Grip of the Shadow Plague

"Then it’s true," Coulter murmured, sounding crestfallen. "The Sphinx is our great enemy."

"And it’s my fault he escaped!" Kendra exclaimed. "I restored the power of that rod he used to teleport away!"

Grandpa shook his head. "If he had not had the rod, the Sphinx would have had other exit strategies."

"What about Mr. Lich, his bodyguard?" Seth wondered.

"Mr. Lich had not been seen for days, and has not yet resurfaced," Dougan reported.

"Now that the Sphinx has made his true allegiance known, he may hasten his plans," Grandma said. "We’ll have to be ready for anything."

"There is additional worrisome news," Grandpa prompted.

Dougan frowned. "Lost Mesa has fallen. So far as we know, only Hal and his daughter, Mara, survived."

"What happened?" Kendra gasped.

"Hal related the tale," Dougan said. "First, a young coppery dragon got free from the labyrinth inside the mesa and used lightning attacks on the main house. Then, several of the skeletons inside the museum on the property came to life and launched their own assault. An enormous dragon skeleton caused the most notable harm-most likely reanimated by a powerful viviblix. A few dozen zombies got loose as well. Like here at Fablehaven, somebody wanted to close the preserve permanently. At Lost Mesa, the plot succeeded."

"Like Vanessa told us," Kendra murmured, "when the Sphinx commits a crime, he burns down the neighborhood to cover his tracks."

"We left that dragon trapped inside the mesa," Warren said. "We locked it ourselves."

"I know," Dougan said. "Sabotage."

"Is there reason to suspect Hal or Mara?" Warren asked.

"Some suspicion must fall on the survivors of any such calamity," Dougan said. "But they made contact with us voluntarily, and their grief over Rosa and the others seemed sincere. If you ask me, the culprit remains nameless."

"Or he’s named after an Egyptian monument," Seth said bitterly.

Dougan dipped his chin. "True, the Sphinx probably masterminded the assault, but we remain uncertain who executed his orders."

"After taking what he wanted from Fablehaven and Lost Mesa, he tried to wipe out both preserves," Kendra said numbly.

"He failed here," Grandma said, "as he is destined to fail in the end."

Kendra wished the words sounded less hollow.

"We are doing what we can," Dougan said. "Keeping two pairs of eyes on Kendra and Seth through the coming months will be a major priority. Oh, Kendra, before I forget, Gavin asked me to give you this letter." He held out a gray, speckled envelope.

"Happy birthday to you!" Seth exclaimed, his voice full of implications.

Kendra tried not to blush as she tucked the envelope away.

"Dear Kendra," Seth improvised, "you’re the only girl who really gets me, you know, and I think you’re very mature for your age-"

"What about some cake?" Grandma interrupted, holding the first piece out to Kendra and glaring at Seth.

Kendra accepted the cake and sat down at the table, grateful for the opportunity to compose herself. She discovered that the cake had been prepared by brownies. Cutting into it she found creamy layers of vanilla filling, moist patches of chocolate mousse, gooey pockets of caramel, and an occasional clump of raspberry jam. Somehow the flavors never conflicted disagreeably. She could not recall a more delicious birthday cake.

Afterwards, Grandpa escorted Kendra up to the attic. She found her bags packed and ready.

"Your parents are expecting Dougan to deliver you this evening," he said. "They’ll be happy to see you. I think they were on the verge of calling the FBI."

"Okay."

"Patton said good-bye?" he asked.

"Yes," Kendra said. "He told me something important about the Journal of Secrets."

"He mentioned I was to entrust it to you. You’ll find the journal in your bags, along with a few other birthday presents. Kendra, we’re going to keep the discovery of the Chronometer a secret for now, even from Dougan, until we become more certain whom we can trust."

"I like that idea," Kendra said. She stared into Grandpa’s eyes. "I’m scared to go home."

"After all that has happened, I would think you would be more scared to stay here."

"I’m not sure I want the Knights of the Dawn looking after me. They all might be working for our enemies!"

"Either Warren, Coulter, or Tanu will always be one of your guardians. I will only allow the most trustworthy eyes to watch over you."

"I guess that makes me feel better."

Seth burst into the room, followed by Dale. "Dougan says he’s all set. Warren is coming with us. You ready, Kendra?"

She did not feel ready. After a great loss, after a difficult victory, after suffering extreme trauma, she wished she could have some time to hibernate. Not two days. Two years. Some serious time to pull herself together. Why did life always have to roll relentlessly forward? Why was every victory or defeat followed by new worries and new problems?

Adjusting to high school would be hard enough, let alone worrying about what new plots the Sphinx might be hatching and how Navarog, the demon prince, might factor into them.

Despite her uncertainties, Kendra nodded. Grandpa and Dale grabbed her luggage, and she followed them down the attic stairs. In the hallway, Coulter motioned for her to come inside his room. He shut the door behind her.

"What is it?" Kendra asked.

He held up the staff with the rattles she had brought back from Lost Mesa. "Kendra, have you any idea what this can do?"

"It seemed to make the storm worse on Painted Mesa."

He shook his head. "Magical artifacts are my specialty, but in all my years, I have encountered few that could match the power of this staff. I experimented with it yesterday. After shaking it outdoors for less than fifteen minutes, I summoned clouds into what had been a clear sky. The more I shook the rattles, the more the weather intensified."

"Wow."

"You brought home an authentic, functional rain stick from Lost Mesa."

Kendra smiled. "Gavin called it my souvenir."

"Gavin must be a very generous person. An item of this magnitude is absolutely priceless. Take good care of it."

"I will," Kendra said, accepting the staff. "Should I leave it here?"

"It’s yours; keep it with you. Who knows when it might be useful? There is plenty of trouble on the horizon."