Chapter eight

Unwen’s Shoe

Danny's dreams were troubled. They involved a great deal of running and teeth and darkness. Being terrified. Nonsensically right at the end, as is often the way of dreams, a drunk German clown turned up. That was all he could remember when he woke up early on Sunday morning.

He rolled out of bed onto his feet and stood unsteadily, rubbing his face, having a hard time wiping the cobwebs of sleep away. The floor was warm, but the air around him was chilly. He pulled the quilt around his shoulders, which dragged after him like a king’s robe.

He settled Orson the bunny under the covers, poking the stuffed animal’s little round hands behind his head and spreading the long ears out so it looked like he was laying back in bed, chillin’. Then he checked on Max, who was happily snoozing now that the sun was up and his belly was full of mealworms.

Danny stumbled downstairs to take a shower and get cleaned up. While he was brushing his teeth he glanced up in the mirror and thought he looked a little healthier than usual. Not as pale and drawn. Maybe Gnomewood was good for him. He definitely felt better than he ever had before, that he could remember anyway. Danny’s memories were awfully distorted and hazy before the age of about five and he often wondered if that was normal.

He dressed himself neatly, tamed his wavy hair as best he could, tucked the tab from the library flier into his pocket, and went downstairs for breakfast and coffee.

Their house in Easton was compact and close, and Danny had woken up to the smell of food and coffee brewing every day, the murmur of voices in the kitchen. He could call down from the top of the stairs, or his Keepers could call up. Room-to-room communication had been very easy. Here you would need an intercom system to communicate between rooms, and he got all the way to the second floor before he could smell Ali's cooking and the scent of magical wake-up beans.

He went the long way, to say good morning to the clock. Its face glowed cheerful blue. The hands quickly spun and settled as he passed by. Danny watched them, trying to come up with a theory as to what the clock was all about, when the smells got the better of him and his stomach rumbled noisily.

He ran down through the front hall and bounced into the kitchen.

“Pancakes!” he sang. “I smell pancakes!” He did a clumsy pirouette in pancake appreciation and almost fell. Ali laughed and grabbed him, setting him safely into a chair at the table.

Ali sang a song in Spanish as he served Danny a large plate of pancakes and bacon, with oatmeal on the side. Danny had picked up enough Spanish over the years to understand it had something to do with rain and frogs. Danny tried to sing along with him, chiming in phonetically when there were words he didn’t know.

Mr. Murray was nowhere in sight, he didn’t usually eat anything before lunch but tea and toast. Miss Grace was busy with her laptop and phone, toggling back and forth between them. Making arrangements for their new life, Danny assumed.

Ali was checking his phone frequently. “Applying for some cool jobs around here, Danny!” the man said. “Everyone seems to be in need of a good chef right now, I’m getting excited about this.” He clapped his big hands together.

Danny shoveled pancakes into his mouth. “You’re not a good chef, Ali, you’re a great chef,” he mumbled thickly.

“Awwww,” Ali said. “That’s my boy.”

“Don't snorkel into your pancakes,” Miss Grace chided absently, typing away. “Stop talking with food in your mouth.”

Danny tried to slow down, but it was hard. He felt like he was starving.

“Can I use your phone, Miss Grace?” Danny asked.

“May I use your phone,” corrected Miss Grace.

“May I use your phone?”

“May I ask why?” she asked. Type, type. Phone. Type, type.

“I want to text one of the kids I met at the library yesterday,” Danny said. He held out his hand toward her hopefully. “I'll be really quick, I promise.”

Miss Grace hesitated, looking at him sideways, but finally relented and handed it over.

“Ten minutes,” she said. “I don't want to rush you, but I'm trying to rearrange our entire lives right now while simultaneously making sure everything to do with this inheritance of yours is taken care of properly.”

“Sorry,” said Danny, feeling a stab of guilt. Too much guilt to remind her that she could get him a phone of his own if it was a problem.

Danny pulled out the tab from the flier and carefully entered it into the phone, checking it four times before typing. He didn’t want to text a total stranger by accident. Once he checked it enough times to calm his anxiety, he tapped out a message.

Hey Church! Have books and gear for Monster Hunt my mom had a LOT of stuff

Then:

Sorry it’s Danny Hallow haha forgot to say who it was

He groaned inwardly. Too much. It looked stupid. He sounded like an idiot.

His thumbs hovered over the keyboard while he thought of something cool to say but nothing came to him.

Don’t make it worse, he thought.

He waited anxiously for a reply, any reply, trying to stay cool on the outside. When five minutes had gone by he began to suspect he’d sounded too desperate. They'd decided not to be friends with him. They'd decided he was too weird. They'd found info on him from the kids back in Easton and been told what a freak he was. They’d-

-Boop-

AWESOOOOME! popped up. So cool TY Danny!!!

Danny breathed, relief expanding in his chest like a balloon.

You're welcome, he typed and sent before he realized that might sound peculiarly formal. Before he had a chance to get too paranoid about it, a message came back.

Can’t play MH today because too much homework

Danny sagged.

Want to meet us at the playground @ 11 to hang out for a little bit tho?

Danny sat up very straight, trying not to bounce up and down. Miss Grace hated it when he did that.

“Can I,” he said, “I mean, may I go meet some kids at the playground at eleven o’clock?”

“What playground?” asked Miss Grace, still distracted. “There are several, plus there may be new ones I don't even know about.” She tapped impatiently at her keyboard, eyes on the screen.

What playground? he typed and sent.

Across the footbridge at the apartments on the other side of Kingston Creek, was the reply. It’s like a 15 min walk from your house Unwen says.

Danny passed all of this on to Miss Grace.

“Those apartments are old,” she said, “We know where they are. Not far at all.”

“So may I?”

“Yes, you may,” she said, then turned to look at him properly, warming her tone a little. “Of course you may,” she said. “I'm glad you're meeting people. That’s nice.”

“Great, thanks,” he said and sent a message back to Church, confirming.

Miss Grace started packing her things up. She folded her laptop and stuffed it into her briefcase, papers following, books jammed alongside the papers. Danny didn’t know how she got it all in there.

“I have to go,” she said. “Jones is being kind enough to let me use his office for the day, and I need to get everything set up and straightened out.”

“I'll take care of things here,” said Ali. “I can show Danny how to get to the path, it’s easy from there.”

“Good,” she said. “Now, Danny-”

Uh, oh, Miss Grace lecture face, Danny thought. He tried to look attentive.

“Before you go play, make sure you drink something besides coffee first, don’t get dehydrated. You be careful out there, too, and stay on the path, and stay with other kids, remember what the Sheriff said.”

“The cute Sheriff,” Ali corrected. Miss Grace scowled at him before turning back to Danny.

”And make sure,” she said, “very certain sure, that you are back here by four o'clock. Preferably before four o’clock.”

Danny nodded. “Okay. Why?”

“Because those people you met at Jones’ office yesterday are coming over by five, and I want you here, ready to greet them.” She made hard, intense eye contact with Danny. “Do you understand? We have company coming, and it’s you they’re coming to see, even if they won’t come right out and say so.”

“To see if I’m a monster,” Danny said.

“Something like that,” Miss Grace said. “You have to be on your best behavior.”

“But my best behavior sucks,” Danny said.

“No it doesn’t,” Ali chided. “You’re a good kid.”

“Yes, you are,” Miss Grace said firmly. “And if they don’t see that, that is their problem and not yours. Understand?”

Surprised by the vehemency of her compliment, considering she was the one who was usually criticizing his behavior, Danny only nodded.

“So,” she continued, “have fun, be home by four, be neat and clean and polite, and we’ll get this audition over with.”

Audition, Danny thought. It’s more like a trial before a jury, he suspected.

“I’ll be as sane as possible,” said Danny. “Are they bringing pitchforks and torches?” He thought of old Frankenstein films, with villagers beating down the door, determined to set the misunderstood monster on fire.

Ali laughed, but Miss Grace gave him a deeply sober look.

“This isn't funny,” she said. “Try to take this seriously. I swear, I don't know if your tendency to turn everything into a joke is going to save your life or end it.”

She ruffled his hair, grabbed her briefcase, and headed for the kitchen doors.

He tried to give her phone back, but she said, “Keep my phone on you in case you need it, I still have my old one… and be careful with it…and be good!” she called out behind her.

“I'll try,” he said.

“Do or do not,” said Ali, in his truly terrible Yoda impression. “There is no try.”

Danny finished his breakfast, trying to push thoughts of judgy adults coming over for dinner out of his mind. What would happen if they didn’t like him? Miss Grace looked awfully worried. He bit his thumbnail.

“So what are you going to do with your morning?” asked Ali. “You’ve got a couple of hours to kill.”

“Explore the house,” said Danny, pushing his chair back. “I still haven’t seen all of it.”

“You could help me do these dishes first,” said Ali, smiling sweetly. Danny groaned.

A half an hour later, dishes done, Danny set off through the house. He didn't know where to start, so Ali had suggested he begin by taking Mr. Murray his tea, which he did. The man was sitting comfortably by the fire in the library, reading, when Danny brought in the tea tray.

“I think I shall spend the rest of my life in this room,” the man said happily. He thanked Danny and sent him on his way.

Danny left the library and headed back to the entrance hall. Instead of going up the stairs he went across to the archway on the opposite side of the hall and wandered into a sitting room. The fireplace was cold, the room chilly. The wallpaper was yellow and patterned with flowers, the rug a comfortable, worn out blue. The room had the feel of a space that was never occupied. It smelled empty and dusty. The furniture was covered in white sheets.

The ghosts of furniture, thought Danny.

Further in was another hall, and Danny figured if he headed left he'd end up back at the kitchen. Next room across the hall was an enormous, long room with marble floors and yet another giant fireplace, ornate carvings of animals intertwined along the mantle. Overhead twinkled a crystal chandelier, which appeared to be made of prisms. The small amount of winter light peeking in through the drapes refracted tiny rainbows onto the floor from the chandelier. The room was completely empty of furniture.

It was like a ballroom in an old movie. Danny wondered if they’d had parties there, maybe back in his grandfather’s day. Uncle Enoch didn’t seem like he’d been a party guy.

At the end of the ballroom was a set of glass doors, which were the entrance to the big glass room Danny had seen from outside. It had a domed ceiling, and plate glass walls all around, like a giant terrarium. It was full of dead plants, black vines snaking across the ground like zombie veins, twisting up and around statuary.

Tiled mosaic walkways wound around through the cracked and dry vegetation, and there were benches and little round tables here and there along the paths. All sound and light was muffled in here, due to the heavy snow piled on the domed glass roof and around the walls outside.

He guessed the plants used to be alive, green and pretty. People had probably come in here to walk the paths and enjoy them, or just to sit and be somewhere quiet.

For a fleeting moment, Danny thought he heard the low sound of many people conversing, old music playing. Glasses clinking. The air in the greenhouse room had been hot, but cooler than in the ballroom. High heels clicked on the paths, laughter, the smell of cologne and perfume and food.

Then all of the sensations vanished, and the room was dead and cold again. Danny was left with the feeling that Gnomewood itself was trying to show him what it used to be like in here.

Danny reached out and gingerly touched one of the vines. It cracked to powder under his fingers. The stone nymph it was embracing looked sad, her face crumbling away.

“Yikes, “ Danny whispered. “We need to fix you up.”

He wandered through the paths, looking through the glass walls at the surrounding property. It was the good first look he'd had at the grounds from this level. At the back of the house, he could see a wide, rolling lawn under a sea of ice. Random trees and bushes dotted the landscape. A small, square-windowed brick shed crumbled away over by a large bush, and a red barn with an old fence leaned nearby.

The woods surrounded the back of the property. They looked deep, black and forbidding, trees naked and caked with snow.

There was a glass exit to the outside that let out onto a covered veranda. Danny had seen a long porch behind the kitchen through the windows. It must run the length of the house at the back, he thought, all the way to the glass room.

He liked the glass room, quiet and peaceful and only a little creepy. Reluctantly he left it to continue his explorations, back to the ballroom, where he found another set of stairs going up. From there, he got a bit lost.

There were many short sets of stairs, connecting halls, and sudden corners. He found Ali and Miss Grace’s bedrooms along with a handful of other spare rooms, either empty or full of junk boxes. There were a few bathrooms. He found a small, sparsely furnished study attached to a bedroom, a really big bedroom with a heavy four poster bed with curtains around it, a chest of drawers, and a dressing table. He figured this must be the master bedroom, and had most likely been his Uncle’s most recently. It had a lived-in feel.

The dressing table, antique looking with a large oval mirror, had men’s toiletries set out on it, a hairbrush, a comb, a bottle of cologne. He smelled the cologne and then set it down quickly, rubbing his nose. Too perfumey.

There were only three photographs on the chest of drawers. One was a copy of the group photo out on the lawn, same as the one Uncle Enoch had left for Danny. He looked at Atticus Wildwood with new perception, but there was no trace of the budding psychopath in the smiling, handsome face. The second was more recent, of a woman holding a little baby, surrounded by roses. The woman was smiling and looked familiar.

The third was a photo of Danny’s parents, probably taken at their wedding since his mother had on a long, white dress and his dad was in a dark gray suit. They were smiling. Danny reached out and flipped it downward, so the photo lay face down on the surface of the chest of drawers.

As the Great Bird Belial says, screw you, he thought. He turned and left. The room was dark and depressing and he wanted to get out of there.

He headed back down the hall. There were so many rooms, he thought. Who needs this many rooms? He passed the landing and the clock and continued investigating the second floor.

Bedrooms, bathrooms, endless closets. So much of it was empty. There was a little corner sewing room that had sheet-covered furniture ghosts like the ones downstairs, including several shrouded human shapes. Danny forced himself to pull up one of the sheets to be sure it was just a mannequin, which it was. He left that room quickly. He didn’t like mannequins, they freaked him out. He shut the door firmly behind him and wished he knew how to lock it. It was going to bother him just knowing they were there.

He was finally running out of rooms when he came across Marcus the Cat. The small tabby was rubbing against a set of heavy double-doors not unlike the ones that led to the library. He saw Danny and made a surprised, inquisitive cat sound.

“Hi, Cat,” Danny said, and went over to pet its eager head. The cat rubbed against his fingers, purring, and then doubled back to rub against the doors again.

“You want in?” Danny asked.

He tried the doors. He thought at first they were locked, but managed to get them open with a good shoulder push. He stumbled inside the room, the cat rushing by him.

Danny looked around. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

The room had a high ceiling, decorated with beautiful paintings of mythical creatures, the walls covered in art of all varieties. The curtains were wide open, the sunlight illuminating the plethora of museum-style glass cases that lined the walls. Six white pillars rose up from floor to ceiling, painted and carved with colorful symbols and pictographs. Danny walked in, breathing in the smell of old paper, wood polish, and a hint of the cologne he’d found in his uncle’s room.

The glass cases displayed all sorts of things, dead beetles and butterflies, rock slabs with mysterious writings, ancient books and old jars, strange metal jewelry on heavy chains, and so much more. It would take him years to really look at it all. Most of the items were identified in spidery cursive written on little white cards. Danny tried to make it out.

There was a pretty purple ring that was labeled 1695-Jacinda Coriel-silver & amethyst- Barcelona-possibly cursed.

“Possibly cursed?” Danny echoed.

From behind him he heard a happy kitty noise and turned to see Marcus leaping gracefully onto a big old desk, similar to the one in the library but not quite as large or heavy. It was covered in papers, books,and colorful glass orbs. Marcus settled into a sunbeam on its surface, curled up, and sighed.

Like the master bedroom, this museum room had the feel of recent occupation and use. Danny suspected, or maybe Just Knew, that his uncle had spent most of his time either in his bedroom or in here, the rest of Gnomewood empty, unused, and bereft.

Danny rubbed the cat behind the ears. “He must have been lonely,” he said.

The cat purred, eyes closed, dozing happily on the desk.

The museum room was a riot of interesting things, almost too many for the senses to separate them, but it was hard to miss the long table with the massive sarcophagus lying on it. Danny went over to investigate.

He’d seen pictures of King Tut’s coffin and been to the Smithsonian where they had lots of Egyptian artifacts. This looked similar, but had many distinctive differences. It was mostly silver, and inlaid with stones. The markings along the side were just squiggles to Danny, but didn’t look like any Egyption hieroglyphics he’d ever seen anywhere. The face on the human shaped relief on the lid had no beard, but it did have a head covering.

Danny stood looking at it for quite a while, wondering if he wanted to try and open it, but eventually decided against it. He’d seen every version of The Mummy ever made and leaving it alone seemed like the wisest course of action.

Something touched his leg and he jumped sky high.

“Marcus,” he said, relieved. “Stupid cat.”

The cat rubbed against his legs, purring. He scratched its head and decided to move on. He left one of the double doors slightly open so Marcus could get in and out if he wanted.

The cat lazily accompanied him as he wandered back to the landing. He sat with his back to the clock, leaning against it. It felt warm. He sat lost in thought until the alarm on Miss Grace’s phone went off in his pocket, sound cranked up all the way, notifying the whole wide world that it was ten o’clock. Marcus bolted away down the hall, back toward the museum room.

He shut off the alarm, and checked for messages. Nada.

“Que no haya noticias es buena señal,” he sighed. Something Ali said often. No news is good news. He was half-expecting Church to message him and cancel.

Getting nervous and paranoid, he decided to set out early just so he had something to do. He got up and made his way to the kitchen.

Ali was still there, drinking coffee and talking on the phone. An old house phone with a spiral cord and everything, attached to the wall. He was speaking in rapid Spanish, too fast for Danny to understand.

Danny stood by quietly getting himself a glass of orange juice until Ali finished talking and hung up.

“That was a very prestigious local restaurant,” Ali said in his terrible Posh Person voice. “They have an opening for a chef, and I have scheduled a working interview.” He raised his hands over his head in victory and said in his normal voice, “no more deep fat fryer!”

Danny smiled. “Creme Brulee all the way.”

“Cross your fingers,” said Ali, grabbing Danny and kissing him on the head. “My interview is tomorrow. Lots of time to get really freaked out about screwing it up.”

“Make them your seafood pasta,” Danny said. “That’s my favorite.”

“Not a bad idea,” Ali said.

“Can you tell me how to get to this playground?” Danny asked. “It’s time to go.”

“Sure,” Ali said, and instructed Danny to go and gear up for the cold.

Danny pulled on a heavy coat over his sweater and grabbed his gloves and woolen hat. He rejected snow pants, he’d look like a toddler, but he did switch out his sneakers for boots. He presented himself to Ali for inspection.

Ali wrapped a scarf around Danny’s neck, and led him with it like a dog on a leash to the back door, then out onto the porch outside. There was a path beginning at the bottom of the porch stairs that ran across the lawn, going through a small orchard of black, gnarled trees and beyond that into the woods.

Ali pointed down the path.

“This path leads you into the woods beyond the orchard,” he said. “I’m pretty sure we all wore this path in the lawn when we were kids, all the time we spent in the woods.” He laughed. “Once the path goes into the woods, you want to go right. Okay?”

Danny nodded. Ali started talking faster, since he’d run outside without a coat and the air was sharp and icy.

“It will lead you through the woods to a covered footbridge over Kingston Creek, and on the other side of the bridge is the apartment complex and the playground.” Ali shivered madly, holding his bare arms, stomping his feet. “Off you go, kiddo, should take you about fifteen minutes if you hustle.” He turned and ran for the door. “You still got Gloria's phone?” he called over his shoulder.

“Yep.”

“Good. I'll text you. Be careful. Remember all that stuff Gloria said!” The door slammed shut behind him. Danny heard him yell something about hating cold weather.

Danny smiled and turned toward the woods. The day was gray and, as always, freezing. Even inside his coat, he was getting cold already. He jammed his gloved hands into his pockets and forced himself to head down the stairs.

He hurried across the lawn, taking in the expanse of it. He could see the red barn, the outbuildings, and an old well. It all looked wintry and worn.

It’ll be fun to explore outside when the weather gets warmer, he thought. He slipped on the frozen ground countless times before reaching the orchard.

He hurried through the black apple trees, bare and crooked, branches reaching up to the sky. Danny thought they looked like upside-down tarantulas.

He reached out to touch one, half expecting it to slap his hand and yell at him like one in the Wizard of Oz. Instead, he thought he heard a sigh, and soft singing from above his head. He looked up, but didn’t see anything.

He smiled at the trees and thought to himself how nice it would be to come out here and pick apples off of his own trees. Ali could bake a pie.

Whistling through frozen lips, he left the orchard, walked into the forest, looked around carefully, turned right, and headed in what he hoped was the right direction.

***

Behind him, inside Gnomewood Home, the great glass room was prodding itself awake. It had sensed an important presence, one that brought it up a few levels from deep sleep.

One small vine struggled to color from crumbling brown to a dark green. It shuddered lightly, then cautiously produced one small purple bud.

***

Danny made his way down the path through the woods, the closest trees sparse along the way but very thick and deep farther in. He kept an eye out for threats, both human and inhuman, but he didn’t see so much as a bird flying over. It was dead quiet, the only sound his own breath puffing out in great clouds.

About the time he started thinking that he must have gone the wrong way somehow because it was taking too long, he began to hear a muffled knocking sound from up ahead. He came around a small bend, and the path opened up through the trees onto a wide, frozen river. An old covered footbridge provided a way over the river, as advertised, and on the other side, over the trees, he could see the tops of what he assumed were apartment buildings. He breathed a sigh of relief and headed for the footbridge.

The river was wide and the covered bridge was long, and dark inside. Some light filtered in through open slats, and he could see the opening at the end, but he still hesitated.

“C’mon,” he chided himself. “Don’t be a baby.” He made himself move forward, his footsteps echoing around him. The strange knocking sound continued from under his feet. Curious, and suspicious, he peered down between the floorboards to the icy surface below, and gradually came to realize the sound was water rushing underneath the ice.

It must be been moving very fast, he thought.

He walked faster over the bridge, boots clomp-clomping. He tried to walk more quietly, watching his feet. He wanted to get off of this bridge. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up.

Midway across, he spotted a brownish-red spot on the floor, just a smear. He felt a need to stop and look at it, like it was pulling him. He knelt to touch it with his gloved hand, then looked at his fingers. Rusty red.

He looked up quickly, recalling every movie where a body or monster hung overhead dripping blood. There was nothing, the rafters empty.

He thought of the boy from the library, on the bridge in the dark and cold, the vision very sharp and clear. Then it was gone just as quickly.

Danny wiped his hand on the wall of the bridge and ran the rest of the way to the end of the bridge, feeling like a fool but not really caring. The bridge was freaking him out.

Once he was across the bridge and in the open, he started breathing again. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. He looked back at the bridge once, then turned and continued on his way. He’d have to ask Church and Unwen if there was another way home, without telling them why he was asking.

“Because I’m a dumbass,” he sang quietly to himself. “Scared of everything.”

Danny was freezing now, even wrapped up like a Sherpa as he was. He was beginning to regret the rejection of snow pants.

He followed the path up a hill. Apartment buildings came into view as he climbed, brick fronts and balconies, all identical.

He reached the top, and looked down over a playground. It didn't look too inviting. It was mostly deserted, the swings and slides covered in ice and snow.

The wide, rickety wheel of the metal merry-go-round spun slowly, creaking and groaning. Two well-bundled figures stood on it, holding on to the bars. Breath puffed out from their hoods as they spoke to one another.

Is that them? Danny wondered. He wanted to wave and get their attention, but what if it was two different kids? He stood, wishing they would look up and see him so he wouldn't have to decide what to do. He stood, immobilized by indecision.

The snow under his feet made up his mind for him, the icy surface giving out and sending him off balance, tumbling forward down the hill. Ass over teakettle, he thought. That's what Miss Grace always says. He landed hard at the bottom.

“Oof,” he gasped. He tried pushing himself up. Hands grabbed him by the arms and he fell backward, hands up in defense position.

“Danny!” said Unwen, “Are you okay?”

Sure, just utterly humiliated, thought Danny. Church and Unwen’s concerned faces peeked out from their hoods like a couple of young owls.

“I'm fine,” he said and struggled to his feet. “I'm not used to all this, y'know… snow.” He brushed himself off. “Also, I’m just clumsy as hell.”

They laughed. “Yeah, me too,” Church said.

“Not me,” said Unwen, striking a pose. “My middle name is grace.”

“I thought your middle name was Be as Mean to Church as Possible,” Church said.

“That’s a really long middle name,” Danny said.

“And it suits her,” Church said.

Unwen punched Church on the shoulder.

“See,” Church said, vindicated. He smiled. “Actually, her middle name is Penelope.”

She punched him again, harder this time. “So what? Yours is Angus!” she shouted. She looked at Danny. “Churchill Angus McGee. So much worse than Penelope.”

“I agree with you,” Church said. “It was almost my first name, my mom says. Can you believe it? I was almost named Angus.”

“Everyone woulda called you Anus,” Unwen said. “You know they would’ve.”

Danny laughed, hard.

Unwen smiled at him. “Oh, yeah?” she said. “What’s your middle name?”

“Wildwood,” Danny answered.

“Boring,” she said evenly, looking him straight in the eye.

“Absolutely,” Danny said. “But my first name is Danzellan. Not Daniel. People always think Danny is for Daniel.” He shrugged, suddenly unsure how he thought this was pertinent.

“That’s cool, though,” Church said. “It’s different. I’m named for Winston Churchill, for crying out loud, but could they call me Winston? Nope.”

Unwen snorted. “At least you didn’t get some dumb name your parents picked out for a boy,” she said. She looked at Danny. “They didn’t expect to have a fifth daughter. They were all outta girl names by the time I came along.”

“I like it,” Danny said. “Unwen.” He nodded. “It’s cool.”

Unwen looked embarrassed and Danny wondered if he’d said something wrong already.

“So, you wanna go sledding?” Church asked. “I have a snow slider, just one, but we can share.”

“Sure,” Danny said.

Church lived in one of the ground floor apartments that had a little patio. Some of the patios were empty, others had chairs and umbrella tables. Church's was a mess, littered with junk. Church moved a surfboard that was leaning up against the wooden partition between his and the neighbor's patio, and pulled a long, blue plastic sled from behind it.

“My mom's at work,” he said. “So if we want to go inside we don't have to worry about parental interference. She won't be back until late.”

If we want to go inside? Danny thought. It seemed his new friends were comfortable playing outside in this weather. Danny decided to suck it up and resign himself to a mild case of hypothermia in the name of friendship.

The three of them walked to the nearest hill, dragging the blue sled along behind them.

“It goes really fast,” said Unwen. “It's great. I want one of my own, but my mom says no way because so dangerous, right?” She pulled a face of frustration.

“Overprotective!” sang Church. “She never lets you do anything, jeez.”

“She lets me be friends with you,” said Unwen.

“She gave up trying to tell you not to be friends with me,” said Church. “We've been best friends since preschool,” he explained to Danny. “Her mom hates me.”

“Why?” Danny asked.

“He's a bad influence,” said Unwen, then laughed like a hyena as if that were the funniest idea ever.

“Yeah, right,” said Church. “Who's idea was it to use Mr. Murphy's hose for water ballons? Or ditch class to go to McDonald's last year?”

“Just one time,” she said to Danny quickly. “I felt so guilty, I couldn't even enjoy my Big Mac.” She shrugged. “I had a craving in the middle of Social Studies, what can I say?”

“Point is,” Church said, “this stuff is always your idea and I just get dragged along like a helpless bunny rabbit and then your parents hate me for it.”

“I’m sorry,” Unwen said. Danny thought she said it like she actually meant it.

They reached the neighborhood sledding hill, an expanse of swooping snow slopes that led down from a residential neighborhood to a little park with basketball hoops and tennis courts, currently under a blanket of snow like everything else.

The sledding hill was sparsely populated. There were some parents with small kids, most of them crying with snot stuck to their faces, two or three clusters of teenagers lounging insolently on icy picnic tables, and a handful of kids about their age.

“Oh, no,” said Unwen.

“What?” inquired Church.

“Over there,” whispered Unwen through tight lips, pointing as unobtrusively as possible, hand held close to her body. “Don’t look now, but it’s the Vulpeys.”

Danny reflexively looked to where she was pointing. At the bottom of the hill were three kids of varying heights. Other details were hard to make out through bulky snow gear.

“I said don't look,” she ordered.

“Okay,” said Danny, turning his entire body away. “What am I not looking at?”

“The Vulpeys,” Church groaned.

“Shyla, John, and Opal Vulpey,” said Unwen. “They're horrible, take our word for it.” She shot a look out of the corner of her eyes. “Crap, they saw us.”

Danny couldn't help it. He looked. The three kids were walking toward them, dragging sleds and snow discs. They were different heights and different ages, but they had identical faces, sly and sharp, similar mean little smiles. Flat brown hair flopped from under their hoods.

Unwen leaned in quickly toward Danny. “Shyla's the worst, don't let her fool you. She's thirteen and acts like the nice one, but she's just less obvious about being awful. Opal's our age, she doesn't even try to hide how mean she is. She's been suspended from school like four times so far this year. John's in the middle, but he's the smallest. He's crazy, too. He threw a chair at a teacher last year and got sent off to a special school.”

“Be cool,” said Church, “they’re right there.”

They all tried their best to be cool as the three Vulpeys strolled up to them, as casually as you can stroll in a foot of snow.

“What's up, freaks?” asked Opal.

“Not much,” said Unwen.

Danny noticed that Church looked at the ground, but Unwen looked right at the Vulpeys, her face set and challenging.

“Going sledding, Unnie-Bunny?” asked the boy, John. “I didn't think you people liked snow.”

Except he didn't say 'you people'. He said a word Danny was overly familiar with, because the kids at his old school had used it often, especially to describe Miss Grace. Just another thing he never told her, not that he needed to. As a black woman who’d attended a top law school, she’d probably heard it plenty.

Danny was shocked and angry, though, to hear these kids use that word right to Unwen’s face. He looked over at her to see if she was upset. Her face had become as icy as the ground under their feet.

Opal elbowed her brother. “I got a good joke,” she said. “You know how God made black people?”

“We're leaving,” said Church, voice tight. “Let's go.”

“No, I wanna hear the joke,” said Unwen. “Go ahead.” She crossed her arms and glared at them. “Do your worst.”

“He baked a bunch of white people first, and then he was like, 'Oops, I burnt one!'” Opal giggled madly. “It was an accident.”

That doesn’t even make sense, Danny thought.

Shyla, the big sister, simpered. “Oh, that's so mean, Opal,” she said, flicking her hair. “You shouldn't say things like that.” She rolled her eyes and smirked.

Unwen was so angry her face was a steaming, burning red. Church grabbed her arm. “Let's go,” he said. “C’mon, Unwen. Please?”

“Yeah,” said Unwen. “I know a better place for sledding anyway.”

“Who's your new boyfriend, Unwen?” asked Opal, pointing at Danny. “You got two boyfriends now, huh?”

Shyla stage whispered from behind her hand, “Slut.”

Danny stepped up next to Unwen and put his hand on her other arm, not to steer her as Church was trying to do but to offer some kind of lame support. He wanted to shout at these kids or beat them up, but when you got right down to it he didn't know how to do those things.

He resorted to doing what he'd always done. Avoid conflict.

“So where's this other place you know?” he asked Unwen.

“Okay,” Unwen said. Danny could hear the thickness in her voice. “Let’s go have fun somewhere we won’t be trippin’ over white trash.”

“Oooohhh,” the Vulpeys intoned in chorus, then laughed.

Unwen turned and walked away, Danny and Church flanking her silently. Unwen's head was high and her arms were crossed, angry tears at the corners of her eyes. The Vulpey's laughter and catcalls followed them.

“They're so disgusting,” she said, surreptitiously wiping her eyes. “I hate them.”

“Me too,” said Church. “Don't listen to them, Unwen, they're morons.”

“I know that,” said Unwen angrily. She stormed ahead of them.

Church turned to Danny and said quietly, “Last summer the Vulpeys and a couple of other kids they know chased Unwen all over her neighborhood calling her, y'know, bad names. Bad names for girls, bad names for black people. They give her a lot of crap for hanging out with me, and vice-versa.” He shook his head. “She told me later she thought they were going to hurt her that time, like, really hurt her. If they'd caught her.” He smiled. “She can run super fast, though.”

“That's horrible,” said Danny. “Did her parents do anything?”

“Oh, they woulda freaked out, so she just didn't tell them,” said Church. He shrugged. “They would have overreacted and it all would’ve gotten worse, she figured.”

“Yeah,” said Danny. He knew all too well the reasons you don't tell your grownups about things that happen with other kids. He remembered one time last year when some of the boys had cornered him in the boy’s bathroom, forced him to his knees, and joked about what they could do to him while he was down there. He’d never had to find out if they meant it, because a teacher had walked in and they’d let him go. After that, he tried not to use the school bathroom at all.

He’d been too embarrassed to tell his Keepers. What could they have done about it, anyway?

Danny and Church caught up to Unwen. She was furious, not speaking, and pretending she wasn’t crying.

Danny didn’t know what to do, so he said, “Kids picked on me at my old school, called me names and stuff.” He didn’t know why he said it. He’d hoped to hide his previous unpopularity from them, but it felt like the right thing.

Unwen tossed her curls. “Are you going to lecture me on how it isn’t so bad, you gotta keep your head up, blahblah?”

“Um, no,” Danny said. “It’s horrible. I just…know how it feels, I guess.”

Unwen sideways smiled at him, face clearing a tiny bit. “What’s the worst thing they called you?” she asked.

Danny considered the question. “They called me lots of really shitty things, like, really bad stuff, but I guess Snow White was my least favorite.”

Unwen laughed. “Why?” she said. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Because I hate that stupid movie,” Danny said, and it surprised him when Church and Unwen both burst into laughter. “What? I do!”

Unwen twirled and pirouetted, singing a sappy song from Snow White. Danny covered his ears and laughed, “No, no, please don’t!”

They ended up back at the river, the covered footbridge not too far away. “Here we go!” said Unwen. “It's all ours.”

“Oh, no,” said Church, “ I know what you’re thinking, and this is a bad idea.”

“What?” asked Danny.

“From the top of that hill,” said Unwen, pointing to the snowy bank that rose up into the treeline, “down onto the ice. It’ll be great.”

“We're not supposed to go out on the ice, Unwen,” said Church. “Everyone knows that. That's a terrible idea.”

“The ice is still really solid,” said Unwen. “We could see who could go the furthest. I'll bet I could get all the way to the other side of the river!”

“Yeah, and I'll bet you could break through the ice and freeze and drown,” said Church, pumping his arm with mock enthusiasm. “Woo-hoo.”

Danny had been surveying the snow-covered river bank, considering what she was proposing.

“We could stop ourselves before we go out onto the ice,” he said, pointing. “If we slide down over there, where the hill is really steep, there are trees we could grab onto at the bottom.”

He waited to get shot down or be told that was a stupid idea, but Unwen looked impressed.

“Compromise, I like it,” she said. “Yeah, look, that tree over there has lots of low branches to catch ourselves on.” She smiled. “New challenge! He who misses the tree branches-”

“Dies!” said Church.

“I was gonna say loses,” said Unwen. “Oh, come on, Church. Danny will go first and show you how safe it is. Right, Danny?”

“Hmmm?” said Danny.

“It was your idea,” said Unwen.

“Don’t let her do that, Danny,” Church said. “It was her idea!”

Unwen looked belligerent and shamefaced at the same time.

“Sure, I'll go first,” Danny said. “It’s fine.” He looked to the top of the hill.

They were watching him. He felt time passing by unnaturally quickly.

“Here I go,” he said, and began climbing to the top of the hill.

He found the easiest way up. There was a path buried under the snow that you could find with your feet and a little guesswork. It was pebbly and he had some good traction in his boots.

Once he was at the top he moved from side to side, lining himself up with the half-fallen tree that extended out onto the ice. He imagined himself missing it and ending up stranded out there like a turtle on its back. Helpless. How embarrassing would that be, huh?

So don't miss, he told himself, and took a breath.

“You forgot the sled!” called up Church, sounding concerned.

“I think it's better without it,” said Danny. The hill was solid and icy, and very, very high. He sat down, scooted to the edge, and pushed off.

He slid down the hill at top speed, sure he was flailing around in a very spastic manner. He left his stomach somewhere halfway down, and as he approached the ice, he grabbed onto the tree branch, which turned out to be long and surprisingly flexible, like a vine in a jungle adventure. He slid out onto the ice, holding the vine with both hands and stopped, whipping back in an arc toward the shore. He used the vine to pull himself back to shore quickly, and hopped up once he reached land.

“Nothing to it,” he said, about to faint. He put a hand to his face.

“That was awesome,” said Unwen. She ran toward the top of the hill, following the path Danny had marked with his boot-prints. “My turn!”

Danny was amazed to see how fast Unwen went as she swooped down, having not realized what speed he'd been traveling at while it was happening to him. It looked pretty impressive when you watched someone else do it. Unwen had a more sudden stop, grabbing on to a shorter branch than Danny had.

“Bleah!” She said enthusiastically, crawling to shore. ”I almost threw up! This is great! Your turn, Church.”

“Great,” he moaned. “Now I have to do it. I can't not do it if you guys did!”

Danny turned to tell him he didn't have to if he didn't want to, but Unwen was ready to go again.

“Too slow!” she yelled, flew up the hill like a deer and literally tossed herself from the top, flying down on her back, arms crossed instead of sitting up. She went twice as fast as either of them had before.

“She's a total adrenaline junkie,” said Church. “Just so you’re aware.”

Her stop was ungainly but effective, less awkward than the first time. She hopped up and took a bow as the boys applauded. “Awesome!” yelled Church.

“Ten point five from the Ukrainian judge!” yelled Danny.

“Aw, c’mon,” she yelled, “that had to be at least worth a twelve!”

Church finally took a turn, moving cautiously and carefully to the top. He positioned himself carefully before heading down the slide, as slowly as possible, and catching himself well before he ever got to the ice. He smiled, walking back toward them.

“Don't be fooled,” Unwen said to Danny. “He loves stuff like this. You just have to make him do it first.”

Danny tried lying all the way down for his second run. He did go faster that way, everything whipping by at a dizzying speed.

After a few experiments, they tried going down on their stomachs, on their backs facing headfirst, daring each other to go faster, to wait a little longer to grab a branch. Danny became very adept at catching on to that same long vine, loving the feeling as he swung back toward shore. Unwen kept trying to get it to work, but couldn't pick up the trick of it.

“I think it's because you're so light,” she concluded. “No offense.”

“There has to be some kinda advantage to being small and skinny,” said Danny. He hunched up, making his fingers into claws. “My precioussss,” he said. “My precious hides in small spacesesss and slides on long vinesess.”

They laughed.

“That was a really good Gollum,” said Church.

“It’s an adequate Gollum,” Danny said. Then he felt rather than saw Unwen startle and jump.

She gasped lightly and said, “Don't look now.”

Not again, thought Danny, expecting the Vulpeys to pop up. He looked over to the covered footbridge and saw a dark figure walking slowly along the path toward it, hooded and tall. Danny craned to see what they were dealing with now.

“Okay, Danny,” Unwen said, “when I say don’t look, I really mean don’t look.”

“Oh, shit, it’s the Beast!” whispered Church. He turned to Danny. “Stay real still. Maybe he won't see us.”

Against orders, Danny looked over at the figure. The hooded head turned toward him.

The boy's glittering silver eyes regarded Danny from beneath his hoodie as he stood in the middle of the path, staring at them. He had his big black backpack over one shoulder, a book under the other arm.

Danny smiled in recognition. The ninja book thief from the library, the rooftop spy.

“Dear God, don't smile,” said Unwen. “Why are you smiling? Don't get his attention. Bad idea, bad. Bad Danny!” She smacked him.

“Why?” whispered Danny. Then, “Wait, why are we whispering?”

“That guy,” Church explained, “is Ezra Harker. The Beast. Okay? He is bad news, the baddest of bad news. You think the Vulpey kids are bad? That guy...” he glanced over at Unwen, who was nodding her head vigorously in agreement, “he's the worst.”

“The worst what?” asked Danny.

“The worst anything,” said Unwen. “Trust us.”

“But why is he so bad?” asked Danny.

Unwen made an impatient noise. “He lies, he steals, he sneaks, he's mean,” she said. “He’s terrifying. He’s weird. He’s been here since he was like eight, and he’s always been so weird.”

“He lives in a beat up old trailer,” said Church, “with some old drunk who barely speaks English.”

“But he practically never goes there, though,” said Unwen. “He lives in the woods. Like an animal. Probably that’s why he's always so dirty.”

“He smells,” said Church. “He's so filthy, you can't even tell what he looks like. He's a walking dirt farm.”

“Also, he’s really stupid,” said Unwen. “He barely passes his classes. The teachers are afraid to ask him any questions, but they don’t wanna get stuck with him another year either so they just pass him on to the next grade.”

“The teachers are afraid of him because he's crazy,” said Church. “Everyone knows it. Even grown people are afraid of him because he's coo-coo for coconuts. Like, badly broken in the brain-case.”

“Insane in the membrane,” said Danny.

“Yeah,” said Church. “Wait, what?”

“It's an old song,” said Danny. He looked over at Mr. Insane in the Membrane, whose eyes met Danny's briefly before he turned and continued down the path toward the footbridge. “So, he's mean, crazy, stupid, and filthy and I should stay away from him.”

“Yes,” said Unwen. “The only thing that makes him better than other bullies is that he doesn't usually start things. I'll give him that, anyway.”

“Yeah,” agreed Church, “but you gotta fly under his radar, or he'll rip you apart like a helpless canary. And he carries a knife, too.”

Wow, thought Danny. He watched Crazy and Dangerous Ezra Harker travel out of the bridge on the other side and head for the trees. The boy looked back only once before walking into the woods.

Danny had good instincts about things like people and danger. It wasn't always correct, but in this case, he felt no threat to himself personally from Ezra Harker. What he did feel was something difficult to explain.

Familiarity. like he knew him from somewhere. A dizzying sense of deja vu the two times he’d seen the boy’s silvery-gray eyes. The fact that his first impulse whenever he saw him was to smile.

Why were his instincts so at odds with what people were telling him?

“Whew, he's gone,” said Unwen, relieved. She ran to the top of the hill to continue their game.

They tried reclaiming their enthusiasm, but the mood had shifted. There was a feeling of the fun winding down now, as Church and Unwen started talking about their homework due tomorrow.

Danny also realized that it was getting late, and that he had to be home in time to prove he wasn't an evil mutant. It was a toss-up as to whether that was better or worse than having homework to do.

Then Unwen lost her shoe. It happened very quickly, and seemed funny to them at first.

She slid down the hill with balletic grace, grabbed a short tree branch, and snapped to an unusually abrupt halt. Her shoe must have come untied, because it flew off of her foot and out onto the ice, rolling and bouncing to a slow stop in the middle of Kingston Creek.

They laughed for a minute. Then it sank in that there was no safe way to go get it.

Unwen was stricken. “My mom is going to kill me!” she yelled.

“We could try,” said Danny. “You said the ice is pretty thick.”

“Yeah,” Church said. “It has to be pretty solid out there.” He sounded uncertain, though. The ice squeaked and moved under them disconcertingly just the little way they'd ventured out from shore. They could feel the current under their feet.

“No. It's too dangerous, even I know that,” Unwen said firmly. “It's out there too far, guys. Thanks, though.” She looked longingly out at her pink boot, the laces noodling beside it like floppy arms. “I'll tell my mom something. I'll tell her...” she stopped, at a loss.

“Just tell her it's my fault,” said Church. “She'll believe that.”

Danny's inside pocket chimed. Miss Grace's phone, he thought, and reached in to get it. The text popped up. Will you be here soon? It's 4:30.

Danny typed back as quickly as he could. On my way!.

“I have to go home now,” he said.

“Oh,” said Church, looking disappointed. Danny was amazed they weren't sick of him yet. “Us too, I guess. Those essays aren’t gonna write themselves.”

“Yeah,” said Unwen, “plus I'm gonna get frostbite and lose my toes.” She pointed to her foot, clad only in a woolen sock, which she was carefully keeping off of the ground.

“Come back to my house, Unwen, you can borrow one of my boots,” said Church. He looked at Danny. “Can you come over tomorrow after we get home from school? You know which apartment’s mine, right? Bring the Monster Hunt books and stuff?”

“Sure,” said Danny. “That’d be great.”

“Awesome,” said Church, smiling. “C'mon, Unwen, quick. Frostbite is no joke.”

Danny watched them head over the hill, Unwen hopping and laughing and complaining how cold her foot was. Church steadied her and told her more bad jokes to keep her going. Their voices faded away, and Danny was alone.

Danny turned to look out at the shoe, pondering. He entertained several thoughts at once. He really liked Church and Unwen. He wanted them to keep liking him.

He wanted to do something nice for Unwen especially, because he hadn't been helpful when the Vulpeys were bullying her. He'd been completely useless, and he felt guilty.

He also considered what Unwen had said, about how light he was. It was true, he weighed practically nothing. Ali called him Bird Bones, in the nicest way possible. No matter how much he ate, he was like a ghost.

So if anyone could heroically retrieve a shoe from the middle of a frozen creek, it would be him, right? If he did it right now, he would still be home in time to act sane for company. A win all around.

So, step out onto the ice, he told himself. Do it. Don’t think about it and not do it and be mad at yourself later for not doing it, like you usually do.

Steeling himself, he walked carefully out onto the ice and searched the fallen tree for the longest vine to use as a lifeline to shore. He wanted something to hold on to, even if the usefulness of it was questionable.

He walked out onto the ice, leaving the shore area, looking down, trying to figure out the best places to put his feet. The ice squeaked, but held. Under the ice, he could hear that wood-knocking sound of moving current, swift and strong.

He glanced up periodically to spot the distance to the shoe, orienting himself, making sure he wasn't getting off course, then looking back down to his feet. Arms held out for balance, he moved forward, watching feet, glancing up, spotting shoe, looking down. Repeat.

He was nearly there and feeling elated that this was actually going to work when he glanced up and saw something new. Something else was on the ice, an alive thing, investigating the shoe. Sniffing it.

“What the-” said Danny. Where did that come from? He stopped moving.

The small figure was hard to make out. It was lumpy and dark, muddy brown all over. As he watched it, it looked up, toward Danny.

The little figure was wearing a rough brown cloak from head to toe, assuming it had a head or toes, with a cowl over its head. There was darkness under the hood where its face should be, but he couldn't make out any features or details. All he could see were two shiny, yellow eyes, glinting.

A small animal…but what kind of animal wore a little monk’s habit?

The hooded figure wobbled like it was shuffling on its feet. Wrinkled little hands reached out from the sleeves and picked up the shoe.

Oh no you don't, thought Danny. Whatever it was wasn’t running off with Unwen’s shoe when he was almost there to get it.

“No!” he said sternly, as if to a dog. He shook a finger at it.

It held up the shoe like it was showing it to him. What, this?

“Drop it,” said Danny, pointing to the shoe. “Drop the shoe, I mean it.”

The figure tossed the shoe in the air a couple of times, casually. It grunted, an unpleasant little sound. The body language was unmistakable. You want it, come and get it.

Oh, you little brat, Danny thought. Annoyance and concern about time completely eclipsed any fear or curiosity he might have had about what this thing was or where it had come from.

Danny picked up the pace, not looking down as much now. He was afraid that if he took his eyes off of it, the thing would take off into the bushes on the other side of the creek, and no one would ever see Unwen's shoe again.

“Don't you go anywhere,” said Danny.

Grunt. Grunt. Titter.

It laughed, thought Danny. It just laughed at me. Alarm bells started ringing in his mind, but he steadfastly ignored them.

He inched toward it, nearly there. Holding his hand out and going into a half kneel, he said, “Give me the shoe, now, that's a good... whatever you are.”

It made a gurgling sound, phlegmy and low. Its little hands held up the shoe, showing it to him.

Danny could see them clearly now. The hands were hands. Not paws, hands. Black, wrinkly. Repellent. He could almost make out the face under the hood. The yellow eyes regarded Danny steadily.

Danny was suddenly terrified, his frantic danger alarms finally being listened to, but he refused to give up on the shoe. He reached out toward the creature, making soothing noises, for himself or for the thing he wasn’t sure.

It crouched and hissed. Saliva dripped out from under the hood and dribbled on the ice. Danny froze.

He heard someone yell, “Stop!”

The little thing turned toward the footbridge and hissed again, revealing rows of sharp teeth that glimmered and shone. Without thinking, Danny immediately took advantage of the distraction and grabbed the shoe away from the thing and waddled backward quickly.

“Ha!” he said triumphantly, his voice quavering. “Got it!”

The ice cracked underneath him.

He fell to his knees and down on one hand, the shoe in the other. The ice was crazing out in all directions. Instinctively he threw the shoe toward the other shore as hard as he could. He wasn't going to lose it now, and he needed both hands.

The creature hissed at him, wrinkled lips and teeth too large for whatever face could possibly fit inside the tiny hood. It lifted up its horrible little hands and claws popped out of each finger, sharp as knives. It scooted toward Danny, fast as lightning.

A large rock came from the side and hit it hard, knocking it off its feet and sending it sliding and tumbling. Danny scrambled, slipping on the ice, heading for the far shore, closer to it now than to the one he’d come from.

He heard hissing and cracking and someone yelled again, and then the ice gave way under him completely.

The shock of the cold water was instantly paralyzing. His body and mind were instantly immobilized. Thought was impossible. He hazily looked up at the dim light through the break in the ice, his hands clutching desperately at the edge of the hole. If he let go, he’d be swept away. Darkness fell around the edges of his eyesight as his fingers grew numb, and he began to lose his grip, fingers slipping.

Strong hands grabbed his wrists. Danny was yanked upward violently, by the jacket, by his belt, even by his hair for a second. He barely felt it. He was hauled up onto the ice and dragged across the surface of it in a fit of uneven bursts. The world whirled around him as he was thrown on his face and pounded on the back. Once. Twice. Three times.

Danny coughed up lungfuls of freezing water. He convulsed uncontrollably, coughing and spitting, trying to pull in air in between fitful exhalations. He breathed as best he could, soaking wet, shaking. He tried to push up on his hands and knees, but it was like they weren't there. His entire body was numb. He writhed on the ground uselessly.

Danny's teeth were chattering so hard he thought they might shatter. His head was pounding and his ears wouldn't allow sound in. He became aware that there was a person dashing around madly, stopping next to him and rushing off again, then coming back.

Danny was yanked up by the collar and propped back against a log in a seated position. Danny struggled to put his arms around his knees and hugged them to his chest as best he could, shaking like an earthquake. Raising his head with effort, blinking, he saw a dark, crouched figure rummaging in a bag. The person turned to look at him quickly, then back at the bag.

Ezra Harker.

The boy pulled something shiny out of his backpack and made a quick hand movement. Flame jumped from the shiny object, and he lowered it to the pile of wood he’d rushed around to collect and dump in front of Danny. He muttered to himself, annoyed.

“Still too wet,” he said. “Fuck.”

“That’s what she said,” Danny mumbled through numb lips. “Ha…ha.”

“What?” the boy said in confusion, patting his pockets. “Are you delirious?”

. He pulled a small yellow bottle out of his pocket. He held it over the wood pile and sprayed liquid all over it, saturating it. He threw the bottle down, relit the lighter, and held it to the wood again.

This time the wood furiously ignited, flames jumping up three feet high. The boy fell back and caught himself on his elbows. “Fuck!”

Danny started to giggle, the boy’s liberal use of the good old F-word striking him funny. He watched the jumping flames, entranced. He felt sleepy, anesthetized. His head nodded forward.

Ezra pounced on him like a cat.

“No sleeping,” he said. His voice was husky and low. He pinched Danny's entire nose with his fingers. Hard. “Wake up!” he demanded.

“Ow!” said Danny. “What was that for?”

“Don't complain,” said Ezra. “You're lucky you can feel it at all. Don’t lose consciousness, that would be bad.” He propped Danny up more so he was sitting a little higher, leaning him forward toward the flames. “Hold your hands out, put your feet close to the fire. I'm getting more wood.” He popped up and ran away again.

Danny's limbs felt like lead, but he did as he was told, holding his hands out to the fire. Ezra came back with more wood to pile on. He instructed Danny to take his boots off, impatiently assisting him when he couldn't do it by himself with his clumsy hands.

When Danny's fingers and toes started to wake up they felt like someone was smashing them with hammers. He squirmed and grimaced. “O-o-o-o-owww.”

“That's the circulation coming back,” said Ezra. “It means there’s no permanent damage to your tissues. Probably.” He sat heavily on a log and threw a few sticks on the fire.

They sat there quietly for a while. Danny slowly warmed up, the fog clearing from his brain.

“What was that thing?” asked Danny. “Do you know?”

“I'm not sure yet,” said Ezra. He shot Danny a look, brows drawn together. “What were you doing, out on the ice going after it like that?”

“I wasn't going after it,” said Danny between intermittent shivers. “I went out after Unwen's shoe, and it was just there all of a sudden.”

“They move fast,” said Ezra. He rubbed absently at some deep, crusty scratches on his neck.

“Where did it go?” Danny asked.

“I nailed it with a rock and it took off, just before you ended up in the water,” said Ezra. “Thanks for the distraction, by the way. I'd been tracking that goblin for an hour and now it's long gone.” He frowned and looked out into the woods. “It’s getting too late to pick up the trail now.”

Too late? Thought Danny. How long had he been sitting there? He sat forward, pulling Miss Grace's phone from his coat pocket between his thumb and forefinger. Water ran out of it. He pushed the power button frantically. The screen remained blank and dead.

“Oh, no,” he said. “What time is it?”

Ezra checked the thick, battered watch he wore on his wrist. “Five forty-five,” he said. He tapped the watch. “Waterproof,” he said. “Unlike your expensive phone.”

“I'm in so much trouble,” said Danny. He tried to stand.

Ezra put out a hand to steady him. “You should really stay here for a couple more minutes.”

“Can't,” said Danny. “I really have to get home.”

“Where do you live?'

“Gnomewood.”

“That big, old house by the woods?” asked Ezra. Danny nodded.

Ezra helped Danny shove his feet back into his boots and set him on his feet. He doused the fire with dirt and snow. Danny was sorry to see it go. He pulled his damp gloves and hat back on.

“You want this?” Ezra asked, handing Danny Unwen's shoe.

“Yeah!” said Danny. “Hey, thanks!” He tucked it under his arm.

He hoped she'd be happy to see it tomorrow. She'd better be happy to see it, he thought. I nearly died to get it.

Ezra shouldered his pack. “I'm going that way too,” he said, pointing down the path.

“Ah,” said Danny.

They stood staring at each other. Ezra looked uncomfortable.

“I’ll make sure you get to your house without collapsing and then you’re on your own,” Ezra said.

“Thanks,” Danny said.

“Yeah, whatever.”

The two boys headed down the path into the woods, Ezra striding along and Danny limping behind. He was still wet and freezing, unable to move very fast.

Ezra halted, dumped his pack off, and wordlessly pulled off his black leather jacket. He yanked off Danny's coat, and shrugged him into his own in one sweeping, impatient move. He picked up Danny’s sodden coat from the ground and handed it to him.

“Carry your own shit, “ he said. Danny took it, and they continued homeward.

Ezra's leather coat was heavy and very warm, almost hot inside, and it brought instant relief to Danny. He noticed that Ezra walked along comfortably with no coat at all. His hoodie wasn't even over his head, long hair damp and plastered to his face. He almost appeared to be steaming slightly.

Ezra was pretty filthy, like Church and Unwen had said. Cold river water had left streaks where the dirt had been disturbed in the effort to rescue Danny. Other than that, not much of his surface impression of Ezra lined up with what he'd been told about him.

“Goblin,” said Danny. “Is that what it is? A goblin?”

“What they are,” corrected Ezra. “There are lots of them.” He shrugged. “I'm not sure exactly what they are yet. I need to acquire a specimen and study it.”

“You need to what now?” asked Danny.

“Catch one,” said Ezra impatiently. “That's what I was trying to do when you distracted it. Or it got distracted by you, is more like it. It was very interested in you.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “Yes, indeed.”

“Can I help you?” asked Danny.

“Help me?”

“Can I help you catch one?” said Danny.

After a couple of minutes, Ezra said, “No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would you want to?” asked Ezra, suspicion and distrust emanating from him like sound waves. Dark, dirty hair fell across his face in curtains, spooky silver eyes glittering from behind them. Danny saw for the first time that the boy had a lateral scar that slashed across his right eye, a thin mark through his brow and upper cheekbone.

His face was frightening, threatening, and yet Danny still wasn't frightened. Go figure. Danny shrugged. “I don't know. Why do you want to?”

“Intellectual curiosity.”

“Well, then,” said Danny, “me too. What you said.”

Ezra stopped and turned, raising an eyebrow, the dictionary illustration of the word 'skepticism'.

“There's your mausoleum, I mean mansion, my liege,” he said, pointing.

Danny hadn't realized they were there already, the lights of Gnomewood glimmering through the trees. They were right next to the path that led up the lawn.

Danny took off Ezra's coat and handed it back, pulling his own back on reluctantly. Danny hated the feeling of wearing wet clothes. His cold, soaked jeans made him feel disgusting.

“Thank you,” Danny said.

“For what?”

“Are you kidding?” Danny said.”You saved my life.”

“What was I supposed to do, let you drown?” said Ezra, scowling. He turned and wordlessly stalked off through the snow.

“See you around,” Danny called out.

Ezra made an extremely irritated sound, wordless, throwing his hands up in the air, before disappearing into the trees. “Whatever.”

Danny smiled weakly. Shuddering, he turned to Gnomewood and sighed. He regarded the shoe tucked under his arm. I hope it was worth it, he thought, because almost drowning was bad enough, but coming home wet and late was going to be a nightmare.

And you broke the phone, he reminded himself.

The ice and the goblin hadn’t killed him, but Miss Grace might.

The heat from Ezra's coat wore off quickly, and he was shivering convulsively again by the time he reached the back door.

He managed the doorknob with some difficulty, fingers numb, and fell into the mudroom. He kicked the door shut behind him and sat down heavily, pulling off his boots, throwing the wet coat, gloves and hat on the floor. Ugh. He needed to get clean and dry, ASAP.

He staggered into the kitchen, warmth, light, and noise hitting him like a punch in the face. Many adult faces were staring at him, swimming in and out of focus.

“Danny!” said Miss Grace’s voice. “Where have you been?”

Uh, oh, she sounds really mad, thought Danny. He took in their shocked faces before everything swirled sideways, and he collapsed onto the floor.