Dad rushed to his desk, but he had barely reached it before the study door was blown open and a man barreled in, a gun in his hand.

“Put your hands where I can see them!” he shouted.

The peephole gave Emma a limited view. She couldn’t see the man’s face, but she saw his black shirt, strangely billowing and open at the chest. His forearms were covered in horrible burn marks. Scarred, lumpy red skin went from the tops of his elbows all the way down to his fingertips. The fingers were odd too. They looked as if they’d been chopped off, chewed up, and then sewn back on. They moved crookedly, backward even, as he pointed the gun at Dad and said, “Now, get up.”

A woman entered the room behind him, dragging Mom in a vise grip. Emma gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth.

“Oh no,” Herbie whispered.

The woman was shorter, and Emma could see her face. Dressed in a pizza delivery uniform, she was a ragged woman with a mess of blond hair and a pair of narrow green eyes. Wiry and tough, her whole body seemed to give off an electrical impulse that might crackle at the slightest provocation. She threw Mom to the floor. Mom scrambled to her feet to find the woman pointing a gun at her.

When Mom stood up, the man let out a deep, rich laugh. “Well, well, Halifax Brightstoke!”

“He knows your mom?” Herbie whispered.

“Caz Rastall…,” Mom replied in a dark voice.

“And she knows him?” Emma squeaked.

“And Laine Night,” Mom said coldly, staring at the woman. “I should have known.”

To Emma’s amazement, Mom looked not at all frightened. She gave Rastall a challenging gaze. “I almost didn’t recognize you with all the burns.”

“You thought you were clever hiding here, did you?” Rastall spat. “Well, there are others here too. You should never have left Draco, my girl.”

“Draco?” Herbie whispered.

“How did you find me?” Mom asked.

“Why don’t you ask your husband?”

They couldn’t see Dad’s face, but Mom’s expression showed a hint of dismay.

“You’re nothing but a petty thief,” Mom said.

“Oh ho!” Rastall cried. “And you’re not?” He gave a laugh.

Emma gaped.

Another man came into the room behind them. He was short and thuggish, and his arms were just as burned as Caz’s. He was carrying a gun.

“Did you find the Pyxis?” Caz asked him.

The man stepped forward and held out a necklace. “Was in a jewelry box upstairs,” he said, his voice rough. Emma recognized one of Mom’s necklaces, a rather large silver locket. It was circular, with gears and dials like an astrolabe.

Caz seized it with amazement.

“Unbelievable,” he said, laughing wickedly. “Your jewelry box?”

“Give it back,” Mom commanded coldly.

Rastall spun on her. “If you value your life, you’ll tell me what I need to do to activate it.” He held up the necklace. The amulet spun helplessly on its chain.

“There’s something else,” the man said. “They’ve got a kid. A girl, I’m thinking. She’s got a bedroom upstairs.”

Rastall looked alarmed. He pointed his gun at Dad. “Where is she?”

“She’s out,” he said. “At soccer practice.”

“You’re lying!” Rastall strode angrily toward the desk. “WHERE IS SHE?”

“I told you. She’s at soccer pra—”

CRACK! Rastall knocked the butt of his pistol against Dad’s head. Dad fell forward, unconscious. His body hit the carpet with a terrible thud.

“If she’s gone for help,” Rastall said bitterly to Mom, “so help me, I’ll hunt her down and kill her too.”

Mom didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed. She was staring at the amulet. “If you don’t give it back right now,” she said, “I’ll make sure you don’t leave this room alive.”

Emma was flabbergasted.

“You’ll make it easier on yourself if you tell me what I need to know,” Rastall said.

“I’ll never tell you anything, you filth!” Mom said, lashing out with a kick. It sent Rastall sprawling backward and knocked the gun from his hand.

Laine fell on Mom, but she was ready. Emma watched in complete amazement as Mom aimed a square punch at the woman’s face. Laine blocked it and struck back, but Mom caught her arm and twisted until something snapped. Laine howled in agony, and Mom punched her in the neck. She fell to the floor.

Emma couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her mother was fighting as if she did this every day! She spun just in time to fend off the second burned man, delivering a forceful kick that sent him sprawling onto a table and crashing to the floor. The gun flew out of his grip and slid across the carpet.

Mom made a dash for the gun. She was nearly there, but Rastall was up on his feet. He lunged for her. Mom raised her fists and it looked as if she might strike him again, but suddenly a spurt of blood sprayed from her nose, and she stumbled. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough for Rastall to seize his gun. He pointed it at her chest as Laine delivered a vicious punch to Mom’s face. Mom fell backward, tumbling over the chair.

Rastall gave a wicked laugh. “I’m afraid, dear Halifax, that you may need some persuasion.” He hauled her to her feet and nodded at Laine. “Tell me how to start the Pyxis or I’m going to shoot your husband.”

Mom was shaking, but she stood there with a defiant gaze.

Laine aimed her pistol at Dad and fired. The noise of the explosion seemed to rip through the hidey-hole. Mom screamed.

Both of Emma’s hands were clapped to her mouth. She was whimpering, her whole body shaking violently. Herbie grabbed her arm. They couldn’t see enough of Dad to know where the bullet had struck, but they heard him groan. Laine raised her gun again.

“STOP!” Mom shrieked. “Stop! I’ll tell you.” Her face was so full of anguish that Emma began to cry.

Blood was pouring from Mom’s nose and she looked woozy. Emma had the awful feeling that she couldn’t tell them what they wanted to know. How did one “start” a necklace, anyway?

After a moment, Mom said, “All you must do is hold it and wish it to start.”

Laine’s eyes opened wide with something verging on horror and excitement. “Did ye hear that? Try it now! Go on! We’ve got to make sure she’s not lying.”

Rastall was gazing skeptically at Mom. “I know you too well, Halifax, to believe that answer. Do you think I’m a fool?”

Emma looked at her mother just in time to catch the wisp of a vicious smile. “Go ahead,” Mom spat. “Try it if you don’t believe me.”

Rastall narrowed his eyes.

“Go on!” Laine cried. “Yer wastin’ time!”

“We can’t start it now!” he snapped.

“Give it to me, then.” Laine lowered her gun. “I’ll try it!”

“No!” he replied. His eyes never left Mom’s face. “If we start it now, it’ll send a signal, and the whole planet will know in an instant—”

“I know, I know,” Laine said impatiently. “Like an invisible siren and everyone can hear ’cause they’re always listenin’ for it. But I don’t care about that, do I? They ain’t going to find us—we’ll be halfway to Draco—”

“It will reveal its location,” Rastall cut in. “No matter where we go.”

“But she could be lying!” Laine said.

“Exactly right.” Rastall’s eyes gleamed. “And since we don’t want the whole universe to descend on this wretched little city, I think we’ll just have to take our dear Halifax along for the ride!”

Emma’s heart leapt into her throat. Laine seized Mom. Her nose was bleeding profusely now, her head lolling forward.

“What about Mad Jack?” Laine asked.

“Bring him,” Rastall intoned. “We’ll need him later.”

The burned man bent over and hauled Dad onto his shoulders.

Emma and Herbie listened as the kidnappers thundered through the kitchen and out the back door. They heard snatches of conversation—about a car parked in the alley and whether they should go back to look for Emma. They heard their own hearts racing, blood pounding in their heads, their breath magnificently loud in the confined space. Emma was crying silently, too stunned to speak.

It was Herbie who began feeling the walls around him, looking for a way to open the hidey-hole. “Don’t worry, Emma,” he said breathlessly. “We’ll get out of here and call the police. They’ll find them. We know exactly what they look like.”

When his fingers finally struck the latch, the door sprang open and they both tumbled out.

Emma hit the carpet and lay there facedown, struck dumb with shock. Herbie sat up and rubbed his foot. Something had fallen out of the hidey-hole behind them—a wooden box about the size of a backpack had knocked into him. He pushed it aside and knelt over Emma.

“Just stay here. I’m gonna call the police.”