Dandelion Fire by N. D. Wilson Read Free Book Online Page B

table. “Do you think he was faking?”
    “No,” Henrietta said. “He wasn't.”
    Zeke set his hat on the back of his head. “But he wasn't struck by lightning?”
    Henrietta shrugged. “Something messed him up pretty good.” She turned back toward the stairs. “I'm going to lie down,” she said again.
    She stopped on the second-story landing and looked over at her bedroom door. Then she climbed the attic stairs.
    In Henry's room, she dropped onto his bed and slid her hand under his pillow. She was not going through any more cupboards by herself. Ever. At least not until she had read through Grandfather's journal. And, depending on what was in it, maybe not then.
    She'd read the first pages before, the apologies to Frank and Dotty, the admissions of deception and hypocrisy, and the stuff about her great-grandfather's notes. But she ran her eyes over it anyway, and slowed down when she hit something new. It didn't all make sense, but it didn't matter. She was going to read for the parts that did.

    Henrietta sat up on the bed. She had been drifting off, but now her eyes were wide. She could have read this sooner, but what kind of a warning was it? You can drown in Actium? Moment of danger? Why not, “You'll crawl through onto a ship as it is crushed and sinks. Hang on or you'll be lost forever”? That would have been helpful. At least now she knew that her grandfather didn't exactly overstate things. And she knew she never wanted to find out what Topkapi was.
    Still sitting up, she read on.

    Henrietta had seen those halls. She had seen the dancing and heard the music. She had chased Eli, the short old man, out of Grandfather's bedroom and back to that place. Eli had called her grandfather a fool.
    She wanted to set the knobs to FitzFaeren and go slither into the cupboard downstairs to watch the dancers. She wanted to look for her grandfather. Why had she let Eli leave? He could have explained all of this.
    Downstairs, she heard loud voices. Her sisters'.
    Henry was home.
    “No,” she heard him say. “You're not helping me. I can do it by myself. I'm fine.”
    Her father said something she couldn't make out, and the house was silent of everything but slow footsteps on the stairs.
    Henrietta waited. Even if Henry was in a bad mood, she wanted to talk to him. His feet found the attic stairs, and she listened to them complain as he climbed.
    After a minute, his doors swung open and Henry stepped in. He looked much better. His eyelids were only a little heavy. She smiled at him and immediately felt guilty for it. His eyes were wide open, but they rolledaround the room, groping for images they couldn't find. She swallowed, wondering what to say. Maybe she should cough.
    Henry felt his way to the end of his bed, and then the cupboard wall. Running his hands over the cupboards, he crouched slowly, until he'd found the door to Endor. His fingertips sought out each screw and felt all around the edges of the door. He seemed satisfied and straightened up, breathing heavily, and groped for the door to Badon Hill. He levered it open and stuck his hand inside. Suddenly, gritting his teeth, he punched, hard, and Henrietta heard the crack.
    Henry pulled his fist out and sucked on his knuckles.
    “Hey, Henry,” Henrietta said.
    Henry jolted and nearly tripped.
    “What are you doing in here?” he asked quietly.
    “I was—I was reading Grandfather's journal. I went through a cupboard today. While you were gone. It was really stupid, I know. I almost died. I thought we should read the journal before we did anything else.”
    She waited for him to ask for the story, or repeat her own insult, or at least get angry that she'd looked through his drawers. He didn't. Instead, he sniffed.
    “You're definitely not from number 18,” she said, and tried to laugh. “It's a sea battle. Listen,” Henrietta continued, “with your whole blind thing …”
    “I don't want to talk about it.”
    “Well, we'll have to figure something