Meredith’s test lured out only two ringers in the whole mob, a thirteen-year-old boy and a fifteen-year-old girl. Each of them screamed and darted through the house, shrieking wildly. Matt couldn’t stop them. When it was all over and the older kids were comforting the younger ones, Matt and Meredith finished boarding up the windows and pasting amulets between the boards. They spent the evening scouting for food, questioning the kids about Shinichi and the Last Midnight, and helping Mrs. Flowers treat injuries. They tried to keep one person on guard at all times, but since they had been up and moving since 1:30 A.M., they were all very tired.
At a quarter to eleven Meredith came to Matt, who was cleaning the scratches of a yellow-haired eight-year-old. “Okay,” she said quietly, “I’m going to take my car and get the new amulets Mrs. Saitou said she’d have done by now. Do you mind if I take Saber?”
Matt shook his head. “No, I’ll do it. I know the Saitous better, anyway.”
Meredith gave what, in a less refined person, might have been called a snort. “I know them well enough to say, excuse me, Inari-Obaasan; excuse me, Orime-san; we’re the troublemakers who keep asking for huge amounts of anti-evil amulets, but you don’t mind that, do you?”
Matt smiled faintly, let the eight-year-old go, and said, “Well, they might mind it less if you got their names straight. ‘Obaasan’ means ‘grandma,’ right?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And ‘san’ is just a thingy you put at the end of a name to be polite.”
Meredith nodded, adding, “And ‘a thingy at the end’ is called an ‘honorific suffix.’”
“Yeah, yeah, but for all your big words you’ve got their names wrong. It’s Orimegrandma and Orime-Isobel’s-mother. So Orime-Obaasan and Orime-san, too.”
Meredith sighed. “Look, Matt, Bonnie and I met them first. Grandma introduced herself as Inari. Now I know she’s a little wacky, but she would certainly know her own name, right?”
“And she introduced herself to me and said not just that she was named Orime, but that her daughter was named after her. Talk your way out of that one.”
“Matt, shall I get my notebook? It’s in the boardinghouse den—” Matt gave a short sharp laugh — almost a sob. He looked to make sure Mrs.
Flowers wasn’t around and then hissed, “It’s somewhere down at the center of the earth, maybe. There is no den anymore.”
For a moment Meredith looked simply shocked, but then she frowned. Matt glared darkly. It didn’t help to think that they were the two most unlikely of their group to quarrel. Here they were, and Matt could practically see the sparks flying. “All right,” Meredith said finally, “I’ll just go over there and ask for Orime-Obaasan, and then tell them it was all your fault when they laugh.”
Matt shook his head. “Nobody’s going to laugh, because you’re going to get it right that way.”
“Look, Matt,” Meredith said, “I’ve been reading so much on the Internet that I even know the name Inari. I’ve come across it somewhere. And I’m sure I would have made…made the connection…” Her voice trailed off. When Matt turned his eyes down from the ceiling, he started. Meredith’s face was white and she was breathing quickly.
“Inari…” she whispered. “I do know that name, but…” Suddenly she grabbed Matt’s wrist so hard that it hurt. “Matt, is your computer absolutely dead?”
“It went when the electricity went. By now even the generator is gone.”
“But you have a mobile that connects to the Internet, right?”
The urgency in her voice made Matt, in turn, take her seriously. “Sure,” he said.
“But the battery’s been kaput for at least a day. Without electricity I can’t recharge it. And my mom took hers. She can’t live without it. Stefan and Elena must’ve left their stuff at the boardinghouse—” He shook his head at Meredith’s hopeful expression and whispered, “Or, should I say, where the boardinghouse used to be.”
“But we have to find a mobile or computer that works! We have to! I need it to work for just a minute!” Meredith said frantically, breaking away from him and beginning to pace as if trying to beat some world record.
Matt was staring at her in bewilderment. “But why?”
“Because we have to. I need it, even just for a minute!”
Matt could only gaze at her, perplexed. Finally he said, “I guess we can ask the kids.”
“The kids! One of them has got to have a live mobile! Come on, Matt, we have to talk to them right now.” She stopped and said, rather huskily, “I pray that you’re right and I’m wrong.”
“Huh?” Matt had no idea what was going on.
“I said I pray that I’m wrong! You pray, too, Matt — please!”
Elena was waiting for the fog to disperse. It had come in as always, bit by bit, and now she was wondering if it would ever leave, or if it were actually another trial itself. Therefore, when she suddenly realized she could see Stefan’s shirt in front of her, she felt her heart bound for joy. She hadn’t messed anything up lately.
“I can see it!” Stefan said, pulling her up beside him. And then, “Voilà…”—but in a whisper.
“What, what?” cried Bonnie, bounding forward. And then she stopped too.
Damon didn’t bound. He strolled. But Elena was turning toward Bonnie at the time, and she saw his face as he saw it.
In front of them was a sort of small castle, or large gateway with spires that pierced the low clouds that hung above it. There was some kind of writing over the huge cathedral-like black doors in front, but Elena had never seen anything like the squiggles of whatever foreign language it was.
On either side of the building, there were black walls that were nearly as tall as the spires. Elena looked left and right and realized that they disappeared only off at the vanishing point. And without magic, it would be impossible to fly over them.
What the boy and girl in the story had discovered only by following the walls for days, they had simply walked straight into.
“It’s the Gatehouse of the Seven Treasures, isn’t it, Bonnie? Isn’t it? Look!”
Elena shouted.
Bonnie was already looking, both hands pressed against her heart, and for once without a word to say. As Elena watched, the diminutive girl fell to her knees in the light, powdery snow. But Stefan answered. He picked up Bonnie and Elena at the same time and whirled them both. “It is!” he said, just as Elena was saying “It is!”
and Bonnie, the expert, gasping, “Oh, it really, really is!” with tears freezing on her cheeks.
Stefan put his lips to Elena’s ear. “And you know what that means, don’t you? If that is the Gatehouse of the Seven Treasures, you know where we are standing now?”
Elena tried to ignore the warm, tingling sensation that shot up from the soles of her feet at the feeling of Stefan’s breath on her ear. She tried to focus on his question.
“Look up,” Stefan suggested.
Elena did — and gasped.
Above them, instead of a fog bank or incessant crimson light from a sun that never stopped setting, were three moons. One was enormous, covering perhaps a sixth of the sky, shining in swirls of white and blue, hazy at the edges. Just in front of it was a beautiful silvery moon at least three quarters as big as it was.
Last, there was a tiny moon in high orbit, white as a diamond, that seemed to be deliberately keeping its distance from the other two. All of them were half full and shone down with gentle, soothing light on the unbroken snow around Elena.
“We’re in the Nether World,” Elena said, shaken.
“Oh…it’s just like in the story,” Bonnie gasped. “Exactly like. Even the writing!
Even the amount of snow!”
“Exactly like the story?” Stefan asked. “Even to the phase of the moons? How full they are?”