he has,” said Puck.
Rosemary turned to the window. “What do I have to do to get Theo back?”
“It won’t be easy, Rosemary,” said Puck. “You will face dangers only your imagination could dream of.”
“I don’t have an imagination,” said Rosemary.
“Of course you do. What else would be attacking you?”
Rosemary stared at Puck, her mouth agape. Then she looked at Theo and drew herself up. “What do I have to do to get Theo back?”
“Come with me to the Land of Fiction,” said Puck. “I shall be your guide and Peter your defender, if he be brave enough.”
Peter started to say something, but Rosemary cut him off. “First things first, how do we get to this Land of Fiction?”
“We need a book. That is why we must go to the library.”
“Why the library?” said Rosemary. “We’ve got books.”
“You do? Even better. Come down and let me in.” Puck grabbed the sill and let go of the roof. He twirled in mid-air before disappearing from view. Looking out the window, they saw him on his feet in the snow.
Peter and Rosemary crept downstairs. They jumped when the front door rattled.
Rosemary opened it and found Puck staring at the knocker. It was a carved woodpecker mounted on a pivot; pulling the tail rattled the beak against the wood.
Puck found this fascinating, and Rosemary had to swat his hand away before he pulled the tail again. “You’ll wake my parents!”
“Quite.” He pulled away from the knocker reluctantly and strode into the living room.
Shamus started at the sight of him. He gave a little growl, but edged forward and sniffed at the hem of Puck’s tunic. Then he looked up, let out a quick bark, as he had done when approving of Peter, and stepped away.
Rosemary stared at her dog.
Puck looked at the bookshelves and nodded. “A good collection, Rosemary. Appropriate for one so wise.”
“Actually, they’re my father’s.”
“Be that as it may, they are precisely what I need.” He pulled a book from the shelves.
Rosemary peered at the cover. “We get to the Land of Fiction through Jane’s World Book of Airplanes?”
“Any book will do,” said Puck. “As long as you can find the secret passage.”
“Secret passage?” asked Peter. “What secret passage?”
“Such passages are in all books,” said Puck. “You need only to read between the lines.” Then, opening the book in the middle, he closed his eyes and began to chant:
A portal opened in the corner of the room,
And filled up with papery light
It gathered until it formed a tunnel
Which stretched onward into infinity.
Then he snapped the book shut and threw it into the corner. The book flopped open on its spine, with its pages fanning out like a fountain. The arches beneath the pages began to glow, and as the glow got brighter, the book grew larger, until the fountain of pages towered over them.
A wind plucked at Peter and Rosemary’s clothes, gathering strength until Rosemary was shocked that her parents were sleeping through it. She pushed the hair from her eyes as Puck stepped to the tunnel entrance.
“It will close once you are through, Rosemary,” he said. “Pray, do not delay.”
He took a step and vanished down the tunnel.
“Right.” Peter stepped forward. “Here goes nothing.”
Rosemary grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going with you.”
She shook her head. “Theo’s already in there because of me. If anything happened to you ...” her voice trailed off. “You’re staying right here.”
“You can’t make me.”
“Oh yes I can!”
Still holding Peter’s arm, Rosemary used it to try to swing him aside. He struggled. Suddenly they were grappling with each other, each trying to hold the other down and get away so they’d be the first through the portal.
Peter perked up. “Look! It’s Theo! He’s better!”
Rosemary looked. Peter grabbed her shoulder and shoved her to the floor. He scrambled up and ran, but Rosemary tackled him from behind.
“Got you!”
“So does the portal,” gasped Peter.
They were sliding forward on the hardwood floor, the wind blowing them towards the opening, faster and faster. Peter and Rosemary yelled.
The portal closed behind them.
There were shouts from the upper floors as Mr. and Mrs. Watson scrambled out of bed. Theo stumbled downstairs, pawing at the walls like a blind man. He fell into the living room, then picked himself up. Opening the book he glanced around and saw Rosemary’s and Peter’s unconscious bodies, sprawled together by the corner of the room beside a thick book open on its spine. He was too late.
Shamus sniffed and prodded Rosemary with his snout. She didn’t move. He began to howl.
Theo sighed. “Rosemary. Oh, Rosemary, why?” He stood over them, book open, like a priest over a grave.
Rosemary’s mother scrambled into the living room. She stopped in the doorway and took in the scene with one glance. “Theo! What did you do?”
Theo closed the book and dropped it on the floor.
Mrs. Watson rounded on her husband, who was steps behind. “Get Trisha out of the house, now. Take her out the back way. Don’t let her see this.”
Mr. Watson nodded and strode upstairs.
Mrs. Watson stepped into the room, her hair rumpled, her bathrobe askew, looking from her son to her daughter to that McAllister kid. She waved a hand in front of Theo’s face and then lowered him into a chair. She took Shamus by the collar and hushed him.
At her feet, Theo’s book flipped open with a bang. Mrs. Watson jumped. Then she saw the text streaming down on the page.
Behind her, Mr. Watson bundled Trisha out the back door.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE SEA OF INK
“Revenge, of course. Why else?”
— Marjorie Campbell
Rosemary fell or floated, she could not tell which. Her arms flailed, her hair waved into her eyes, but she felt no wind. When she could see enough to look, she could glimpse only white. She had no sense of up or down.
Then she landed on her back on a surface like a soft mattress. It drove the wind from her lungs and sent up a spray of dust-like fog around her. She lay in a daze and felt the little specks fall back on her.
Slowly, the memories came back: folding girls, Theo, Puck, flying through the paper portal with Peter, then free fall. Now she was here. But where was Peter?
She brushed sand from her cheeks and sat up.
She sat in the middle of a small crater shaped like her outline. The sky was as white as a void, the sand was the colour of snow, and the horizon between them was a thin grey line. The air was still and the temperature felt like it didn’t exist. There were no birds. No sound, except for her breath.
She stood up unsteadily, adjusted her glasses, and