forward on to the driveway, his face crushing a police cruiser like it was made of paper.
The three Walker children and the Storm King spilled into the empty attic of Kristoff House, sloshing inside a tidal wave of warm and smelly Fat Jagger spit. They slid across the wooden floor like freshly caught fish being dumped on to a dock.
Eleanor climbed to her feet, slipped a few times, and then rushed over to the attic window. She watched in horror as Fat Jagger slumped over on to the driveway.
“He’s dead!” Eleanor screamed. “They killed Fat Jagger!”
Guilt and grief ripped into her heart, as she realised that his death was on her hands. She was the one who insisted that they summon Fat Jagger that night. It was her idea to bring him to the surface. He had been safe and sound inside the bay, and now he was dead, and it was all her fault.
Her plan was mostly forgotten now, washed away by an overwhelming sense of sorrow. Eleanor fell to her knees and sobbed, crying harder than she had since she was two years old.
She looked over at Cordelia for support, but saw that her sister was just as distraught by the death of their friend as she was. Brendan, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content.
He was chewing on a pigeon.
“Brendan, get that out of your mouth,” Cordelia commanded.
Zombie Brendan looked up, opened his mouth, and the pigeon escaped, flying away through the hole in the roof.
Eleanor probably would have stayed there crying, unable to move, right up until the moment the National Guard soldiers (who were currently breaking down the front door) rushed upstairs to find them. But her sister’s chilling scream brought Eleanor rushing back to reality.
Eleanor spun around to find herself face to face with the Storm King. Not a decomposing zombie version, but a very much alive Storm King. He rose up towards the ceiling, arms spread on either side of his body. His face was restored back to the ugly, sagging lump of grey that it had been on the day he died.
He grinned at her sickeningly. His teeth, yellow and crooked, gleamed in the morning sun that now streamed into the attic through the massive hole in the roof above him.
“Hello, my dear,” he said. “Brendan’s appearance certainly has changed. I actually prefer this new look. Ugliness creates fear in others. Fear creates power. My … shall we say, unique face has certainly opened many doors for me.”
Instead of screaming in terror the way Cordelia had, or even backing away from the monster in front of her, Eleanor, amazingly, smiled.
“It worked,” she said triumphantly. “My plan actually worked!”
Cordelia climbed to her feet, ready to tackle the Storm King before he could harm her sister. But now she stood there gaping at the smiling face of her younger sister. Of course! Cordelia wanted to kick herself for not thinking of it.
With the many rifts opening up between the book world and real world, some of the magic the Kristoff House possessed in the book world had crossed over. In the book world, skeletons brought into the attic came back to life. And the Storm King’s body had pretty much been nothing but a skeleton covered in scraps of withered flesh.
Eleanor was a genius!
“We need your help!” Cordelia said to the Storm King, as the sounds of National Guard troops breaking down the front door reverberated through the floors below them.
The Storm King spun around, his eyes wide.
“I know precisely what is going on,” he said, the usual menace in his voice surprisingly muted. “It’s my magic. Since my rather untimely death, it has weakened. My book world and the real world are colliding. I never should have created it to begin with – there were better places to hide that wretched Book of Doom and Desire. Perhaps back where we found it in the first place …”
“We don’t have time for this,” Cordelia pleaded. “We all make mistakes, we get it. But now how do we fix it?”
“Fat Jagger is dead,” Eleanor added, pointing across the attic. “Brendan’s a zombie and he bit Deal, so she’s about three minutes from joining him! Can we undo it all somehow? Please …”
Her plea came out as a whimper as her newfound confidence began to wane. After all, it was entirely conceivable that the Storm King would offer no answers. The death of Fat Jagger, Brendan’s new hunger for flesh, Cordelia’s eventual turning, all of the destruction Fat Jagger had accidentally caused trying to get them here … it was more than Eleanor could bear to think about.
“I can save them,” the Storm King said, almost as if reading her mind. “We can save all of them. We can seal off the two worlds from each other for ever, and undo all of the damage that’s been caused. There is a magical fail-safe that I created when I made the book world. I always leave a way out, a way to undo the effects of any spells or magical constructs. That’s the first rule of the Lorekeepers. No magic should ever be permanent.”
As he spoke, he floated over to Brendan’s body and easily hoisted him on to his shoulder, belying the appearance of his withered old frame. Draped across the Storm King’s shoulder, Brendan tried to gnaw at the old man’s back, his teeth clacking together viciously.
They heard the National Guard troops in the hallway below them, searching the rooms on the second floor of the house. It would only be a matter of minutes before they discovered the attic.
The Storm King carried Brendan over to the far side of the room, just past the folded-up attic stairs. He pressed his hand against the wall and muttered several words under his breath.
“In nomine Domini rex aperto tempestas.”
A section of the wall suddenly vanished, opening a doorway into the secret passages that existed within Kristoff House. The Storm King turned back to face Cordelia and Eleanor. His eyes blazed as if they were on fire, the intensity causing both of the Walker sisters to look away.
“Follow me,” he said and then disappeared inside the dark passageway with Brendan still slung over his shoulder.
Eleanor and Cordelia met each other’s stare before they cautiously followed the Storm King. As she entered the passageway, Cordelia looked down at her right arm. The skin up to her elbow was turning a pale shade of green and already decaying. A growing headache pulsated at the back of her skull, making it increasingly difficult to focus on anything.
She clearly didn’t have much longer.
The Storm King spoke quickly as he lead them through a maze of passageways lit by an eerie green glow.
“We don’t have much time,” he said. “If we don’t get to the chamber soon, you and your brother will spend the rest of eternity as undead monsters. We need to get you three back into my books as soon as possible.”
“Your books?” Cordelia said. “We have to go back?”
“Yes,” the Storm King hissed, as he sped up through the interminably