Fablehaven
(Fablehaven Series, Book 1)
Brandon Mull
A Mandatory Vacation
Kendra stared out the side window of the SUV, watching
foliage blur past. When the flurry of motion
became too much, she looked up ahead and fixed her gaze
on a particular tree, following it as it slowly approached,
streaked past, and then gradually receded behind her.
Was life like that? You could look ahead to the future
or back at the past, but the present moved too quickly to
absorb. Maybe sometimes. Not today. Today they were
driving along an endless two-lane highway through the
forested hills of Connecticut.
Why didn’t you tell us Grandpa Sorenson lived in
India? Seth complained.
Her brother was eleven and heading into sixth grade.
He had grown weary of his handheld video game —- evidence
that they were on a truly epic drive.
Mom twisted to face the backseat. It won’t be much
longer. Enjoy the scenery.
I’m hungry, Seth said.
Mom started rummaging through a grocery bag full of
snack food. Peanut butter and crackers?
Seth reached forward for the crackers. Dad, driving,
asked for some Almond Roca. Last Christmas he had
decided that Almond Roca was his favorite candy and that
he should have some on hand all year long. Nearly six
months later he was still honoring his resolution.
Do you want anything, Kendra?
I’m fine.
Kendra returned her attention to the frantic parade of
trees. Her parents were leaving on a seventeen-day
Scandinavian cruise with all the aunts and uncles on her
mother’s side. They were all going for free. Not because
they’d won a contest. They were going on a cruise because
Kendra’s grandparents had asphyxiated.
Grandma and Grandpa Larsen had been visiting relatives
in South Carolina. The relatives lived in a trailer. The
trailer had some sort of malfunction involving a gas leak,
and they all died in their sleep. Long ago, Grandma and
Grandpa Larsen had specified that when they died, all their
children and their spouses were to use an allocated sum of
money to go on a Scandinavian cruise.
The grandchildren were not invited.
Won’t you get bored stuck on a boat for seventeen
days? Kendra asked.
Dad glanced at her in the rearview mirror. The food is
supposed to be incredible. Snails, fish eggs, the works.
We’re not all that thrilled about the trip, Mom said
sadly. I don’t think your grandparents envisioned an accidental
death when they made this request. But we’ll make
the best of it.
The ship stops in ports as you go, Dad said, deliberately
redirecting the conversation. You get to disembark
for part of the time.
Is this car ride going to last seventeen days? Seth
asked.
We’re nearly there, Dad said.
Do we have to stay with Grandma and Grandpa
Sorenson? asked Kendra.
It’ll be fun, Dad said. You should feel honored. They
almost never invite anyone to stay with them.
Exactly. We barely know them. They’re hermits.
Well, they were my parents, Dad said. Somehow I
survived.
The road stopped winding through forested hills as it
passed through a town. They idled at a stoplight, and
Kendra stared at an overweight woman gassing up her
minivan. The front windshield of the minivan was dirty,
but the woman seemed to have no intention of washing it.
Kendra glanced up front. The windshield of the SUV
was filthy, smeared with dead bugs, even though Dad had
squeegeed it when they last stopped to refuel. They had
driven all the way from Rochester today.
Kendra knew that Grandma and Grandpa Sorenson
had not invited them to stay. She had overheard when
Mom had approached Grandpa Sorenson about letting the
kids stay with him. It was at the funeral.
The memory of the funeral made Kendra shiver. There
was a wake beforehand, where Grandma and Grandpa
Larsen were showcased in matching caskets. Kendra did
not like seeing Grandpa Larsen wearing makeup. What
lunatic had decided that when people died you should hire
a taxidermist to fix them up for one final look? She would
much rather remember them alive than on grotesque display
in their Sunday best. The Larsens were the grandparents
who had been part of her life. They had shared
many holidays and long visits.
Kendra could hardly remember spending time with
Grandma and Grandpa Sorenson. They had inherited
some estate in Connecticut around the time her parents
were married. The Sorensons had never invited them to
visit, and rarely made the trek out to Rochester. When
they came, it was generally one or the other. They had only
come together twice. The Sorensons were nice, but their
visits had been too infrequent and brief for real bonding to
occur. Kendra knew that Grandma had taught history at
some college, and that Grandpa had traveled a lot, running
a small importing business. That was about it.
Everyone was surprised when Grandpa Sorenson
showed up at the funeral. It had been more than eighteen
months since either of the Sorensons had visited. He had
apologized that his wife could not attend because she was
feeling ill. There always seemed to be an excuse.
Sometimes Kendra wondered if they were secretly
divorced.
Toward the end of the wake, Kendra overheard Mom
cajoling Grandpa Sorenson to watch the kids. They were
in a hallway around a corner from the viewing area. Kendra
heard them talking before she reached the corner, and
paused to eavesdrop.
Why can’t they stay with Marci?
Normally they would, but Marci is coming on the
cruise.
Kendra peeked around the corner. Grandpa Sorenson
was wearing a brown jacket with patches on the elbows and
a bow tie.
Where are Marci’s kids going?
To her in-laws.
What about a baby-sitter?
Two and a half weeks is a long time for a sitter. I
remembered you had mentioned having them over sometime.
Yes, I recall. Does it have to be late June? Why not
July?
The cruise is on a time frame. What’s the difference?
Things get extra busy around then. I don’t know, Kate.
I’m out of practice with children.
Stan, I don’t want to go on this cruise. It was important
to my parents, so we’re going. I don’t mean to twist
your arm. Mom sounded on the verge of tears.
Grandpa Sorenson sighed. I suppose we could find a
place to lock them up.
Kendra moved away from the hall at that
point. She
had quietly worried about staying with Grandpa Sorenson
ever since.
Having left the town behind, the SUV climbed a steep
grade. Then the road curved around a lake and got lost
among low, forested hills. Every so often they passed a mailbox.
Sometimes a house was visible through the trees;
sometimes there was only a long driveway.
They turned onto a narrower road and kept driving.
Kendra leaned forward and checked the gas gauge. Dad,
you’re under a quarter of a tank, she said.
We’re almost there. We’ll fill up after we drop you kids
off.
Can’t we come on the cruise? Seth asked. We could
hide in the lifeboats. You could sneak us food.
You kids will have much more fun with Grandma and
Grandpa Sorenson, Mom said. Just you wait. Give it a
chance.
Here we are, Dad said.
They pulled off the road onto a gravel driveway.
Kendra could see no sign of a house, only the driveway
angling out of sight into the trees.
Tires crunching over the gravel, they passed several
signs advertising that they were on private property. Other
signs warded off trespassers. They came to a low metal gate
that hung open but could be shut to prevent access.
This is the longest driveway in the world! Seth
complained.
signs became. Private Property and No Trespassing gave way
to Beware of .12 Gauge and Trespassers Will Be Persecuted.
These signs are funny, Seth said.
More like creepy, Kendra muttered.
Rounding another bend, the driveway reached a tall,
wrought-iron fence topped with fleurs-de-lis. The double
gate stood open. The fence extended off into the trees as
far as Kendra could see in either direction. Near the fence
stood a final sign:
Certain Death Awaits.
Is Grandpa Sorenson paranoid? Kendra asked.
The signs are a joke, Dad said. He inherited this
land. I’m sure the fence came with it.
After they passed through the gate, there was still no
house in sight. Just more trees and shrubs. They drove
across a small bridge spanning a creek and climbed a shallow
slope. There the trees ended abruptly, bringing the
house into view across a vast front lawn.
The house was big, but not enormous, with lots of
gables and even a turret. After the wrought-iron gate,
Kendra had expected a castle or a mansion. Constructed
out of dark wood and stone, the house looked old but in
good repair. The grounds were more impressive. A bright
flower garden bloomed in front of the house. Manicured
hedges and a fish pond added character to the yard. Behind
the house loomed an immense brown barn, at least five stories
tall, topped by a weather vane.
I love it, Mom said. I wish we were all staying.
You’ve never been here? Kendra asked.
No. Your father came here a couple of times before we
were married.
They go the extra mile to discourage visitors, Dad
said. Me, Uncle Carl, Aunt Sophie-none of us have
spent much time here. I don’t get it. You kids are lucky.
You’ll have a blast. If nothing else, you can spend your time
playing in the pool.
They pulled to a stop outside the garage.
The front door opened and Grandpa Sorenson
emerged, followed by a tall, lanky man with large ears and
a thin, older woman. Mom, Dad, and Seth got out of the
car. Kendra sat and watched.
Grandpa had been clean-shaven at the funeral, but
now he wore a stubbly white beard. He was dressed in faded
jeans, work boots, and a flannel shirt.
Kendra studied the older woman. She was not
Grandma Sorenson. Despite her white hair streaked with a
few black strands, her face had an ageless quality. Her
almond eyes were black as coffee, and her features suggested
a hint of Asian ancestry. Short and slightly stooped,
she retained an exotic beauty.
Dad and the lanky man opened the back of the SUV
and began removing suitcases and duffel bags. You coming,
Kendra? Dad asked.
Kendra opened the door and dropped to the gravel.
Just place the things inside, Grandpa was telling Dad.
Dale will take them up to the bedroom.
Where’s Mom? Dad asked.
Visiting your Aunt Edna.
In Missouri?
Edna’s dying.
Kendra had barely ever heard of Aunt Edna, so the
news did not mean much. She looked up at the house. She
noticed that the windows had bubbly glass. Bird nests clung
under the eaves.
They all migrated to the front door. Dad and Dale carried
the larger bags. Seth held a smaller duffel bag and a
cereal box. The cereal box was his emergency kit. It was
full of odds and ends he thought would come in handy for
an adventure-rubber bands, a compass, granola bars,
coins, a squirt gun, a magnifying glass, plastic handcuffs,
string, a whistle.
This is Lena, our housekeeper, Grandpa said. The
older woman nodded and gave a little wave. Dale helps
me tend the grounds.
Aren’t you pretty? Lena said to Kendra. You must be
around fourteen. Lena had a faint accent that Kendra
could not place.
In October.
An iron knocker hung on the front door, a squinting
goblin with a ring in its mouth. The thick door had bulky
Kendra entered the house. Glossy wood floored the
entry hall. A wilting arrangement of flowers rested on a low
table in a white ceramic vase. A tall, brass coat rack stood
off to one side beside a black bench with a high, carved
back. On the wall hung a painting of a fox hunt.
Kendra could see into another room where a huge,
embroidered throw rug covered most of the wooden floor.
Like the house itself, the furnishings were antiquated but
in good repair. The couches and chairs were mostly of the
sort you would expect to see while visiting a historical site.
Dale was heading up the stairs with some of the bags.
Lena excused herself and went to another room.
Your home is beautiful, Mom gushed. I wish we had
time for a tour.
Maybe when you get back, Grandpa said.
Thanks for letting the kids stay with you, Dad said.
Our pleasure. Don’t let me keep you.
We’re on a pretty tight schedule, Dad apologized.
You kids be good and do whatever Grandpa Sorenson
tells you, Mom said. She hugged Kendra and Seth.
Kendra felt tears seeping into her eyes. She fought
them back. Have a fun cruise.
We’ll be back before you know it, Dad said, putting
an arm around Kendra and tousling Seth’s hair.
Waving, Mom and Dad walked out the door. Kendra
went to the doorway and watched them climb into the
SUV. Dad honked as they drove off. Kendra fought back
tears again as the SUV vanished into the trees.
Mom and Dad were
probably laughing, relieved to be
off by themselves for the longest vacation of their married
lives. She could practically hear their crystal goblets clinking.
And here she stood, abandoned. Kendra closed the
door. Seth, oblivious as ever, was examining the intricate
pieces of a decorative chess set.
Grandpa stood in the entry hall, watching Seth and
looking politely uncomfortable.
Leave the chess pieces alone, Kendra said. They
look expensive.
Oh, he’s all right, Grandpa said. By the way he said
it, Kendra could tell he was relieved to see Seth setting the
pieces down. Shall I show you to your room?
They followed Grandpa up the stairs and down a carpeted
hall to the foot of a narrow wooden staircase leading
up to a white door. Grandpa continued on up the creaking
steps.
We don’t often have guests, especially children,
Grandpa said over his shoulder. I think you’ll be most
comfortable in the attic.
He opened the door, and they entered after him.
Braced for cobwebs and torture devices, Kendra was
relieved to find that the attic was a cheerful playroom.
Spacious, clean, and bright, the long room had a pair of
beds, shelves crowded with children’s books, freestanding
wardrobes, tidy dressers, a unicorn rocking horse, multiple
toy chests, and a hen in a cage.
Seth went straight for the chicken. Cool! He poked
a finger through the slender bars, trying to touch the
orange-gold feathers.
Careful, Seth, Kendra warned.
He’ll be fine, Grandpa said. Goldilocks is more a
house pet than a barnyard hen. Your grandmother usually
takes care of her. I figured you kids wouldn’t mind filling in
while she’s gone. You’ll need to feed her, clean her cage,
and collect her eggs.
She lays eggs! Seth looked astonished and delighted.
An egg or two a day if you keep her well fed, Grandpa
said. He pointed to a white plastic bucket full of kernels
near the cage. A scoop in the morning and another in the
evening should take care of her. You’ll want to change the
lining of her cage every couple days, and make sure she has
plenty of water. Every morning, we give her a tiny bowl of
milk. Grandpa winked. That’s the secret behind her egg
production.
Can we ever take her out? The hen had moved close
enough for Seth to stroke her feathers with one finger.
Just put her back afterwards. Grandpa bent down to
put a finger in the cage, and Goldilocks instantly pecked at