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  “You are not a coward, Georgina,” Caleb said, his eyes earnest.

  “You’re the bravest girl I know,” Mikal said. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

  “Hey!” Caleb said jokingly. He reached out to tug on one of George’s orange curls. “He’s right. You set out all by yourself to find your uncle and save your aunt. You spent the night with two weirdos in a cemetery. You helped a creepy old lady brew a potion. You traveled through a mud puddle, hunted down a monster, and faced down actual living Nightmares to save my hide. You gave a dragon back his fire, and when Cav was lost, you went after him without thinking twice.”

  George gave half a smile. “You’re actually the one who gave the dragon back his fire. And Mikal rescued Cavendish.”

  Caleb chuckled and brushed his hair off his forehead. “So we’re a team; it’s all the same. And being afraid of Nero doesn’t make you a coward, George. I mean, the guy is evil.”

  “Thank you,” George said. “But when I see Nero again tonight, I’m going to be braver. Besides”—she wrinkled her nose—“what kind of person tells someone they don’t like their face?”

  “Beats me,” Caleb said. “I like your face just fine.”

  George’s cheeks flamed so red her silver freckles stood out.

  “Let’s get back to Obsidia and find our third key,” Mikal said.

  George cleared her throat. “Three for backpack, four for Caleb, five for Mikal, six for Cavendish. Okay, let’s go.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  They stepped through the Moor to Obsidia and into a world of crushing darkness.

  A humming sound clicked on, and a light faded in directly overhead, enclosing them in a circle of pale yellow so faint they could barely make out one another’s faces. Directly outside the circle, the blackness became complete.

  Caleb tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, whistling between his teeth. “So this is what a broken world looks like.”

  “I have never seen so much dark,” Mikal said in an awed voice.

  “Daniel would absolutely hate it here. He has to sleep with a night-light,” George said, sneezing at the smell of ozone and dust.

  Mikal just dug a cookie out of his pocket and stuffed it into his mouth. Then he booted up Cavendish.

  “Hello, hello, hello!” Cavendish said. “It took you longer than I thought it would to get here. Did I miss anything?”

  “The traffic was pretty bad,” Caleb said. “How’s the countdown?”

  “The time is now ten twenty-nine AM DWT. You currently have twelve hours and forty-two minutes until you’re pushing up daisies. My goodness, would you look at this place? Dusklord needs to hire a new decorator. Remember the things that crawled out of the shadows in the Land of Dreamers? I’d be curious to know how many of those things could live in such a big dark as this.”

  “You’re a real ray of sunshine, Cav,” Caleb said, but he swallowed hard. “This isn’t the Land of Dreamers, though. Even if there are shadows here, they’re not like the ones there. Nothing is like the ones there.”

  “If you say so,” Cavendish said. “Now, are we just going to stand here, or are we going to find out where that key is?”

  Holding Cavendish, Mikal spun around, but the picture didn’t start moving. Finally he came to a stop and shook himself. “He’s not working, and now I’m dizzy.”

  “I don’t understand,” Cavendish said sheepishly. “There’s no logical reason for me to be malfunctioning. Try again?”

  Mikal did, and there was no change.

  The children exchanged a concerned look.

  “Maybe your batteries are running low?” George asked hopefully.

  “I’ve told you—I don’t run on batteries! It’s probably just a result of being nearly drowned. I’m sure it’ll clear up. Now, can we get back to Dusklord? This is embarrassing.”

  “What do you know about him?” Caleb asked.

  “Not much. He’s notoriously mysterious, and reports vary. One thing everyone agrees upon is that he is not to be meddled with.”

  “So let’s not meddle with him,” George said. “He must be pretty creepy, with a world like this.”

  “That isn’t very nice, George,” Cavendish said. “Haven’t we learned by now that one should be careful of making judgments until one has grasped the entire situation? Look how nice Thazel turned out to be, and Hector. Lue, on the other hand, was lovely as a picture but a complete brat. Besides, how bad can he be if he gives butterscotch candy to an old lady?”

  The children blinked in surprise at Cavendish’s scolding.

  “Maybe that giant bad guy stepped on him harder than you thought, George,” Mikal whispered.

  “What was that?” Cavendish asked. “Did you say something?”

  Mikal just shook his head rapidly back and forth.

  “You’re right, Cavendish,” George said. “We have learned that. Though, to be fair, you were the one who was unfriendly to Thazel and Hector.”

  “I had to protect my people, didn’t I? I can’t go around trusting just anybody, can I?”

  “Okay! I’m not arguing with you. Dusklord may be a great guy, but just in case he isn’t, could there be a way to fix Obsidia without ever running into him?” George asked.

  “How in the Flyrrey do you think we could do that?” Cavendish asked.

  “We only have one tiny black puzzle piece, and we’re supposed to find out where it goes? Out there?” Mikal waved an arm in the direction of the nothingness.

  “And then find the key? Even if we got the world put back together, where would we start looking for the key? Cav is broken, so he can’t help us this time,” Caleb said.

  “What should we do, Cavendish?” Mikal asked.

  “Why are you asking me? I’m not working, remember?”

  “Aww, Cavendish,” George said. “Your map function is only part of the reason we need you. Even if it doesn’t work, you still know lots of stuff, and you can still give us good advice.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely,” Caleb said.

  “In that case, we wait. Dusklord’s world is broken and currently listed as inaccessible. You think he won’t come to investigate when someone accesses it?”

  George sighed and rubbed at her face. “But we’re in such a hurry. Why couldn’t he have been here waiting when we got here? The Hag, Mr. Neptune, and Cecil knew to expect us.”

  “Yes. We were all sent memos,” a man said in a dry voice.

  The children whipped around, peering into the darkness.

  A second light buzzed on several feet away, illuminating an exceptionally pale man with long black hair braided intricately and hanging down his back. His face was sharp-featured but attractive, and his eyes were of such a light color they could have been made of ice. He stood rigidly straight, and his hands were clasped behind his back.

  “Hello,” George said.

  “A standard greeting, to be sure. I do hope you’ll forgive me for daring to keep you waiting.”

  “It’s okay. I’m George. You must be Dusklord, right?”

  The man arched an inky eyebrow. “I cannot express how astounded I am by your powers of observation.” He began to circle the children slowly, and the light followed him as he moved.

  George frowned. “Are you being rude?”

  “It would appear so,” he said. “Although in my esteemed opinion, you are the rude one, little girl. Entering a person’s home uninvited is incredibly ill-mannered. In fact, in this world, certain measures would usually be taken to punish such presumption.”

  Caleb scowled and stepped in front of George. “If you think you can get away with threatening her—”

  “I can handle this myself, Caleb,” George said, and then looked back at Dusklord. “Caleb is right. You can’t threaten us. We may not have been invited, but we’re here for a reason, whether you like it or not. We’ve had a rough couple of days, and if you think trying to be scary and threatening is going to ge
t rid of us, you’re going to be very disappointed. And my name is George, not little girl.” She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes.

  Dusklord shrugged one shoulder and examined his gloves. “I wouldn’t dream of threatening you, little girl.” Then he turned and strode into the black, with both lights following after.

  They huddled together, watching their only light fade as Dusklord got smaller and smaller in the distance.

  “Sooo,” Cavendish said. “Are you just going to let him get away?”

  George heaved a sigh and set after Dusklord with Caleb and Mikal running to keep up.

  “Excuse me! Hi! Wait up, please?” she called.

  The man kept walking.

  “Hey, did you hear me?”

  “Of course I did. It’s impossible not to.”

  “You know we’re the Snaffleharp Company, right? I don’t think I told you that.”

  “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

  “We need your help. We have to find a key to Astria here so the Council of Seven can be renewed before eleven eleven tonight or else all the worlds will be broken, not just yours,” George said.

  “So we don’t have time for you to be difficult,” Mikal said.

  “But I’m so very good at it.”

  “Please, will you help us? We really need to get through your world.”

  Dusklord stopped so abruptly George almost ran into him. He gestured to the darkness around him. “Do you see a world here?”

  “No,” the children said together.

  “Then how do you expect to pass through one? This is a ruined realm. I cannot even pass through it, and I am the master. It has been shattered into millions of tiny interlocking pieces, every one of them black. In the past day, I have managed, through exhausting and painstaking dedication, to assemble every single one of them. Every single one, that is, except the last one. It is missing.”

  His face looked drawn and sad, and his voice was kinder when he said, “I’m very aware of the circumstances you mentioned. I was to give you the third key and be your guide to Astria. I gave my word to Constantine that I would wait for you, and that is all that has kept me here. But you cannot find a key in a world that doesn’t exist. I wanted to help you, and Constantine, and everyone. But now … now I’m no help to anyone. There is but a single jigsaw piece standing between me and my desire.” A sound halfway between a sob and a laugh escaped his throat.

  “We have it,” Mikal said.

  “We’ve got the last one. We’re here to help you put Obsidia back together,” Caleb said.

  There was no expression on Dusklord’s face. “How?” he choked out.

  “The person who broke it had a change of heart and gave it to us,” George said.

  A tremulous smile spread over Dusklord’s face. Then he spun on his heel and sprinted away, his boots making sharp clicking sounds on the hard ground.

  The children dashed after him.

  “I’m getting. Tired of all. This running,” Cavendish shouted as he jostled in Mikal’s arms.

  Then Dusklord skidded to a halt. “There it is.” He gestured to a tiny spot of white floating in the darkness directly above Mikal’s head.

  Mikal swiped at it, and it spiraled away from him.

  “Be careful! We mustn’t lose it!” Dusklord removed his gloves and dropped them heedlessly to the ground, then turned to them with bright, eager eyes. “Give me the piece.”

  “Not without the magic word,” Cavendish said.

  “Not now, Cavendish,” Mikal said.

  Caleb pulled the red bag from his pocket and gave it over.

  Dusklord took the satchel reverently, turned it upside down over his bare palm, and there, jet-black against his pale skin, was the single missing piece of his world. He inhaled and let the breath out slowly as he stepped up to the empty spot. He lifted the piece to the hole and pressed it in. It slid perfectly into place.

  “Now what?” Caleb asked.

  “Now we wait,” Dusklord said, standing still as a statue.

  They waited.

  George reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

  Mikal shifted Cavendish to the other arm.

  Caleb rocked back and forth on his heels.

  Then Dusklord pointed. “There,” he breathed with barely contained excitement.

  The kids leaned forward in anticipation, squinting to see what Dusklord had seen. They watched as the darkness wavered and then froze before erupting into a thick cloud of ravens. Their obsidian wings beat loudly, leaving stray feathers to float toward the ground.

  “Holy fire and hippos,” Mikal said.

  A bleached sun edged with silver hung on the horizon. It seemed to emanate no heat, only a sickly light that clung tentatively to the land below and faded into creeping shadow. Directly below the sun was a crumbling edifice erected of black stone, the towers toppling to the ground.

  An angelic smile lit Dusklord’s face, but the children didn’t see it.

  They had shielded their eyes, blinded by the fortress’s polished roof tiles, which cruelly reflected the light of the dying sun.

  “Just avert your gaze and follow me,” Dusklord said.

  The children obeyed, and he led the way to the far-off castle. Meteors began to streak across the sky, much lower than the children had seen them before.

  “Excuse me, Dusklord?” Mikal asked. “Why are the stars falling so much closer to the ground now?”

  “It’s eleven eleven in the morning. You have twelve hours to complete your mission. The magic has begun to wear off, and the stars will fall lower and lower until they begin to collide with the worlds.”

  “So, Dusklord,” George said, “where are you taking us? To the third key to Astria, I hope. Do we really have to keep calling you Dusklord?”

  “I don’t know if this is the time to be making friends, Georgina,” Caleb said.

  “Caleb, a strange man is leading us through his kingdom … place … to help us save the worlds and my family. What better time to make friends? You do have a real name, don’t you, Dusklord?”

  Dusklord stopped in the middle of the path, turning to face them with a look of confusion on his thin face. “A real name?”

  George just smiled at him.

  He frowned and cleared his throat. “My name is Boris Night. You may call me Mr. Night.” He turned and walked on.

  “Hi, Mr. Night. You may call me George.”

  “I’ll consider it.”

  The boys laughed, and George wrinkled her nose as she stalked after Mr. Night.

  “As for where I’m taking you, that would be to the Hall of Forfeit, which is where we’ll retrieve the key.”

  “What’s the Hall of Forfeit?” Caleb asked.

  “Sounds mysterious,” Mikal said.

  “The Hall of Forfeit is a collection of worlds that have been condemned or are considered too dangerous for just anyone to access without review and special permit. They’ve been sent to my realm to protect the public.”

  “Why is the key there? Couldn’t you have put it somewhere a little less … dangerous?” Mikal asked.

  “I put it where I thought it would be safe at the time. And … where I’d remember where it was.”

  “At least he knows where it is. We’d be in trouble if he didn’t, since Cavendish has stopped working and he can’t take us to it, like he did the others,” George said.

  Mr. Night coughed but didn’t say anything else.

  The path finally ended at a decaying drawbridge over a slimy green moat. Mr. Night led them across, and they stopped before a wooden gate barring entrance into the fortress.

  The children watched with great interest as Mr. Night attempted to open the gate with an oversized key. Several minutes passed without progress, and he appeared to be getting frustrated.

  “Do you need help?” Caleb asked.

  Mr. Night scowled in reply and kicked viciously at the wood.

  “I’m getting hungry,” Mikal said. “May
be we can eat while we wait?”

  Caleb passed the rainbow pillowcase around, and each child removed a snack wrapped in paper. George unwrapped a huge blueberry muffin, Caleb got a chocolate chip muffin, and Mikal wrinkled his nose when he discovered a carrot muffin.

  George gave him a sympathetic look. “Wanna trade?”

  Mikal nodded eagerly and began gobbling up the blueberry pastry.

  “You’re lucky you remind me of my little brother,” George said. “Daniel refused to eat anything orange. Would you like some food, Mr. Night?”

  He didn’t answer, only wandered away and returned with a sturdy stick, which he proceeded to beat against the rotting planks of the stubborn gate. He glowered furiously at the stick before returning his attention to the keyhole.

  “Sometimes it sticks,” he said, kicking at it once more as he wiped the hair back from his sweating forehead. Then he sat dejectedly on the ground. He drew his knees up and cradled his head in his hands as he mumbled to himself. “Humiliating. Absolutely humiliating. A Great Lord, of a Great Land, who can’t even gain access to his own Great Fortress. Utterly, abominably humiliating. I shall never live this down, if I live a thousand years.”

  “Which is increasingly unlikely if we don’t get this show on the road,” Cavendish said.

  “Indeed,” Mr. Night said, rising gracefully to his feet. “I suppose we can go the back way, though it will take longer.” He smoothed back his hair, dusted his hands together in a dignified manner, and then gave the gate one last furious kick.

  It crashed inward, falling off its rusted hinges and landing in the courtyard with a bang. The ground vibrated beneath their feet as the echoes rumbled throughout the now-exposed courtyard.

  Mr. Night cleared his throat and smiled triumphantly. “Shall we?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Mr. Night led them through the ruined courtyard. He tugged at an immense door, which creaked open, sending stale air whooshing out to greet them as they stepped into a gloomy passage. Soon he stopped before a wall covered by a threadbare tapestry.