Radley's Labyrinth for Horny Monsters, Annabelle Hawthorne [smart ebook reader TXT] 📗

front room after the fight with Jenny. Afraid to toss out any of it, he dug through it, unable to remember what they had even placed inside. A couple of random bookends, a small black statue of a woman made of coral, and an extremely ugly lamp were the only items of interest. The rest was just blankets, duvets, and other assorted cloths people draped over their furniture to protect them from the farts of their visitors.

A loud scraping sound caught his attention, and he lifted his head in time to see the closet throw up on Tink. Old coats, a few boxes, and even more blankets buried the goblin in an avalanche of junk. Mike ran to her rescue, grabbing her slender wrist from beneath an old fur coat and pulling her free from beneath the mess.

Tink scowled at the closet, adjusting her dress to cover her bare ass. This confirmed Mike’s suspicion that she wasn’t wearing the underwear he had bought for her.

“What happened?” Mike asked, moving the box closest to him.

“Shelf break, closet try to kill Tink.” Tink picked up a big fur coat, eyeing it with curiosity. “Lots of stuff in here.”

“Yeah, it looks like it was packed full.” The box Mike opened contained picture frames, dozens of them. There were pictures in the frames, but they were all blank, perhaps a result of the protective spell on the house. “It seems like everywhere I turn, there’s more random shit in this house.”

“Husband right. Too much shit. Sell on magic screen maybe.”

“Oh no. I’m not going through another Jenny situation.” Upon moving in, he had given Beth a creepy doll that had been watching him from the mantel, not knowing that it was possessed by the angry spirit of Jenny, a woman burned at the stake for witchcraft. She had possessed Beth and returned to the house before using her telekinetic abilities to trash the place and try to kill him.

As he picked up one of the many coats, something metallic clattered to the ground. It was a key the size of his pinky, ornate in design and with a head shaped like a gear. “What is this for?”

“Hmm.” Tink took the key. “Don’t know. Too small for door.”

“I’ll hold on to it.” Sliding the key into his pocket, he suddenly remembered. “Hey, what do you know about the grandfather clock that used to be down here?”

“Clock?” Tink looked around. “No clock down here.”

“Well, it isn’t here now, but I know I saw it a couple of times. It was over by the stairs, but I haven’t seen it in a while.”

“Tink don’t know. Tink never see clock.”

“Oh.” Well, that was a mystery that was going to have to wait. He patted the key through his pants pocket. On the odd chance the clock reappeared, he wanted to see if the key worked on it.

“Aha!” Tink fumbled with one of the coats, revealing a small bright-red book that had been tucked into one of its sleeves. Holding it up triumphantly, she shoved her way out of the closet mess and into the front living room. “Tink find it! We go to Library!”

“Great job, Tink!” Mike followed her into the living room. “Now what?”

“Shh!” Tink held a finger to her lips, her eyes closed in concentration. “Tink try and remember!” The little goblin stood this way, the book held tightly in her hands, her lips moving silently.

“Well?” Mike asked after nearly a minute had passed.

“Tink doesn’t remember.” Shoulders slumping, Tink handed the book to Mike. “Maybe husband figure out?”

“We’ll see.” Opening the book, he was surprised to see the words swim across the page, the text fixing itself in place before his eyes. Expecting some profound piece of magic, he realized he was looking at a fairly simple recipe for peanut butter cookies. Flipping the page back and forth, he saw that the recipe was the same on every page.

“Husband figure out?” Tink asked, standing on her tiptoes to look at the book.

“No,” Mike said, then turned to the very first page. What use was a recipe book with only one recipe? His vision blurred, and he rubbed his eyes. Closing the book, he stared at the outside. It had no title on it, but it did have a picture of a triangle on the spine. Mike ran his finger over the golden grooves of the shape, tilting the book so Tink could get a good look.

“This mean anything to you?” Mike asked.

“Um…yes! Tink see triangle once, fixing bookshelf in study!” Tink snatched the book from his hand. Mike followed her into the study, a round room with what was left of a desk in the corner and scorch marks all over the floor. It was where they had chased the fire elemental, a room that Mike had never considered more than once. Bookshelves adorned the walls, punctuated by windows looking out into the front yard, windows Tink and Abella had replaced.

“What are we looking for?” Mike asked.

“Small triangle carved on shelf.” Tink methodically ran her hands over the edges of each shelf, searching. Mike did the same, grateful to be looking for something simple. The shelves had several different shapes carved into them, many of them very complex. The triangles he found contained dots, circles, even more triangles, but nothing that matched the one on the book’s spine.

Minutes later, Mike called Tink over to the shelf in between a pair of windows. Near the top of the shelves was an identical triangle carved into the wood. The books on the shelf were in disarray, clearly more than one was missing, and it was obvious that several of them had been tossed in.

“Now what?” Tink asked, handing Mike the book. She was too short to reach the top shelf without her ladder.

“If video games have taught me anything, I know exactly what to do.” Mike shoved several books to the side, inspecting the back of the little red book to be certain. The triangles were identical, and