Several dogs ran up to the pickup, yapping and snarling. Vanessa brought the truck to a stop. When Hugo climbed out of the back, the dogs ran away yelping. Apparently they didn't require magic milk to sense that the golem meant trouble.
The door to the shack swung open, and an old man emerged, bald on top with white stubble around the sides of his head. He wore fading black trousers with suspenders and no shirt. Gray hair curled on his wrinkled chest. He stood on the sagging porch, a carved walking stick in one hand.
"He's the sentinel," Vanessa said.
In the letter, Patton had warned that to get to the island, they would have to pass a sentinel. He explained there was no sure way to do this, but the goal involved convincing him that the Singing Sisters should grant Seth an audience.
Vanessa rolled down the window.
"Private property," the man said abruptly.
"We need to cross to the island," Vanessa explained.
"There's nothing on that island you'd care to see," the man replied grumpily. "This ain't a public road. You're on my land. Order the golem back in the truck and go."
Seth leaned toward the open window. "I need to see the Singing Sisters."
"You'd best turn around before I call the police," the man said, retreating into his shack.
"Should we hijack the raft?" Newel asked.
"We need to settle this with him," Vanessa said. "Newel, Doren, wait in the truck. Seth and I are going inside."
"Should I bring my sword?" Seth asked.
"I have a feeling it would provoke him without being much use against him. This old guy is more than he appears. Leave it."
As Seth climbed down from the truck, he felt nervous. But he supposed if his end goal was to talk with the Singing Sisters, he had better at least have the courage to confront their guardian. No doubt they would be creepier than the old man and his dingy shack.
Hugo stayed near while they approached the house. Flies buzzed around them as Seth and Vanessa climbed the porch steps. Hugo paused at the bottom step, stamping and leaning forward as if trying to proceed.
"Wait here," Vanessa instructed. The golem stopped testing the unseen barrier.
Seth glanced down at a shabby tin washtub full of rotten apples. Vanessa tugged open the dirty screen and rapped on the flimsy door.
Nobody answered.
She knocked again. The third time she pounded loudly. The door shuddered as if a little more force would bust it open. Still nobody answered.
Vanessa turned the knob and opened the door. The old man stood facing them in the middle of the room, his walking stick clutched in both hands like a baseball bat.
"You ought not come here," the man warned, showing his grimy teeth.
"This young man desires an audience with the Sisters," Vanessa said, stepping cautiously into the shack, as if entering the cage of a lion. Seth moved forward with her.
"Shadow charmer, is he?"
"Yes," Vanessa said.
"And you're a narcoblix. And a couple of satyrs in the truck. And a sentient golem. I'll grant that you're the oddest group to come my way since time out of mind."
"You're the sentinel for the Singing Sisters?" Seth asked.
He turned and spat on the floor. "You could say that. Not many folk choose this road anymore. From that island, not more than one in five return."
"How'd you get this job?" Seth asked.
The old man's lips twitched. "I had a need long ago. The Sisters helped. Might be you can take over my watch."
"How do I get to the island?" Seth asked.
"You're the one who wants to go?" the old man asked.
"I'm the one," Seth said.
The old man held Seth's gaze. "Why not ask the little lady to step outside?"
"I want to go with him to the island," Vanessa said.
"Have you business with the Sisters as well?" the old man asked, eyes never leaving Seth.
"I mean to accompany Seth to their door," Vanessa replied.
The old man compressed his lips. "Tell you what. Leave me with the petitioner. If he earns passage to the island, you can join him. But not the golem."
"Go," Seth said. "I'll have to face worse than this before we're done. It'll be good practice."
Vanessa touched Seth's shoulder, then exited. Seth refused to watch her, keeping his eyes on the old man. The screen banged shut.
"Close the door," the old man said.
Seth obeyed, shutting it softly. He and the old man stared at one another.
"What now?" Seth asked.
"You eat sandwiches?"
The question surprised him. "Um, yes."
"How about peanut butter and marshmallow fluff?"
Unlike the satyrs, Seth had been eating sensibly. He had room for a sandwich. "Is there a catch?"
"You mean will the sandwich bind you to me as my eternal slave? No, just a sandwich. Want one?"
"Sure."
"Come inside."
Seth followed the sentinel into the humble kitchen. Looking down, he saw gaps between the floorboards. Chips and scratches scarred the round table.
"Need help?" Seth asked.
"Have a seat," the old man said, leaning his elaborate walking stick against the wall.
Seth sat down by the table on a three-legged stool that wobbled when he shifted his weight. A battered old door on a pair of sawhorses served as the counter. The old man produced a jar of peanut butter and a container of marshmallow fluff, laid down a paper towel, and took two slices of white bread from a bag.
"Tell me why you want to visit the Singing Sisters," the old man said, carefully spreading peanut butter onto a slice.
"Some demons are about to open Zzyzx," Seth said. "I want the Singing Sisters to help me find the Sword of Light and Darkness."
The old man paused, blunt knife held motionless. "That sword has a name."
"Vasilis."
The old man resumed spreading. "Brother, sounds to me like you have a need."
"The demons are holding my parents hostage. Others in my family, too."
The old man wiped the knife clean on the paper towel, then started spreading marshmallow fluff on the other slice. "The Singing Sisters do not offer guidance lightly. They will require much of you. If you fail to strike a bargain to their liking, they'll destroy you."
"I have no other choice."
The old man set the paper towel in front of Seth and cut the sandwich in half diagonally. Folding his arms, he stared down at Seth broodingly. "Those are the magic words."