minivan. The front windshield of the minivan was dirty,

  but the woman seemed to have no intention of washing it.

  Kendra glanced up front. The windshield of the SUV

  was filthy, smeared with dead bugs, even though Dad had

  squeegeed it when they last stopped to refuel. They had

  driven all the way from Rochester today.

  Kendra knew that Grandma and Grandpa Sorenson

  had not invited them to stay. She had overheard when

  Mom had approached Grandpa Sorenson about letting the

  kids stay with him. It was at the funeral.

  The memory of the funeral made Kendra shiver. There

  was a wake beforehand, where Grandma and Grandpa

  Larsen were showcased in matching caskets. Kendra did

  not like seeing Grandpa Larsen wearing makeup. What

  lunatic had decided that when people died you should hire

  a taxidermist to fix them up for one final look? She would

  much rather remember them alive than on grotesque display

  in their Sunday best. The Larsens were the grandparents

  who had been part of her life. They had shared

  many holidays and long visits.

  Kendra could hardly remember spending time with

  Grandma and Grandpa Sorenson. They had inherited

  some estate in Connecticut around the time her parents

  were married. The Sorensons had never invited them to

  visit, and rarely made the trek out to Rochester. When

  they came, it was generally one or the other. They had only

  come together twice. The Sorensons were nice, but their

  visits had been too infrequent and brief for real bonding to

  occur. Kendra knew that Grandma had taught history at

  some college, and that Grandpa had traveled a lot, running

  a small importing business. That was about it.

  Everyone was surprised when Grandpa Sorenson

  showed up at the funeral. It had been more than eighteen

  months since either of the Sorensons had visited. He had

  apologized that his wife could not attend because she was

  feeling ill. There always seemed to be an excuse.

  Sometimes Kendra wondered if they were secretly

  divorced.

  Toward the end of the wake, Kendra overheard Mom

  cajoling Grandpa Sorenson to watch the kids. They were

  in a hallway around a corner from the viewing area. Kendra

  heard them talking before she reached the corner, and

  paused to eavesdrop.

  Why can’t they stay with Marci?

  Normally they would, but Marci is coming on the

  cruise.

  Kendra peeked around the corner. Grandpa Sorenson

  was wearing a brown jacket with patches on the elbows and

  a bow tie.

  Where are Marci’s kids going?

  To her in-laws.

  What about a baby-sitter?

  Two and a half weeks is a long time for a sitter. I

  remembered you had mentioned having them over sometime.

  Yes, I recall. Does it have to be late June? Why not

  July?

  The cruise is on a time frame. What’s the difference?

  Things get extra busy around then. I don’t know, Kate.

  I’m out of practice with children.

  Stan, I don’t want to go on this cruise. It was important

  to my parents, so we’re going. I don’t mean to twist

  your arm. Mom sounded on the verge of tears.

  Grandpa Sorenson sighed. I suppose we could find a

  place to lock them up.

  Kendra moved away from the hall at that
point. She

  had quietly worried about staying with Grandpa Sorenson

  ever since.

  Having left the town behind, the SUV climbed a steep

  grade. Then the road curved around a lake and got lost

  among low, forested hills. Every so often they passed a mailbox.

  Sometimes a house was visible through the trees;

  sometimes there was only a long driveway.

  They turned onto a narrower road and kept driving.

  Kendra leaned forward and checked the gas gauge. Dad,

  you’re under a quarter of a tank, she said.

  We’re almost there. We’ll fill up after we drop you kids

  off.

  Can’t we come on the cruise? Seth asked. We could

  hide in the lifeboats. You could sneak us food.

  You kids will have much more fun with Grandma and

  Grandpa Sorenson, Mom said. Just you wait. Give it a

  chance.

  Here we are, Dad said.

  They pulled off the road onto a gravel driveway.

  Kendra could see no sign of a house, only the driveway

  angling out of sight into the trees.

  Tires crunching over the gravel, they passed several

  signs advertising that they were on private property. Other

  signs warded off trespassers. They came to a low metal gate

  that hung open but could be shut to prevent access.

  This is the longest driveway in the world! Seth

  complained.

  The farther they advanced, the less conventional the

  signs became. Private Property and No Trespassing gave way

  to Beware of .12 Gauge and Trespassers Will Be Persecuted.

  These signs are funny, Seth said.

  More like creepy, Kendra muttered.

  Rounding another bend, the driveway reached a tall,

  wrought-iron fence topped with fleurs-de-lis. The double

  gate stood open. The fence extended off into the trees as

  far as Kendra could see in either direction. Near the fence

  stood a final sign:

  Certain Death Awaits.

  Is Grandpa Sorenson paranoid? Kendra asked.

  The signs are a joke, Dad said. He inherited this

  land. I’m sure the fence came with it.

  After they passed through the gate, there was still no

  house in sight. Just more trees and shrubs. They drove

  across a small bridge spanning a creek and climbed a shallow

  slope. There the trees ended abruptly, bringing the

  house into view across a vast front lawn.

  The house was big, but not enormous, with lots of

  gables and even a turret. After the wrought-iron gate,

  Kendra had expected a castle or a mansion. Constructed

  out of dark wood and stone, the house looked old but in

  good repair. The grounds were more impressive. A bright

  flower garden bloomed in front of the house. Manicured

  hedges and a fish pond added character to the yard. Behind

  the house loomed an immense brown barn, at least five stories

  tall, topped by a weather vane.

  I love it, Mom said. I wish we were all staying.

  You’ve never been here? Kendra asked.

  No. Your father came here a couple of times before we

  were married.

  They go the extra mile to discourage visitors, Dad

  said. Me, Uncle Carl, Aunt Sophie-none of us have

  spent much time here. I don’t get it. You kids are lucky.

  You’ll have a blast. If nothing else, you can spend your time

  playing in the pool.

  They pulled to a stop outside the garage.

  The front door opened and Grandpa Sorenson

  emerged, followed by a tall, lanky man with large ears and

  a thin, older woman. Mom, Dad, and Seth got out of the

  car. Kendra sat and watched.

  Grandpa had been clean-shaven at the funeral, but

  now he wore a stubbly white beard. He was dressed in faded

  jeans, work boots, and a flannel shirt.

  Kendra studied the older woman. She was not

  Grandma Sorenson. Despite her white hair streaked with a

  few black strands, her face had an ageless quality. Her

  almond eyes were black as coffee, and her features suggested

  a hint of Asian ancestry. Short and slightly stooped,

  she retained an exotic beauty.

  Dad and the lanky man opened the back of the SUV

  and began removing suitcases and duffel bags. You coming,

  Kendra? Dad asked.

  Kendra opened the door and dropped to the gravel.

  Just place the things inside, Grandpa was telling Dad.

  Dale will take them up to the bedroom.

  Where’s Mom? Dad asked.

  Visiting your Aunt Edna.

  In Missouri?

  Edna’s dying.

  Kendra had barely ever heard of Aunt Edna, so the

  news did not mean much. She looked up at the house. She

  noticed that the windows had bubbly glass. Bird nests clung

  under the eaves.

  They all migrated to the front door. Dad and Dale carried

  the larger bags. Seth held a smaller duffel bag and a

  cereal box. The cereal box was his emergency kit. It was

  full of odds and ends he thought would come in handy for

  an adventure-rubber bands, a compass, granola bars,

  coins, a squirt gun, a magnifying glass, plastic handcuffs,

  string, a whistle.

  This is Lena, our housekeeper, Grandpa said. The

  older woman nodded and gave a little wave. Dale helps

  me tend the grounds.

  Aren’t you pretty? Lena said to Kendra. You must be

  around fourteen. Lena had a faint accent that Kendra

  could not place.

  In October.

  An iron knocker hung on the front door, a squinting

  goblin with a ring in its mouth. The thick door had bulky

  hinges.

  Kendra entered the house. Glossy wood floored the

  entry hall. A wilting arrangement of flowers rested on a low

  table in a white ceramic vase. A tall, brass coat rack stood

  off to one side beside a black bench with a high, carved

  back. On the wall hung a painting of a fox hunt.

  Kendra could see into another room where a huge,

  embroidered throw rug covered most of the wooden floor.

  Like the house itself, the furnishings were antiquated but

  in good repair. The couches and chairs were mostly of the

  sort you would expect to see while visiting a historical site.

  Dale was heading up the stairs with some of the bags.

  Lena excused herself and went to another room.

  Your home is beautiful, Mom gushed. I wish we had

  time for a tour.

  Maybe when you get back, Grandpa said.

  Thanks for letting the kids stay with you, Dad said.

  Our pleasure. Don’t let me keep you.

  We’re on a pretty tight schedule, Dad apologized.

  You kids be good and do whatever Grandpa Sorenson

  tells you, Mom said. She hugged Kendra and Seth.

  Kendra felt tears seeping into her eyes. She fought

  them back. Have a fun cruise.

  We’ll be back before you know it, Dad said, putting

  an arm around Kendra and tousling Seth’s hair.

  Waving, Mom and Dad walked out the door. Kendra

  went to the doorway and watched them climb into the

  SUV. Dad honked as they drove off. Kendra fought back

  tears again as the SUV vanished into the trees.

  Mom and Dad were
probably laughing, relieved to be

  off by themselves for the longest vacation of their married

  lives. She could practically hear their crystal goblets clinking.

  And here she stood, abandoned. Kendra closed the

  door. Seth, oblivious as ever, was examining the intricate

  pieces of a decorative chess set.

  Grandpa stood in the entry hall, watching Seth and

  looking politely uncomfortable.

  Leave the chess pieces alone, Kendra said. They

  look expensive.

  Oh, he’s all right, Grandpa said. By the way he said

  it, Kendra could tell he was relieved to see Seth setting the

  pieces down. Shall I show you to your room?

  They followed Grandpa up the stairs and down a carpeted

  hall to the foot of a narrow wooden staircase leading

  up to a white door. Grandpa continued on up the creaking

  steps.

  We don’t often have guests, especially children,

  Grandpa said over his shoulder. I think you’ll be most

  comfortable in the attic.

  He opened the door, and they entered after him.

  Braced for cobwebs and torture devices, Kendra was

  relieved to find that the attic was a cheerful playroom.

  Spacious, clean, and bright, the long room had a pair of

  beds, shelves crowded with children’s books, freestanding

  wardrobes, tidy dressers, a unicorn rocking horse, multiple

  toy chests, and a hen in a cage.

  Seth went straight for the chicken. Cool! He poked

  a finger through the slender bars, trying to touch the

  orange-gold feathers.

  Careful, Seth, Kendra warned.

  He’ll be fine, Grandpa said. Goldilocks is more a

  house pet than a barnyard hen. Your grandmother usually

  takes care of her. I figured you kids wouldn’t mind filling in

  while she’s gone. You’ll need to feed her, clean her cage,

  and collect her eggs.

  She lays eggs! Seth looked astonished and delighted.

  An egg or two a day if you keep her well fed, Grandpa

  said. He pointed to a white plastic bucket full of kernels

  near the cage. A scoop in the morning and another in the

  evening should take care of her. You’ll want to change the

  lining of her cage every couple days, and make sure she has

  plenty of water. Every morning, we give her a tiny bowl of

  milk. Grandpa winked. That’s the secret behind her egg

  production.

  Can we ever take her out? The hen had moved close

  enough for Seth to stroke her feathers with one finger.

  Just put her back afterwards. Grandpa bent down to

  put a finger in the cage, and Goldilocks instantly pecked at