back. It went straight to voicemail. He tried again – same thing. He looked to Will.
“We need to head downtown.”
Eleanor would have been furious had she known that Will and Brendan were going off on a mission without her, but she was busy with her after-school riding lesson. Her horse riding, which started after her parents got “the settlement”, had become one of the most important things in her life.
Eleanor felt at peace around horses. They liked her; they respected her; she could get the most troublesome ones to walk, trot, canter, and gallop. That gave her a sense of confidence that was missing everywhere else in her life – and it made her feel more grown-up, because she was actually good at something. Plus there was one horse she truly loved: a powerful, shiny thoroughbred, Crow, who galloped so fast that when Eleanor was on him, the world blurred and she could imagine she was back in Kristoff’s books.
Today they practised turns and jumps; Eleanor and Crow worked seamlessly, as if they had discussed their plans the night before. The two-hour lesson felt like it ended almost as soon as it began, with Mrs Leland, the instructor, telling everyone to return to the stables. Eleanor dismounted, still wearing her helmet, and led Crow inside.
“Good job today,” Mrs Leland told her. “You’re becoming one of my best riders.”
“Thank you,” Eleanor said, feeling so proud that she wanted to say something more, to make some grand statement. But her mother taught her to simply say thank you when people gave compliments, to keep it simple.
Mrs Leland looked around. All the other students had gone home. “Eleanor, I have exciting news for you. It’s time for you and Crow to enter a competition.”
“Really?” Eleanor was thrilled – and frightened. She had always dreamed of being in a competition with Crow. But it would be hard work. All the other riders would be really good. Wait a minute, though; what about the times you cheated death like five million times with Bren and Deal? A riding competition is nothing!
“That sounds great,” Eleanor said. “I’m ready.”
“Good to hear,” said Mrs Leland. “I expect big things from you. Oh – here’s your father.”
Mrs Leland pointed to the far end of the stables. Eleanor saw Dr Walker lazily walking up to different horses and patting their heads. She beamed. It meant a lot to her that her dad would come and pick her up. Maybe, Eleanor thought, Mom was right! Now that we discovered what was going on, Dad will get better.
Eleanor ran to Dr Walker.
“Hi, baby,” he said. “Did you have a nice lesson?”
“Yeah! Guess what Mrs Leland told me?” Eleanor lowered her voice: “I’m gonna be in a competition.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“Yeah, I’m gonna work really hard and come back with a blue ribbon. Well, two. One for me and one for Crow.”
“I’m so proud of you.” Eleanor’s father touched her chin. “You’re really growing up.”
She turned away, blushing. “You haven’t said hi to Crow.”
“He’ll be happy to see me. I brought him a special treat.”
Dr Walker pulled out a fresh Gala apple and gave it to the black horse. Eleanor grabbed his arm—
“Dad! That’s not Crow.”
“Oh, I’m sorry—”
“You know that! That’s always been our family joke, remember? His name is Crow, but he’s a palomino!”
“Right … of course I remember.”
Dr Walker turned to the actual Crow, the palomino opposite – but now Eleanor was suspicious. Her father had met Crow before. The joke about him being a palomino was part of their family’s repertoire, like the joke about how when Brendan was a baby he would only eat rice and soy sauce. Now, looking at her dad’s face …
It looked wrong.
The skin was too loose. As if her dad were made of wax and standing too close to a hot stove.
Eleanor started to back away while Crow sniffed the apple – then nosed it aside. It hit the ground and sent up a puff of dust.
“I guess Crow doesn’t like apples—”
“Dad? What’s wrong with you? Why do you look so … so weird—”
“Weird?” Dr Walker turned towards her. “You think I look weird?”
Eleanor glanced behind her. Mrs Leland had left the stables. The door at that end was locked. When Eleanor turned back, her father was locking the door at the other end, trapping them inside. And then he started coming towards her.
“Eleanor, I want you to listen carefully,” Dr Walker said.
Eleanor backed up, terrified. The stables weren’t supposed to be completely closed. Not ever. It was dark inside; the only light shone through cracks in the wood. The horses whinnied and reared up on their hind legs – NEIGHHHHEHEHEHEHEHE!
“Daddy! What’s wrong? Stop—”
“Don’t talk, listen. Or on second thoughts” – he chuckled, a nasty gurgling sound – “watch.”
Dr Walker dug his nails into his chin. Eleanor couldn’t turn away. Even in the weak light she could see how the skin puckered around each of his fingernails, and then there was a tearing sound and Dr Walker pulled his chin off, revealing something darker underneath.
“Dad!”
Dr Walker wasn’t finished. He tore his hand into his cheek, gripping and pulling – and his cheek came off. He tossed it into some hay and grabbed his nose. That came off quickly. Then his other cheek … his ear … his scalp – he wrenched his whole face off as if it were a cheap mask of Silly Putty.
And now … the man’s real face was visible.
The Storm King’s face.
Eleanor screamed. The horses screamed with her.
Denver Kristoff was staring right at her with his orange eyes and his purple, pitted, deformed skin. The flaps that served as his nose wheezed up and down.
Eleanor dropped to her knees. Little pieces of hay poked into her. “Please don’t kill me.”
“Kill you?” Denver Kristoff said. “After all you’ve been through … you still fear death? Trust me. There are worse things.”
He curled his mouth into a smile – or a Denver Kristoff
