“I can’t outrun them,” said Todtman, grimacing with every rushed step on his injured leg as they turned onto a broader service alley behind a row of apartment buildings.

“I can help,” said Ren, rushing up to Todtman. At not quite four-and-a-half feet tall, she was essentially crutch-sized.

But Todtman had a different strategy in mind. He lifted his cane and pointed toward a small garage, its roll-down metal door halfway open. “We’ll take cover in there,” he said.

“There?” said Ren skeptically.

Alex looked at the slice of deep darkness inside, but it wasn’t the possibility of spiders or scorpions or last week’s trash inside that worried him. It was the possibility of trapping themselves.

Suddenly, he heard voices in the side alley they’d just come from. Their pursuers had picked up their trail again.

“Hurry!” said Todtman, once again limping over without his cane to avoid its noisy beat.

He ducked stiffly under the roll-gate, and the others filed in after him like a line of ducklings. Alex crouched down in the gray light of the service alley and straightened up into darkness. His first whiff of the air inside told him he’d been right about the garbage.

“We need to close this,” said Todtman.

Luke was already leaning into it. “Stuck,” he grunted. “Stuck bad.”

“Step back, please,” said Todtman. “Alex?”

Alex reached up, wrapped his left hand around his amulet, and felt the electric thrill of its power surge through his system. A few feet away, Todtman did the same.

“Go,” whispered Todtman.

Alex lifted his right hand, spread his fingers, and then pushed them slowly toward the ground. One side of the door was farther down. The other side is jammed, thought Alex, and he concentrated on that one. The old gate groaned in response but did little more than shift and shiver.

“More,” said Todtman.

Alex pushed harder. Todtman must have, too, because suddenly the gate snapped shut with a loud metallic rumble.

Way too loud! thought Alex.

If The Order had already made the turn into the service alley, then the friends had just closed the lid on their own coffin.

Everyone held their breath.

Alex risked a few whispered words: “Ren, use your amulet. Can you see anything?”

No response.

In the darkness of their pungent sardine can, he couldn’t tell if she was ignoring him or already holding her mysterious ibis, trying to puzzle out whatever image it gave her.

He heard footsteps. Voices.

The sounds came through the gate so clearly — conducted by the metal — that Alex briefly wondered if they could hear his own hammering heartbeat on the other side.

“It sounds like they knocked something over,” said one of the thugs. “Check the ground.”

Alex tried to count the footsteps. How many of them were there? Then a new voice stopped him cold.

“The German will try to cloud your mind.” It was a woman’s voice, dry and scratchy, as desolate as a desert wind. “Do not look him in the eyes. Shoot him first.”

Guns. The Order thugs had only carried knives in London. They don’t fear the law here, he realized. We’re on their turf, and they fear nothing.

Alex heard a faint sound coming from somewhere behind the garage, like raindrops or soft footsteps.

“Wait!” It was a man’s voice, directly outside.

Alex stiffened. He pictured the metal gate flying up and bullets filling the darkness. His amulet could do amazing things, but he had no illusions that it could stop bullets. A sense of hopelessness filled him. A sudden fear that his mom would never know what happened to him — and he would never know what happened to her.

Another sound, farther off, like a single loud hand-clap.

“That door!” said the same man. “Someone just closed it!”

Footsteps again, this time hard and heading away.

“This way,” hissed Todtman. Weak light flooded in, a gray rectangle appearing in the wall as the doctor opened a side door. “Quickly,” he whispered. “It won’t take them long to realize their mistake.”

There was commotion behind them as the door that had just been closed was broken down. Wood splintered, and Alex turned just in time to see the last figure in line glide silently into the house: a very thin woman wearing a pale white mask — the skull of a lioness. A shiver went through him. Peshwar.

As she disappeared inside, the doorway lit up red. The Order had followed the wrong trail and someone else had just paid the price.

Todtman led them to the end of the alley. He didn’t risk using his cane until they made a quick turn onto a side street. Farther from the big buildings of the main avenues, the city changed. Houses were smaller and closer together; everything was concrete or brick in shades of gray or brown or tan. Mangy-looking stray dogs picked at scattered garbage piles. One of the stray dogs started following them, and not in a friendly way. Its fur was matted and stained, white foam dripping ominously from its mouth.

Here and there, tantalizing scents of strong spices and simmering food wafted out of open windows. But so too did loud, angry arguments. Emergency sirens echoed down the narrow streets.

The twilight settled around them like a gray shawl, the first streetlights just now blinking on. To Alex, this was scarier than total darkness. At least you could hide in darkness. “What happened back there?” he said.

“Someone picked the wrong time to take out the trash,” said Ren.

“They almost added us to the pile,” said Luke. “They had guns and maybe like a laser or something. They were going to go full-on Call of Duty on us!”

“That wasn’t a laser,” said Alex.

Luke looked at him and then glanced down at Alex’s scarab beetle amulet as it reflected the soft glow of a streetlight. Luke made the connection. “All right, bug boy, a magic laser — a maser. I don’t want to get hit by it either way —”

There was a low growl right behind them. They looked back. The mangy dog was closer now. As it crossed under the streetlight, the white foam around its mouth seemed to glow. Todtman led them away, onto another side street.

“Do you think we lost Peshwar?” Alex asked.

“We will not lose her until her hunt is over,” he said. “One way or the other.”

A few blocks later, Todtman came to a stop outside an abandoned three-story building. Its windows were boarded up or painted over, and the front door was layered with notices from the city: CONDEMNED.

“Uh, guys?” said Ren. The dog had appeared again behind them, circling toward Ren: the smallest target. Alex instinctively stepped between her and the filthy hound. It was close now, one quick lunge and snap away. He didn’t want to hurt the thing but … His hand slid up toward his scarab as he looked back toward Todtman, standing by the door.

“How do we get in?” said Alex. “There’s not even a doorbell.”

“Not as such,” said Todtman, reaching up and wrapping his hand around his amulet.

Almost immediately, Alex heard movement inside.

A voice came through the doorway, and the stray dog cocked its head. Memories of some long-lost home, Alex thought, and his hand fell away from his amulet. Poor thing.

Sirens wailed in the distance; somewhere, a gunshot.

The door opened, and the rabid dog slunk away.