Grandma stopped whispering and hurried them along the path. Sorry if I have been antisocial since leaving Nero, she said after they had walked in silence for a couple of minutes. I needed to devise a plan. You kids really did an exceptional job back there. Nobody should have to spend an afternoon rubbing a troll's feet. Seth was heroic on the logs, and Kendra did some well-timed bluffing during the negotiations. You both surpassed my expectations.

I never knew you were a masseuse, Kendra said.

I learned from Lena. She has collected expert instruction from around the globe. If you ever get a chance to receive a massage from her, don't turn it down. Grandma tucked some errant strands of hair behind her ear. She became distant again for a moment, pursing her lips and staring remotely as she walked. I have a few questions for you two, things we can talk about in the open. Have you met a man named Warren?

Warren? Seth repeated.

Handsome and quiet? White hair and skin? Dale's brother.

No, Kendra said.

They might have brought him to the house on Midsummer Eve, Grandma prodded.

We were with Grandpa, Dale, and Lena until after sundown, but never saw anybody else, Seth said.

I never even heard him mentioned, Kendra added.

Me neither, Seth agreed.

Grandma nodded. He must have stayed at the cabin.

Have you met Hugo?

Yeah! Seth said. He's awesome. I wonder where he went?

Grandma gave Seth a measuring glance. I trust he has been attending to his chores in the barn.

I don't think so, Kendra said. We had to milk the cow yesterday.

You milked Viola? Grandma said, plainly astonished.

How?

Kendra described how they had set up the ladders and slid down her teats. Seth added details about how milky they had gotten.

Resourceful children! Grandma said. Stan had told you nothing about her?

We found her because she was mooing so loud, Seth said. She was shaking the whole barn.

It looked like her udder was going to explode, Kendra said.

Viola is our milch cow, Grandma said. Every preserve has such an animal, though not all are bovine. She is older than this preserve, which was founded in 1711. At that time, she was brought over from Europe by ship. Born from a milch cow on a preserve in the Pyrenees Mountains, she was about 100 years old when she made the voyage, and was already larger than an elephant. She has been here ever since, gradually gaining size each year.

Looks like she's about to outgrow the barn, Seth said.

Her growth has slowed over the years, but yes, she may one day become too colossal for her current confines.

She provides the milk the fairies drink, Kendra said.

More than the fairies drink it. Her ancient breed is nourished and worshipped by all creatures of fairydom.

They place daily enchantments on her food and make secret offerings to honor and strengthen her. In return, her milk functions as an ambrosia central to their survival. It is no wonder that cows are still considered sacred in certain parts of the world.

She must make tons of dung, Seth said.

Another blessing. Her manure is the finest fertilizer in the world, coaxing plants to mature much more quickly than usual and sometimes to reach incredible proportions.

By the power of her dung we can reap multiple harvests from a field in a season, and many tropical plants flourish on this property that would otherwise perish. Did you kids happen to put milk out for the fairies?

No, Seth said. We spilled it all down the drain. We were mainly trying to calm down the cow.

No matter. The absence of milk might make the fairies a little ornery, but they'll get over it. We'll see they get some tomorrow at the latest.

So normally Hugo milks Viola, Kendra surmised.

Correct. It is a standing order, so there must be a reason he has not carried it out during the past couple of days.

You have not seen him since Midsummer Eve?

No.

He was probably assigned to watch over Warren and the cabin until summoned. He should come if we call.

Could something have happened to him? Seth asked.

A golem may seem like little more than animated matter granted elementary intelligence, but most creatures on this preserve fear Hugo. Few could harm him if they tried. He will be our chief ally in rescuing your grandfather.

What about Warren? Kendra asked. Will he help too?

Chapter Twenty-One

Grandma frowned. You have not met him because his mind has been ruined. Dale has remained on this preserve mainly in order to care for him. Warren is lost in a catatonic stupor. Fablehaven has many stories. His is another tragic tale of a mortal venturing where he did not belong.

Warren will be no help to us.

Anybody else? Seth asked. Like the satyrs?

Satyrs? Grandma exclaimed. When have you met satyrs? I may have some choice words for your grandfather when we find him.

We met them by accident in the woods, Kendra assured her. We were taking stew from what looked like a well, and they warned us that we were actually stealing from an ogress.

Those rogues were protecting their underhanded operation more than you, Grandma huffed. They have been pilfering her stew for years. The scoundrels didn't want to have to rebuild their thieving device-probably sounded too much like work. Satyrs live for frivolity. The ultimate fair-weather friends. Your grandfather and I share a mutual respect with various beings on this preserve, but there is not much more loyalty than one would find out in the wild. The herd looks on as the sick or injured are brought down by predators. If your grandfather is to be rescued on such short notice, it will be our doing, with none but Hugo to aid us.  * It was late afternoon when they reached the yard.

Grandma stood with her hands on her hips, taking in the scene. The ruined tree house. The damaged furniture strewn about the garden. The gaping, glassless windows.

I'm afraid to go inside, she muttered.

You don't remember how bad it is? Kendra asked.

She was a chicken, remember? Seth said. We ate her eggs.

Creases appeared on Grandma's brow. It feels like such a betrayal to have your home violated, she said softly. I know sinister evils lurk in the woods, but they have never crossed that boundary.

Kendra and Seth followed Grandma across the yard and up the porch steps. Grandma stooped and picked up a copper triangle, attaching it to a hook hanging from a nail.

Kendra remembered noticing the triangle dangling among the wind chimes. A short copper rod was linked to the triangle by a chain of beads. Grandma clanged the rod noisily around the inside of the triangle.

That should bring Hugo, Grandma explained. She crossed the porch and paused in the doorway, staring into her home. It looks like we were bombed, she murmured.

Such senseless vandalism!

She roamed the gutted house in a somber daze, occasionally pausing to pick up a damaged frame and examine the torn photograph inside or to run her hand along the remnants of a beloved piece of furniture. Grandma climbed the stairs and went to her room. Kendra and Seth watched her rummage through the closet, finally withdrawing a metal lunch box.

At least this is intact, Grandma said.

Hungry? Seth asked.

Kendra slapped him on the shoulder with the back of her hand. What is it, Grandma?

Follow me.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Grandma opened the lunch box. She removed a handful of photographs. Help me lay these out.

The photos were of the house. Each room was shown from several angles. The exterior was also displayed from multiple perspectives. In total there were more than a hundred pictures. Grandma and the children began spreading them across the kitchen floor.

We took these pictures in case the unthinkable ever occurred, Grandma said.

Kendra suddenly made the connection. For the brownies?

Clever girl, said Grandma. I'm not sure whether they will be up to the challenge, considering the extent of the damage, but they have worked miracles in the past. I'm sorry this calamity befell us during your stay.

You shouldn't be, Seth said. It happened because of me.

You mustn't assume all the blame, Grandma insisted.

What else can we do? Kendra said We caused it.

Kendra didn't do anything, Seth said. She tried to stop me. The whole thing is my fault.

Grandma regarded Seth pensively. You did not mean to harm Grandpa. Yes, you made him vulnerable through your disobedience. As I understand, you were commanded not to look out the window. Had you heeded the order, you would not have been tempted to open the window, and your grandfather would not have been taken. You must face that fact, and learn from it.

But the full blame for Stan's predicament is considerably more guilt than you deserve. Your grandfather and I are the caretakers of this estate. We are responsible for the actions of those we bring here, especially children. Stan allowed you to come here to do your parents a favor, but also because we need to start selectively sharing this secret with our posterity. We will not be around forever.

The secret was shared with us, and a day came when the responsibility of this enchanted refuge fell on our shoulders.

One day we will have to pass the responsibility on to others.

She took Seth and Kendra by the hands and fixed them with a loving gaze. I know the mistakes you made were not deliberate or malicious. Your grandfather and I have made plenty of mistakes ourselves. So have all the people who ever lived here, no matter how wise or cautious.

Your grandfather must share the blame for placing you children in a situation where opening a window with kind intentions could cause such harm and destruction.

And clearly the fiends who abducted him are ultimately the most culpable.

Kendra and Seth were silent. Seth scrunched up his face. If it wasn't for me, Grandpa would be fine right now, he said, fighting hard not to cry.

And I would still be a chicken in a cage, Grandma said. Let's worry about fixing the problem instead of the blame. Don't despair. I know we can set things right. Take me to Dale.

Seth nodded, sniffing and rubbing his forearm across his nose. He led the way across the back porch, weaving through the garden toward their destination.

There really aren't many fairies, Grandma said. I've  never seen the yard so devoid of life.

There haven't been many around ever since they attacked Seth, Kendra said. Since Grandpa vanished there have been even fewer.

When they stood over the painted, life-size metal statue of Dale, Grandma shook her head. I've never seen this particular enchantment, but that's certainly Dale.

Can you help him? Kendra asked.

Perhaps, given sufficient time. Part of counteracting an enchantment is understanding who placed it, and how.

We found tracks, Seth said. He showed Grandma the print in the flowerbed. Although the impression had faded a bit, it remained recognizable.

Grandma frowned. It doesn't look familiar. Many creatures run wild on festival nights that we otherwise never encounter-which is why we take cover indoors. The print may not even be a relevant clue. It could belong to the perpetrator, or to the mount the perpetrator rode, or it could belong to something that just happened to step there sometime during the night.

So we just ignore Dale for now? Kendra asked.

We have no alternative. Time is short. We can only hope that by rescuing your grandfather, we can shed more light on what caused Dale's condition and find a way to reverse the curse. Come.

They returned to the house. Grandma spoke over her shoulder as they mounted the stairs to the second floor.

There are a few special strongholds within the house. One is the room where you have been staying. Another is a second room on the other side of the attic.

I knew it! Kendra said. I could tell from outside there had to be more to the attic. But I could never find a way in.

You were probably searching in the wrong place, Grandma said, leading them down the hall to her room.

The two sides of the attic are not interconnected. When we get up there, I'll fill you in on my strategy. Grandma crouched and picked through a broken nightstand. She found a few hairpins and used them to pile her hair into a matronly bun. Searching more, she located a key. She led them into the master bathroom, where she used the key to unlock a closet door.

Instead of a closet, the door opened to reveal a second door, this one made of steel with a large combination wheel. A vault door. Grandma began spinning the wheel.

Four turns right to 11, three left to 28, two right to 3, one left to 31, and half a turn right to 18.

She pulled a lever, and the heavy door clacked open.

Carpeted stairs led up to another door. Grandma went up first. Seth and Kendra joined her in the attic.

This side of the attic was even larger than the playroom.

Grandma flipped a switch, and several lights dispelled the dimness. A long workbench dominated one side of the room, the wall above it covered with tools supported on pegs. Handsome wooden cabinets lined the other walls.

Various unusual objects littered the room-a birdcage, a phonograph, a battle-ax, a hanging scale, a mannequin, a globe the size of a beach ball. Trunks and boxes were arranged in rows on the floor, leaving just enough aisle space to access them. Heavy curtains concealed the windows.

Grandma motioned them over to the workbench, where they perched on stools. What's in all the boxes?

Seth asked.

Many things, most of them unsafe. This is where we guard our most prized weapons and talismans. Spell books, ingredients for potions, all the good stuff.

You can tell us more about Grandpa now? Kendra said.

Yes. You heard Nero say that Stan and Lena are being held in the Forgotten Chapel. Let me summarize some history to bring the ramifications into view.

Long ago, this land was possessed by a powerful demon named Bahumat. For centuries, he terrorized the natives who dwelt in the region. They learned to avoid certain areas, yet even with these precautions, nowhere in the vicinity was truly safe. The natives made whatever offerings the demon seemed to require, but still they lived in fear. When a group of Europeans offered to overthrow the demon in exchange for a claim to the lands it haunted, the incredulous local leaders consented.

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