The Emerald Atlas by John Stephens

chewing through the dirt. The driver was a very small, very odd-looking man. His chin was long and thin, the top of his skull narrowed almost to a point, and yet the middle of his face was wide and flat. It was as if someone had seized his chin and the dome of his head and pulled. He had pale stringy hair and was dressed in a dark pin-striped suit and an old-fashioned bow tie. He wore a pair of bug-eyed goggles. He hit the horn.
    Arruuuggga!
    The motorcycle had a sidecar. But Kate couldn’t make out the features of the passenger. Whoever it was had on an old driving duster, a leather helmet, and the same bug-eyed goggles as the driver.
    Arruuuggga!
    The motorcycle bumped and chugged in a circle around the children and came to a stop at the edge of the dam. Kate noticed that the Screechers had not moved. They seemed to be waiting.
    The driver shut off the engine and ran around to his passenger, who had already stepped clear of the sidecar. The figure removed its duster, goggles, and helmet and dropped them on the little man. Standing before them was a girl of sixteen or seventeen. She had flawless white skin and golden hair that fell to her shoulders in perfect ringlets. She wore a frilly white dress that seemed to Kate old-fashioned, and her arms were bare and slender. She wore no jewelry. She didn’t need any. She was the most radiantly beautiful creature Kate had ever seen. She seemed almost to exude life. Spotting a yellow flower at her feet, the girl let out a cry of delight, plucked it, then turned and skipped to the dam.
    “Who is she?” Michael asked.
    “That’s her,” Stephen McClattery said quietly. “That’s the Countess.”
    “I don’t like her,” Emma said. “She looks stuck-up.”
    The girl, or young woman (however one chooses to classify a girl of sixteen or seventeen), reached the dam and started up a set of stairs. Till now, Kate had been too focused on the children to take in just how massive the dam truly was. Rising six or seven feet above the lip of the gorge, it formed a sort of wide, curved bridge to the other side. Kate watched as the Countess, arriving at the top, danced across till she came to the center; there she stopped, poised over the heart of the gorge, backed by nothing but sky and the tree-covered walls of the valley.
    She turned from the shawled mothers to the children and gave a little hop of excitement. “Oh, look! You all came! I’m so happy to see everyone!”
    “She doesn’t seem that bad,” Michael whispered.
    “Oh, shut up,” Emma hissed.
    The girl’s voice was gay, and she had, Kate noticed, a slight accent.
    “Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering why I asked you here. Well, you may thank my secretary, Mr. Cavendish.” She gestured toward the little man, who was attempting to plaster down his greasy hair. “Oh, isn’t he just the most darling thing! Well, he reminded me that today marks the second anniversary of my arrival in Cambridge Falls. C’est incroyable, n’est-ce pas? Two whole years we’ve been together! How perfectly wonderful!”
    If anyone else thought it was wonderful, they kept it to themselves.
    “And yet, Mr. Cavendish also reminded me that your men seem no closer to finding what I asked them to find than they were the day I arrived. Boo.” She stuck out her lower lip in a pout.
    “She has a nice way about her, don’t you think?” Michael said.
    This time Kate told him to shut up.
    The Countess continued: “But do not despair, mes amis! Your little Countess thought and thought till her head hurt, and I’ve found where I went wrong! Yes, I blame no one but myself! You see, I told your men, ‘Find me what I want and I will go away. You’ll be reunited with your families. All shall be as it was.’ Quelle imbécile! How could I have been so dull-witted?! I ask your men to find something, and the reward for finding it is that you will be deprived of my company?! Is it any wonder no progress has been made?! You don’t want to let me