exactly,” Cordelia said, frowning. “Even though it felt real, it’s still like a dream in that I can’t remember all of the specific details.”
“It sort of sounds like it was a gathering of the Dark Avengers,” Brendan said. “Like an all-villain supergroup.”
“Yeah, it almost would have been funny to see Dracula sitting between a Nazi cyborg and Krom if it weren’t for the fact that they were definitely plotting something horrible,” Cordelia explained. “I said … or, I mean, the Wind Witch told everyone that even though they thought they were trapped inside the book world … they really weren’t. She said there was a way they could escape, a way they could all get out into the real world. She said the seams between the two worlds are frayed and getting worse with each passing day. Something about the magic being weakened. One of the last things she said before I woke up was that the only person who knew how to stop her was dead.”
“Denver Kristoff!” Brendan said under his breath. “That old bag of rotting goat guts.”
Cordelia nodded. “It makes perfect sense. After he died, we were able to bring an artefact from his books back with us into San Francisco—”
“The Nazi treasure map,” Brendan said.
“And then Fat Jagger somehow crossed over,” Eleanor said.
“And now a frost beast,” Brendan added.
“It’s only a matter of time before more characters get through,” Cordelia agreed. “Or before the Wind Witch is able to pull off whatever it is she’s planning and all of them get through.”
“What do you think that is?” Eleanor asked.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Cordelia admitted. “But whatever it is, it will let everything from the book world come through. I think she’s amassing a whole army of evil book characters for an invasion.”
“An invasion of our world?” Eleanor asked.
Cordelia nodded.
“You do have to admit, it would be kind of cool to see a T. rex tromping through downtown San Francisco,” Brendan said. “Or a bridge troll escaping Alcatraz.”
Cordelia and Eleanor both rolled their eyes.
“This is serious, Brendan,” Cordelia snapped. “Thousands of people would die.”
“I know that,” he agreed miserably. “I just don’t know what we’re supposed to do about it. I mean, how could we stop something like that? It would take the army, navy, air force, all the cops in the city … and maybe that wouldn’t even be enough!”
“The first thing we need to do is get to Fat Jagger,” Eleanor said, not able to get the image of the dead frost beast from her head. She kept envisaging Fat Jagger on TV instead of the frost beast, his giant body riddled with bullet holes. “He’s our friend, and we have to help him first. We need to make sure he knows that he needs to get away from the city and stay hidden until we figure this out.”
“We will, Nell,” Cordelia assured her.
But she also knew that would merely be treating one of the symptoms of the problem, not actually fixing the cause of the problem itself. Dr Walker had explained the theory behind practising medicine to Cordelia when she was ten years old and had spent the day at the hospital with him.
“The key to curing people,” he’d explained, “is as simple as keeping your mind focused on the underlying cause. Don’t try to fix the symptoms, instead fix the issue causing the symptoms. Sometimes they don’t even seem related. Like, if your leg hurts all of the time, you can’t just take aspirin every day for the rest of your life. Instead, you have to figure out what’s causing the pain and fix that. Leg pain can be caused by a number of ailments not occurring in your leg at all, like back issues or a neurological disorder. That’s why we strive to treat the underlying problem or cause, not just the symptoms themselves.”
It was important to keep Fat Jagger safe, but Cordelia knew they couldn’t merely ask him to hide in the ocean for the rest of his life. They would eventually need to find out how to get him back home. She knew nobody else was coming to help; the only other person alive who even knew the book world existed at all was the Wind Witch; which meant it was up to the three Walker children to somehow save the world.
“If only there was a way we could talk to dead people,” Cordelia speculated aloud.
“What are you talking about?” Brendan asked, holding up three fingers in front of her face again. “Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?”
“I’m talking about Denver Kristoff,” Cordelia said, pushing his hand away again. “If he were alive, he might be able to tell us what to do. How to fix this.”
“That old monster wouldn’t help us even if we could somehow talk to his ghost,” Brendan said. “He’d probably want his creations to exist in real life. What writer wouldn’t?”
“Are you so sure about that?” Cordelia asked, pointing at the TV still showing images of the dead frost beast. “I mean, if his characters crossed over, many of them would probably end up getting killed. People shoot first and ask questions later. Would Kristoff really want to see his characters getting massacred? Or destroying the city he loved?”
“This is a ridiculous conversation,” Brendan said. “Kristoff’s dead. Unless you have a Ouija board and psychic abilities, we won’t get a single word out of that stiff!”
“That’s it!” Cordelia shouted. “You’re brilliant, Bren!”
“Now you’re calling me brilliant?” Brendan asked. “I think we need to get you a CAT scan.”
“No, remember what happened at the Bohemian Club when we saw Aldrich Hayes and Denver raise the spirits of dead Lorekeepers with a simple spell?”
Brendan nodded, already not liking where this was headed.
“I don’t see why their own spirits can’t be summoned as well,” Cordelia said.
“What are you saying?” Eleanor asked nervously.
“We’re going to resurrect the spirit of the Storm King!”
“But we have to help Fat Jagger first!” Eleanor nearly yelled. “I already have a plan and everything.”
“We will help him, Nell. I promise,” Cordelia assured her. “But we also need to find a way to fix this for good. And Denver Kristoff is probably the only one who can tell us how to do that. Brendan, do you still remember that spell?”
Brendan had an incredible memory. He could remember the smallest details years later after only having heard or seen something once – as long as it was something that interested him, like sports statistics, or cryptic spells that summoned real ghosts.
He nodded reluctantly – remembering that horrifying experience all too well.
“Good, so you get the job of trying to summon the Storm King’s spirit,” Cordelia said. “Nell and I will try to help Fat Jagger.”
“This is never going to work,” Brendan said.
“We have to try something,” Cordelia said.
“Last time we snuck into the Bohemian Club we almost got killed,” Brendan said. “So where exactly am I supposed to hold this charade of a séance? In our living room? Or how about a random street corner? Larkin and Bay sounds kind of magical …”
“Start with the cemetery,” Cordelia suggested,