House of Secrets

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Authors: Ned Vizzini, Chris Columbus
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removed her bulky breastplate and stepped out on the bed, teetering back and forth. She willed herself not to look down. She moved by feel, eyes closed, trusting her balance. The humid air washed across her face as she reached the tree. The thick seams in the bark provided perfect handholds. She started descending.
    “Nell!” she called back. “You can do it! Just don’t look down!”
    But Eleanor, crouching at the foot of the bed frame, had already looked. The fall was far enough to cripple her, if not kill her.
    “C’mon!” Brendan urged.
    “I can’t, Bren!”
    “You have to!”
    “I can’t. I looked down.”
    “Then look behind you!”
    Eleanor glanced back to see Slayne hoisting himself into the attic. She didn’t give it another thought; she tore off her gauntlets because they made her arms feel clumsy and ran full tilt across the bridge, nearly slamming into the tree at the other end and starting down as Brendan came across last.
    Cordelia stood on the ground, urging Eleanor to jump the rest of the way. Brendan reached the tree and kicked the bed frame aside so no one could follow. Eleanor screamed as it fell, diving off the tree to keep from getting hit. Cordelia darted into position and caught her. The frame crashed to earth, smashing ferns and logs. Brendan reached the ground as Slayne appeared in the window and yelled, “Run, sorcerer’s spawn! See how far you get before I gut you!”
    Another warrior appeared at the window with a bow and fired off a shot.
    The bronze-tipped arrow whizzed past Brendan’s ear and thudded into the earth. Brendan, Cordelia, and Eleanor ran through the woods, slipping on pine needles and wet rocks, no idea where they were headed. The journey across the bed bridge and down the tree had left them with bruises and scrapes that screamed at them. Their armor was gone; none of them had weapons. They were terrified and had no idea how to run without leaving a trail. They didn’t speak, hearing only their breath—and then another sound. Hoofbeats.
    The warriors were mounted and gaining. Cordelia stumbled on a root. Brendan grabbed her before she hit the ground. With a thunk an arrow spiked into a tree next to him. Eleanor ran as fast as her small legs could carry her. The thoughts going through the Walkers’ heads were less the thoughts of human beings and more the thoughts— No! Keep going! They’re here!— of hunted animals.
    Slayne, in the lead on his mighty horse, expertly twirled a chain-mail net and let it fly at Cordelia, Brendan, and Eleanor. It landed on top of them like a spider’s web, only a million times heavier. Slayne jerked it, bringing the chains together, and the kids crashed against one another as they were pulled over sharp rocks and sticks and brought to a stop, crying out in pain.
    Slayne halted and swung himself to the ground with surprising grace for a man built like an army tank.
    He walked in a calm circle around his captives. The Walkers heard his boots, the birds and insects, and their own heartbeats. The other warriors stayed mounted. Suddenly Slayne reached through the net and grabbed Brendan, lifting him by his shirt collar. The chain-mail links cut into his face.
    “Why are you here?” Slayne demanded, bathing Brendan with a gust of noxious breath.
    “I don’t . . . honestly I don’t know. The Wind Witch—”
    “So you admit to being witches!”
    “No, no! Of course not—”
    “And the Wind Witch is your mistress?” He nodded to Krom and another of his men, the one who had fired the bow. They both dismounted and stood above Cordelia and Eleanor.
    “No, no, she sent us here,” Brendan said. “We’re not—”
    “You’re trespassing on my land.”
    “We had no control over that—”
    Krom and the other man planted their boots on Cordelia’s and Eleanor’s stomachs. Cordelia felt a bug crawl past her earlobe and thought she might scream.
    “Don’t—don’t hurt my sisters. Please just let us go, and we promise we’ll

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