Free The End of Time by P. W. Catanese, David Ho Page A

shoulder, “you’re not a young man anymore. You need people to look after you. It might be time to leave this place.”
    “Leave?” Fendofel looked up with watery eyes. “This is my home, Umber. Everything I know is here. And I have Dendra to watch after me.” One of the vines was beside the old man as usual, and Fendofel laid his hand upon it. Hap felt a tingle of fear on his spine, because the vine had risen up and arched itself like a viper when Umber suggested that Fendofel leave the island.
    “I know,” Umber said. “But . . .” He looked at Balfour. “Balfour, would you take Hap and Sophie outside? I’ll catch up with you.”
    Hap paused for a moment, waiting to catch Umber’s eye. When Umber looked back at him, Hap jabbed his chin toward the vine. Umber just smiled warmly and waved him away.
    Before Hap could follow Balfour and Sophie out of the dome, an animal sound erupted outside: the terrified bleating of a beast in distress. Nearby, the thickest of the vines was in motion, flexing like an enormous muscle that filled one entire arch. The sound grew louder.
    Balfour and Sophie backed into the dome and stepped aside, looking wild-eyed. When they moved, Hap saw a full-grown deer coming at him, hovering off the ground with its four legs stabbing at the air. One of the striped vines was coiled around its midsection, propelling it forward. The hooves of the deer clattered against the stone arch. Its brown eyes bulged and spittle flew from its mouth. Dendra was too strong; the vine shoved the terrified animal through the arch, and Hap leaped aside to avoid the flailing legs.
    “Dendra!” cried Fendofel. He swatted the vine with his palm. “This is most impolite!”
    Beside the old wizard, Umber sprang upright, spilling the thorny nut and canvas onto the floor. His avid gaze darted right and left, absorbing the scene.
    Hap backed away from the vine and bumped into Sophie. She wrapped her good arm around him and pulled him against her. He felt her warm gasp in his ear as the body of Dendra—the enormous, gourdlike thing at the heart of the vines—cracked open in four sections that peeled down like the petals of a flower. The inner surface was yellow and studded with glistening white knobs, and when the vine shoved the terrified animal inside, the poor deer stuck to the knobs like glue. The vine uncoiled and withdrew, leaving the thrashing, squealing animal inside. The four sections rose again and closed tight.
    For a while Hap heard thumping inside Dendra’s body. Sophie’s hand was on his chest, and he wondered if she felt his heart leaping under her palm.
    The sounds of struggle faded. Hap heard a thump, and hoped it was the last. But there were two more after that, much weaker. Then Dendra shivered, and another sound started from within, a grinding and sloshing that made his stomach go sour.
    Fendofel dabbed at his eyes with the end of one sleeve. “My friends, I am so sorry,” he said with a sniff. “I . . . I don’t know what got into her. . . . She’s not supposed to feed with guests here . . . and not like that. There are gentler ways.”
    Umber put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t trouble yourself over it, Fendofel.” He looked at the others and gestured toward the exit. “Go on,” he told them.
    “By all means,” Balfour said thickly. His face was a few shades paler than usual. Sophie was suddenly conscious of her hand around Hap’s chest, and she pulled it away. Hap followed her and Balfour out, and the three of them shuffled as if they’d forgotten how to walk properly.
    When he stepped outside the dome, Hap saw Oates lying on a stone bench under a tree with long, drooping branches that burst with pink blossoms. Petals were scattered across the big fellow’s chest. He snored like thunder, and his mouth hung open with a trickle of drool running down one cheek. “The man can sleep through anything,” Balfour said, shaking his head.
    The three of them sat on one of the