Keys to the Demon Prison (Fablehaven #5)(103)

The letter from Patton had plenty of details about finding the Singing Sisters, but lacked much information about what to do once they got there. After the many specifics Patton had shared about handling Cormac, Seth felt disappointed to have considerably less advice for the bigger challenge. All he knew for sure was that he needed to strike a bargain with the Sisters or they would take his life.


"Want me to drive?" Newel offered. "Then you can concentrate on navigating."


"Not in this lifetime," Vanessa replied calmly.


"I can't be a crazier driver than you," Newel pouted.


"It's more complicated than it looks," she replied. "I think we're almost there." Shifting the truck into drive, she set the map aside, accelerated, and turned onto a rutted dirt road.


"Can we get more fast food?" Doren asked. "After," she answered tersely. "I want burritos," Newel said.


"No way," Doren disagreed. "Cheeseburgers and curly fries."


"Toasted ravioli," Newel countered.


"Those were interesting," Doren conceded.


Thanks to Vanessa's illegal speeding and indefatigable driving, they had only been on the road two days since leaving Fablehaven. Every time the satyrs had spotted a fast food joint that they recognized from a commercial, they had hollered for a meal break. Vanessa had not always conceded, but whenever an opportunity was presented, Newel and Doren had inexhaustibly consumed milkshakes, burgers, sandwiches, tacos, nachos, pretzels, nuts, beef jerky, trail mix, soda, doughnuts, candy bars, cookies, crackers, and aerosol cheese. Of the fifty most impressive belches Seth had witnessed in his life, all had occurred on this road trip.


"I hate to interrupt the feasting," Vanessa said, "but we did come here for a purpose. Let's try to focus on something besides sweet fat and salty fat for the next little while."


"Some of us have fast metabolisms," Doren mumbled.


"We just want fuel in the tank before we risk our necks," Newel complained.


"You want nutrition?" Seth asked. "Remind me to teach you guys about the food pyramid."


"A pyramid made of food?" Doren said reverently.


"We are your humble pupils," Newel pledged.


Up ahead, the Mississippi River came into view again. Perhaps twenty yards across the water, a long island paralleled the shore. The dirt road ended at a sprawling, ramshackle shack roofed with aluminum siding. A rusted, antique truck sat on blocks off in the weeds. Beyond a dusty tire swing, Seth spotted a run-down dock and a weathered raft.


Several dogs ran up to the pickup, yapping and snarling. Vanessa brought the truck to a stop. When Hugo climbed out of the back, the dogs ran away yelping. Apparently they didn't require magic milk to sense that the golem meant trouble.


The door to the shack swung open, and an old man emerged, bald on top with white stubble around the sides of his head. He wore fading black trousers with suspenders and no shirt. Gray hair curled on his wrinkled chest. He stood on the sagging porch, a carved walking stick in one hand.


"He's the sentinel," Vanessa said.


In the letter, Patton had warned that to get to the island, they would have to pass a sentinel. He explained there was no sure way to do this, but the goal involved convincing him that the Singing Sisters should grant Seth an audience.


Vanessa rolled down the window.


"Private property," the man said abruptly.


"We need to cross to the island," Vanessa explained.


"There's nothing on that island you'd care to see," the man replied grumpily. "This ain't a public road. You're on my land. Order the golem back in the truck and go."


Seth leaned toward the open window. "I need to see the Singing Sisters."


"You'd best turn around before I call the police," the man said, retreating into his shack.


"Should we hijack the raft?" Newel asked.


"We need to settle this with him," Vanessa said. "Newel, Doren, wait in the truck. Seth and I are going inside."


"Should I bring my sword?" Seth asked.


"I have a feeling it would provoke him without being much use against him. This old guy is more than he appears. Leave it."


As Seth climbed down from the truck, he felt nervous. But he supposed if his end goal was to talk with the Singing Sisters, he had better at least have the courage to confront their guardian. No doubt they would be creepier than the old man and his dingy shack.


Hugo stayed near while they approached the house. Flies buzzed around them as Seth and Vanessa climbed the porch steps. Hugo paused at the bottom step, stamping and leaning forward as if trying to proceed.


"Wait here," Vanessa instructed. The golem stopped testing the unseen barrier.


Seth glanced down at a shabby tin washtub full of rotten apples. Vanessa tugged open the dirty screen and rapped on the flimsy door.


Nobody answered.


She knocked again. The third time she pounded loudly. The door shuddered as if a little more force would bust it open. Still nobody answered.


Vanessa turned the knob and opened the door. The old man stood facing them in the middle of the room, his walking stick clutched in both hands like a baseball bat.