Two brothers arrive in a town where magic and secrets lie hidden, including their own, unbeknownst to them

As they rumbled to a stop in front of the brown brick house, the double garage doors rumbled open in reply. It was quite obvious that they had been expected. As the doors let light into the garage, one foot at a time, an eclectic young man was revealed. The shoes were the deciding factor in the first impression that struck both Bennets at the same time. They were straight from the feet of a 1950s mobster (though they were brand new). The shoes were also utterly inappropriate for circumstance and climate. By the time that the Bennets had internalised the shoes, the doors had opened all the way allowing the brothers to see the bright smile gracing their supposed cousin’s face as well as the view through the garage door that was open beyond the young man. He gestured for them to drive through to the other side and disappeared into the house.

The brothers inched through the hallway like garage, stacked from floor to ceiling with things like fishing rods, tools and even a small lawnmower, all pushed to the sides. It was like whomever had packed these things away had forgotten that a car should be able to occupy the space and had then shoved everything to the sides to make barely enough room. Luckily the bright red Bug was a small car.

When the garage had finally spit them out on the other side of the house, they drove down the smallest of ramps and onto a bright green lawn, where the eclectic young man was standing once again gesturing at them to find a spot to park. With the engine shut off and the doors swinging wide, the Bennets sprang from the car like springs coiled too tightly. They were both quite tall and being stuffed into a tiny car for hours on end was not a comfortable experience.