CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE RAID

But Jack isn’t smiling. “Carabosse was a traitor, Zera. It all began with her. She was the one who cursed the kingdom and started the war. We wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for her. She’s an evil fairy, and I’m glad she’s gone.”

“I know your pain, Jack,” says Zera. “It is mine, too.”

Filomena glances over at Jack, who is brooding as he picks up his cup. “What happened?” she whispers.

“My whole family was killed. I’m the only one left. I saw my brother burning in front of me when the ogres attacked our village,” says Jack, his jaw clenched.

Even Alistair is silent. Filomena remembers a scene from the first book—when ogres set fire to a mountain village high up in the clouds. Only a young boy survived, and he grew up to be a great hero. Jack Stalker was just a character in the book to her back then, but now he is as real as the misery on his face.

At last Zera speaks. “And I? Is your pain greater than mine? My sisters slain and scattered? My husband murdered? Our kingdom burnt to ashes?”

Jack shakes his head, and there are tears glistening in his eyes. “You are right. I am sorry,” he tells her.

Zera lays a hand on his arm, like an older sister. “The ogres started this war long ago. We will fight them together and rid this land of their evil.”

Then she continues to page through the book. “You say there are twelve of these?”

“Yes,” says Filomena. Something occurs to her that she’s never noticed before. “This book is dedicated to you.” She flips to the front matter and there it is: For Z, don’t stop dreaming. “All twelve of the books are dedicated to each of you, her sisters,” she adds, knowing with absolute certainty that if they went back and revisited all the other books, they would see a similar dedication in each. For R, whom I miss dearly … For A, who lights up the room … For C, who banishes gloom …

“We never knew what happened to her,” says Zera. “After the christening. After the chaos that ensued, she disappeared. We never saw her again or knew where she went.”

“She cursed the kingdom and fled. Sounds pretty evil to me,” Alistair mutters.

“But why did she write these?” Jack wants to know. “For mortals, no less.”

“You heard Z—she’s a writer,” says Alistair matter-of-factly.

“She never wrote the thirteenth book,” says Filomena. “It was supposed to come out. But she disappeared in my world, too.”

“Yet she has not reappeared here,” says Zera. “I wish she would. We need all the help we can get.”

“You truly believe she isn’t in league with the ogres? You know as well as I that some say she is Olga herself,” says Jack, leaning so far back in his seat that his chair teeters on its back legs and it looks like he’ll fall. But he’s Jack Stalker, and he’s perfectly balanced, of course.

“I don’t believe it for a moment. That ogre is not my sister! Carabosse was one of us. She would never throw her lot in with our enemies,” says Zera. “Like I said, there had to be reason for what she did that day.” She tenderly strokes the author photo. “I miss her so.”

Filomena is wondering if supper will ever be served, when Jack suddenly kicks his chair back into place. “The Seeing Eye!” he says, removing it from his pocket, where it’s vibrating and giving off sparks.

Zera’s is doing the same, and they both look into their instruments.

“Oh no!” says Zera.

Jack leaps to his feet. The vines circling his arms tense up.

“What’s going on?” asks Filomena. Alistair looks alarmed.

“It’s sunset,” says Jack. “The ogres are on the border again. This time they’re hacking through our defenses with some kind of vine cutter I’ve never seen before. They’re going to break through! They’ll be here soon!”

“We have to warn the others!” says Zera.

“There’s no way we can warn everyone in time,” says Jack tightly. “Even if we went house to house.”

“If only we could raise an alarm somehow!” Zera clasps her hands in despair.

Raise an alarm? Let everyone in the immediate vicinity know that they’re in danger? Filomena ransacks her backpack and comes up with it. “My emergency whistle!” she says. “Mum said it could wake up all of Los Angeles. It’s the latest design. It’s not just a whistle but some kind of megaphone recording, too.”

“Can you use it?” asks Zera.

“Of course.”

“Go!” says Zera. “Hurry!”

Filomena walks to the open window and puts the whistle to her lips. Then she turns back to them. “You guys should cover your ears.”

She blows into the whistle, which lets out an ear-piercing, sound-barrier-destroying shriek, and when she presses a button, a deep robotic voice announces, “EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY! TAKE SHELTER! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!”

“We are indeed lucky to have you,” Zera says. Then she closes the curtains and curses vehemently. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” says Alistair. “I learned some new curses while we were away. I can share them with you.”

But this isn’t the time for jokes. Outside, the creatures and citizens of Vineland are running into their cottages, dens, sheds, and anywhere else they can find shelter, tripping over and running into one another as they frantically scurry for safety. Filomena sees the White Rabbit almost drop his timepiece, and Goldilocks is hoofing it back to her own cottage.

“We need to prepare for battle,” says Zera. “Follow me!”

She rushes out of the room and into her bedroom, where she bends down and picks up a floorboard that didn’t look loose, and then another. She trades each of their places with the other. Then she makes quick work of moving around floorboards, rearranging them in an intricate pattern that Filomena can’t quite follow with her eyes or memory. Even in her haste, Zera is graceful and elegant, as if she’s done this a thousand times. Filomena fears that she has.

“I keep my weapons here,” says Zera.

Filomena feels a shudder in her bones as the realization hits her deeper this time. They are all truly in danger. What started out as awe-inspiring and a whole lot of fun has suddenly taken a dark and unpredictable turn. The panicked screams coming from outside the cottage remind her just how real this all is.

And then, a familiar sound. One she never wanted to hear again. Only this time, she’s not imagining it. The cackling begins. The wicked laughter, the hysteria. The shrill and satisfied screeching.

The battle has begun.