Chapter Three

Uncle Enoch’s Will

Danny awoke from the deepest, most peaceful sleep he could ever remember having. He opened his eyes, blinked a few times, then sat up slowly, looking around.

He had a disoriented moment or two, gazing around the attic and trying to remember where he was and how he’d gotten there. His brain finally kicked in and inf-dumped the memories of the day before into his conscious mind.

The light outside the windows was still in pre-dawn mode, so he figured he hadn’t slept through anything important. He looked around for a clock, but there wasn’t one that he could see.

He felt like the last kid on earth without a phone. Miss Grace was sticking to her guns about not letting him have one until he was thirteen. The only upside to this was that he could always claim he hadn’t known what time it was when he was late for things.

They had given him a couple of watches over the years, but they always died mysteriously after a couple of days. He knew they’d suspected him of breaking the first one, but they’d taken the second watch to a repair person who had declared it unrepairable, cause unknown. After a third watch was defeated, the Keepers had dropped the idea without comment.

He rolled out of bed, shivering at the chill. The little faux fireplace was still going, humming away, unable to properly heat such a big space. Danny wrapped himself in a blanket and went to check on Max, who was right where he’d left him, asleep. After checking to make sure the little bat was warm and breathing, he went over to the electric fireplace and dumped himself on the floor in front of it, soaking up the heat.

He stretched and yawned, feeling unaccountably at peace. The attic, a little alarming the night before, now seemed familiar and friendly. He smiled, looking around.

The door to the tower room was wide open. He jumped, spooked at the sight of it.

He tried to rationalize it. He’d pulled on the door pretty hard. Maybe he had jogged it and it had swung open by itself while he was sleeping. No mystery, no ghosts, just a rusty lock with a delayed reaction.

Yeah, he told himself. That sounds really reasonable.

He got up with the blanket around his shoulders and slowly walked up the steps. He stretched himself as tall as he could to see inside the room from the furthest distance away possible.

All he could see were white walls and early morning light. Dropping the blanket on the stairs, he resolutely marched the rest of the way up and stuck his head warily inside the doorway.

No obvious monsters. He followed with the rest of his body.

The door opened up into a wide, round room, walls painted white. Tall, sturdy lighthouse windows circled the front, ice crystals spread across the outside of them in intricate patterns. Benches were built into the walls beneath the windows, covered with faded cushions in primary colors. There was a multicolored raggedy rug thrown across the wooden floor. A few books lay around, a basketball sat in the corner. It was surprisingly warm and smelled like oranges.

An old wooden rocking chair was set by the windows, an artist’s easel with a chalkboard front standing next to it. In the rocking chair was seated a stuffed bunny, gray with long floppy limbs, careworn and fuzzy.

Stubby bits of dusty chalk lay around on the bench closest to the easel, a few pieces on the floor. On the chalkboard, two words were written in white. The lettering was crooked, shaky, as if written by either a very young or a very old person.

WeLComE HOmE.

Danny felt a prickling sensation run up his spine like an electric knife. That can't be for me, he thought. Who could have written it? He went over to have a closer look, hesitantly putting his finger on the corner of one letter E.

He looked at the bunny. “Did you do this?” he asked. The bunny didn’t respond. Danny sighed. “Well,” he said, “I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but it looks, I dunno, fresh. I mean, there’s dust on everything, except the chalkboard.”

He stared at the lettering, a funny feeling coming over him. A half remembered dream. He grabbed one of the erasers sitting in the easel’s tray and moved to erase the message, but stopped an inch away. Slowly he placed the eraser back into the tray.

“I shouldn’t,” he said to the bunny. “I’ll leave it.” He shrugged. “Don’t wanna be rude or anything.”

He turned and looked out the windows, his jaw dropping in amazement. “Whoa!” he exclaimed. He moved over to the nearest window, face right to the glass.

He could see over the treetops, across the ice-coated marshes, into the town and all the way to the ocean. The sight took the breath right out of his body.

The air outside was crisp, the view to the ocean crystal clear. Way off in the distance he could see a Ferris wheel rising up above the buildings. He could see the striped lighthouse out on the tip of the cove.

“I think I’ve dreamed about this place,” he said.

He wondered if he could get Miss Grace to take a picture of this view before they left so he could remember it. He could frame it and put it by his bed. Maybe they could come back sometime. He felt a sense of panic at the idea of leaving.

The idea of leaving made him sad. He liked this place already.

He felt like it liked him back, which was crazy but felt real.

He rubbed his face and frowned.

Becoming aware as he awoke that he had slept in his jeans, always an uncomfortable feeling, he began to think about getting dressed in clean clothes and getting ready for the reading of the will. That was something he could still get excited about, and he could try to feel better about having to go back to Easton at some point. That idea made him want to hyperventilate into a paper bag.

He wondered if anyone had gotten his suitcase out of the car.

Reluctantly he left the tower room, and the attic, and headed down to the second floor landing. Before he could take the back stairs to the kitchen, he heard a loud yell coming from the main staircase. He turned and followed the sound down the hall.

There was another loud whoop, of terror or joy Danny couldn't tell. He headed for the landing, where the clock lived. Saying a mental Good Morning to it, he looked down and saw Ali sprawled on the floor in the entrance hall at the base of the stairs. He was alarmed until he saw Mr. Murray on his crutches nearby, laughing.

A large shape swooped by him on his right and Danny jumped back. He stared in amazement as Miss Grace, skirt flying, slid down the wide banister of the great stairs down to the entrance hall. She nearly fell off at the swirled newel post at the end but managed to hop off onto the stairs at the last minute. “Ha!” she said triumphantly. “Still got it.” She raised her hands and did a funky little dance.

Danny stared at them.

“I'd forgotten how hard that is on the man-parts,” Ali remarked from his prone position on the floor.

“Not if you get off in time, so you don't bash your jewels on the newel post. It’s all about the timing.” Mr. Murray said. He then looked up and saw Danny at the top of the stairs. “Danny! Good morning!”

Miss Grace quickly arranged her clothing and her face. “I was just coming up to get you,” she said. “Nice to see you’re up already!”

The two men burst into laughter at Danny’s baffled expression. “Would you like to try it?” asked Mr. Murray. “It's great fun.”

“Did you do it, Mr. Murray?”

Mr. Murray smiled. “I did, as a matter of fact. I’m not a complete invalid. Ali here gallantly caught me at the end.”

“Try it!” Ali said.

“Maybe later,” Danny said, walking down the stairs. “I need coffee first.”

Miss Grace rolled her eyes.

“Jeepers, is this what kids did for fun in the old days?” asked Danny innocently, hopping down the last few stairs.

“Old days?” said Ali indignantly. “Old days?” He grabbed Danny and tickled him mercilessly, wrestling him to the floor. No one tickled more mercilessly than Ali. Danny kicked and thrashed and begged for his life, until Miss Grace told Ali to knock it off, because they needed to get ready to go.

The sound of the door knocker boomed through the house, making them all jump. After a pause, Ali continued to tickle Danny.

“I'll rescue you, poor boy,” said Mr. Murray, pretending to come to Danny's defense, poking Ali idly with a cane.

“I'll just get that, shall I?” said Miss Grace dryly. She strode off toward the front door.

After some low words and a blast of cold air, she returned with a man in a sheriff's uniform. The man had a serious face, but his twinkly blue eyes kept him from looking too severe. He removed his hat as he came into the entrance hall, holding it in front of him, fiddling with it, smoothing his dark hair back.

“Thank you for letting me in, ma'am,” he was saying to Miss Grace. “You may have noticed it's a bit cold out there.” He laughed ruefully. The man had a slight southern drawl. “I’m not from around these parts and I’m still getting used to the winters.”

“We have some hot coffee to offer if you'd like some,” Miss Grace answered politely.

The man shook his head and held up his hand in polite refusal. He grinned at her and she blushed.

Blushed.

Ew, Danny thought.

“Gentlemen, “ Miss Grace said, “this is Sheriff Protheroe, he has something important he needs to speak to us about.”

Mr. Murray looked mock-alarmed. “Oh, no, it's the law!” he said. He poked Ali again. “Come to arrest you for child abuse.”

The Sheriff's brows drew up in puzzlement at the two men, Ali on the floor, Danny’s face red with laughter. His eyes zeroed in on Danny.

“I’m not being abused,” Danny refuted quickly.

“Just tickled,” Ali said, rolling to his feet.

Ignoring the others, the Sheriff said, “You’re Enoch’s nephew.”

“Um, yes,” Danny said, hesitating because that concept was still fresh.

“And your name is-” the Sheriff gestured for Danny to continue.

“Danny Hallow,” Danny said. “Danny Wildwood Hallow.”

“Hallow,” said the Sheriff. “I know that name from a few places.” His eyes bored into Danny before his face softened into a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Danny said. Gloria gave him an approving nod for remembering his manners.

Miss Grace introduced Mr. Murray and Ali as well, and Danny noticed the way the policeman sized each person up in a relaxed and yet thorough way. He’s good at being Sheriff, Danny thought. He’s like a movie sheriff. He had a star on his chest and everything.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Sir?” Mr. Murray asked.

The sheriff smiled again. “Don’t know how much of a pleasure it is, but I heard you were in town for the reading of Mr. Wildwood’s will and figured I’d best pay a visit.” He rubbed his hair again. “Wanted to be sure you knew to be careful with the boy and any pets you might’ve brought with you, if they’re spending any time outside.”

“Why is that?” Miss Grace asked.

“We’ve had a lot of suspected animal attacks lately,” the sheriff explained. “Missing pets, a lot of ‘em. A couple of missing men that were headed out into the woods, probably to do a little off-season hunting, but no one’s heard from ‘em. A little girl and her dog were attacked last night by something that sounds like it could have been a rabid animal.”

There was a flurry of looks over Danny’s head and he felt Ali plant his hands on his shoulders, steering him toward the kitchen. “Time for breakfast,” Ali sang.

“Wait, I wanna hear-”

“We have to get moving,” Mr. Murray said. He waved over his shoulder. “Nice meeting you, lawman.”

Danny dragged his feet, and overheard Miss Grace saying in a low voice, “Does this have anything to do with how Enoch died, is that why you’re here?”

Then he heard the Sheriff say, “I didn't want to alarm you, but I have to think there might be a connection.”

“What's going on?” asked Danny.

Ali pushed him through the swinging doors, where the smell of oatmeal, maple syrup, and fresh bread distracted him. He was soon settled in with coffee, juice, and a hot, sweet breakfast, thoughts of missing animals and dead uncles put on a back burner.

Ten minutes later Miss Grace walked into the kitchen. “Not one word out of you two,” she said. “Not one word out of any of you.”

“The handsome lawman isn’t staying for coffee?” asked Mr. Murray.

Miss Grace reached out and bumped his mug, making him spill it.

“Ow, what did I say?” laughed Mr. Murray. “He's nice, and not at all bad looking.”

“Well, you go for it then,” said Miss Grace.

“My flirting days are over,” said Mr. Murray.

“Well so are mine,” Miss Grace said. “Or at least on hold.”

“Isn’t anyone going to offer the Sheriff to me?” Ali asked. “I’m getting a little offended.”

“Didn’t mean to leave you out,” Miss Grace said, patting Ali on the shoulder and getting herself some food.

Ali reached over and ruffled Danny’s hair, ladling another helping of oatmeal into his bowl. Danny smiled and picked up his spoon.

What with banister sliding, sheriff's visits, and trying to get ready in a coordinated fashion in sixty times the space they were used to, they were soon running very late. Shouting up or down the stairs at someone was a much harder if not impossible means of communication at Gnomewood than it had been in their small two-story bungalow. After much scrambling around until the last possible second, they all bundled into the Volvo fifteen minutes before they were meant to be at the lawyer's office. Miss Grace drove like a maniac to get there.

“Look out!” yelled Ali.

“I know how to drive,” she answered coolly, eyes on the icy roads. She glanced over at him. “Did I tell you? The Sheriff said that the little girl who was attacked is Molly Homing's daughter.”

“I remember her,” said Ali. “She was just a little younger than us. Has a little girl, eh?”

“That makes me feel old,” Mr. Murray said.

The car careened around a corner. Danny tried to get a look at the town while hanging on for dear life. Everything was covered in snow which obscured most of its features, except for the brightly painted houses and storefronts. He noticed quite a few people still had holiday lights up, beacons of cheer in the winter gloom. .

The car turned into a small parking lot at top speed, rising up on two wheels to avoid a snowbank and settling into a parking space.

“Right on time,” said Miss Grace in triumph, grabbing her bag. “Ha, ha!”

They all tumbled out of the car. “Shall I kiss the ground?” said Ali.

“Your lips will stick to the ice and then we’ll be late,” Miss Grace admonished.

Mr. Murray was using his canes and it slowed them down a bit on the ice and snow. Ali and Miss Grace picked him up from either side and carried him between them as he protested, moving him along swiftly until they reached their destination.

“The indignity,” Mr. Murray muttered.

“Here we are,” said Miss Grace, hurrying them all down a long, brick walk. She herded them up the stairs of a well-kept Victorian-style building. The self-consciously tasteful sign outside said, 'Andrews, Crenshaw & Jones - Attorneys At Law'.

The cold was eating their skin. They were half frozen when they walked in, stomping their feet to try and get some feeling back.

The receptionist, a young man with glasses, looked up at them politely. “May I help you?” he said.

Miss Grace moved forward and introduced everyone, explaining why they were there and who Danny was. Danny smiled at the young man and waved. Now that the terrifying car ride was over and he was actually there, he was excited again. He looked all around the lawyer’s office, not wanting to miss a thing.

This is really happening, he thought gleefully.

There was some back and forth, and then the receptionist got up and led them down a quiet hallway to a set of double doors. He knocked and a man's booming voice from inside told him to enter.

The young man opened the doors into a spacious, ultra-modern office, with a desk by the front windows and folding chairs set up in three rows facing it. Sitting behind the desk was a heavyset man with thick black hair and a round baby-face. “Gloria Jean!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

“Jonesey,” said Miss Grace warmly, reaching a hand out to the man. “How have you been?”

“Quite well, quite well,” he answered. “Silas and Angel too, what a wonderful day! Like old times! Come here, give me a hug, gentleman.”

Ali and Mr. Murreay looked less enthusiastic than Miss Grace had been. They each tolerated a quick back-patty bro-hug from Mr. Jones.

As the adults exchanged pleasantries, Danny had a look around. There were only two other people in the room. There was a lady with long blonde hair up in a bun, her face wan and tired. Next to her sat a little girl with a bandage around her hand and scratches on her face. Someone had stuffed her into a flowered dress, but she was wearing dirty sneakers with it, her hair in a messy reddish-blonde ponytail. She was small, maybe eight or nine. She looked woeful. She glanced up at Danny and they regarded each other.

Danny smiled at her. She gave him an unnervingly direct stare in return.

“Is that Molly Homing?” asked Miss Grace in surprise.

The lady stood up, smiling weakly. “Hello, Gloria,” she said, her voice breathy and ethereal. “I remember you. How are you?”

“I'm fine, honey, how are you?”

“All right I guess.” She looked down at the little girl. “This is my Eleanor. Say hello, Ellie.”

The girl mumbled something. The adults chatted over the heads of the children as the two of them sized each other up.

“Is your dog okay?” Danny asked.

“How’d you know about that?” Ellie asked, eyes narrowing.

“The Sheriff told us,” Danny said. “He was warning us about animal attacks.”

The girl exhaled violently out of her nose, aggravated. “Well, she’s at the vet, my dog,” she said. “Something in our bushes tried to eat her.” She held out her bandaged hand. “It got me too, but I didn’t see it.”

“Wow,” Danny said. “That's pretty crazy.”

“I had to get shots.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Danny commiserated.

“Yeah, right?” she said, nodding. “But that’s nothing because Daisy-that’s my dog-got one of her front legs bitten clean right off.” She scowled.

Danny didn’t know what to say to that. He settled for a quiet, “Damn.”

“I'm going to have to teach Daisy how to walk with only three legs when she gets home from the vet,” she said. “And it wasn't a fisher cat like the Sheriff says, or a fox, or a rabid raccoon. It wasn't anything like that.”

“What was it like, then?” Danny asked.

Ellie looked away and paled under her freckles. “Weird,” she said.

“Danzellan,” he heard. “We call him Danny.”

“What?” Danny said, not realizing right away he was being talked about, not talked to.

Molly Homing was looking at him with solemn brown eyes. “I didn't know Anthea and her husband had any children.” She stared at him curiously. “I was sorry about your dad. I didn't know him, I just know he was, you know, that he passed away some time ago. Enoch mentioned it to me.”

Was murdered, thought Danny. He wanted to shout it sometimes. His dad had been murdered by someone who'd never been caught and no one ever wanted to discuss it with him.

“How's your mom?” she asked Danny. “Is she here?”

“No one knows where she is,” said Danny evenly. “She’s been gone a long time.”

“Oh. My. Well.” The woman looked to be at a total loss for what to say now. She smiled nervously at the Keepers.

“Anthea left him with us when he was only four,” Mr. Murray said. “She had some, uh, things to take care of.” He waved a hand around vaguely. “So, Molly, how did you know Enoch?”

“Oh, um,” Molly Homing said, “he had a financial interest in my business. And we were friends, too. He babysat Ellie for me quite a lot.”

Ellie looked sad. Her mother smoothed her hair.

This little girl knew my uncle and I did not, Danny thought.

“Enoch…babysat?” Ali queried. The three Keepers exchanged a look.

“Was he nice?” Danny asked Ellie.

The girl nodded. “He was always nice to me, anyway.” She leaned against her mother.

Danny felt a little guilty now for being excited about inheriting something. He hadn’t thought about anyone being sad that the man was gone.

“So who are these sorry-looking strangers we have here?” said a man's jublant voice from behind them.

A group of adults walked in the doors. The man who'd spoken was tall and blonde with a sharp fox-like face. The vulpine factor kept him from being technically handsome, nose too pointed, his eyes a little too close together. He had a charming smile which helped offset his sly features, a smile he beamed upon Danny.

There was a chorus of, “Bradley!” among his Keepers.

There were greetings and handshakes and hugs all around as all of the adults said hello to each other. Danny and the girl Ellie instinctively backed away from the crush.

There was a short, heavyset woman with a friendly face and an odd hat, a young woman with unnaturally red hair and a hippyish dress, a bald man with bowlegs and a checkered tie, and a dark-skinned woman with elaborate, glittery hair and colorful glasses.

Lastly, there was a tall woman, every inch as tall as the fox-like man, with a long wolf's face and a sour expression. Her pale eyes were narrowed and locked on Danny like a laser sight. He tried to meet her eyes without looking away. It wasn’t easy.

“So this is it, eh?” she said, her voice cutting through all other voices like a razor. “The Hallow boy?”

It? Danny thought.

They all turned to Danny as if surprised to see him there. A quiet fell and Danny was suddenly the focus of every adult in the room. He felt himself start to sweat. Everyone Looking At Him wasn’t something he enjoyed.

The silent scrutiny continued and Danny wondered if he was supposed to say something. He looked to his Keepers desperately for guidance.

“Danzellan Wildwood Hallow!” said Fox-face, saving Danny from trying to speak. “I'm so happy to meet you.”

Fox swept forward and gripped Danny by the shoulder, grabbing his right hand and shaking it firmly. “What a fine looking young man. Isn't he a fine looking young man?” he said to the others over his shoulder.

All of them appeared friendly and interested, but their stares made Danny uncomfortable. It was as if they were looking at an interesting plant and not a person.

Wolf was the exception. Her intense face radiated dislike and disgust as she looked him up and down.

Danny was introduced to them all one by one. Fox was Bradley Valkucek, Wolf was his sister Maren. The heavy-set lady was Hilary Fluster, the bald man Peter Thwaite, the young woman Desdemona House. The woman with the glasses was Vernestine Laughinghouse. Danny knew he would never remember all of these names, and hoped he wouldn't need to. He shook hands and said random polite things to each one in turn.

Wolf refused to shake his hand or speak to him. He kept away from her. She looked like she might bite.

“We were all good friends of your Uncle Enoch, Danny,” said Mr. Thwaite. He spoke very loudly, enunciating clearly, as if to a very small child. “A wonderful man, sorely missed.”

Fox, or Bradley Valkucek, nodded sadly. “He was my best friend for years and years. Not really sure what I’m going to do without him.”

There was a murmur of commiseration. Mr. Thwaite put a comforting hand on Fox’s shoulder.

Wolf glared at Danny, as if waiting for him to do something wrong.

“Goodness, his eyes,” commented Hilary, smiling at Danny. “Deep, blue, nebulous eyes. Just like his father's.”

“He’s a bit short,” Mr. Thwaite commented. “Isn’t he supposed to be eleven?”

“He certainly takes after the Hallow side,” the woman with glasses said. “Dark hair, pale skin.”

“He's white as a ghost,” said Wolf flatly. “And terribly skinny.”

Danny was starting to get angry and upset when he felt the warmth of Miss Grace’s hands on his shoulders. He leaned slightly back against her.

“He’s quite healthy, really,” said Miss Grace.

“Late bloomer,” Mr. Murray chimed in.

“How about mentally?” asked Wolf.

“Yes, we’d heard he might be a bit simple,” the young woman said. She seemed oblivious to how hurtful that comment might be.

“Heard from whom?” Mr. Murray asked tightly.

Wolf nailed Danny to the spot with her eyes. “Any hidden defects? Deviant behavior?” She smiled unpleasantly and leaned down to look him in the eye. “Interesting quirks?”

Miss Grace put her arms around Danny. “He's fine,” she said. “He’s smart and healthy and…his room is disorganized and his grades could be better, but otherwise he’s just fine.”

Some of them laughed, but not Wolf. She scowled, displeased at the tension she'd created being broken.

Danny tried to look smart, healthy and fine, but it was a challenge. These people were freaking him out.

Fox rubbed his hands together. “What my sister means is, are there any interesting manifestations of the commingled DNA?” he asked cheerfully. He smiled at Danny as if expecting him to do a card trick. .

“Nothing noteworthy,” said Miss Grace firmly. “So far.”

“Hey, where's Enzo?” asked Ali, possibly trying to change the subject. “Isn’t he supposed to be here?”

“Here,” said a man's voice, and another adult entered the room.

Too many people for Danny. He pressed back harder against Miss Grace. Normally she'd chide him and tell him to be more social, but this time she just draped her arm around him and held him sympathetically. She rubbed his back gently and he relaxed a little bit.

The new man was short in stature, his curly hair brown, nose pointed. He moved with an air of confidence and experience like he owned whatever space he occupied. His eyes were dark and serious, spotting Danny first thing.

Danny, who usually wished to be visible, found himself wishing he was invisible, at least temporarily.

“This is Danzellan, I assume,” Enzo said, a sigh in his voice.

It struck Danny as odd, the way he said it. His tone suggested that he was sick to death of the subject of Danny. If that were true, he didn't like the idea that he'd been the object of discussion among adults he didn't know. Especially since they all believed he was sickly and mentally handicapped, apparently.

“Yes,” said Danny, “I’m Danny.”

“He looks like his father,” said the man, to no one in particular.

“Yes, a good deal like Nick,” said Mr. Murray.

“I was hoping he'd take after Anthea more,” the man said, again to no one. Or maybe everyone. Or to himself.

“We're not sure who he takes after yet,” said Mr. Murray. “He's only eleven.”

“Eleven,” echoed the man, his dark eyes sweeping over Danny. “He's awfully small.”

Here we go again, Danny thought.

“Ah, Lorenzo Vincent!” exclaimed the lawyer, Jones. “You’re here. Now we can begin.”

Lorenzo Vincent, thought Danny. The other kid in the picture with his mom and his Keepers. He'd been right, about Enzo being Lorenzo.

He wanted to like Mr. Vincent since he was part of his Keeper’s childhood group, but he didn't get the feeling Mr. Vincent liked him very much. He was looking at Danny like he was a handful of worms.

He didn’t like my dad, Danny knew. Just Knew. He hadn’t liked Nicodemus Hallow one tiny bit.

Mr. Jones clapped his hands. “If everyone could take a seat, please,” he said, more loudly than necessary. “I have a lunch meeting this afternoon, so without further ado, let's get down to business!”

Everyone found a chair and sat. Danny was sitting at the end of the second row with his Keepers. The little girl Ellie was sitting across the aisle from him.

She was beginning to look sleepy and bored, so Danny caught her attention. When she looked over he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. She giggled, covering her mouth with her hands. Her mother shushed her. She sat up very straight and tried to look serious, but she was smiling now. Danny mirrored her posture, imitating her serious expression and she exploded into giggles again. He liked her. He’d always secretly wanted a little sister.

Danny looked further over to see Fox smiling at him, and Wolf scowling. Fox leaned in to say something to Wolf, and she responded with a desultory shrug. She said something back. Danny thought it looked like, ‘we'll wait and see, won't we’. Danny had pretty dependable lip-reading skills.

He faced forward and forced himself to ignore them. No one was going to ruin this for him. He was inheriting something for the first time in his life and no gaggle of weird grown-ups was going to mess it up. He focused on Mr. Jones who was pulling some papers out of a large envelope.

Mr. Jones exchanged a few words and smiles and then began to read from the sheaf of papers in his hands.

“I, Enoch Pratt Wildwood, being of sound mind and body…”

Danny tried to pay attention, but he drifted in and out. Things were being bequeathed to various people in the room. Ellie's mother was given his share of the property she'd been running a business on. Molly smiled in relief.

“I was so worried he'd forgotten,” she whispered to Hilary, who patted her hand. “He was so forgetful.”

“He wouldn't have left you in a lurch, dear,” she said sweetly. “We all understand the situation.” Molly blushed at the woman's words.

Ellie looked happy for her mom. Danny gave her a thumbs up and she smiled. When was it his turn?

“To Danzellan Wildwood Hallow,” Mr. Jones was saying, “the only living child of my last living family member, my twin sister Anthea Eritrea Hallow, nee Wildwood.”

Danny sat up very straight and tried not to bounce in the folding chair.

“I have tried in vain for years to locate my beloved sister. If she could have been found, this inheritance would have been her birthright.”

He looked for her? thought Danny in surprise. He hadn't thought anyone was looking for her. She didn't want to be found. She wasn't lost. She'd run away.

“With her status unknown, it is Danzellan's right to inherit the Wildwood’s legacy when he is of age. Until then, his inheritance is in the hands of his appointed guardians, Gloria Jean Grace, Silas James Murray, and Angel Alicea Pedro Juarez Louise-Ramirez to preserve for him until his eighteenth birthday.”

Mr. Murray looked at Danny with a raised eyebrow. Danny returned the look. This sounded serious.

“To Danzellan Wildwood Hallow, I leave the entire family estate, including the manor house and heritage grounds at Gnomewood Home. His bloodline may have been muddled, but I have hope that his Wildwood heritage will sing true in time.”

Mr. Jones looked up. “Sing true is in quotes, I'm not sure of the significance.”

There was a hush and all eyes turned to Danny. He felt blood rushing in his ears, he was light-headed.

“What is left of the family fortune, such as it is, is to be used to raise him in a manner befitting a Wildwood, and to maintain the property if his presence does not provoke Gnomewood to maintain itself. Gnomewood never cared much for either myself or my sister, and my hope is that it will take to Danzellan and heal itself.”

Heal itself, Danny pondered. He thought of the clock starting. He thought of the way he loved the house already, and the peculiar feeling that it was happy to see him, that it liked him.

Mr. Murray's hand was gripping Danny's hand too tightly. “Ouch,” whispered Danny.

“Sorry,” Mr. Murray whispered back.

“Everything the Wildwoods have been and ever will be is now in Danzellan's hands alone. Everything we've ever done and been, he inherits. Everything we're responsible for, guilty of, and proud to be is now in his keeping.”

“No pressure,” Ali said.

“His inheritance shall be invalidated if he leaves Gnomewood to live elsewhere. Gnomewood requires a Wildwood in residence. Should he choose to abandon her, the house and grounds are to be held in trust until such a time as my sister can be located.”

Good luck, Danny thought.

“If it turns out that she is deceased or cannot be located after ten years from the date of my demise, alternate instructions have been left in the hands of my capable lawyer, Jupiter B. Jones, Esquire.”

“I wrote that part,” Jones said. “I have a sealed envelope from him with the alternate inheritor instructions in my safe, no worries.”

Mr. Jones continued reading. “It is my hope that Danzellan can make Gnomewood what it was always meant to be. A place of peace, gathering and friendship, as it was under my father’s stewardship…signed, Enoch Pratt Wildwood.” The lawyer stated the day and date it had been signed, then stopped, finished. He dropped the papers to his desk and folded his hands.

There was a heavy silence. His Keepers looked shocked. Danny was confused. He'd been left the house? The entire house? That was crazy.That was unexpected. That was-

Awesome. He smiled.

“There are letters from your uncle for you also,” said Mr. Jones to Danny. “To be given to you on your 13th, 16th, 18th, and 21st birthdays. I’ll keep them safe for you until then.” He winked.

The bald man, Mr. Thwaite, said, “No offense, but it sounds like maybe he'd gone a bit funny at the end.”

Wolf was furious, her face twisted. “Are you sure that's the most recent will, Jones?” she asked. “Because he told me-”

“We wrote it together just two weeks before he died,” said Mr. Jones. “This was what he wanted.”

“But, the boy is not a true Wildwood,” said Wolf. “He's a- a- well, we all know what he is.”

Danny looked to his Keepers. Miss Grace's face was stone.

“What am I?” Danny asked.

Fox looked sympathetic. “Surely you’ve told the boy-”

“Come, Danny,” Miss Grace said. She grabbed his hand, stood him up, and led him quickly out of the room like he was still six years old.

Ellie ran after him, catching onto the back of his sweater. “Does this mean you're going to live here?” she asked. “I'd like it if you did. You could help me train Daisy to walk on three legs.”

“Sure,” said Danny, dazed.

Lorenzo Vincent approached Danny and his Keepers. “We need to talk about this, Gloria,” he was saying. “We need to talk about a lot of things. You know it, we all know it. There’s no putting it off any longer.”

“Not right now,” she said, pulling on her gloves. “Right now I need to get out of here.”

“When, then?” he asked her.

She frowned, bundling Danny into his coat.

“I can do it myself,” Danny said, stepping away to do up his own zipper before she could dress him like a toddler in front of these people. She was so on edge. He watched her face closely, barely aware of the murmur of voices all around, his name embedded frequently in low conversation.

“Gloria?” Enzo repeated insistently.

“Come to Gnomewood tomorrow at five o'clock,” she said. “Everyone who needs to be there, you know who should be included.”

“Got it,” he said. “Club meeting, like in the old days.”

“We’ll have made some decisions by then,” Gloria said. Her eyes fixed on Danny’s face. She reached out and tapped him on the nose with her finger, like she’d done when he was small. He couldn’t help smiling.

“You can all say your piece then,” she said, still looking at Danny. “Right now I don’t want to hear any more.” She turned. “Jonesy! Thank you for everything, I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow.”

“But, Gloria,” the lawyer said, “we have things to go over and sign-”

“Tomorrow,” she repeated.

She grabbed Danny's hand again and led him out into the cold. Mr. Murray and Ali followed after as quickly as they could. Danny could hear the voice of Fox calling after them, but Gloria didn’t stop.

Danny watched her as they stood on the sidewalk, trying to figure her out. She wrung her hands lightly, looked up the street and down the street and back again, as if unsure of what to do.

“Gloria,” said Mr. Murray gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Enoch didn't consider him family.” She said, looking off into the distance. “I know we talked about it, but I really didn't expect this.”

“Me neither,” said Ali.

“Bit of a shock,” said Mr. Murray. “But, I suppose we can live there, yes? It's like home, really. More of a home to me than my real home ever was.”

“If we do this, if we live here,” said Miss Grace, “everything we’ve been trying to avoid is just going to be…unavoidable.”

“What have we been avoiding?” asked Danny.

His three Keepers looked at him as if surprised to see him there.

“Everything,” Miss Grace answered. She sighed. “We need to talk about this properly, as a family.”

“Somewhere indoors, please,” said Ali. “My nose hairs have icicles.”

“Yes,” agreed Mr. Murray. “Let’s all go get a hot drink and discuss things.”

They headed for the car speedily, penguin walking and trying not to slip.

“Hey, Gloria,” said Ali. “If we move here you can date that cute Sheriff.”

She made a fist and made a big show of not punching him in the face. “I think I have enough on my plate right now,” she said, annoyed, but the mood was lightened.

Twenty minutes later they were seated in a large red booth in a cozy diner, shiny silver, lined with neon lights, and made to look like an old railway car. It was warm and comfortable.

An old Wurlitzer jukebox bubbled and played old 70s songs. The music plus the sound of low conversation and clinking dishes calmed Danny's nerves. It smelled a lot like pancakes and a little like a hot dishwasher. The smiling waitress brought them all giant mugs of cocoa, liberally topped with whipped cream.

Danny sipped it and was warmed all over.

”So-o-o,” he said, “Are we moving here?”

“Do you want to?” asked Mr. Murray.

“Not that it's up to you, understand,” said Miss Grace quickly. “Sy may be retired, but Ali and I have jobs. We have a lease on our house in Easton that will be hard to break. We'll have to go back for all of our things, and then come all the way back here.” She put her face in her hands. “Ugh.”

”I never liked Easton much,” said Danny. Understatement of the century, he thought.

“We know,” said Miss Grace. “Honestly, neither did we.”

“So why did we live there?” Danny asked.

“Because your parents chose it as a good place to-” she hesitated, “to be away from things.”

“Your mother asked us to keep you there,” Ali said. “Rather than coming back here, so we did.”

“We had no idea she’d be away so long,” Mr. Murray said.

Yeah, like forever, Danny thought.

The waitress came with their food and refilled their drinks. “I hope you don't mind if I ask this,” she said, “but is this the Wildwood boy?”

“Word sure gets around fast,” said Ali.

“Town grapevine,” agreed Miss Grace.

“I remember it well,” said Mr. Murray. He raised his glass. “Oh, the things they used to say about me.”

“Most of which were true,” Miss Grace said, clinking her glass of water to his. He laughed.

“I'm only sort of a Wildwood,” said Danny.

The waitress laughed. “Any sort of Wildwood will generate interest around here,” she said. “It wouldn't be Eddystone if there weren't any Wildwoods.” She winked at him and moved away to her next table.

“You didn’t answer me, Danny,” Mr. Murray said quietly. “Do you want to stay?”

Danny looked out the window at the snow-encrusted town. He could see the ocean from where he was sitting, they were that close to the water. He thought about the attic room with the tower and what it would be like to wake up there every day. He thought about Gnomewood, and the warm feeling it gave him, how happy he’d been when he’d woken up there.

He thought about going back to Easton and the school and the kids and the teachers. How lonely, how stressful it was on the daily. He could make it better here, he could try harder to get along and fit in somewhere.

“I want to stay so bad,” he answered. “Please? Please can we stay?”

Miss Grace rubbed her temples. “Maybe it is time we came home,” she said.

“I agree,” Mr. Murray said.

“Besides,” Ali said, “we don’t want Gnomewood to fall into the hands of some unknown heir. Could be anyone.”

“True,” Mr Murray said. “I wonder what that alternate inheritance plan of Enoch’s is?”

“None of our business, really,” Miss Grace said. She groaned. “God I hate moving.”

“So, we’re staying?” Danny asked. His food smelled so good, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat any until someone said yes for sure.

Miss Grace wiped her mouth purposefully and said, ”I'll make a deal with you, Danny.”

“Uh, oh,” said Danny. Miss Grace and her deals, here we go.

“We can move here. I'll make all of the arrangements. I'll switch jobs, Ali will switch jobs, we'll enroll you at Eddystone Middle,” she said, “but you have to tell us what really happened at school that day.”

“I did,” said Danny. He shrugged and tried to look super-honest.

“The whole truth,” Miss Grace said. “You're either lying to us or omitting pertinent details or both,” she said. “We're not stupid.” She looked to the men for agreement, and they nodded. “The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, Danny Hallow, or we stay in Easton and to hell with that old pile of bricks.”

Danny looked from one Keeper to the other, looking for weakness anywhere. He saw none. They so rarely provided a united front. Usually one of them would cave in on ultimatums and deals, but it looked to Danny as if they were all in agreement on this. He stalled by taking a bite of his sandwich.

He looked around. They were waiting patiently.

“Okay,” he said. “Um, should we talk about it now, or-”

“No one's listening but us chickens,” Miss Grace said, “We're seated all alone over here.” She checked her watch. “There's an hour left on the parking meter, plenty of time.”

“Okay,” Danny agreed. “But, you can’t get mad at me.” He reached his hand out over the table. Amused, they all shook hands on the deal, one by one.

“We won’t get mad,” Miss Grace said. “Promise.”

She sipped from her cup and looked expectantly at him over the rim. Mr. Murray templed his fingers under his chin. Ali saluted with his mug.

Danny looked all around for eavesdroppers, and seeing no one close by, took a deep breath and looked down at his hands.

“So, um,” he said, “it turns out that I can talk to bats.”