Elizabeth Webster and the Chamber of Stolen Ghosts by William Lashner

Author:William Lashner [LASHNER, WILLIAM]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2021-10-12T00:00:00+00:00

THE STORMLANDS

Mel and Juniper became helplessly lost in the strange forest on the other side of the river.

The girls had grown up in Willing Township—the suburbs—and had thought it would be a simple thing to keep heading in one direction, like walking down a street to the mall. But without a clear path within the murk of the forest, and amid drenching storms, it wasn’t long before they lost track of the river that should have been behind them, or the castle they hoped was in front of them.

They circled forward and circled back and bickered with each other. They guzzled the water from their canteen, and slapped at bugs, and grew ever more tired and wet and anxious. At one point Juniper stopped and looked around.

“Where’s the contact that was supposed to help us?” she said.

“Hey, Dalmatian!” yelled Mel.

Juniper put a hand on Mel’s arm. “Do you really think we should be shouting out our code word?”

“You have another suggestion?”

Juniper looked at her friend for a moment and then called out, “Dalmatian!”

They kept walking then, shouting out the word into the forest with the rhythm of a marching band. It was fun for a bit, but eventually their mood soured and they lost the spirit. Soaked and miserable, when they passed a big rock, Juniper, instead of continuing on, just sat. Mel sat beside her.

“Now what?” said Juniper.

“Dalmatian?” said Mel softly.

Juniper laughed. Mel offered the canteen with only drops left inside and Juniper drained the last of the water. When Juniper handed it back, Mel looked at the canteen forlornly, as if it embodied the whole of this stupid trip to the other side. Then they heard a rustling behind them.

Both girls spun on the rock and spied an upside-down pair of eyes staring at them through a scrub of bushes.

“Dalmatian?” came a soft, whispery voice from behind the leaves.

“Yes,” said Mel, bolting to her feet. “Yes! Dalmatian!”

“They’re such pretty dogs,” said the voice. “I always wanted a Dalmatian.”

Mel looked at Juniper with a puzzled expression. “Are you our contact?” said Juniper.

“I think so. I was asked to help two girls who would definitely become lost. My name is Leonora.”

“Pretty name,” said Mel. “I’m Mel, this is Juniper. Where have you been all this time?”

“Watching,” said Leonora, “and following, and making sure no one else was watching and following. You have to be very careful in the Stormlands.”

Slowly, from out of the bushes, came the most remarkable sight. It took Mel and Juniper a moment to understand what they were seeing, and a moment more to choke back the revulsion and fear.

My mother described Leonora as a human crab. Not much older than the two lost girls, she walked on her hands and bare feet even as her torso, covered by a muddy lace dress, faced upward. Somehow her joints had been reconfigured, with her feet facing forward and her knees bending backward, so that crab-walking was not only possible, but inevitable. And though her head faced upward, when she lifted her chin she could look at Mel and Juniper straight-on, though upside down.

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