The Mapmaker and the Ghost(19)

She was coming around the side with the entrance again when something caught the corner of her eye. This time, she was right to feel her pulse quicken. There, only a few feet away from the stone structure, was a single plant: a small bush with deep blue-green leaves and at least a dozen vivid blue roses sprouting from it. The flowers were practically glowing, almost as if they were plugged into some invisible electrical outlet.

Goldenrod gasped. “Meriwether!” she said in a loud whisper.

There was no answer. She was about to say, “I found it!” when she had to use her own hand to clamp her mouth shut. Striding up to the entrance of the rock was a very tall boy she hadn’t seen before. She caught a glimpse of messy black hair and a profile of a long nose and then he too was inside the cavern.

Silently, Goldenrod swore that she would come back to the rosebush later, reclaim Meriwether’s lost discovery, and set his spirit free once and for all. But for now, she was going to have to focus on a different heroic mission: rescuing her brother.

Goldenrod waited to see if anyone else would enter or come out of the cavern. No one did. Slowly, she started to make her way back around to the front, all the time listening for any sign of the kids she had seen that morning or, most importantly, for Birch. But there was nothing.

Goldenrod stared at the entrance, not knowing at all what to do. Still, she couldn’t allow herself to hesitate for long. Her mind was flooded with how scared Birch must be in the hands of some of her least favorite people.

Still slowly, she started to emerge from behind the trees and walk toward the stone entrance. With every step, she felt braver and more like a true Legendary Adventurer. No one seemed to be coming out, and the forest was filled with the same comforting sounds of birds and rustling leaves she had grown so accustomed to, without the alien sounds of sneakers or snapping twigs disrupting them.

Goldenrod finally reached the entrance. She stopped and poked her head around the corner of it. She was looking into a large red hallway with flashlights taped to the walls. At the end of it, she could see a rough sort of staircase.

It was completely empty, so she stepped in. Quietly making her way across the stone floor, she decided that down those stairs was as good a place to start as any.

It was at the exact moment that she reached the top landing that the tall boy emerged from the darkness of the staircase and almost stepped on Goldenrod’s foot.





13

MORE LIES


The boy looked almost as startled to see Goldenrod as she was to see him, but he was able to hide it quicker.

He grabbed her by the arm. “Who are you?” he asked.

At first, Goldenrod didn’t answer. He shook her a little. “I said, who are you?”

He wasn’t yelling but he was scary just the same, and there was something unsettlingly familiar about being held in his dark gaze.

“Dahlia,” Goldenrod muttered.

“Dahlia what?”

“Meriwether,” Goldenrod answered without hesitation, again silently thankful for all those times she had had Charla play Formidable Foe.

“What are you doing here, Ms. Meriwether?” the boy sneered, stretching out her fake last name.

“I was taking a walk.”

“Taking a walk? Your parents let you just come into the woods all by yourself? With green makeup on?”

“Yes, they do.”

The boy still had Goldenrod by the arm. She pulled herself slightly to get out of his grasp. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said.

The boy grabbed her arm tighter. “Nope, don’t think I will.”

Just then, Goldenrod heard footsteps behind the boy, and from the staircase emerged the figure of Jonas. He looked just as surprised to see her as the older boy had a minute earlier. Only he, of course, knew exactly who she was.

“Mold-and-rot!” he exclaimed.

“Mold-and-rot?” the older boy asked.

“That’s Goldenrod Moram, Spitbubble. The little boy is her brother,” Jonas said. “Wait, why do you look like a tree?”

Well, if nothing else she had at least done a decent job with the makeup.

The older boy turned back to Goldenrod, his gaze darker than ever. “So, you thought you’d lie to me?” he asked softly.

“Not really a lie. I could’ve been named Dahlia,” Goldenrod muttered.

“How did you find us?” he asked.

Goldenrod remained silent, her brain reeling as to how to get herself and Birch out of all this.

“Answer me.” It appeared as if the older boy—who apparently was the same Spitbubble she had heard mention of earlier—had no intention of letting go of Goldenrod’s arm.

“You’re not going to answer me?” he said, tightening his grasp on her wrist.

Goldenrod stared defiantly into Spitbubble’s eyes. Not a word escaped her lips.

“Admirable.” The boy sounded like he was almost laughing as he turned to Jonas. “Drag her brother up here. Let’s see if she keeps her silence as easily if it’s his arm.”

“No!” Goldenrod blurted.

Spitbubble turned to her and spoke slowly and calmly, “Just one more chance, then. How did you find us?”

Somehow, Goldenrod didn’t think the boy would be terribly understanding about a story involving a ghost with a finely tuned sense of direction, one actually named Meriwether at that. So she skipped that part and came up with, “I followed Randy.”