The Loneliest Place (Blight Harbor) - Hardcover

Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

Lora Senf is a writer of dark and twisty stories for all ages. She is the author of The Clackity, Bram Stoker Award winner The Nighthouse Keeper, The Loneliest Place, and Pennies. She credits her love of words to her parents and to the public library that was walking distance from her childhood home. Lora finds inspiration for her writing in her children’s retellings of their dreams, on road trips through Montana, and most recently while reminiscing about summer days spent on her bike. She lives in eastern Washington with her husband, their twins, and two remarkably lazy cats. Visit her at LoraSenf.com.

Alfredo Cáceres is an author and illustrator from Santiago, Chile. He has worked in picture books, magazines, newspapers, and video games, including the acclaimed Blight Harbor series and New York Times bestseller The Millicent Quibb School of Etiquette for Young Ladies of Mad Science. His debut graphic novel Through the Black Gate is based on the city of Valdivia, Chile, where he grew up between rain and moss. Visit him on Instagram @RedoLaf.

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Chapter 1

1

For some people, bravery is a thing they have at their fingertips, ready and waiting to be called on.

I was not one of those people.

Every time I got done using my bravery, I immediately misplaced it and had to go looking the next time I needed it. And then, once I did find it, covered in cobwebs and dust bunnies, I’d have to remember how it worked all over again.

I was in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to remember how to use my bravery but so anxious that I was basically vibrating. I couldn’t even read, and sleep was totally out of the question. I hadn’t bothered getting changed and was still in the jeans and grey tank top I’d been wearing all day. Bird flew in nervous circles around my neck, and I kept patting him and rubbing the top of his head with a fingertip.

I needed Bird calm and sure, not fidgety and restless like me. When my little buddy was nervous, I got even more nervous, which was the opposite of helpful. Right then I needed all the calm and sure I could get, because I was about to do something that scared me a lot. Something I knew Aunt Des would never, ever let me do. Especially on my own. Which was why I hadn’t told her.

Which was also why, beneath the nervous bubbling in my chest, I was feeling the sludge of guilt settling in my stomach. I’d been dodging Des lately because I knew if I told her what I was planning to do she’d try to stop me or, worse, get hurt trying to help me. So I’d been spending a lot of time avoiding her because that was better than lying to her. We didn’t lie to each other, me and Des. And I wasn’t lying, not exactly. But I sure wasn’t being open and honest, either.

The familiar sounds of my aunt getting ready for bed drifted into my room. Then eventually nothing but the noises old houses make after a long day. By eleven o’clock, I knew Des had probably been asleep for an hour.

It was time.

Sitting up, I pulled on my black All Stars, slipped my backpack over my shoulder, and walked softly across the room to my dresser. The only light in my bedroom came from a small, moon-shaped night-light plugged in low on one wall. It was enough—I knew exactly where the Nighthouse Keeper’s necklace was: third dresser drawer, back right corner.

The brass chain was cold on the back of my neck as I slipped it on over my head. The black, stone, rectangular pendant—half the size of a playing card—hung heavy, just like I remembered. It had been a miracle I’d even managed to get the necklace—I’d thought I’d only managed to grab Portia’s long, greasy hair as she’d leapt through the window, chasing her own soul as it disappeared into the Radix. The memory of the bleak despair I’d felt that night washed over me like a filthy grey wave.

Sure you’re ready? Bird’s voice in my head, soft as it was, startled me in the quiet of the room.

“No, but maybe I never will be,” I whispered back.

Bird brushed my shoulder with a comforting wing. I thought for the millionth time how grateful I was to have my little buddy with me.

I’d used the necklace only once before. In my memory, the effect had been silent, and I was trusting it would be now. I held the black stone up to my mouth and spoke softly (but politely, as the Radix had instructed me). “I need a regular-sized door to the Dark Sun Side, please. Someplace safe where nothing can hurt me or eat me. And where I won’t get lost and can come right back home. Please.” I added that second please just to be safe.

The words were barely out of my mouth when I felt a shift in the air behind me. There was, thankfully, no noise. Just the sense something was there that hadn’t been a moment before.

I turned to find a door in the middle of my bedroom. It was a soft, honeyed brown with silver hinges and a fancy silver knob. When I laid my hand flat against it, warmth like spring sunshine radiated from the wood.

It’s the same, Bird said.

He was right, it was. This was the same door that had appeared the only other time I’d used the necklace. I’d called a door to take me and Lark and the stolen ghosts from the Dark Sun Side back to the Old School. Back to Blight Harbor. Back home.

It made me feel a little better—a little more confident—knowing this was the door that had taken care of me and my friends once before. The Dark Sun Side, with its purple sky and unpredictable logic, wasn’t a place I wanted to be stuck in again, so it was good to know that I could come home when I was ready.

“I’ll be right back, Des. I promise,” I whispered, hoping it was true.

I took a deep-but-shaking breath and opened the door. What I saw on the other side did not make me feel better or more confident.

A hallway stretched out past the doorway. It smelled of old wood and fresh dirt and was well lit but had no windows and no visible light source. The corridor was long, far too long to fit into our house. This was the same hallway Portia had taken me down when she’d first tricked me into following her to the Dark Sun Side. I recognized it immediately and nearly quit right then.

Except.

Except I’d finally worked up the courage to use Portia’s pendant and I wasn’t sure I could do it again if I closed the door now.

Except Portia was gone, and I knew it, and maybe this was just how the pendant worked.

Except I was tired of waiting.

It was time to find my parents.

Des didn’t know what I’d found in the Nighthouse—the glasses and the book that proved my parents were still alive. No one knew, because I hadn’t told them. I wasn’t putting anyone else at risk, and I knew that if Des or Lily or Lark knew what I was up to, they’d never let me go alone.

My parents are probably still alive, I reminded myself. Probably. You can’t know for sure.

My heart disagreed with my brain, but my brain was what I had to listen to right now. I couldn’t let my hope get too big or too sure of itself. If it did, and I was wrong, I didn’t think I could ever get past losing Mom and Dad all over again.

With another shaky-deep breath I stepped through the friendly door into the suspicious hallway. Like last time, the air wasn’t still, but there was no longer a cold, stinging wind ripping down the hall. Instead, a strong but perfectly pleasant rose-and-gasoline-scented breeze drifted through the threshold. And there was one other major difference this time around: the hallway was no longer lined with doors and paintings. Now there was only one of each—a door just a few feet down on the right-hand side, with a single painting hanging next to it.

Perched on my collarbone, Bird was tense and alert, his claws digging in just the tiniest bit. He was wary, but he wasn’t telling me to turn and run. That was sort of promising.

I made my way to the lone door, quiet as could be and ready to run at the first sign of a trick or a trap. My heart was in my throat and my hands were sweaty but, all in all, I was keeping it together pretty well. This door was just like the one I’d—called? summoned? politely requested?—from Portia’s necklace. It was made of the same warm wood, which I now realized was the same...