held on as Fat Jagger moaned in pain, which only made Eleanor sob more. Through her tears, she spotted Brendan fighting to keep his balance on the increasingly uneasy surface. Eleanor quickly bent down and unlaced her left shoe.
“Cordelia, I need a distraction,” she said as she began working on her right shoelace. “Get Brendan’s attention!”
Cordelia stood up and took a deep breath; her last encounter with Brendan hadn’t gone so well.
“Hey, Dawn of the Dork!” Cordelia yelled as she walked towards her zombified brother.
Brendan cocked his head in Cordelia’s direction. He shuffled towards what he hoped would be his next meal, stopping to groan after each uneasy step – until suddenly his legs wouldn’t move any more. He groaned again before toppling over, a shoelace tied around his ankles.
“Nice one, Nell!” Cordelia said.
Eleanor grabbed Brendan’s arms and tied his wrists together with her other shoelace, careful to avoid his snapping jaws. Even with the future of her family on the line, Eleanor’s confidence surged through her. It felt good to know that she could actually help save her siblings – especially with a plan that was all her own.
Once Brendan was tied up, the two girls dragged him to the back of Fat Jagger’s mouth and nestled him under the colossus’s gigantic tongue for safety. Eleanor almost giggled at the image of zombie Brendan tucked under a giant’s tongue like a pig in a blanket. But the reality of the situation quickly erased her smile.
“I hope your plan works once we get to Kristoff House, Eleanor, whatever it is,” Cordelia said. “There are three lives on the line now.”
“Who’s the third?” Eleanor asked.
“Me,” Cordelia said, holding up her wounded hand, already feeling a little woozy from the zombification process. “Brendan bit me. If my calculations are correct … I should start turning into a zombie in about twelve minutes.”
“How close are we?” Eleanor yelled, as Fat Jagger stumbled again.
He opened his mouth just enough for Cordelia and Eleanor to peek outside. They saw Kristoff House sitting atop Sea Cliff Avenue a few more bounding steps away.
More rockets collided with Fat Jagger’s back as he reached the house. He fell to his knees on the huge lawn next to Kristoff House, groaning in pain.
“Spit us into the attic, Fat Jagger!” Eleanor screamed, tears pouring down her face now.
She knew Fat Jagger was dying. Her only hope of saving him was if her plan worked. But the problem was, now that they were actually here, she was less convinced than ever that it actually would. It was a long shot, and she knew it.
Fat Jagger gently poked a hole into the peaked roof of Kristoff House with his massive index finger. He bent forward slightly and spat the contents of his mouth into the attic. Then he slumped backwards into a cross-legged sitting position like a small child getting ready for story time, exhausted and breathing heavily and barely able to keep his eyes open. But he had done it; he’d finally saved the Walkers.
Fat Jagger smiled triumphantly, breathed his last breath, and then slumped forward on to the driveway, his face crushing a police cruiser like it was made of paper.
The three Walker children and the Storm King spilled into the empty attic of Kristoff House, sloshing inside a tidal wave of warm and smelly Fat Jagger spit. They slid across the wooden floor like freshly caught fish being dumped on to a dock.
Eleanor climbed to her feet, slipped a few times, and then rushed over to the attic window. She watched in horror as Fat Jagger slumped over on to the driveway.
“He’s dead!” Eleanor screamed. “They killed Fat Jagger!”
Guilt and grief ripped into her heart, as she realised that his death was on her hands. She was the one who insisted that they summon Fat Jagger that night. It was her idea to bring him to the surface. He had been safe and sound inside the bay, and now he was dead, and it was all her fault.
Her plan was mostly forgotten now, washed away by an overwhelming sense of sorrow. Eleanor fell to her knees and sobbed, crying harder than she had since she was two years old.
She looked over at Cordelia for support, but saw that her sister was just as distraught by the death of their friend as she was. Brendan, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content.
He was chewing on a pigeon.
“Brendan, get that out of your mouth,” Cordelia commanded.
Zombie Brendan looked up, opened his mouth, and the pigeon escaped, flying away through the hole in the roof.
Eleanor probably would have stayed there crying, unable to move, right up until the moment the National Guard soldiers (who were currently breaking down the front door) rushed upstairs to find them. But her sister’s chilling scream brought Eleanor rushing back to reality.
Eleanor spun around to find herself face to face with the Storm King. Not a decomposing zombie version, but a very much alive Storm King. He rose up towards the ceiling, arms spread on either side of his body. His face was restored back to the ugly, sagging lump of grey that it had been on the day he died.
He grinned at her sickeningly. His teeth, yellow and crooked, gleamed in the morning sun that now streamed into the attic through the massive hole in the roof above him.
“Hello, my dear,” he said. “Brendan’s appearance certainly has changed. I actually prefer this new look. Ugliness creates fear in others. Fear creates power. My … shall we say, unique face has certainly opened many doors for me.”
Instead of screaming in terror the way Cordelia had, or even backing away from the monster in front of her, Eleanor, amazingly, smiled.
“It worked,” she said triumphantly. “My plan actually worked!”
Cordelia climbed to her feet, ready to tackle the Storm King before he could harm her sister. But now she stood there gaping at the smiling face of her younger sister. Of course! Cordelia wanted to kick herself for not thinking of it.
With the many rifts opening up between the book world and real world, some of the magic the Kristoff House possessed in the book world had crossed over. In the book world, skeletons brought into the
