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  “I’m so sorry. That sounds really terrible,” George said.

  “I wouldn’t say that.” Caleb looked protectively at Mikal. “It could be worse. We’ve got each other. As long as we’re together, it’s okay. What about you? What were you doing wandering around out there?”

  They had finished eating, and Mikal was gathering the leftovers.

  George leaned back as he took the dishes from in front of her, piling them all up to be washed under the spigot outside. “It’s a long story.”

  “Like I said, we love stories.”

  Even Mikal seemed reluctantly interested.

  “Okay, well. I’m looking for the Eldest of the Els, because the note said to find her, and Aunt Henrietta said she might lead me to Uncle Constantine, and then two men came and kidnapped Aunt Henrietta, and I didn’t know what to do except to try to find Uncle Constantine, and that meant finding the Eldest of the Els, so I went looking for her, but I found you.” She took a deep breath and glanced up to see both boys watching her with their mouths hanging open.

  “What?” she asked self-consciously as she tucked her hair behind her ears.

  “Maybe you’d better start from the beginning,” Caleb said.

  “You said it was a long story. Make it longer,” Mikal said.

  And George did. “It all started when my little brother, Daniel, disappeared from Istanbul. My parents decided to leave me with relatives so they could concentrate on finding him. I was really sad at first, because I wanted to help—I mean, I still do, but then I met my bizarre aunt and uncle.…”

  Then she told them about how funny and gentle Henrietta was, how kind and patient Constantine was, and about the ducks having their own bedroom. She shared the stories Constantine had told her about the meteor showers and about the business trip he had delayed just because he had promised her they would watch them together. Then she told them about the giant skeleton bringing the note, and how alarmed Henrietta had been. Finally she confessed that she’d been too paralyzed with fear when the men had come to even try to help her aunt, and how she had decided the only thing she could do was find Constantine because surely he could fix it, and she had to do something to make up for being such a scaredy-cat.

  When she finished, the boys exchanged a glance. Then Mikal lifted his hands helplessly in the air, and Caleb cleared his throat.

  “Well, I don’t think you’re a scaredy-cat. She told you to hide, and there’s nothing you could have done except get yourself kidnapped too. Who would have been left to help your uncle then?” Caleb asked. “But you’re definitely in a little trouble.”

  George’s breath whooshed out of her in a half laugh. “A little trouble?” But she was relieved they didn’t think she was a coward, and that they believed her, even about the skeleton.

  “And it seems like a pretty big job for a kid to take on by herself,” Caleb said. “You’d be crazy if you weren’t afraid.”

  “I am afraid,” George said. “But it isn’t like I have a choice. I have to help my aunt Henrietta. She’s too good and kind to be left with those horrible men. They were just … ghastly.” Goose bumps broke out on her arms at the memory of the handsome man’s voice.

  Caleb nodded. “I believe it. So Mikal and I are going to help you.”

  Mikal gave a tiny sigh of resignation as he folded his hands on the top of the table and rested his chin on them.

  George blinked in surprise. “Help me? How?”

  “I’m not sure, but we can’t let you go off on your own. It goes against our code. So we’re going to go with you. We’ll help you find the Eldest of the Els so she can help you find your uncle.”

  George looked down at the table. She tried to swallow, but her throat felt tight. Finally she managed to say, “I would really like that.”

  Caleb gave his lopsided smile. “We were getting bored anyway, weren’t we, Mikal?”

  Mikal just rolled his eyes as he got up and climbed into a sleeping bag.

  “Good idea. We need to get an early start,” Caleb said, then lay down in his own sleeping bag. “There are extra blankets in the crypt. Just be careful not to disturb Linus.”

  “Um, Linus?” George asked with a touch of alarm. “There’s a … body in there?”

  Mikal smirked, but Caleb just chuckled and said, “Only one about the size of your fingernail.”

  George braced herself and looked warily into the tomb, but she didn’t find a dead body—only a small green spider lurking next to a few supplies. “Oh. You must be Linus. Hello,” she said before fishing out a blanket and spreading it on the floor. She pulled Toad from her backpack and stuffed him under her head as a pillow.

  “Aren’t you a little old to be sleeping with a toy?” Caleb asked.

  “Toad isn’t mine. He belongs to Daniel.”

  “Then why isn’t Toad with Daniel?” Mikal asked.

  “Because if I find Daniel, he’s going to want him. He loves Toad.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Caleb said.

  George lay quietly, listening to the crickets chirp as she tried to fall asleep.

  “George,” Caleb said. “What kind of name is George for a girl anyhow?”

  “It’s one I like,” she said. “If you never had parents, how did you get your name?”

  Caleb remained silent for so long she had almost forgotten her question. When he spoke, it startled her. “I named myself. I heard a man calling for his son a long time ago. It was his son’s name. I liked the way it sounded when his dad called for him. Good night.”

  “Good night,” George said softly. She lay awake for a long time wondering what it might be like to be born without a name, and to live without one until you decided to take matters into your own hands.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Rise and shine!” Caleb said early the next morning. “It’s a beautiful day, and we have a long way to go!”

  George covered her eyes with her hands to block the sunlight streaming through the mausoleum doorway. She squinted through her fingers at Mikal, who was perched on the crypt with his arms crossed over his thin chest.

  Mikal stared back at her blankly.

  “Good morning!” Caleb said with a wide grin. He was busy folding spare clothes and shoving them into a dirty knapsack that had different lengths of rope, a flashlight, a canteen, and other useful things hanging off it.

  “Are you always this cheerful in the morning?” George asked.

  Mikal made a face like he had just bitten into a lemon.

  “Yep!” Caleb said. “Well, most mornings. Unless I’ve just spent the night somewhere unpleasant.”

  “We just spent the night in a cemetery,” she said.

  Caleb only smiled and continued packing.

  Mikal sighed and hopped down to help, still shooting grumpy looks George’s way.

  “Is he okay?” George asked Caleb.

  Caleb laughed. “Mikal? He’s fine. Just isn’t a morning person. And like I said, you’ll grow on him.”

  “If you say so,” George said, but she didn’t sound convinced. She folded up her blankets and began helping the boys pack. “Do you have a broom?”

  “A broom?” Caleb asked.

  Mikal gave her a funny look.

  “Yes, you know, so I can sweep the floor.”

  “But it’s a crypt,” Caleb said. “And we’re leaving. What do you wanna sweep it for?”

  George glanced away bashfully. “I like to leave everywhere I go better than it was when I got there.” She wandered outside and came back a moment later with a pine branch, which she used to sweep up as best she could.

  They ate a quick breakfast, and then Caleb and Mikal took a moment to trade suspenders. Mikal put on Caleb’s yellow pair, and Caleb put on Mikal’s red pair.

  George collected her belongings, counting as she did so. “Three for Toad, four for backpack.” She looked up and saw the boys watching her.

  Caleb was chewing a thumbnail, and Mikal was scratching behind his ear.

 
; “Whatcha doing?” Caleb asked.

  George looked down at her hands. “Just keeping track.”

  “By counting?” Caleb asked.

  “I don’t like to lose things. There are consequences to losing things.”

  “Okay, yeah. I get that. But you know you missed one and two, right?” Caleb asked. “You started at three. You missed numbers one and two.”

  “Oh. No, I didn’t. I lost them. I can’t count them again until I find them.”

  Mikal stuck out his bottom lip and nodded like this made sense to him. Then he led the way out of the mausoleum.

  “Home, sweet home,” Caleb said, shutting the mahogany door and giving it a farewell pat. “Take care, Linus!”

  George dawdled by the water spigot to wash her face and hands. She stood up from the tap, her face bright red from the freezing water, and straightened her dress. “Have you guys tidied up yet this morning?”

  Mikal scowled. “I washed last week.”

  George raised her eyebrows and sat down on the nearest tombstone. “I’m not going anywhere with the two of you until you clean up.” She watched two robins twittering over a worm in the dew-dampened grass.

  Mikal crossed his arms over his chest, the expression on his face mutinous.

  Caleb grinned and began to roll up his sleeves.

  Mikal leaned close to Caleb. “Do you think she’s always so bossy?”

  Caleb laughed softly as he knelt by the cold tap and began to scrub his face and hands. When he had finished, he looked back and forth from Mikal to George, as if trying to determine who would outlast the other. They both looked equally stubborn.

  “Please, Mikal?” George asked.

  Mikal squinted at George, but then his shoulders slumped in defeat. He marched to the spigot and began to wash up. “Bossy girl,” he said under his breath.

  George smiled approvingly at the boys when they stood before her clean. “Super! You look much better. Everyone ready, then?”

  “Sure am,” Caleb said.

  Mikal just grumbled something that sounded rude.

  Caleb led the way back to the entrance of the graveyard. It was the same one George had come through the night before.

  “Isn’t there another way out?” she asked. “I’ve already been this way, and it seems silly to retrace my steps.”

  “Nope. This is the only path around here. We’ll follow it back to where it forks at the road, and from there we’ll just go wherever you haven’t already been.”

  “We should leave Mr. Chinchinian a note, Caleb,” Mikal said.

  “I doubt he’ll notice we’re gone,” Caleb said.

  “That doesn’t matter.” Mikal fished out some paper and a pen. He wrote quickly, and then he closed the gate behind them, wedging the note next to the lock.

  George saw black ink bleeding through the back of the note. “What’s it say?”

  “That we’ll be back soon, and not to forget the Smith funeral coming up next Friday.”

  “Does he often forget funerals?”

  “Let’s just say that several times before we got here, hearses would pull up with a body and have no place to put it,” Caleb said.

  “How morbid,” George said.

  “The funeral business is a morbid one,” Mikal said gloomily.

  * * *

  It was a beautiful sunny day, but it soon became uncomfortably warm. They were grateful to reach the shade of the damp forest. George was humming as she walked when Caleb accidentally stepped on the end of her scarf, which was trailing in the pine needles.

  He grinned at her. “Sorry. So … any idea where we’re going to find this Eldest of the Els?”

  “Not a clue,” George said, gnawing on her lip. But Aunt Henrietta said that she would be looking for me.”

  “Are we just gonna wander around hoping to run into her?” Mikal asked. “That doesn’t sound like a good plan.”

  But then Caleb came to a stop in the middle of the path and let out a low whistle. Mikal ducked behind him, and George’s mouth fell open in surprise.

  “Okay, maybe I was wrong,” Mikal said in a nervous whisper. “Maybe it was a good plan.”

  A rickety old shack had taken up residence directly in the middle of the trail. The faded blue paint was peeling off the building, and it was surrounded by a white picket fence. Inside the fence was a lovingly tended garden filled with blooming flowers. There were two pomegranate trees, one on each side of the little white gate, and their branches twined together, forming a perfect arch over the entrance to the yard. Honeysuckle vines had been trained to spell out the words Chrone Cottage.

  “Heavens to Betsy,” George said. “I was just through here yesterday, and this wasn’t here. Does this forest grow houses or something?”

  A paper-thin voice drifted from the yard. “No, it certainly does not. This forest grows silence on a good day. Today ent a good day.”

  An ancient humpbacked crone straightened from behind a rosebush. Her bones creaked and popped with age as she hobbled over to the gate, holding a rusty pair of garden shears in her crinkly, blue-veined hands.

  “You children are late,” she said.

  * * *

  “You children are very late. I hate it when people are late. I wanted you to see me while I was pretty,” the old woman said, attempting to smooth her frizzy white hair. “This is such a bad age for receiving company. Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers. You had better come in.”

  She held open the gate, shuffling impatiently as George stood rooted to the ground. Caleb gave her a gentle shove, and she came back to life, stepping forward reluctantly. The honeysuckle vines clung to the children’s clothes like sticky fingers, their cloying scent intensifying with every step as each child passed beneath the pomegranate archway. George shuddered as the leaves brushed against her skin.

  The children followed behind the woman as she doddered up the cobblestone walkway toward the shack. George saw a tiny symbol etched in the wood of the doorframe. It was the same mark she had seen on the door at Snaffleharp Lane and on the mysterious book in the parlor.

  The woman led them inside, where shovels and rakes hung on the wall. A rusty chain dangled from the ceiling, and she pulled it. A light flickered on, and then off, and back on again.

  “Take off your shoes,” the woman said.

  George and Caleb looked at each other uncertainly but did as they were told.

  “Caleb?” Mikal said in a panicked whisper. “We said we would help her find the Eldest of the Els. We helped her find the Eldest of the Els. We can go now, right? Why are you taking off your shoes? Stop it.”

  “We can’t leave her alone, Mikal,” Caleb whispered back. “It’s against our code. You know that. You’re the one who decided we needed a code!”

  Mikal hesitated, groaned, and then kicked off his shoes.

  The woman had been watching. Now she opened a hidden door on their left by thumping on the wall. She stepped through, ducking to avoid the hanging garden tools.

  They descended a creaking spiral stairway, which ended before large double doors with silver knobs. A glistening spiderweb hung delicately suspended in the upper corner of the frame, and within that web was woven the now-familiar symbol. The woman turned the knobs, opening the way into a huge library filled with towering bookcases complete with shiny silver ladders and runners. The smell of old paper hung in the air as they stepped into the room. A polished cherry desk stood in the corner, a yellow bicycle leaned next to an empty fireplace, and the ceiling contained a glass dome through which they could see the garden growing above. Light shimmered down into a circle on the floor.

  George glanced at the bookshelves and read titles such as 2,357 Dangerous Districts in the Door Way: A Tourist’s Guide, by Finn Philo, and Letters on Dragons, by Gabe Jacobi.

  George cleared her throat. “You have a very lovely library … Ms. Eldest? Ms. Els? What should we call you?”

  “The library ent mine,” she said. “Much too cheery for my tastes.�
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  “Oh. Are you from England?”

  “Now, what kind of question is that? I ent from nowhere.”

  “You talk like you’re from England. I’m just trying to get to know you.”

  “I talk how I want! I’m old! When you’ve been around as long as I have, you try to keep things interesting. Last time I was this age, I sounded Greek. Next time I reckon I’ll sound Finnish.”

  “Oookay.” George tried again. “Well, your bike is pretty, Ms.…?”

  The woman scowled. “My name is Lucretia, but to you I’m the Hag. The bike ent mine either. It belongs to my younger sister. Stop chattering and come along.”

  “The Hag?” George asked. “We’re looking for the Eldest of the Els. Are you her?”

  “I am! I am. And when I’m the Eldest of the Els, I’m also Lucretia the Hag.”

  “Oh, thank goodness!” George said, hurrying to keep up. “I got a note from my uncle Constantine saying I needed to find you, and my aunt Henrietta is in trouble, and do you know where my uncle is? I have to find him so we can help Aunt Henrietta. I didn’t know what else to do but to look for you. Do you know where I can find him?” The questions poured out of her so fast she had to stop to catch her breath.

  But the Hag didn’t even look in her direction when she said, “Whatsit with you children always blathering away? Hush up now, all of you, or I’ll throw you in a pot.” She let out a high-pitched giggle then, and George looked at Caleb and Mikal helplessly.

  “Better to do as the nice lady says than to end up in the pot,” Mikal said nervously.

  The Hag opened another door, and this time the symbol was carved into the knob. She led them down a steeper, darker flight of stairs. The stone steps were covered in moss, and the walls seeped moisture.