“The one to repel the undead? By all means, put it on.”
Seth fished the medallion out of his emergency kit and slipped it around his neck. Coulter turned on a heavy flashlight. The initial glare made Seth squint and blink. The bright beam pierced the darkness of the grove, lighting the space between the trees, allowing Coulter and Seth to see much deeper into the ominous woods. Instead of vague, shadowy trunks, the harsh light revealed the color and texture of the bark. There was almost no undergrowth, just rank upon rank of gray pillars supporting a leafy canopy.
“Find your courage, and hang on tight,” Coulter said.
“I’m ready,” Seth said, holding the holly wand aloft.
“Hugo, if we fall, return to the house,” Coulter said.
“If we fall?”
“Just a precaution. We’ll be fine.”
“You’re not helping my courage a whole bunch,” Seth complained. He started impersonating Coulter. “Seth, we’ll be just fine. Nothing to worry about. Hugo, when we die, please have us buried in a beautiful cemetery by a stream. I’m sorry, Seth, I meant if we die. Be brave. When the phantom kills you, don’t scream, even though it’s going to hurt a lot.”
Coulter was smirking. “Are you finished?”
“Sounds like we’re both finished.”
“Everyone copes with nerves differently. Humor is among the better ways. Follow me.”
Coulter stepped forward, beyond the plane Hugo could not cross, and Seth followed closely. The trees cast long shadows. The flashlight beam swayed back and forth, making the shadows swing and stretch, creating the illusion that the trees were in motion. As they passed the first few trees, Seth glanced back at Hugo, waiting in the shadows. His night vision had already been ruined by the flashlight, so he could barely make out the form of the golem in the darkness.
“Can you feel the difference?” Coulter whispered.
“I’m scared, if that’s what you mean,” Seth said softly.
Coulter stopped walking. “More than that. Even if you didn’t know to be scared, you would be. There’s an unshakable sense of foreboding in the atmosphere.”
Seth had goose bumps on his arms. “You’re sort of freaking me out again,” he said.
“I just want you to be aware of it,” Coulter whispered. “It may get worse. Keep that holly wand up high.”
Seth was not sure whether it was simply the power of suggestion, but as they resumed walking, with each step the air seemed to grow colder, and the feeling inside seemed to become darker. Seth grimly studied the trees, bracing himself for the terrifying form of a phantom to appear.
Coulter slowed and then stopped. The hair rose on the back of Seth’s neck. Coulter turned slowly, eyes wide and shimmering. “Uh-oh,” he mouthed.
The fear hit Seth like a physical blow, making his knees buckle. He dropped his emergency kit as he collapsed to the ground, keeping the hand with the holly wand high. Seth was instantly reminded of when he had sampled Tanu’s fear potion. The terror was an irrational, overpowering force that instantly stripped away all defenses. He struggled to rise and to keep his hand up.
He had made it to his knees and was trying to lift a leg when a second wave of fear washed over him, more powerful than the first, much more potent than the potion Tanu had given him. The medallion around his neck dissolved, evaporating into the chilly air. Vaguely, distantly, Seth was aware that the flashlight was on the ground, and that Coulter was on his hands and knees, quivering. The fear intensified steadily, relentlessly.
Seth crumpled. He was on his back. The wand remained above his head, clenched in a frozen fist. His whole body was paralyzed. He tried to call out to Coulter. His lip twitched. No sound came out. He could barely think.
This surpassed the fear of death. Death would be a mercy if it would make the feeling stop, the uncontrollable panic mingling with the mind-scrambling certainty of something sinister approaching, something with no need to hurry, something that would not be so kind as to let him die. The fear was palpable, suffocating, irresistible.
Seth had always pictured his life ending much more heroically.
* * *
Kendra snapped awake. The room was dark and silent. She did not often awaken in the middle of the night, but she felt strangely alert. She turned to glance over at Seth. His bed was vacant.
She bolted upright. “Seth?” she whispered, scanning the room. There was no sign of her brother.
Where could he be? Had the traitor kidnapped him? Had he gone to sacrifice himself to Olloch? Had he taken his gold and left Fablehaven? Maybe he was just using the bathroom. She leaned down and glanced under his bed, where he kept his emergency kit. She could not see it.
Kendra rolled out of bed. She checked more thoroughly, looking under both beds. No emergency kit. Not a good sign. What could he possibly be thinking?
Kendra clicked on the light and hurried to the stairs, descending them quickly. Vanessa’s room was nearest. Kendra rapped gently and opened the door. Vanessa was curled up under her covers. Kendra tried not to think about the unusual creatures inhabiting the containers stacked around the room. She switched on a light and crossed to the bed.
Vanessa rested on her side, facing Kendra. She was perfectly still, except her eyelids were fluttering wildly. Kendra knew from school that R.E.M. sleep was a sign of dreaming. The sight was eerie, her face placid, her closed eyes twitching spasmodically.
Kendra put a hand on Vanessa’s shoulder and shook her. “Vanessa, wake up, I’m worried about Seth.” The eyelids kept fluttering. Vanessa showed no sign of feeling or hearing Kendra. Shaking Vanessa a second time again elicited no reaction. Kendra lifted an eyelid. The eye was rolled back, white and bloodshot. Kendra jumped back. The sight creeped her out.
There was a half-full cup of water on the nightstand. Kendra hesitated only for a moment. It was an emergency. She poured it onto Vanessa’s face.
Gasping and sputtering, Vanessa sat up, hand clutching her chest, eyes wide, looking not only startled but almost paranoid. She glanced around, eyes darting, clearly disoriented. Her gaze settled on Kendra. “What are you doing?” She sounded angry and bewildered. Water dripped from her chin.
“Seth’s missing!” Kendra said.
Vanessa inhaled sharply. “Missing?” The anger was gone from her voice, replaced by concern.
“I woke up and he was gone,” Kendra said. “So was his emergency kit.”
Vanessa swung her legs out of bed. “Oh, no, I hope he hasn’t done something rash. Sorry if I sounded harsh; I was having an awful nightmare.”
“It’s okay. Sorry to splash you.”
“I’m glad you did.” Vanessa tied on a robe and led the way into the hall. “You fetch Coulter; I’ll get Tanu.”
Kendra ran down the hall to Coulter’s door. She entered after a quick knock. His bed was empty. Made up. There was no sign of him.
Kendra returned to the hall, where Vanessa was leading a bleary-eyed Tanu. “Where’s Coulter?” Vanessa asked.
“He’s gone too,” Kendra reported.
* * *
On his back in the dark, Seth tried to get accustomed to the fear. If he could get used to it, maybe he could resist it.
The feeling most reminded him of the sensation you experience when somebody startles you and makes you jump — a burst of instinctive, irrational terror and panic. Except this feeling was sustained. Instead of coming in a jolt and quickly subsiding into rational relief, the startled feeling not only lingered but intensified. Seth found it tough to think, let alone move, and so he lay frozen, overwhelmed, inwardly struggling, sensing something drawing inexorably closer. His only similar experience had been when Tanu had given him the fear potion, although by comparison that now seemed harmless and diluted. This was the real thing. Fear that could kill.
“Seth,” a strained voice said urgently, “how did we get here?”
Unable to turn his head, Seth shifted his eyes. Coulter lay beside him, leaning up on one elbow. Having something
to focus on besides the fear helped, and the fact that Coulter was still able to speak gave him hope. But what kind of pointless question was that? Coulter knew how he had gotten there. It was his idea. Seth tried to ask what he meant but managed only a groan.
“No matter,” Coulter grunted. He reached a hand toward Seth, moving like a man on a planet where the gravity was much greater than on Earth. “Take it.”
Seth could not see what Coulter held. He tried to move his arm but failed. He tried to sit up and failed again.
“Look,” Coulter said. The flashlight was on the ground near his feet. He kicked it softly, changing the angle of the beam. Then Coulter fell flat.
With the light turned and Coulter lower to the ground, Seth could now see what was drawing nearer through the trees: an emaciated, raggedly dressed man with a large thorn protruding from the side of his neck. His skin looked sickly, leprous, with open sores and blotchy discolorations. Because the flashlight was on the ground, the bottom half of the figure was better illuminated than the top. He had knobby ankles. Dried mud rimmed the cuffs of his tattered trousers. Seth studied his shadowy face. He had a pronounced Adam’s apple, and wore the unnatural smile of a shy man posing for a photograph. The eyes were empty but uncannily aware. His expression did not change. He was still about forty feet away, treading slowly, as if in a trance.
Panting, sweating, Coulter propped himself back up on one elbow. “Revenant,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Talismanic… uses fear… remove the nail.” He scooted closer to Seth. “Open… mouth.”
Seth focused all his attention on his jaw. He could not stop grinding his teeth. Opening his mouth was not a current option. “Can’t,” he tried to say. No sound came out.
Coulter pressed something into his hand. It felt like a handkerchief. “Warn,” Coulter coughed, barely getting the word out. He tried to say more, but it sounded like he was strangling.
Coulter lurched at Seth. Both his hands were on Seth’s face. One brusquely jerked his jaw down. The other thrust something past his lips. When Coulter released him, Seth automatically bit down hard on whatever Coulter had inserted, his jaw clenching involuntarily, flattening the object between his molars.
Suddenly Seth experienced the sensation that his tongue was rapidly inflating. It was like it had suddenly turned into an emergency airbag, exploding out of his mouth. Then his inflated tongue seemed to turn inside out, doubling back and enfolding him. The stark scene before him instantly vanished. He was shrouded in complete darkness. For the first time since he had begun to feel it, the overwhelming fear was significantly reduced.
He could move again. He was inside spongy darkness, totally encased by something. Seth touched his tongue. It was intact. Normal. His tongue had not actually ballooned; it must have been whatever Coulter had crammed in his mouth. The cocoon! That was the only explanation! Somehow Coulter had found the strength to shove his fail-safe into Seth’s mouth. Seth pressed against the confining walls of his snug enclosure. They felt soft at first, but when he pressed hard, they did not budge. According to what Coulter had said, nothing could get to him now. He could survive for months.
Coulter! The older man had sacrificed himself! Though it was now muted, Seth could still feel the fear increasing. Somewhere beyond the pillowy darkness enfolding him, the creature was nearing Coulter. Even he would be petrified by now, no matter how resistant he was to the smothering fear. It had seemed like he’d used his last strength to give away the cocoon.
Seth examined the object Coulter had placed in his hand. It was not a handkerchief; it was a glove with no fingertips, presumably the glove that turned Coulter invisible.
It would not come in very handy inside the cocoon, but if he ever got out, it would certainly prove useful.
Seth squeezed the glove. There could be only one reason Coulter had passed it to him. The older man did not expect to survive.
Coulter started screaming. Although the sounds were muffled by the cocoon, Seth had never heard such unrestrained expressions of pure terror. Seth resisted the impulse to start tearing the cocoon apart. He wanted to help, but what could he do? Coulter did not scream long.
* * *
Grandpa sat on the edge of his cot, surrounded by Vanessa, Dale, Tanu, Grandma, and Kendra. His hair was sticking up in a way Kendra had never seen. But his hard eyes were not sleepy.
“The traitor is unmasked,” Grandpa said, as if to himself.
“Not Coulter,” Grandma said in disbelief.
“They’re gone,” Tanu said. “He took his gear; Seth took his kit. Glancing at the tracks, it looked like Hugo carried them.”
“Can you follow them?” Grandpa asked.
“Easily,” Tanu said. “But they have a good start on us, and Hugo is not slow.”
“What do you suppose he’s up to?” Vanessa asked.
Grandpa glanced worriedly at Kendra. “We’ll discuss that later.”
“No,” Kendra said. “Go ahead. We have to hurry.”
“Coulter is missing an essential object for uncovering the lost relic,” Grandpa said. “Right?”
Grandma nodded. “We still have it.”
“I can only imagine that he has some reason for offering Seth to Olloch,” Grandpa said. “It does not strike me as very strategic, which is unlike Coulter. He may know something we don’t.”
“Time is wasting,” Dale said.
“Right,” Grandpa agreed. “Dale, Vanessa, Tanu, find where Coulter took Seth. Recover Seth and Hugo.”
The three of them ran out of the room. Kendra heard them thumping around the house collecting gear. She stood still, stunned. Was this really happening? Was her brother really gone, kidnapped by a traitor? Was Coulter really going to feed him to Olloch? Or did Coulter have something unforeseeable in mind?
Seth might already be dead. Her mind recoiled at the thought. No, he had to be alive. Tanu and Vanessa and Dale would rescue him. As long as she had room to hope, she should not lose faith. “Is there anything I can do?” Kendra asked.
Grandma rubbed her shoulders from behind. “Try not to worry. Vanessa, Tanu, and Dale will find them.”
“Do you think you could go back to bed?” Grandpa asked.
“Not likely,” Kendra said. “I’ve never felt more awake. And I’ve never wished more that I was dreaming.”
* * *
Merciless silence followed the end of Coulter’s cries. Seth could not tell if it was an aftereffect of the screaming, but the fear seemed to be intensifying again, welling up inside of him. Something jostled Seth’s cocoon. Again. And again.
Seth pictured the gaunt man with the lank hair and the unphotogenic smile rocking the cocoon. “He can’t get in, he can’t get in, he can’t get in,” Seth repeated softly to himself.
The fear was leveling off. It was uncomfortable, but bearable after what he had sampled outside of the cocoon. What would he do now? He was trapped. Sure, the zombie man could not get in, but Seth could not get out either. The instant he ripped open the cocoon he would become vulnerable. So it was a standoff. He would have to wait to be rescued.
A roar interrupted his thinking. It sounded distant, though it was difficult to be sure how much of that was the cocoon. Seth waited, listening. The next roar was definitely nearer. He knew the sound. It was deeper and fuller in a way that implied bigger, but it was certainly Olloch.
Seth heard another fierce roar. And another. What was going on? A showdown with Hugo? What would happen if Olloch got into the grove? If Olloch had the potential to become as powerful as Bahumat, strong enough to overthrow the foundational treaty of Fablehaven, wasn’t it possible that the demon could become stronger than the cocoon?
All Seth could do was wait in the close, soft confines of his enclosure, ignoring whenever it was shaken by the zombie. Actually, Coulter had called the creature a revenant, whatever that meant. Apparently he had been mistaken about the grove being home to a phantom. Coulter had said to remove the nail, which had to be the thornlike thing in t
he side of the revenant’s neck. Easier said than done. Hard to pull out a nail when a fear you can’t control has you frozen solid.
An earsplitting roar caught Seth unprepared. He flinched, covering his ears. It sounded like Olloch was right outside the cocoon. And then Seth was harshly flung about. It felt like the cocoon had been catapulted into a web of bungee cords. He was grateful the snug interior was padded.
After Seth had been whipped about until he was unsure which direction was up, the cocoon settled to a stop. A moment later, he felt the cocoon start moving linearly. Then it stopped. Then it started again. The motion was a lot smoother now. It felt like the cocoon was in the back of a pickup truck that kept accelerating, decelerating, and turning. And occasionally hopping.
It did not take long for Seth to deduce what it meant. Olloch had swallowed him, cocoon and all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Thief’s Net
Kendra slowly stirred her oatmeal. She lifted a glob on her spoon, turned the utensil over, and watched the wet clump plop back into the bowl. Her toast was growing cold. Her orange juice was growing warm. She just wasn’t hungry.
Outside the sun was rising, casting a golden glow over the garden. Fairies flitted about, coaxing blossoms into brighter bloom. The mellow, peaceful morning seemed indifferent to the fact that her brother had been kidnapped.
“You should eat something,” Grandma said.
Kendra put a bite of oatmeal in her mouth. In other circumstances it would have tasted good, dusted with cinnamon and sweetened with sugar. But not today. Today it was like chewing Styrofoam. “I’m not in the mood.”
Grandpa sucked butter from his thumb, having finished another piece of toast. “Eat, even if it feels like a chore. You need your energy.”
Kendra took another bite. “You couldn’t get the Sphinx last night?” she asked Grandma.
“Nor this morning. It just rang and rang. Which is unfortunate but not uncommon. He answers when he can. I’ll try again after breakfast.”
[Fablehaven 02] - Rise of the Evening Star Page 18