Chapter Nine

Making an Uneven Impression

Ezra stopped at the trailer to check on Papa Justice. Papa was passed out cold, but alive. No small creatures had crept in and eaten him from stem to stern in Ezra’s absence.

Even with the windows closed and the heat set sensibly, the trailer was chilly and damp. Ezra covered Papa up with several blankets and tucked him in.

He checked the heat to make sure it was working. It was still set at sixty-five where he’d left it. Papa Justice liked to crank it up and wander around in a bathrobe and underwear, but it was Ezra who made sure the bills got paid out of Papa’s disability checks, and had to make the phone calls when stuff got cut off or canceled, therefore he insisted on keeping the thermostat set low. He’d super-glued it in place to make sure Papa couldn’t fiddle with it.

Ezra quickly washed the dishes in the sink and gathered up some of the refuse that was lying around. He barely lived in the trailer himself, but he did make an attempt to keep it livable. He didn't want Papa to dwell in squalor, for one, but also the child welfare people would sporadically show up to make sure he was okay, all because of that one time Papa had hit him hard enough for him to need medical attention.

Usually, he could dodge the clumsy drunken slaps or punches that came his way, but that one time Papa Justice had been in an all-out rage and had smashed Ezra in the face with a vodka bottle. It had busted his face open over one eye, and he'd realized he needed stitches. Rather than trying to stitch himself up- though he'd thought about it- he'd walked himself to the emergency room. Since he’d been nine at the time, this had attracted a lot of unwelcome attention. He’d instantly regretted not trying to fix it himself.

He'd lied about what had happened, and insisted it was an accident, but there had still been disruptive investigations and home visits for months afterward. It died down eventually, though. It wasn't as if anyone really cared.

Fine with him. Ezra liked everything just the way it was. He had his freedom and his solitude.

Once he had everything set and sorted inside the trailer, he grabbed his pack and moved on. He traveled quickly through the gathering dark to his secret place in the woods. It was arguably safer to stay in the trailer these days, but he needed some of the things that he kept at the treehouse.

He tuned his eyes and ears sharp, not wanting to be attacked. Or to miss another opportunity to capture one of them.

Damn that weird kid. The boy’s face appeared in his mind. Ezra shook his shaggy head in irritation.

He'd come so close. Then the goblin had inexplicably run out onto the ice to tease the kid with the shoe, whatever that was about, and then he'd had to go and rescue the idiot from the water after he'd fallen through. He’d missed a perfect opportunity to nab one.

The whole situation made him feel unstable and strange, and he didn't like that. He didn't like not being able to predict what consequences might come from helping the kid out, but worst of all, the kid himself made Ezra uneasy and had done so since he'd seen him at the library.

Ezra made other people uneasy, not vice-versa. He didn’t like the script being reversed on him like this.

It was possibly because the boy's reactions were unusual, and therefore unpredictable, unlike most people. He hadn’t been immediately wary of Ezra like everyone else was. He'd followed him along through the woods and talked to him in a very natural way, like they knew each other already.

The boy’s reaction to coming into contact with the goblin was completely atypical. Anyone else would have been shocked, in denial, frightened. 'There's no such thing,' etc. Not curious or interested, in the way this kid was. Most people wouldn't be offering to help catch one, that was for sure.

In addition, there had been no drama in regard to nearly dying. Others would have been bleating for attention, for sympathy. This boy had bounced back from it like a rubber ball. Like he almost died every day, and was used to it.

Ezra had to admit that the boy would have died if he hadn't been there to intervene. There was no doubt. The guy would have lasted five minutes in winter water with no rescue, and then...death.

Ezra had saved someone's life. It felt worrisome and uncomfortable. Embarrassing, almost. Dangerous. It might get him attention he didn't want.

The kid was unnaturally calm. Hard to read. With his lemur-like night-sky eyes and ghostly white skin. What a freak, right? And yet, familiar. Why? He knew he'd never seen him before yesterday. Right?

Ezra shook it off, or tried to. He needed to be concentrating on other things right now. He didn't need to be fretting about some oddball rich kid who didn't have a clue about real life following him around like a puppy, trying to be friends. The kid had been here for two seconds and had already made friends with that fool Church and his snotty girlfriend or whatever. He probably made friends very easily with his money and his big house, he didn't need Ezra for anything.

Next time he saw him, he should just punch him directly in the face. That would do the trick. The spell the boy had cast over him, drawing his attention and disrupting his life, would be broken along with the kid's nose. He doubted the boy would try to be friendly to him after that.

He forcibly turned his mind back to the Goblin Problem and broke into a run. It was getting dark and he needed some cover, the sooner he reached the treehouse in the woods the better.

***

Danny slowly returned to consciousness in front of the kitchen fireplace, surrounded by warmth, mingled voices, and concerned adult faces. Ali was kneeling in front of him, Mr. Murray to the left, Miss Grace on his right. He stole a cautious glance up to her face.

Yup. She was furious.

Someone had draped a blanket around his shoulders. Ali wiped Danny's hair back from his face and put a cup of water in his hands, which he drank gratefully.

“Something hot now, I should think,” said Mr. Murray. Ali took the cup back and headed for the stove.

Danny looked around. Most of the adults from the lawyer's office were there. Oh, yeah, he thought. The get-together. The one where I'm supposed to be impressive.

Pretty sure I've made an impression, he thought. Ha-haaaa-haa.

The man with the intense face, Enzo, sat at the table pinning Danny with his laser-pointer eyes, expression inscrutable.

Most of the others looked pleasantly concerned and curious, except for the two tall figures that stood by the table. Fox looked tense, worried, alarmed. Wolf looked like she'd swallowed a lemon.

Oh great, those two, thought Danny. Joy.

“So, what happened?” asked Miss Grace. Her voice was even and low, which meant Danny was in very serious trouble.

“Happened?” he echoed.

“Why are you all wet?” she said. “In sub-freezing temperatures? In the clothes I just bought you?” She put her hands on her hips. “And where, pray tell, is my phone?”

Danny pulled the phone out of his pocket and held it up to her like an offering to an angry beast. Water ran out of one corner.

She put her face in her hands and rubbed it briskly. Then she took the phone from him, tossing it on the counter. Fox covered his mouth quickly as if disguising a smile, but maybe not. It was hard to tell, plus Danny didn't know what might be funny about any of this.

“I'm sorry,” Danny said. “It was an accident.”

“What kind of accident?” Ali asked, voice high and worried.

“Um.” Danny's mind roamed over the possibilities, trying to work out the best story without venturing so far from the truth it might trip him up later. He didn't want to admit his new friends had him playing on the ice or they might not want him to hang out with them again, but the shoe had to come into it somewhere because it made him sound potentially heroic, plus it was the truth.

“You're giving your explanation a little too much pre-thought, Danzellan,” said Miss Grace. “Answers. Now.”

“We were playing near the river,” said Danny. “One of Unwen's boots ended up out on the ice.”

“The ice,” she said. “You mean on Kingston Creek?”

Danny nodded. “After they went home I tried to go out and get it, by myself.”

“Danny!” exclaimed Mr. Murray. “You never do that! Never, ever!” He slapped the table. “The ice could break!”

“Well I know that now,” said Danny. To his surprise, someone stifled a laugh. He was pretty sure it was the merry-faced woman. Hilary, wasn't it? “I fell through the ice.”

“How did you get out of that predicament?” asked Enzo Vincent.

“Someone was walking by and came out on the ice and helped me,” said Danny.

“Who?” Mr. Murray asked.

He had to tell the truth here.“Um, a boy called Ezra Harker.”

There was a stunned silence from most of the adults. His Keepers didn't react. The name didn't mean anything to them, but it clearly meant something to the others.

“The Harker boy?” said Mr. Vincent. “That seems so...unlikely.”

The tall, dark woman, she'd had a funny name, Laughing-something, said, “The Ezra Harker I know would sit and watch you drown just for entertainment purposes. With a bag of popcorn.”

“Well, he didn't,” said Danny. He looked around at the plethora of skeptical faces. “I probably- I mean- I guess I would have- “ he looked up at Miss Grace and flinched a little as he said it, “died? I'd be dead if he hadn't been there.”

Miss Grace grabbed a quilted potholder shaped like a cow and whopped him a good one with it. He ducked and covered his head.

“Boy!” she said. “Do you have any idea how hard it's been to keep you alive? How much it takes to keep one child alive from one minute to the next, how exhausting it is?” She whopped him again. “If you kill yourself doing something so stupid, so damned stupid, after all the effort I've put into keeping you alive, I'll bury you and dig you up and resurrect you and kill you again, do you hear me?” She hit him with the cow one more time before tossing down the cow and gathering him into a vicious hug. Danny relaxed into it. It was strangely soothing.

She violently released him, sat him down, and smoothed her skirt, pulling herself together. “I suppose we owe a debt of thanks to this boy who saved you,” she said.

“Don't be too quick to thank him,” said Mr. Vincent. “That kid is never up to anything but no good and more no good. “

“With no good sprinkles on top,” Ms. Laughinghouse added.

Danny leaned into Miss Grace. “The boy from the library?” he said. “The one the librarian didn’t like.”

“Oh,” said Miss Grace, recognition lighting her face. “That's right. I didn’t really see him.”

“Just a mean, spiteful dullard,” said the Laughing-something woman. “I'm on the school board. Do you know how many times that Harker boy has been in trouble at school?” She shook her head. “He didn't try to mug you after he saved you, did he? Did you check your pockets?”

“No, he just helped me,” said Danny. He looked over at Mr. Murray. He felt like Mr. Murray was the only one who ever understood certain things.

“What is it?” asked Mr. Murray, leaning in.

“I'll tell you later,” said Danny.

Ali stuck a steaming mug into Danny’s hands. Danny smiled gratefully.

“Who is this boy who’s reputed to be so awful?” asked Miss Grace.

“I'm not really sure where he came from, he’s not from Eddystone,” said the Laughing-something woman. “The old trailer in the Hollow where he lives was empty for years until some crazy German brought the boy here and claimed ownership of the land and that decrepit trailer home on it.” She made a face. “Bad element.”

“We are here,” said Enzo Vincent, “to talk about this boy, though, aren't we?” He pointed to Danny impatiently. “This is a lovely reunion, but I do have other things to do.”

“Yes, indeed we are,” said Wolf. “This boy.” Still sucking on something sour. Danny wondered if her face was like that all the time or what.

Miss Grace asked Danny how he was feeling now, and he said he was feeling fine, thank you. He sat up straight and tried to remember to look attentive and enunciate and be polite while she re-introduced him to everyone. He was grateful for that. The lawyer's office had been a big blur, and there was no way he'd remember their names.

Vernestine Laughinghouse, that was it. Enzo Vincent, his mother's old friend from the picture by his bed. Hilary Fluster, the merry looking woman with lots of eye makeup. Peter Thwaite, the wiry bald man with the earring and bowlegs. Desdemona House, the young hippy-looking lady with red hair.

Fox and Wolf were Bradley and Maren Valkucek, brother and sister. Danny remembered from what his Keepers had told him that they were Family, too, with the capital F. Aliens, like him. They’d also been there when Atticus had to be taken down on a mountaintop.

“Gloria tells us you don't hear much from your mother,” said Wolf.

“That's a little insensitive, Maren,” said Fox.

“I don't hear anything from my mother,” said Danny honestly. “But that's okay, though.”

“It's okay?” said Mr. Vincent, puzzled.

“I don't remember my parents,” said Danny. “And I have my Keepers, so it’s all good.” He shrugged.

“Keepers?” said Miss Laughinghouse.

“He started calling us that when he was really small,” said Ali. “It stuck.”

“You don't remember them at all?” said Mr. Vincent curiously. “Anthea, or Nick?”

“Well,” said Danny. “A little.”

“He was only five when Anthea left,” said Miss Grace. “Wait, not even five. I remember we celebrated his fifth birthday at the house in Easton.”

“Born on Halloween, correct?” said Mr. Vincent.

Danny nodded. “Yeah.”

“You have the gift of mild precognition and telepathy, is this true?” asked Mr. Vincent.

Danny's eyes shot to Miss Grace, who gestured that it was okay to be honest. “Yes,” he said.

“And there’s nothing else going on?” Mr. Thwait asked. “Nothing else in the realm of psychic ability to report?”

“Nah,” Danny said. “I’m pretty pathetic.” He smiled. “I’m not good at sports, either.”

Miss House returned the smile sweetly, and there was a mild sound of amusement. Win them over, Danny instructed himself. You can do this.

“And what is that like for you, your gifts?” asked Mr. Vincent. “Tell us.” He placed a finger on his chin, lips pursed.

“Like?” said Danny. “Well, um- it's like...I just know things sometimes.”

“Danny calls it the JK,” said Mr. Murray. “The Just Know.”

“Do you see pictures, hear voices?” asked Mr. Vincent, apparently the appointed inquisitor.

“No,” said Danny. “It's more like someone told me something, so I know it. Except no one told me.” Mr. Vincent looked confused, so he tried again. “Like, if someone told you it was going to rain, so you knew it was going to rain. You know it because someone told you. I know things like that, but I skip the part where someone told me.”

“Interesting,” said Mr. Vincent.

“And different,” said Mr. Thwaite. “Most of the Wildwoods had prophetic dreams or visions. A bit more, uh, dramatic than that.”

Ali laughed. “Well, Danny can be plenty dramatic,” he said, “just not in that way.”

Danny took a small but flourishing bow, and looked up to smiles all around. Except for Wolf.

No smile from Wolf.

Miss Grace said. “Anthea always had to figure out what she was picking up. Danny receives pure information, though it's infrequent.”

“Reliable?” asked Fox.

“Very,” said Mr. Murray. “He's never been wrong.”

“Deliberate?” asked Wolf.

“Never,” answered Miss Grace. “He can't control it.” Then she looked as if maybe that was the wrong thing to say. “Yet,” she added.

“We have to assume the development of the witchbone was affected in some way by his father's genetic influence, as this always occurs,” Mr. Murray said. He quickly added, “We haven't seen much in the way of strong traits or abilities thus far, either from the Hallow or Wildwood side though. Just a few psychic flashes here and there.”

Danny felt suddenly uncomfortable. He hadn’t decided if he should tell them he’d incinerated a photo yet. Destroying something with his mind just seemed…bad.

“Physically he favors his father's side of the family, so much like Nick,” said Mr. Vincent. “I suppose we'll have to wait and see on the rest.”

“Yes, wait and see,” said Wolf. She glared fiercely at Danny. “Wait and see what it turns into. Let's do that again. And again, and again, and again.”

“Now, Maren-” cautioned her brother, but she cut him off.

“Wait and see, and suppose we see what we've seen before, which I'm sure we will eventually?” Her voice was tense, scratchy. “Death, destruction. What do we do then? What are you all willing to do then?”

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, if we ever come to it,” said Mr. Vincent. He looked annoyed.

He doesn't like me, Danny thought, but he likes her even less.

“If we-,” she looked livid. Wolf grabbed her purse from the counter, her tall, rawboned frame swooping toward Danny. She towered over him, her eyes burning holes into his soul. Danny froze in her gaze like a mouse.

“When you survived your infancy,” she said, “you should have been killed. It would have been a mercy. They've helped you, and they think they've done the right thing, but they're wrong.” She turned and threw her ire on the others. “The kinds of things this creature will be capable of as it grows will serve no purpose other than to cause pain and sorrow and you all know it! You’re too weak to admit it!”

“Maren!” said Fox, horrified. “Get a hold of yourself, sister. From what we're hearing, the boy barely has any abilities at all. Like Arnica, remember her? Atticus isn't the only modern example we have to judge by.” He paused in thought. “Perhaps the bloodline is too diminished, think of that. Wildwoods have been marrying outside of the Clans for generations. It's possible there is no cause for all of this sturm and drang at all, nothing to worry about.”

“Yes, Arnica,” Wolf said. “Arnica, murdered by her brother before she was old enough to show any signs of insanity, that Arnica?”

Wolf's large hands closed around Danny's shoulders. Danny heard Miss Grace shout something, but all he could focus on was Wolf's pale eyes.

“You,” she said, “are not a child. You are a monster, and you will do monstrous things. Horrible things.” She pointed a finger in his face. “I know what you are. That sweet face cannot fool me. You'll never fool me.”

“Let him go!” Miss Grace demanded. “Maren, I swear, I will cut both of your hands from your body if you don't let him go right now.” Danny registered that Miss Grace, refined and scholarly lawyer, was holding a knife in her hand like she meant business.

Danny was released, and Wolf laughed a strangled laugh without a drop of real mirth. “Keep protecting it, Gloria,” she said. “You go ahead. You'll be the one responsible for the consequences.” With that, Wolf stormed out in a swirl of wind and thunder.

Danny felt physically ill. He was afraid he was going to throw up in front of everyone. He was shaking.

“Are you all right?” asked Mr. Murray, his hand on Danny’s arm.

Danny shook his head no, but said, “Yes.” Then he nodded yes, and said, “No.”

“You know what?” said Mr. Murray, clapping his hands together, “I think he's had enough for one day. Danny, let's you and I go to the library while they continue this pow-wow without us.”

“I'd like to speak to the boy some more, Sy,” said Mr. Vincent.

“Not today Enzo,” said Mr. Murray angrily. He was so rarely that forceful, it took the others by surprise. “No more, not after that display of hysteria.”

“All right then,” said Mr. Vincent quietly. “Some other time.”

As Danny stood and exited the kitchen with Mr. Murray he heard Miss Grace hiss, “If that's the kind of treatment Danny can expect from all of you, then we'll go back to Easton and let them slap up a shopping mall on this oh-so-sacred land.”

She sounded angrier than Danny had ever heard her. Danny felt a little emotional, hearing her defend him so fiercely.

“Whoa, now, don’t paint us all with the same brush there, Gloria,” said Fox. “You know my sister, she speaks her own mind, but not ours.“ There was a general murmur of agreement. “But I'd like to respectfully remind you that the Hallows were responsible for the deaths of more than a few of our family members before The Family Agreements and Laws were set down. Our great-grandfather was a victim of a previous product of this kind of bloodline mixing, our own father was a victim of Atticus Wildwood, very traumatic to poor Maren. We both stood with you and fought Atticus to the death…and even then, you all tried to save him! Even after all he'd done, you tried to save him, change him. Maren has a right to be concerned, to be upset.Don’t be too hard on her.”

“All true,” said Miss Grace, “but Bradley, she doesn't have the right to be abusive to a child who had nothing to do with any of that.”

“I agree with you, Gloria Jean, don’t misunderstand me ” said Fox. “I'll talk to her about that, she’ll listen to me.”

“Come along, Danny,” said Mr. Murray, pulling him faster through the dining room.. “Stop eavesdropping.”

“I wasn't!”

“You're dragging your feet so you can keep listening. I'm not new around here.”

“Sorry,” Danny said.

Shortly after that, they were in the library, seated by a warm fire. Danny curled up under a blanket on the sofa, and Mr. Murray sorted through books.

Mr. Murray said, “What did you want to tell me?”

Danny was so cozy he had to think for a minute. “Oh, yeah,” he said. He considered briefly telling him about the little goblins but decided to wait on that one. “What does 'intellectual curiosity' mean?”

“That term refers to someone who seeks knowledge for its own sake,” said Mr. Murray. “Someone who finds the pursuit of knowledge to be a game instead of a chore is intellectually curious.”

“Aha,” Danny said. “Ezra Harker is like that.”

“Is he?” Mr. Murray asked. “Hmmm.”

“Ezra isn't stupid,” said Danny. “He might be dirty, and he might even be mean, though I don't think so, but he isn't stupid or most of the other stuff they say he is.”

“What prompts you to say that?” asked Mr. Murray.

“Because I can tell he isn't,” said Danny. “I don't need a witchbone for that. He just, like, radiates intelligence like a nuclear reactor.”

“I take it he's made an impression on you?”

Danny nodded. “I think he's in disguise,” he said.

Mr. Murray laughed. “In disguise as what?”

“Dumb, dirty,” said Danny. “What I've heard people say. I think it's a disguise. I think that's just what he wants other people to think. It’s like a costume.”

“Why would anyone want to make people think those things about them?” Mr. Murray asked.

“So they'll leave him alone, I think,” said Danny.

Mr. Murray smiled and nodded as if he approved of that answer. “Well it’s working admirably. No one seems to like him very much.”

“I do,” said Danny.

“Do you?” Mr. Murray considered Danny with affection. “Do you know what?” he said. “When I first met your father, guess what people told me? All of us?”

Danny shook his head.

“They said, 'don't be friends with that guy, he's bad news.'”

“Really?” Danny laughed.

“Okay, not exactly those words, but that was the feeling. He'd come to help us, but he wasn't welcome at first. He had his whole family's history working against him.” He smiled. “In the end, he won over most people with his charm and friendliness. He was an extraordinary man, your dad, and one of the best friends I've ever had. Not perfect, but a good man.”

“Hmmm,” said Danny drowsily.

“He certainly won over your mother, and she was a tough one.” Mr. Murray checkled. “You don’t want to know how desperately Enzo tried to get her to see him as more than a friend.”

“Gross,” Danny yawned. He lay his head on the pillow.

“Don't ever let anyone tell you who to be friends with if you have a good feeling about them,” said Mr. Murray.

Danny's eyes were closed, breathing soft and rhythmic. Mr. Murray tucked the blanket around his shoulders, smoothed his hair back. “Danny?”

Danny snored gently in response.

“I'll never let them hurt you,” Mr. Murray said. “No matter what. We made a promise, and friends don't break promises.”

Or at least they try not to, he silently added. He sat back and opened his book, attempting to focus on it.

There was the other promise they'd made, of course. The one that would be harder to keep. The one they'd made in the event that Danny turned out to be everything that everyone feared he would be. The Dark Promise.

He looked over at the sleeping boy, his thoughts a troubled mess. Events that had happened before Danny was born, things that had happened when Danny was so small he couldn't recollect them. Things they hoped they'd never have to tell him about, hoped he would never remember.

Things he himself had seen and done never told anyone, things only he knew, about Atticus, about Danny, about the Families.

Too many secrets.

He went back to his book, trying to shake those thoughts off for now. He’d cross those bridges when he came to them.

Shortly thereafter Silas Murray was sound asleep as well, book rising and falling on his chest.

The fire snapped and crackled, wind howling outside. Danny was troubled, brows creasing together. He mumbled to himself, his voice like a small child and not that of an eleven-year-old.

Several moths tumbled from the stacks of books, gray wings propelling them erratically across the library. They danced and trembled around Danny, powdery wings lightly kissing his face. The boy was soothed and stilled, face returning to a peaceful smile. He snuggled down into the blanket and fell into deeper sleep.

Far up in the attic, a light breeze swept through, sending papers fluttering and dust motes into flight. A small, happy bat swooped and dove through the air, snapping up moths.

'where is boy?' Max asked.

'The boy is asleep downstairs,' answered the Presence, the Night Voice. 'Do not be worried.'

The bat continued his nocturnal feeding. The light movement of air coiled up the stairs to the tower room. It disturbed the rocking chair as it laboriously erased the previous chalk message. It paused, thinking. The chalk moved over the board jaggedly. It was hard to write so much.

'Ezra

needs

you’

It dropped the chalk. It swore a stream of muttered curses.

‘as much as

you

need

him’

The chalk dropped back into the tray beneath the board. The presence viewed its work critically. So hard to write even a simple message. There was so much more the boy needed. So much more he had to know.

It sensed the boy dreaming about his father. Only in dreams did Danny remember, nightmares of what had been done.

He had to remember during wakefulness, it was crucial that he remembered. He couldn't just be told. He had to remember exactly what happened. Even if that memory drove him to be the thing that everyone feared.

It would be hard. They had done their job well, making the boy forget.

Work completed, the Night Voice sighed and dissipated, leaving the attic empty once again, except for one little bat who swooped among the rafters.

***

Danny woke up on the couch in the library next to a cold fireplace, Mr. Murray still sleeping in the chair. He sat up in the early dawn light, yawning, gradually becoming aware of how uncomfortable it is to sleep in wet clothes wrapped in a damp blanket on an antique sofa.

“Bleah,” he said.

He quietly dragged himself upstairs and had a hot shower, trying to untangle the events of the previous day. It was all a jumble in his head. Vicious goblins, icy plunges, adults telling him he never should have been born. He cranked up the hot water.

Once he was clean and in dry clothes, teeth and hair brushed, he felt more like himself. Everything was back under control, ha, ha. He went down to the kitchen.

Ali was texting someone with one hand while making breakfast with the other. Miss Grace was buried in paperwork at the table, laptop open. Everything was normal, in other words.

“Are you feeling alright?” asked Miss Grace, glancing up. “I let you stay in the library all night. It only occurred to me this morning that you might catch pneumonia that way.”

“It’s okay, you know I never get sick, except for my allergies,” said Danny, sitting down with a kerplunk. He thanked Ali for the eggs, bacon, and waffles that appeared under his nose.

“True,” said Miss Grace, “but you've never taken a dip in freezing cold water in February before.”

“I'm fine,” Danny said. “I feel good, actually.”

“I think we should talk about what was said last night,” she mused. “I don't want you to start imagining things that-”

“Can we not?” interrupted Danny, more curtly than he meant to. “They don't like me, I get it. They think I'm a bad seed or something, I get it.” He poured maple syrup on his waffles, carefully making sure it didn't touch his eggs or bacon. “I'm going to try not to go insane, though, so why talk about it?” He shrugged. “I'm fine,” he said again.

There was a small silence while Miss Grace was probably thinking about whether to push it or not. Eventually, she said, “So-o-o-o, do you want to start school tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” said Danny, jolted, waffle plopping off his fork.

“Sooner is better than later,” she said. “I've had all of your information transferred from Easton. It’s go time, kid, you’re all set.”

Typical speed and efficiency from Miss Grace, Danny thought. “But,” he said, “don't we have to go back and get our stuff first, and…you know?”

“I have all of that taken care of,” said Miss Grace. “No need to go back, the moving company I hired is going to take care of it. We'll have all of our things in about two weeks.”

Danny tried to tamp down the rising panic at the idea of strangers touching his stuff added to the dread of starting school. It had seemed like a fun idea in abstract, the reality not so much.

“Great,” he said with false cheer. “May I go hang out with Church and Unwen after they get home from school today?” Maybe they can give me some school intel so I’m not totally unprepared, he thought.

“I'd like to meet them,” said Miss Grace. “Maybe they could come here instead.”

“Can I use your phone?” Danny asked Ali.

Ali handed over the phone. “Don't drop it in a river,” he said.

“Oh, ha,” said Danny. Good thing he'd kept the piece of paper with the number on it.

Danny messaged Church, asking if he and Unwen would like to come over, but there wasn't an answer. “Maybe he's at school already?” he said.

Ali took his phone back. “I'll tell you if he gets back to you,” he said. “Meantime, looks like I'm gonna be the new sous chef at the Silverton Hotel.” He clapped his hands together.

“That's impressive,” said Miss Grace. “The Silverton. Good grief. Remember when we were kids, we used to talk about saving our money to stay there just one night?”

“And pretend to be rich people,” said Ali.

Miss Grace laughed. “Danny, the Silverton has special docking for yachts only,” she said. “Wealthy folks can sail their yachts right up to the front door.”

“Whoa, you're going to work there?” said Danny, impressed. He knew Ali was a very good cook, but he had never thought of him as a fancy chef.

“Looks like it,” said Ali. He bounced back to the stove, whistling and singing to himself about Crème Brulee.

Miss Grace gathered up her things, stuffing them into her briefcase. “I have to go,” she said. “I have to meet Jones at his office. I have a terrible feeling he's going to offer me a job.”

“Would that be bad?” asked Danny.

“I'm a dedicated public defender,” said Miss Grace. “I've never been interested in a fancy office with leather chairs, stuffy clients, and rates that are unaffordable to the working class.” She sighed. “Still, I'll need to do something, won't I?”

Mr. Murray wheeled himself into the kitchen. He had a bunch of brightly colored flowers in his lap. “Do we have a vase for these?” he asked.

“Who's the lucky guy?” asked Ali, waggling his eyebrows.

Mr. Murray held them out to Ali, smiling.

“You are so not my type,” Ali replied. “Demasiado feo.”

“Aw,” said Mr. Murray, feigning sorrow, then laughed. “Perhaps I shouldn't have picked them, but I couldn't help myself,” he said. He held up the iridescent peach colored flowers, the petals dewy and the stems bright green. “I found them in the solarium,” he said.

Ali and Miss Grace looked at Mr. Murray, puzzled. Then they both turned to look at Danny.

“What?” Danny said.

Ali emptied a colored glass container filled with pennies, keys, and string and rinsed it out, filling it with water and setting it on the table. Miss Grace took the flowers and submerged the stems, arranging them a little, fluffing them out.

“Flowers in the solarium,” she mused. “That’s a curious development.”

“Is the solarium the big glass room at the end of the house?” asked Danny.

“Yes,” said Mr. Murray. “It used to be an indoor garden, when your grandfather was alive.”

“I was in there,” Danny said. “It's really interesting. I was wondering if we could fix it up.”

“Were these blooming when you were in there?” asked Mr. Murray.

“No,” Danny answered. “Everything was asleep.”

“Interesting choice of words,” said Mr. Murray. “The clock, the flowers…I'm not sure Gnomewood would let Danny leave even if we decided to take him.”

“What does that mean?” asked Danny.

“This house has a strong personality of its own,” said Miss Grace. “Old houses often do.” She fussed with her things.

“Does that mean I made them grow?” asked Danny.

“It may mean,” Mr. Murray said, “that the house is accepting you in a way it never did with your mother or uncle.”

“We'll see,” said Miss Grace, gathering her things and turning to leave. “Sometimes plants do grow by themselves, you know. I'll see you later. Be good.”

“You mean Danny, or Silas and me?” Ali asked.

“All of you,” she said. Ali stuck his tongue out at the door swinging shut behind her. Then his phone booped. He checked it and said, “Your friend is asking if you can meet them at the playground again.”

“Sure!” said Danny, relieved. They hadn’t decided to hate him yet.

He spent most of the day helping Ali and Mr. Murray with whatever they needed to get done, mostly cleaning and straightening up. He located the cat's litter box and found it was overflowing. Ali made him clean it and he nearly threw up, but he got it finished. Ali laughed at him as he washed his hands for fifteen minutes afterward.

Once it got close to time for school to let out he checked on his snoozing bat and gathered a bunch of the Monster Hunt gear. Books, papers, a box of dice, and some little pewter figures he'd found. Remembering there was some stuff in the tower room too, he ran up to rifle through it. It took him a minute to see the chalkboard message had changed.

He stood in front of it, floored, trying to figure out what it meant. The ghost with chalkboard skills somehow knew he’d met Ezra Harker…and thought Ezra needed Danny. To catch a goblin, maybe? Needed him for what? Guys like Ezra didn’t need anybody.

He gathered up a few more things and headed downstairs to saddle up for the cold. He wondered if he could get a leather jacket like the one Ezra wore. It had been really warm. It also looked really cool.

It looks cool on Ezra Harker, he pointed out to himself. It would look ridiculous on you.

Doomed to be a corduroy pants and v-neck sweater kind of guy, he knew it. He looked like a pint-sized real estate agent. Ali always told him to just own it, but he couldn't help wishing he was less- less- what? Maybe more something, rather than less. More like his dad, maybe. Rugged, handsome Nicodemus Hallow, what would he think of his son? His little, skinny son with his borderline OCD issues with dirt and germs.

“Danny?” said Ali.

Danny shook himself. “What?”

“You've been sitting there with your coat half on staring into space for a very long time.” Ali looked concerned.

Danny jumped up. “Sorry, I checked out for a minute,” he said. He grabbed Unwen's shoe and stuffed it into the bag with the Monster Hunt gear.

“Be back by five o'clock for dinner,” reminded Ali. He kissed Danny on the head. “And be careful of wild animals and don’t take candy from strangers and all of that parenty stuff.”

“Got it,” Danny said. “No candy from wild animals.”

Ali tossed a spoon in Danny’s direction as he ran out the back door.

Danny wasn't sure when the bus Church took home from school dropped him off, but he did know the middle school let out at two fifteen. It was two o'clock now, so he figured by the time he got over there, Church should be home. He hoped. He didn’t want to have to hang around by himself.

Which turned out to be exactly what he had to do. Danny spent nearly half an hour pacing around to stay warm on Church's patio, and then Unwen got there first. She came speeding up on her bike, skidding to a stop in the slush next to Danny.

“Hey!” she said, smiling.

“Hi,” said Danny. He reached into the bag and pulled out her shoe. He tried to think of something witty to say but decided to keep it simple. “Here,” he said, handing it to her.

“Wha-a-a-at?” she said in disbelief. She laughed. “Thanks, Danny! I didn't even tell my mom yet, now there's nothing to tell!” She hugged her shoe. “Phewf, that's a relief. Oh, hey wait,” she said, looking at him sharply, “you weren't out on the ice, were you?”

“I'm pretty light,” he said. “Really. It was fine.” He flashed back to the goblin, the knife-like pain of the cold water, not being able to breathe. Ezra furiously making a fire while Danny was on the edge of consciousness, the agony of the blood coming back into his feet, walking home groggy and shocked.

“It was totally fine,” he said again.

“Well,” she said doubtfully, “you shouldn't a' done that, bu-u-u-t, I'm sure glad you did!” She laughed again. “Seriously, my mom is so weird about some stuff. Clothes especially. It's not my fault she buys such expensive shit for me. I don't ask for it.”

A big, yellow school bus pulled up next to the playground across the way from where they stood. The little kids got off first, the bigger kids impatiently pushing past them from the back. Church ran off the bus and bolted for Danny and Unwen.

“Hey!” he yelled.

“Hey!” they yelled back.

“You beat me here on your bike,” Church groused. “That's ridiculous. I hate riding the bus. It takes forever.”

“Danny got my shoe!” said Unwen, shoving it in Church's face. “Ha!”

“Ha, what?” said Church. “Was I supposed to do it?” He slipped a key into the patio door, turning it and letting them inside.

The apartment was simple and nice but horribly unkempt. There were ashtrays lying around, dishes in the sink, clothes on the floor and the whole place smelled like smoke.

Oh my god, my allergies, thought Danny, and then felt like a wimp. Pull it together man, he admonished himself. It's just a little clutter. He tried to breathe shallowly.

Church chatted nonstop while he dropped his stuff and rummaged around in the cupboards for snacks. He handed out pop-tarts and orange soda and led them to his room. Unwen ran in and bounced on the bed, shoving a pile of junk off onto the floor like she'd done it a hundred times.

The next time Miss Grace calls me messy, Danny thought, I'm going to have a thing or two to say about it.

Danny knelt on the floor and pulled all of the Monster Hunt gear out of the bag. “My mom had a lot of this stuff. Gotta admit, I'm not sure what all of it is.”

Church and Unwen dug through, exclaiming happily over everything. Church grabbed one of the books and started flipping through it intently.

”This is awesome,” he said. “Thanks Danny!”

The three of them sat on the floor for a long time, going through the books, eating pop-tarts, playing with the dice and miniature figures, and making up characters. Church found a paper with writing all over it in one of the books and handed it to Danny. “It's an old character sheet,” he said. “All filled out with lots of notes.”

Danny looked at it. At the top was written 'Anthea Wildwood' in pencil. The character's name was 'Willow Offenspritzen'. He laughed at the last name. The character had lots of experience points and gear.

“She must have played a lot,” he said.

“Ask her when she gets back,” said Unwen.

“Huh?” said Danny.

“You said she was away on business or something.”

***“Oh,” said Danny. Suddenly he felt the need to quickly drop that particular line and come clean. “Actually,” he said. “She left when I was little. I haven't seen her since I was, like, four.” Church and Unwen looked uncomfortable but sympathetic. “She did go away on business,” he said. “She just, y'know....never came back.”

“Wow,” said Church. “I thought my mom just working all the time was bad. Your mom actually dumped you.”

Unwen punched Church, hard. “Really?” she said. “Don’t be an ass.”

“It’s okay,” Danny said. “She did dump me. I’m not traumatized or anything.” He shrugged.

Unwen turned to Danny. “Who are those people you live with?'

He explained about his Keepers. He described them in humorous detail, with all of their idiosyncratic habits, and they laughed, gratifyingly amused.

“They're awesome,” Danny said. “I'm glad I live with them. No one has to feel sorry for me or anything.”

“Good thing you didn't get raised by your Uncle, he was a real oddball,” said Unwen. “No one was really surprised when he got murdered. I mean, no offense or anything.”

“Uh, what?” said Danny.

“Not that he was a bad person, I mean, I don't know,” Unwen said hurriedly. “I just know what people said about him. That he was kinda hermity and weird. Paranoid, my mom said.”

“Wait, he got murdered?” said Danny. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah,” Unwen answered. “All over the local papers, man.”

“You didn't know that?” asked Church. “How could you not know that. I mean, everyone knows that.”

“No one told me,” said Danny, calm on the outside but internally furious. No, no one could mention that to him, of course not. Some kind of accident, they’d said. Suddenly, the things he’d overheard about it clicked like a key in a lock. “How?” he asked. “I mean, what happened?”

“Well…”, she said. Unwen's wish to be tactful was wrestling with her nature to be nosy, graphic, and impart sensational information with enthusiastic flair. Her nature won out. “He was found out on the lawns at Gnomewood,” she said, eyes bright. “Cut up like a Sunday chicken.”

“Now who's being an insensitive jackass?” said Church.

“Like a-” said Danny weakly.

“Cut up, like, cut open.” Her face was serious. “His guts were out, all over the grass. They had to scoop him up with shovels.”

Church looked horrified. “You,” he said, “are going to make me puke.”

“Seriously?” said Danny.

“Seriously,” said Unwen. “And you know what? The sheriff told the coroner who told my aunt who's a nurse who told my mom that there had definitely been a struggle and that he'd been bitten, too. Not by people but, like, by animals.”

Danny thought of the goblin. He thought of there being lots of goblins. He thought of Daisy the dog and the sheriff checking out the Gnomewood property after the dog was attacked, which now didn't seem so random. Had the goblins killed his uncle? Could they overpower a grownup?

“Danny?” said Church.

“Yeah?”

“You kinda went away there for a minute.”

“I do that sometimes,” said Danny. “I'm just thinking, is all.”

“What about?” asked Unwen.

He almost told them the whole saga of the shoe and the ice and the goblin right there. He wanted to tell them. He wanted to warn them, but he didn’t want them to think he was crazy. He didn’t know what to do.

“Churchill McGee?” came an adult woman's voice, tired and halfway stern.

“Mom?” yelled Church. “What?”

“You left the soda-pop out on the counter!”

“Sorry!” Church yelled.

“Don't be sorry, come here and put it away!”

Church harrumphed heavily. “God!” he said and stood up, stomping into the kitchen. Danny heard voices and the refrigerator door, and then someone laughed. Next thing he knew, Church came back in and a skinny woman with the same sandy cotton hair as Church's poked her head in after him. She looked tired. “Hello, Unwen honey,” she said.

“Hi, Ms. McGee.”

“Who's this?” asked Church's mom, peering at Danny.

“This is Danny Wildwood,” said Church.

“Hallow,” corrected Danny. He stood up. “Danny Hallow.”

“He's a Wildwood, though,” said Church. “His mom was. Is. Whatever.”

“A real Wildwood in my house,” said Church's mom. Her face was weary, but interest sparked in her eyes. “Wonders never cease.” She scanned Danny up and down like she was sweeping him for mines.

“Nice to meet you, ma'am,” said Danny.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Manners,” said Church's mom. He couldn't tell if she was approving or not. “Aren't you a neatly put together little thing. Are you gay or does your mother dress you?”

“Mom-MUH,” groaned Church, horrified.

“It's fine if he is, gay, or LG...LBT...whatever they say these days,” she said, hands up, palms out. “I don't have a problem with it.” She looked back at Danny. “Sorry, kid, I'm just tired from work is all. I need to go lay down.” She stretched her back and he heard it crack like a piston. “Church, will you wake me up in an hour and I’ll make dinner?”

“Yeah, mom,” said Church. She kissed him on the head and he mock- struggled.

“Kissed you in front of your friends!” she teased as she walked off down the hall. “Nyah-nyah.”

“I'll get you for that!” he called.

Unwen started giggling madly. “She is so weird.”

“It's not funny,” said Church. “She'll say anything. Anything at all. To anyone. She has zero filter.”

“So we know where you get it from,” countered Unwen, still giggling. It was a horrendously infectious sound and Danny started to laugh, too. Then he realized Church’s mother had said something about dinner.

Dinner?

“Wait, what time is it?” asked Danny suddenly. Church looked at his phone. “Five thirty,” he said.

“Oh, shit!” Danny hissed. “Sorry, I have to go, I'm late. Again.”

“What, they beat you if you're late or something?” said Unwen, concerned.

“No,” said Danny, gathering up his things, “they just get disappointed and Miss Grace gives me a look, and after yesterday-” He stalled, realizing he hadn’t told them about yesterday. He combed his hair back with his right hand and held it, a gesture he always used when stressed.

He had to tell them, but he didn’t know how, and right now he didn’t have time to figure it out.

“They don’t want me out after dark,” he said lamely.

They helped him get his things together and walked him to the door. He told them he was starting school the next day, and Church tried to convince him to ride the bus with him.

“I think Miss Grace is driving me,” Danny explained. “Just for the first day, anyway.”

“No limo?” asked Church.

“Nope, just an old Volvo,” said Danny. Did they think he was rich? He walked out onto the patio. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“I hope you're in our homeroom,” said Unwen. “That would be awesome.”

Danny was unexpectedly touched by this statement. “Yeah, me too.” He headed for the playground, and the bridge, and the path through the woods. In the almost dark. He turned and waved as he went over the hill, and they waved back before darting back into the apartment.

Danny felt pretty safe until he got to the covered footbridge. The thing was creepy. Who's stupid idea was it, anyway, to make a bridge and then cover it and make it all shadowy and dark inside? He peered into the dusk and entered the bridge, hurrying his steps.

They sounded unnaturally loud, thunk, thunk, thunk. Stupid, thought Danny. Monsters could hear me from miles away. He tried walking more quietly.

A shadow moved away from the wall, swift and liquid, and Danny yelled incoherently, skittering sideways in an undignified fashion. The shadow was tall, hulking, hunchbacked-

“Why are you out here by yourself?” the shadow demanded.

Danny collapsed in half, holding his face in his hands. “Ezra!” He said. He started to laugh. He couldn't help it. He leaned against the wall.

“Why are you laughing?” Ezra asked.

“You scared the shit out of me,” gasped Danny. He put his hands on his knees.

“You're lucky it's just me,” said Ezra.

“I thought you were, I don't know. Werewolf. Zombie.” Danny shook his head. “Something like that.”

“Bridge troll?” said Ezra, eyebrow arched.

“Yeah,” said Danny, smiling.

“It's not funny,” said Ezra. “If they catch you out on open ground, you'll never get away.”

“I'm pretty fast,” said Danny.

“Not fast enough.”

“You might be surprised.”

“That would be nice, I'm so rarely surprised,” said Ezra.

“So what are you doing out here by yourself, then?” asked Danny.

“I'm trying to catch one,” said Ezra. “I told you that.” He shifted his backpack over his shoulder. “And I had to get some groceries. So...” He shook his long, dirty hair back from his face. “So I had to be out anyway.” His eyes darted around. “My point is, it's not smart to be out here after dark.”

Because he’s always by himself, Danny thought, an inner voice tickling his ear. He’s always alone.

“We can walk together, then,” said Danny. He started toward the far side of the bridge.

Ezra hesitated. He muttered something to himself and came striding after Danny.

“Huh?” said Danny.

“Nothing,” said Ezra. “It’s just, that…I can't not walk with you, this is the way home for me too, you know.”

They walked along in silence for several minutes, Danny glancing over at Ezra every so often. Eventually, he said, “I think the goblins ate my uncle.”

“I think the goblins ate your uncle, too,” said Ezra, surprising Danny. Ezra was pensive for a moment before saying, “I don't think it's that they eat living things so much. I think they just like to bite. Taste. I’ve noticed that it looks like they spit pieces out, especially when the victim is human.”

“That's a disturbing idea,” said Danny. “Wait, have they gotten other people too?”

“Maybe,” said Ezra. He thought of the bloody campsite, the disembodied finger. “I think they took out three hunters in the woods.”

“Are you serious?” said Danny.

“I found the campsite,” said Ezra. “That's what it looked like to me, but you never know. There are a lot of things in these woods that can kill and maim a person.”

Danny scanned the trees around them. “Great,” he said.

“The weirdest thing was-” said Ezra, but then he stopped himself.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “There's your mansion, Lord Fauntleroy.”

The lights of Gnomewood glimmered invitingly. Danny turned to Ezra. “What?” he inquired again.

Danny was starting to recognize that there was usually a long silence before Ezra said anything, so he waited patiently.

“I went back the next day with some equipment to gather samples and poke around,” he said, “but it was all gone. Everything. The camping gear, the blood. Everything.”

“Maybe you went back to the wrong place?” said Danny. Seeing the expression on Ezra's face he added, “Just sayin'.”

“No,” said Ezra, voice at absolute zero. “No one knows these woods like I do. I don’t get lost.” He looked out into the trees. “Either they cleaned up after themselves or someone else did it for them.” He looked back at Danny. “Animals don't do that. They don't clean up a crime scene.”

“No, I guess not,” said Danny, thinking. “They didn't clean up my uncle, though. Apparently, they just left him right on the lawn there.”

“I know,” said Ezra. “One of your uncle's friends found the body pretty soon after he was killed. Maybe they didn't have time to clean up.”

“Mmmm,” said Danny. “What are you going to do when you catch one?” asked Danny.

“Study it,” said Ezra. “And when I'm done, I'll let it go.”

“Let it go?” Danny said. “Why?”

“So I can track it to where the rest of them are.”

“What for?”

Ezra stared into the middle distance. “I haven't decided yet,” he said. He turned to go.

“So, can I help?” asked Danny.

Ezra turned. “Huh?” he said.

“Catch one. Remember? I want to help you catch one.”

Ezra looked at him like he was crazy. “No,” he said.

“Why not?” said Danny. “Wouldn't it be easier if there were two of us?”

“No,” said Ezra. “Why would that make it easier? I mean, what use are you gonna be?” Ezra looked frustrated. “Why would you even want to? Revenge for your uncle or something? This isn't a TV show, this is real life.”

Danny had been thinking more of Daisy the dog and the little girl who owned her with her small arm bandaged up, but sure…his uncle had thought of him, put him in his will, made picture albums for him. Danny felt like he owed him something.

“I didn't know my uncle, so whatever,” he said honestly. “I just don't like the idea of tiny monsters running around loose, and if we can do something about it, then we should. Right?”

Ezra raised a hand palm out in 'stop' position. “There's no 'we',” he said. He turned to go and called back over his shoulder, “If you don't like the idea of monsters running loose, you have come to the wrong place.”

“Yeak, well, see you tomorrow,” called Danny.

“No,” yelled Ezra. What he was saying 'no' to, Danny wasn't really sure.

“Watch out for goblins,” Danny called. Ezra threw his hands up, shoulders hunched, and stalked off down the path to the Hollow. He disappeared quickly into the trees and shrubbery.

Danny turned and ran for Gnomewood.

This time there was no group of adults waiting to pounce on him. Miss Grace arrived late as well, so she didn't give Danny a hard time about his own tardiness. She had stopped for school supplies, cluing Danny in that starting school the next day wasn’t really up to him.

Danny had been determined to bring up his uncle's demise and see what they had to say, but it was nice to have a quiet dinner with his Keepers, the discussion light and cheerful, so he decided not to screw it up. He focused instead on the comfort of the kitchen and Ali’s famous cashew chicken with rice.

He went to bed, terrified to be starting at a new school the next day. At least he knew some people already. He checked several times to make sure his clothes and backpack were prepared. He listened to music on the old Walkman, trying to think about anything but school. Eventually, he fell into a fitful sleep while watching the restless wanderings of Max the bat.

He dreamed, remembering troubling things his waking brain refused to recall. He tossed and turned, clutching at his sheets, frowning and mumbling.

The Night Voice came. It whispered in his ear, rustled his hair. He was soothed, his face relaxed. He turned over and slept peacefully. The Night Voice went about its business.

It wrote on the board carefully. This one was important.

Please see it before you go to school, it whispered. Your whole shape of your future might depend on it.