Thirteen

They couldn’t leave right away. If they missed their classes, people would come looking for them. Besides, they’d need to get supplies if they were going to get far enough away. How far that was, they didn’t know.

“We’ll meet up at Ashford House after school,” Pip declared. “It’s right on the border of town, so it’s the best place to start from. We’ll head through the woods. We just need to find somewhere to hide long enough to wait out Halloween.”

They all agreed. It seemed foolproof. Something bad was coming for Eden Eld on Halloween—so leave Eden Eld. Simple.

So Eleanor kept telling herself as she sat through the rest of her classes. So she told herself on the bus ride home, sitting next to the uncharacteristically silent Otto. At his stop he got up, then hesitated, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

“This is going to work, isn’t it?” he asked. “We’ll be safe?”

“It’ll work,” she told him. “I’m sure of it.”

Lying got so very easy after a while.

He hopped off the bus. She watched him make his way down a long gravel driveway, vanishing among the trees. She’d see him again soon, she told herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to think what might happen after that.

Jenny was napping when she got home, so she went through the kitchen cupboards, finding enough food to last a couple days and stowing it in her backpack. Warm clothes were next, and then she found herself frozen in the middle of her room, trying to think of what to bring, terrified that she’d forget the one thing that might save them.

She grabbed the book and sat down on her bed, tucking her feet under her. She turned the pages, as if an answer would jump out at her. She wished she were as brave as Jack, the hero in so many of the stories, or as clever as the girl with backward hands who went on several of his adventures with him. And then there was the hedgewitch, too, who always seemed to have a magical brew or a pair of charmed boots to save the day—and who, it had to be said, seemed to have something going on with Jack, though the stories never came out and said it.

She didn’t have a magic walking stick like Jack, or a satchel of potions like the hedgewitch, or an enchanted rose like the girl with backward hands. But there were three of them, and she and Pip and Otto made three, and maybe that was enough. Maybe they were enough.

She flipped through to the end of the book to a number of blank pages where the thirteenth story ought to have been. The first of the blank pages had smudges on it—no, the ghosts of words she still couldn’t quite read. She squinted at the title.

The Thirt—

It was all she could make out.

Clack!

Something sharp hit the window, and Eleanor jumped. Then another one hit. Clack! A rock. Being thrown from down below.

“Pip,” Eleanor said with relief, and ran to the window. Pip and Otto stood below, their bikes beside them and their backpacks stuffed full. Pip waved wildly. Eleanor waved back and held up a “wait a minute” finger. She stuffed the book in her bag and ran for the stairs.

Her path brought her past the kitchen. Jenny was up, sipping a glass of water between blowing out long, tense breaths. “Hey, Elle,” she said. “Where are you off to?”

Guilt jabbed Eleanor between her ribs. One more lie, she thought, and then she wouldn’t lie to Jenny and Ben ever again. “Just going out to explore a bit with Pip and Otto,” she said. “I’ll be back for dinner.”

“Have fun,” Jenny said, obviously distracted by the state of her belly.

Eleanor slunk away. She headed down the steps and around the side of the house, where Pip and Otto were waiting.

“There you are,” Pip said, as if she’d taken five hours and not five minutes. “Ready to go?”

Eleanor nodded.

“We’ll stow the bikes in the trees. They’re no good in the forest,” Pip said. “But it was the fastest way to get here.”

Otto shivered. Nerves, or the cold? Eleanor decided not to ask. “Do you know where we’re going?” she asked.

“Yeah, kinda,” Pip said. She pointed with her whole hand, away from the house and the road. “Out past the old orchard, the forest is super thick. I looked at some old maps, and it’s not really obvious where exactly Eden Eld stops, but we’re definitely near the edge of it now. So we shouldn’t have to go too far to get out. If we keep walking until after dark, we should be able to get a couple miles past the border. And tomorrow we can keep going. The next town is only six miles away, so we should be able to reach it tomorrow. Then we just wait until November first and call home for a ride.”

Aunt Jenny and Uncle Ben would be worried, but there was no way to avoid that. “Let’s go,” Eleanor said.

They started out across the orchard. The trees were all apple trees, but only a few scattered fruits grew, tiny and wizened, with hardly any color in their skins. Ben kept saying he was going to find out how to nurse the orchard back to health—in all his free time. Then he’d laugh, and then he’d sigh.

The branches seemed to clatter as they passed, though there wasn’t any wind. They picked up the pace, and soon they’d reached the end of the apple trees and the beginning of the pines, where the shadows stitched together into a solid tapestry of black. There they slowed, and Eleanor pretended it was because it was hard to see in the dim light and navigate the treacherous tree roots, and not that they were afraid.

The pines blocked out the sky, except for ragged, pale scraps here and there. In the dark underforest, nothing moved except the three of them, and the thick carpet of pine needles hushed their footsteps into silence.

“Straight on,” Pip muttered, but Eleanor wasn’t sure who she was talking to. “Straight on.”

Something rattled in the trees. Pip gasped and stumbled. Eleanor grabbed her hand to steady her, and they held each other and their breath, waiting for the sound to come again.

“Just wind,” Otto offered, but then it came again. Clackclackclack. Moving closer and closer.

“Run!” Pip hiss-whispered, and they bolted farther into the forest. Eleanor’s bag slapped hard against her back. Roots grabbed at her feet, and it seemed like she’d barely gone three steps before she was panting for breath through a tight, cold chest. Pip was the fastest of them, but she wouldn’t go too far ahead, bouncing nervously when she had to slow to keep pace.

Clackclackclack. Clackclackclack. A harsh croak chased after the sounds, and a gurgle almost like laughter. Eleanor dared a glance behind them. It came through the trees, huge wings made of shadow, swooping from branch to branch. Its eyes gleamed an oily yellow-orange. Clackclackclack. Clackclackclack. “Look out!” Otto yelled, and grabbed Eleanor by the shoulder, stopping her up short so hard they almost fell over together.

A dark form rose from the forest floor, eyes opening, glowing red. The graveyard dog. It growled, pacing toward them.

“This way!” Pip called, and they ran to the left. The dog barked and bounded, chasing after them.

There was no way they were faster than the dog, Eleanor thought wildly, and expected at any moment for its teeth to clamp shut around her leg. It snarled and snapped behind them, never drawing closer, but always keeping pace. And then Eleanor realized—it was herding them. Driving them back the way they had come.

Figures flapped and screeched and rattled from the shadows, forcing them to turn, and turn again, until Eleanor had no idea where they were going. The light was fading, and she couldn’t see the direction of the sun.

And then—they stumbled out. Out of the trees. They’d emerged near the road, in front of Ashford House.

“No,” Pip cried. Sickening dread shuddered through Eleanor.

A car crouched in the driveway, sleek and red as a poisoned apple. Ms. Foster stood beside the driver’s side door, her hands folded in front of her, looking right at them.

The snarling and rattling behind them fell silent. Eleanor looked back. Yellow-orange and smoldering red, the beasts’ eyes were all she could make out from the edge of the wood. But they were watching. Waiting. There was no escaping Eden Eld.

Even from this distance, she could see Ms. Foster’s brilliant smile.