Surrender the Key by D. J. MacHale

Author:D. J. MacHale [MacHale, D. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2017-09-19T00:00:00+00:00

I stood there staring at the old lady, or whatever she was, with my mouth hanging open.

Mom tried to make nice. “You two talk, and I’ll get us something to nibble on.”

“Please, don’t go to any trouble for me,” the beastly old lady said so sweetly it almost made me believe she was human.

Almost.

“No trouble,” Mom said over her shoulder as she hurried out. “Make yourself at home. Marcus, be a good host.”

I didn’t want to be a host, good or otherwise, and I definitely didn’t want her making herself at home. I wanted this thing gone. As soon as my mother left the room, the old lady turned her crazy gaze on me.

“Hello, Marcus,” she said, way too nicely.

I think my blood froze in my veins.

“What do you want?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from quivering.

“You know very well,” she replied kindly, but with a hint of acid that made my skin crawl.

I backed away, as if being a few feet farther from her would make her less dangerous. It was hard to look into her wild eyes. It was like staring straight into the double barrels of a shotgun.

“You killed Michael Swenor,” I said.

She shrugged casually, as if I had said it looked like rain.

“He did not do what I asked,” she said dismissively. “Such a simple request. I wanted the key. Instead, it was passed to you.”

I felt the weight of the heavy brass key hanging around my neck.

“Why do you want it so bad, anyway?” I asked. “So you can destroy the Library?”

The old lady stiffened as if a simple mention of the Library gave her the chills. How odd is that? The boogeyman was afraid of something.

Note to self…

“You defy me?” she said indignantly. “Me? The very essence of fear? For centuries children have been assured I’m a myth, but in the dark corners of their imaginations, they know that I am oh so very real. I’m always out there, perched on the edge of their dreams. Watching and waiting. And now I’m here. With you.”

She stalked toward me slowly. I backed off, trying not to knock over any tables or lamps.

“But you’re not real,” I said. “You weren’t born. You were conjured.”

“With only one purpose.”

“No. Not only one purpose. You don’t just frighten people. You killed Michael Swenor.”

“He was a threat. The Library is a threat. Its agents know my truth and continually try to contain me. Can you blame me for fighting back? They will not give up unless I stop them. For that, I need the key.”

I wanted to rip the key from around my neck and throw it at her. If she wanted the Library spirits to leave her alone, why should I care? I wanted nothing to do with Everett and that creepy old place.

I was a second away from giving her the stupid key and ending this nightmare when I remembered why it was given to me.

My father wanted me to have it.

My real father.

He had been an agent of the Library.

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