something that sounded like Dark Hand that made Gavan look thoughtful. But Jason was almost sure she couldnât have said that, because it made no sense.
It immediately became very quiet. Jason found himself nearly asleep again, his chin jerking as he almost tumbled into a dream. His eyes did not want to stay awake. He pinched his kneecap and, though it smarted, the pain flung his eyes wide open. He found himself staring into a great dark mountain and the road ending abruptly at its foot.
Gavan murmured something to Eleanora. She answered back softly and leaned out of her seat to put her hand on the wolfhead cane. The car shuddered as if on rough road. Gavan struggled with the steering wheel. They bumped from side to side. The vehicleâs lights beamed yellow rays into inky shadows. Jason found himself holding his breath.
Bailey jerked at Jasonâs elbow. Her eyes opened wide. âWeâre gonna die!â She covered her face with her hands and let out a squeaky shriek.
Eleanora looked around at them. âItâs just a tunnel.â But her voice seemed strained as if she could barely find the strength to say another word. Her hand quivered, and the wolfhead cane trembled in her hold. The bus danced and swerved on the dusky road.
Jason stared into the night. He could see no tunnelâs edge in the massive rock ahead. Only pitch-black mountain dead in front of them. He took a deep breath.
They plunged into a cold darkness.
5
Camp Ravenwyng
T HE tunnel swallowed them whole. The car bucked and tossed in the coldness. Jason scrubbed his eyes against the nothingness. It flowed past him, slimy and cold. Bailey shivered against his shoulder. He inhaled.
âCome on, Eleanora. Forget about your shoes and give me all youâve got,â Gavan muttered. Eleanora gave him an annoyed look, then frowned. The crystal in the wolfhead cane seemed to be the only light left. The silvery head seemed to glow with warmth, and the crystal flared. It let out a tiny flash and then, suddenly as if ejected, they shot forward and out of the tunnel.
Bailey hiccuped. Henry Squibb let out a shaky laugh as pale light flooded in through the windows. Someone whooped from the back of the bus.
Not only was it not total darkness . . . it was no longer evening, though close to dusk. Gavan slowed, dirt and gravel crunching under the tires, as he turned down a lane edged by wilderness. Thick with evergreens and other trees, and a jagged ridge of true mountains off to the east. A very blue sky with lowering purple clouds. A cardinal winged past in a streak of scarlet.
Bailey said, âGo tell Dorothy weâre not in Kansas anymore.â Her head swiveled about, taking in a for ested area that obviously got far more rain than any forest in Southern California.
Jason was beginning to understand what she meant. He sat on the edge of the bus seat.
Eleanora settled back with a sigh, dropping the wolfhead cane. Gavan called out cheerfully, âWeâll be just in time for the first campfire!â He drove in under a swinging white sign over a sagging metal gate, white paint flaking and edged with rust. Faded dark letters read CAMP RAVENWYNG, with another version of a bright-eyed soaring raven. The gate didnât look as if, even closed, it could hold fast. The terrain itself sloped gently as the road wound uphill. He could spot large cabins, roofs peaking through small clusters of trees and shrubs, the buildings grouped by twos and threes. The road broke into a very big clearing with three very large buildings, and Gavan pulled to a stop next to several other battered but evidently reliable old buses, their sides white with dark-winged logos.
They piled out, as Bailey would say later, like rats off a stinking ship. The redhead punched his friend in the shoulder and said, âHey, Stef. This is a dump.â
âYouâre a dump, Rich.â Stefan thumbed his nose. He stretched his chunky body. âAt least
It immediately became very quiet. Jason found himself nearly asleep again, his chin jerking as he almost tumbled into a dream. His eyes did not want to stay awake. He pinched his kneecap and, though it smarted, the pain flung his eyes wide open. He found himself staring into a great dark mountain and the road ending abruptly at its foot.
Gavan murmured something to Eleanora. She answered back softly and leaned out of her seat to put her hand on the wolfhead cane. The car shuddered as if on rough road. Gavan struggled with the steering wheel. They bumped from side to side. The vehicleâs lights beamed yellow rays into inky shadows. Jason found himself holding his breath.
Bailey jerked at Jasonâs elbow. Her eyes opened wide. âWeâre gonna die!â She covered her face with her hands and let out a squeaky shriek.
Eleanora looked around at them. âItâs just a tunnel.â But her voice seemed strained as if she could barely find the strength to say another word. Her hand quivered, and the wolfhead cane trembled in her hold. The bus danced and swerved on the dusky road.
Jason stared into the night. He could see no tunnelâs edge in the massive rock ahead. Only pitch-black mountain dead in front of them. He took a deep breath.
They plunged into a cold darkness.
5
Camp Ravenwyng
T HE tunnel swallowed them whole. The car bucked and tossed in the coldness. Jason scrubbed his eyes against the nothingness. It flowed past him, slimy and cold. Bailey shivered against his shoulder. He inhaled.
âCome on, Eleanora. Forget about your shoes and give me all youâve got,â Gavan muttered. Eleanora gave him an annoyed look, then frowned. The crystal in the wolfhead cane seemed to be the only light left. The silvery head seemed to glow with warmth, and the crystal flared. It let out a tiny flash and then, suddenly as if ejected, they shot forward and out of the tunnel.
Bailey hiccuped. Henry Squibb let out a shaky laugh as pale light flooded in through the windows. Someone whooped from the back of the bus.
Not only was it not total darkness . . . it was no longer evening, though close to dusk. Gavan slowed, dirt and gravel crunching under the tires, as he turned down a lane edged by wilderness. Thick with evergreens and other trees, and a jagged ridge of true mountains off to the east. A very blue sky with lowering purple clouds. A cardinal winged past in a streak of scarlet.
Bailey said, âGo tell Dorothy weâre not in Kansas anymore.â Her head swiveled about, taking in a for ested area that obviously got far more rain than any forest in Southern California.
Jason was beginning to understand what she meant. He sat on the edge of the bus seat.
Eleanora settled back with a sigh, dropping the wolfhead cane. Gavan called out cheerfully, âWeâll be just in time for the first campfire!â He drove in under a swinging white sign over a sagging metal gate, white paint flaking and edged with rust. Faded dark letters read CAMP RAVENWYNG, with another version of a bright-eyed soaring raven. The gate didnât look as if, even closed, it could hold fast. The terrain itself sloped gently as the road wound uphill. He could spot large cabins, roofs peaking through small clusters of trees and shrubs, the buildings grouped by twos and threes. The road broke into a very big clearing with three very large buildings, and Gavan pulled to a stop next to several other battered but evidently reliable old buses, their sides white with dark-winged logos.
They piled out, as Bailey would say later, like rats off a stinking ship. The redhead punched his friend in the shoulder and said, âHey, Stef. This is a dump.â
âYouâre a dump, Rich.â Stefan thumbed his nose. He stretched his chunky body. âAt least
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