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  “I have plenty to say to you. Just nothing fit to be overheard.”

  “What, you mean Arlo? Don’t mind him. He isn’t quite all there. He’s been rather a disappointment to me. Now, do you know why I’m here?”

  “I believe you’re here to kidnap me. Is that right?”

  The man laughed softly. “Kidnap is a rather harsh term. It will do admirably.”

  “Then get to it, won’t you?”

  “If you insist. Arlo, bind her hands. Tightly. Don’t be gentle.”

  George, eyes wide with horror, watched as Henrietta was yanked to her feet and her hands pulled back to be tied.

  Henrietta mouthed a single word to George in the mirror: “Left.”

  George nodded, barely a tuck of her quivering chin.

  Henrietta flinched ever so slightly as she was jerked backward and dragged cruelly from the room, down the stairs, out the front door, and away from Snaffleharp Lane.

  * * *

  George was stiff and sore when she finally got the courage to leave her hiding place. She crept silently down the stairs, Toad in one hand and her backpack in the other. She checked the kitchen, dining room, and finally the parlor, but it was true. Henrietta was gone.

  George sank onto the sofa and stared blankly at the wall for a very long time. When her eyes finally came into focus, she saw she was staring at Constantine’s portrait over the fireplace.

  “Uncle Constantine,” she whispered. “This can’t be real. What do I do?”

  The portrait didn’t reply.

  “I should have done something to help Aunt Henrietta. Now I’ve lost her, just like Daniel. Those horrible men have her, and I don’t know what to do. There’s no phone, so I can’t call my parents. It’s just me and the ducks. You would know what to do, Uncle Constantine, but I don’t know where you are.”

  She pulled her knees up to her chin and rested her forehead on them. She stayed like that until her neck ached. Then she looked back up at Constantine. She jumped to her feet and pulled out the crinkled note. “Aunt Henrietta said the Eldest of the Els might lead me to you.”

  She stood indecisively for a moment and then straightened her shoulders. “I suppose there’s only one thing I can do.”

  George tucked Toad under her arm. “Three for Toad.” She shrugged on her backpack “Four for backpack.” Then she put the note in her pocket and walked out the front door.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  When George reached the end of the driveway, she turned left. She walked for a very long time before the road stopped being a road. A well-trodden path took over, leading to an open meadow on the right and disappearing into an overgrown forest on the left. She hesitated, but remembering Henrietta’s final word of advice, she turned left again and reached the shelter of the woods just as fat raindrops started plopping onto the path behind her. The light was dim, and moss hung from the branches of towering redwoods. Crickets chirped behind boulders as big as cottages, and the scents of pine and damp earth permeated the air.

  Gradually the trees began to thin. A rusty iron fence cropped up along the left side of the road. Behind the fence were grave markers and faded plastic flowers.

  George stiffened her resolve and continued. She rounded a bend and came to an abrupt stop. Her mouth dropped open in dismay, and she wiped sweaty palms on the front of her dress.

  An ominous black gate cut directly across the path, and the fence lay on either side of it. The only way to go on was to cut through the cemetery.

  George took a deep breath and hitched up her backpack. “It’s okay. I can do this. Dead people aren’t so bad. They’re perfectly lovely, in my experience. Of course, I’ve only ever met one of them, but it’s living people I need to watch out for. A dead person never kidnapped my aunt Henrietta.”

  After a moment of misgiving, she stepped up to the gate and pushed gently on the cold metal. When it didn’t budge, she gave it a firm shove, and it swung forward soundlessly.

  “There must be a groundskeeper,” she said, looking around at the orderly monuments and manicured lawns. “Either that, or very handy corpses.… Oh, don’t try to be funny, George. You’re not funny.”

  She pressed bravely on as the sun sank behind the hills. She was humming nervously to herself when a rhythmic scraping drifted by on the light breeze.

  George rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Great. Hearing something in a cemetery. How original.” She peered through the hazy twilight in the direction of the noise and saw a shadowed building. Two lights flickered on. Could the Eldest of the Els live in a place like this? She crept silently forward. The lights grew brighter, and George saw that it was an enormous mausoleum.

  Two lanterns were sitting beside a freshly dug grave. George ducked behind a tombstone as a shovelful of dirt was thrown out of the hole.

  “Watch it!” a boy’s voice grumbled. “You got dirt down my collar.”

  An older boy’s voice came from inside the ground. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking.”

  George’s brow shot up at the sound of kids’ voices. She decided to play it safe, though, and wait a few minutes to be certain she wasn’t witnessing a grave robbery. She was glad she did, because the head that popped out of the pit a second later didn’t look at all like it belonged to a young boy, for it had hair as silver as a new dime.

  “Hey, Mikal, where’d you go?” he asked. “You’re awful quiet. Come give me a hand.” He threw the shovel out of the hole and watched it land with a clang next to the lanterns.

  “I’m here, Caleb.” A dark-haired boy appeared from behind the pile of dirt. He looked to be no older than eight and was wearing a tattered, oversized coat. “I was grabbing our dinner before the rats did.” He dropped a large basket to the ground. He bent over and grasped his friend’s hand, then leaned backward, straining to help him up.

  The friend sprang out of the hole, sending the small boy tumbling back to the grass.

  George shifted against the tombstone to get a better look at the silver-haired person’s face. She sagged with relief when she saw that, although he was tall and lanky, he was clearly around her age and not a man after all.

  The small boy frowned from where he sat sprawled in the dirt as the tall boy chuckled and offered him a hand. “Sorry. You okay?”

  “Fine,” the small one said, dusting off his bottom.

  Then, with a sharp crack, the aged cement George had been leaning against crumbled away. She squeaked with alarm as she lurched to the ground, landing right before the strangers.

  * * *

  The two boys were shocked speechless as the redheaded demon tumbled out of the dark.

  The taller boy put one arm protectively in front of the smaller boy as he bent to retrieve the lantern. He held it up to see George more clearly, and then he grinned and tilted his head, causing his silver hair to shimmer in the light. “Check it out, Mikal. We’ve got a live one here. We had better catch it and put it back in the ground.”

  George jumped to her feet, trying to maintain as much dignity as possible.

  “A quiet one too,” the small boy said, his eyes glittering. “Are you sure it’s alive?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m alive,” George said as she straightened her dress.

  “Well, that’s a relief!” the tall boy said.

  “I’m not so sure,” the small boy said. He peeked out from behind the tall boy. “Who is she, and what’s she doing here? Living people aren’t supposed to be here.”

  “Hmm. You’re right, Mikal,” the tall boy said.

  “But you’re here,” George said.

  “Hmm. She’s right, Mikal,” the tall boy said with a crooked smile.

  Mikal scowled ferociously and moved closer to his friend.

  “Speaking of that,” George said, swallowing hard, “what exactly are two boys doing in a cemetery alone at night? You are alone, right?” She threw a nervous glance over her shoulder.

  “We live here, and except for you, we are totally alone,” the tall b
oy said.

  “Caleb! You shouldn’t tell her that,” the small boy said urgently. “She may be a bad guy!”

  “I don’t think she’s a bad guy.” Caleb looked George up and down. “You’re not, right?”

  George shook her head so quickly her hair flew back and forth. “I’m not. Are you?”

  Caleb shook his head too, but Mikal just glowered at George. Caleb nudged him playfully with an elbow, and he jumped nearly out of his skin. “Don’t mind Mikal. He just really doesn’t like strangers.”

  George took a moment to inspect them both. The small boy, Mikal, was wearing a hand-me-down white dress shirt. Bright red suspenders held up faded black pants. His eyes were dark as coal, like his slicked-back hair, and his narrow face was suspicious.

  Caleb, the tall boy, was wearing clothes that perfectly matched Mikal’s, except for yellow suspenders. His eyes were gray and sparkled with good humor in a pleasantly plain face. The only remarkable thing about him was that odd hair: shaggy, almost touching his collar, and the color of moonlight.

  “I’m not fond of strangers myself,” George said, fidgeting with the ends of her scarf.

  Caleb nodded. “Yeah, we haven’t had good experiences with them. But my name is Caleb, just Caleb. And that’s Mikal … What’s your last name again, Mikal?”

  Mikal frowned at Caleb. “We’ve discussed this before, but since you can’t seem to remember…” He turned to George, and though he still glared with mistrust, there was pride in his voice as he said, “I am Mikal Stanopolistravinsky, also known as the Soaring Penguin.” With a flourish, he bowed low at the waist. Then he ducked behind Caleb.

  George blinked at the mouthful of syllables.

  Caleb grinned at Mikal approvingly, then turned back to George. “Now tell us who you are, and we won’t be strangers.”

  “Hi. I’m George Snaffleharp, and it’s very nice to meet you.” She gave a tiny wave.

  Caleb grinned and waved back. “Hi, George! I’ve never heard of a girl called George.”

  “And what is a Snaffleharp?” Mikal asked. “It sounds dangerous.”

  “Well, I’m a girl, and I’m called George. I don’t know what a Snaffleharp is, but that’s a really good question. I’m not dangerous, though.” She stepped a bit nearer to the boys. “How old are you guys? You didn’t tell me what you’re doing out here. Are you okay? Are you lost?”

  “You ask a lot of questions!” Caleb said.

  “I don’t like people who ask questions,” Mikal said.

  Caleb rolled his eyes at Mikal. “I’m thirteen … ish. Mikal’s eleven.”

  George looked at Mikal in surprise. “I thought you’d be nearer my brother’s age.”

  “How old is your brother?” Caleb asked.

  “He’s seven,” George said.

  “I’m just small for my age,” Mikal growled. “I am eleven.”

  “I believe you,” George said. “I’m twelve, by the way.”

  Caleb reached up to rub the dirt out of his hair and noticed George staring at it. “It’s always been silver like this,” he said shyly. “I really am only thirteen.”

  George blushed and started to apologize. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  But Caleb interrupted. “We’re out here because we work here. We’re not lost. What about you, are you lost?”

  “I am, a little. But you said you were alone except for me, so what do you mean you work here? Is your house close by? Are your parents the groundskeepers?”

  Caleb grinned. “Yes, our house is close by. No, our parents aren’t the groundskeepers. Mr. Chinchinian is.”

  “Where is he?” George asked.

  “No idea. Mikal, do you know?”

  Mikal just shook his head moodily.

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Don’t have any,” Caleb said.

  “What do you mean you don’t have any?” George asked, her face full of concern. “Where do you live?”

  “I told you, we live here.”

  “Here?” George asked stupidly, looking as hard as she could for a house nearby.

  “Right here,” Caleb said, pointing to the mausoleum.

  Understanding dawned on George’s face, followed by dismay. “Oh … I see. But why would anyone want to live in a crypt?”

  Caleb gave that same lopsided smile. “Believe me, it wasn’t our first choice, was it, Mikal?”

  Mikal just shrugged.

  George’s face was blank with confusion.

  “I’m not making much sense, am I?” Caleb asked. “Sorry, but we don’t get much company out here. Like I said, we’re here because we work here. I really don’t know where Mr. Chinchinian is. He goes into town for days at a time. We don’t know when he’ll be back.”

  “And we’re the only people around?” George asked.

  “Except for the ones in the ground,” Mikal said, kicking at a clump of dirt.

  “Did you mean it when you said you don’t have any parents?”

  Caleb nodded. “That was true too. We don’t have parents. I never have, and Mikal’s—”

  Mikal coughed sharply and narrowed his eyes at Caleb.

  “And Mr. Chinchinian just leaves you out here in the middle of nowhere to do his work for him?” George asked.

  Caleb shrugged. “We don’t mind. It’s better than the last place. Not as good as the place before that, but he feeds us well. He leaves baskets of food for us to find every few days.”

  “How many places have there been?” George asked curiously.

  Mikal interrupted. “I’m hungry, Caleb.”

  “Oh, right. Are you hungry, George? Would you like to eat with us?” Caleb asked.

  “I am hungry, but…” George blushed and looked away.

  “But what?”

  “I don’t have any food,” she admitted.

  “Psh. We have plenty. Don’t we, Mikal?”

  Mikal retrieved the basket and stomped off toward the mausoleum.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” George asked, watching Mikal go.

  “Definitely. Don’t worry about Mikal. He’ll warm up to you … eventually. You can stay with us too. There’s nowhere else around for miles.”

  George smiled and relaxed slightly. “I’d really like that. Safety in numbers and all.”

  “Come on,” Caleb said, picking up the shovel and holding the lantern high as he led her to the crypt. “We normally sleep outside, but when that started”—he gestured to the night sky above—“we decided it was time to move indoors.”

  George looked up to see what he was talking about. Overhead, dozens of bright stars were trailing across the darkness. “Oh, those? My uncle just told me a story about them.”

  “We love stories!” Caleb said, and ushered her inside.

  The mausoleum was well lit but not empty. The air smelled stale, and a huge tomb stood in the middle of the floor. Caleb spread a tablecloth over the stone as Mikal arranged tin plates and mismatched spoons, forks, and knives.

  “Welcome to the Café Crypt. This will be our table,” Caleb said.

  George smiled nervously. “I’m thrilled to be here, really.”

  Caleb pointed his fork to the bountiful supply of sandwiches and fruit Mikal had unpacked from the basket. “Help yourself.”

  Mikal dug in immediately, and George sat for a moment, fascinated with how thoroughly he seemed to be enjoying the simple meal.

  “Earlier you said that this place is better than the place before, but not as good as the place before that. What did you mean?” George asked as she peeled an orange.

  Mikal grunted and swallowed his food before grabbing another sandwich and saying, “The circus, it was better. The butcher, not so good.”

  “You worked at a circus?” George asked. “A real one?”

  “I was an acrobat,” Mikal said proudly. “The Soaring Penguin, and I was the greatest in the land … for my size.”

  “He was pretty good,” Caleb said with a grin.

 
; “Wow. And what did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything nearly as exciting as that. I just tended the animals. Although once, when the lion tamer was sick, I got to go on and perform his act for him.”

  “Heavens to Betsy! You tamed an actual lion? Was it scary?”

  “Who is Betsy?” Mikal asked suspiciously. “Is she with you? You said you were alone.”

  “I am alone, I promise. I don’t know who Betsy is. It’s just something I heard my aunt say, and I liked it,” George said.

  “Take it easy, Mikal,” Caleb said, and turned back to George. “The lion was already tame, and we were friends. I basically just stood there while he performed. I only got to do it once, but it was pretty sweet.”

  “How did you end up here?” George asked.

  “Well, Mikal’s dad … he was an acrobat too, and he took care of us. There was an accident.…” Caleb glanced at Mikal, who kept his eyes firmly on his plate. “Mikal’s dad died,” Caleb finished softly.

  “Oh no.” George’s eyes brimmed with compassion as she looked at the small boy.

  “When we woke up the next morning, everyone was gone. The performers, the ringmaster, the animals, the tent … blammo. Not a word, just gone,” Caleb said. “I guess they thought we would be too much trouble without Mikal’s dad to look after us.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “We didn’t really have a lot of options. Luckily, we were near a big town, so we were able to find work with a local butcher. He was the only one who could take us both in. We didn’t want to be separated. That worked out for a little while, but he was mean. Once Mikal accidentally dropped a leg of lamb, and the butcher threatened to beat him, so we left.”

  Mikal grunted and continued eating.

  “We couldn’t find any other work, and things were kind of rough for a while. We didn’t have a whole lot to eat. We traveled around for a long time, just looking for something better. Then the police found us. They took us to an orphanage. We stayed there for a few months, and it wasn’t that bad. Then a family wanted to adopt Mikal.”

  Mikal made a disgusted face, and Caleb frowned.

  “I was all for it, but Mikal said if they took him home with them, he would just run away and come find me again. He doesn’t have a very good sense of direction.… I was afraid he’d get lost. So we bailed from there. We dodged the police for a while, and then we found the groundskeeper for this place, and he brought us here. He doesn’t pay, but he feeds us and leaves us pretty much alone. All we have to do is dig the graves and keep the hinges oiled and the place tidy, and we can stay together and do whatever we want.”