Battle of the Beasts

Mrs Leland pointed to the far end of the stables. Eleanor saw Dr Walker lazily walking up to different horses and patting their heads. She beamed. It meant a lot to her that her dad would come and pick her up. Maybe, Eleanor thought, Mom was right! Now that we discovered what was going on, Dad will get better.

Eleanor ran to Dr Walker.

“Hi, baby,” he said. “Did you have a nice lesson?”

“Yeah! Guess what Mrs Leland told me?” Eleanor lowered her voice: “I’m gonna be in a competition.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“Yeah, I’m gonna work really hard and come back with a blue ribbon. Well, two. One for me and one for Crow.”

“I’m so proud of you.” Eleanor’s father touched her chin. “You’re really growing up.”

She turned away, blushing. “You haven’t said hi to Crow.”

“He’ll be happy to see me. I brought him a special treat.”

Dr Walker pulled out a fresh Gala apple and gave it to the black horse. Eleanor grabbed his arm—

“Dad! That’s not Crow.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—”

“You know that! That’s always been our family joke, remember? His name is Crow, but he’s a palomino!”

“Right … of course I remember.”

Dr Walker turned to the actual Crow, the palomino opposite – but now Eleanor was suspicious. Her father had met Crow before. The joke about him being a palomino was part of their family’s repertoire, like the joke about how when Brendan was a baby he would only eat rice and soy sauce. Now, looking at her dad’s face …

It looked wrong.

The skin was too loose. As if her dad were made of wax and standing too close to a hot stove.

Eleanor started to back away while Crow sniffed the apple – then nosed it aside. It hit the ground and sent up a puff of dust.

“I guess Crow doesn’t like apples—”

“Dad? What’s wrong with you? Why do you look so … so weird—”

“Weird?” Dr Walker turned towards her. “You think I look weird?”

Eleanor glanced behind her. Mrs Leland had left the stables. The door at that end was locked. When Eleanor turned back, her father was locking the door at the other end, trapping them inside. And then he started coming towards her.

“Eleanor, I want you to listen carefully,” Dr Walker said.

Eleanor backed up, terrified. The stables weren’t supposed to be completely closed. Not ever. It was dark inside; the only light shone through cracks in the wood. The horses whinnied and reared up on their hind legs – NEIGHHHHEHEHEHEHEHE!

“Daddy! What’s wrong? Stop—”

“Don’t talk, listen. Or on second thoughts” – he chuckled, a nasty gurgling sound – “watch.”

Dr Walker dug his nails into his chin. Eleanor couldn’t turn away. Even in the weak light she could see how the skin puckered around each of his fingernails, and then there was a tearing sound and Dr Walker pulled his chin off, revealing something darker underneath.

“Dad!”

Dr Walker wasn’t finished. He tore his hand into his cheek, gripping and pulling – and his cheek came off. He tossed it into some hay and grabbed his nose. That came off quickly. Then his other cheek … his ear … his scalp – he wrenched his whole face off as if it were a cheap mask of Silly Putty.

And now … the man’s real face was visible.

The Storm King’s face.

Eleanor screamed. The horses screamed with her.

Denver Kristoff was staring right at her with his orange eyes and his purple, pitted, deformed skin. The flaps that served as his nose wheezed up and down.

Eleanor dropped to her knees. Little pieces of hay poked into her. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Kill you?” Denver Kristoff said. “After all you’ve been through … you still fear death? Trust me. There are worse things.”

He curled his mouth into a smile – or a Denver Kristoff smile, with one end of the mouth turned up, the other down. “I won’t kill you, as long as you answer one very important question.”

“What’s that?”

“Where is your sister?”

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Brendan and Will hustled towards 624 Taylor Street, in downtown San Francisco. The landmark building, known as the Bohemian Club, had a huge guard in front of it, with a shaved head and big rings on each finger.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” said Brendan.

“It is if Cordelia’s inside,” said Will. The building was made of limestone and brick, occupying a whole city block. Carved in the facade above the door were an owl and an inscription: WEAVING SPIDERS COME NOT HERE.

“How did you know that was there?” asked Will.

“I know a lot about old San Francisco buildings,” Brendan said. “When Cordelia and I were little, we used to walk by this place and try to spot all the owls on the walls. And when we learned on our last adventure that this is where Denver Kristoff was trained by the Lorekeepers … I’ve been keeping a close eye on it ever since. Let’s look for a secret entrance.”

“What makes you think there is one?”

“US presidents were members of this club. They’d never go through the front door.”

“Can I help you?”

The guard approached. Up close, he was as big as two people stapled together.

“I noticed you lookin’ at the building,” he said. “You wanna walk away, or you wanna get free handicapped passes for life?”

“Free handicapped passes for life?!” Brendan shouted. “That means I don’t have to wait in line for roller coasters! That’s awesome … so what do I have to do?”