Two

Two lithe dogs with pointed muzzles stood near the edge of the pine forest that surrounded the town of Eden Eld. One of them was bone white with long, silky fur. The other was pitch-black, with short fur that made it look like a silhouette against the forest. They sniffed the air, eyes fixed on Jack, Wander, and Eleanor.

Wander finished sewing up the air and snipped the end of the thread with a pair of tiny silver scissors. “There we go,” she said loudly, as if to the hounds. “No damage done.”

The two hounds paced forward, one going left and the other right to make a wide circle around the three humans. The black one bared gleaming teeth. The white one growled deep in its chest.

“You aren’t welcome on our roads,” the white one said, in an echoing voice. It was feminine, with a ragged, toothy edge.

“They aren’t for you to travel,” the black one added, her voice lower. It sounded like it was coming from a dark cavern far underground. They paused at exactly the same moment, one paw raised, ears pricked forward. Their eyes were white blazes of light. Jack stepped back so that he was right next to Eleanor, his arm out as if to shield her.

“Rag-a-bone, Shatterblack, I go where I will and I do not answer to you or your mistress,” Wander said. She flicked her hand. The shimmering shards around her surged toward the dark-furred dog—Shatterblack—who leaped back as if afraid to be touched.

“Eleanor, stay behind me,” Jack said.

The hounds surged forward before the last word left his lips. They arced through the air.

“Run!” Jack yelled to Eleanor.

Eleanor wanted to fight, but she didn’t have special abilities or weapons or even an ounce of athletic talent that might make a difference. So she ran, dashing back toward the house. She could find something inside to help. She could—

Something slammed into her back, taking her down to the ground. Rag-a-bone, teeth snapping. Eleanor screamed and twisted onto her back, throwing her hands up to protect herself.

The moonlight thread she still held whipped up, smacking Rag-a-bone across her long muzzle. There was a pop and a sizzle. Rag-a-bone howled. Then Jack was there, grabbing hold of Rag-a-bone’s scruff and tossing her away. She scrambled to her feet growling, but Eleanor whipped the end of the moonlight thread toward her again and she dodged back with a snarl.

Wander’s glittering stars seethed around Eleanor and Jack, a threatening cloud, and Wander herself strode into view with a thread of moonlight snapping like a whip in her hand. “The way is mended. Go back to your mistress and bother us no more,” she said.

They looked at each other. “Stay out of the Wending ways,” Shatterblack growled.

“We would hate to have to hunt you,” Rag-a-bone added, tilting her muzzle so her teeth glinted in the moonlight.

“No, we wouldn’t,” Shatterblack said, sounding puzzled. “We would enjoy it very much.”

Rag-a-bone gave the other hound a withering look, then flicked her tail and streaked away into the night. Shatterblack was quick on her heels—and then both were gone.

“What has gotten into them?” Wander mused. She was panting a little, and long strands of hair hung loose around her face. The gleaming motes around her danced in quick, jerky movements. Some of them had turned crimson, and without thinking Eleanor put her hand out curiously to touch one. It bounced off the tip of her middle finger. Eleanor yelped and snatched her hand back; a tiny drop of blood welled where it had touched her.

“They’re glass?” she said. What she’d taken for magical little stars, she saw, were fragments of shattered glass. Wander flicked her hand, and the cloud rose into the air above her.

“My apologies. I should have warned you not to touch them,” Wander said, getting her breath back. “Now. What were we talking about?”

“How about the talking dogs that tried to eat us?” Eleanor suggested.

“Umbral hounds,” Jack said, sounding troubled. “They’re crossroads guardians. They’re not normally aggressive unless you’ve done something to damage the paths between worlds.”

“They have a new mistress. They’ve been cranky,” Wander said dismissively. “They won’t bother us again tonight, I think.”

“I would still feel better if we were safely inside,” Jack said.

Wander arched an eyebrow. “The umbral hounds don’t stop for doors and locks, old friend.”

“Bartimaeus Ashford built this house. Even you couldn’t get through the protections he put on it without being invited,” Jack replied, and Wander eyed the house with new interest.

“Well, then. Shall we?” Wander said. She drifted inside, her glass motes following.

Eleanor started to follow, but Jack caught her arm.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice gruff with concern.

“Just some dirt and a bruise or two,” she assured him. She’d spent so much time fantasizing about having her dad in her life. Now she had him, and she didn’t know how to feel. Eleanor was cursed and probably doomed. He was just one more person she was inevitably going to lose.

She followed Wander’s faintly glowing footsteps through the house, into the Great Room, and up the stairs hidden at the back of the fireplace. At the top of the stairs was a seemingly solid wall that concealed a secret door. Eleanor pushed it open and entered, Jack right behind her.

The room beyond was long—far too long to have actually fit into the space between the fireplace and the rest of the house—and filled with shelves and display cases containing strange and magical objects collected by Bartimaeus Ashford, the man who’d built the house. Wander had bent over one of the display cases and was examining a deck of fortune-telling cards.

“Wander?” Eleanor said. Wander straightened up with a little distracted hmm and looked back at her, blinking.

“What is it, dear?” Wander asked.

“Wasn’t there something you wanted to tell me? I mean, before the hounds attacked us.”

“Quite possibly,” Wander agreed, nodding. Jack sighed. It was a sigh that suggested this was not at all unusual for Wander. “We should gather your friends, and I will tell you all at once,” Wander continued. “The warrior, and the clever one who speaks very quickly?”

“Otto,” Eleanor said. “The thing is, it’s already after nine, and tomorrow is a school day, so there’s no way their parents are going to let them go out right now.”

“That is no obstacle, so long as you grant me permission,” Wander said.

“Permission?” Eleanor echoed, and then remembered what Jack had said about the house’s protections. “Sure, you have permission to do . . . whatever you’re doing.”

“Wonderful,” Wander said. She rose and raised her hands, pressing her fingertips together, and then swept them outward. Two shimmering vertical lines appeared to either side of her. Then they split, parting like curtains. Beyond them lay two very familiar bedrooms.

Pip was lying on her bed, watching a video on her phone. She sat up abruptly when she spotted Wander, and suddenly Gloaming—the magical sword she’d inherited from Jack—appeared in her hand. Pip had pale skin, a glorious set of freckles, and red hair that had gotten particularly fiery since the Prime Story had chosen her. She’d gotten taller, too, and more muscular. Her eyes were a pure, flat gray: the surest sign that the Prime Story had taken hold.

Through the opposite wall, Otto looked up from his desk, which was stacked high with school textbooks and leather-bound tomes of magic, and gaped. His tight curls were sticking out around his headphones. He had warm brown skin and rich brown eyes—but as the light flashed across those eyes, Eleanor thought for a moment they might be gray instead.

No. She had to be wrong about that. He couldn’t be a Story, too.

“Please. Join us,” Wander said, beckoning to them.

Otto cautiously removed his headphones. Pip slid off the bed and walked to what must have been the wall of her bedroom, right on the other side of the shimmering portal. She eyed it suspiciously. “How are you doing this?” she asked.

“I am the world-walker. I can always find my friends,” Wander said.

“Are we friends?” Otto asked, creeping forward.

“I should hope so,” Wander replied.

“She just wants to talk to us,” Eleanor added, staring in wonder between the two portals. Jack was good at swinging a sword and stuff, and the hedgewitch had helped them out with a magical ritual this past spring, but this was incredible.

Pip was the first to step forward. “You should text first next time. You’re lucky I’m wearing pants,” she noted casually as she passed through the portal.

Otto took his time, like he wanted to savor the experience, sticking his fingers through first and giving them a good wiggle before holding his breath and easing his way across. The bright edges of the portals collapsed behind the two of them, leaving only the solid walls of the storeroom once more. Otto whistled, impressed.

“Is this about that thing you mentioned when you got here?” Pip asked, straight to business. “The Wending?”

“Indeed. The Wending,” Wander said with a dramatic pause, “is open.”

“Okay,” Pip said, her impatience putting brambles in her words. “But what is the Wending?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Wander said. They all shook their heads. “The Wending is how Mr. January’s sister is planning to capture you.”