BENNY’S HAND gripped my shoulder. “We’ve gotta get her out of there!”

Suddenly my fear evaporated like a milk shake on Mercury. “Oh, yeah,” I whispered. “We will. Preferably without being sacrificed ourselves.”

“Any ideas?”

I glanced at the rapidly setting sun. “Let the cat out.”

Benny gave me a funny look.

“It’s almost moonrise,” I said, “and she’ll make sure we have advance warning before things get supernatural. Plus, it’s not fair to leave her in there.”

“All right,” he whispered. “Loose the Honey Girl!”

I opened the carrier door. The big calico scampered out, sat down, and promptly began licking her butt.

“That’s a big help,” said Benny. “Any other thoughts?”

I gnawed my lip. “You know, if I can just hang this amulet around Mr. Sharkawy’s neck, all our troubles are over.”

He grinned. “I’ll distract him, you jump him.”

I wished we had a better plan than that, but our time was almost up. I nodded. “Give me a minute to get into position, then lure him over by that crypt.” I indicated a smaller mausoleum off to the right.

“Why that one?” asked Benny. “Good supernatural juju?”

I shook my head. “Short enough for me to climb onto.”

We bumped fists for luck, and then I crept in a wide circle, ducking from tombstone to tombstone like a graveyard ninja. I needn’t have bothered. The museum director’s hyena crew stayed totally focused on their sinister ritual.

Mr. Sharkawy recited words from a yellowed scroll, which his Sharkettes echoed. “We call upon the four directions—north, west, east, and south….”

“North, west, east, south,” his flunkies repeated in a reciting-the-Pledge-of-Allegiance tone.

“We call upon the spirit of the full moon, which rises….”

“The full moon rises,” chanted the Sharkettes.

Tina stirred, raising her head. Her eyes got huge. “Gnngh!” she said through the gag, and struggled against her bonds.

By then, I had reached the little crypt, which was built into the hillside like a hobbit house. Sneaking around back, I climbed onto its roof, staying low.

The sun sank halfway behind the horizon. Then…

“Hello there, ladies and germs!” Benny boomed, stepping into the open. “And welcome to Weirdo-Palooza! I can see the weirdos are already out in force.”

“You insolent boy!” snarled Mr. Sharkawy.

“That’s my name,” said Benny. “Don’t wear it out.”

The Sharkettes gawked in disbelief.

“Hi, Mrs. Macadangdang,” said Benny. “What are you doing here?”

The hairdresser automatically raised a hand in greeting. “I, uh…like animals?” she said uncertainly.

“Gngh mff!” grunted Tina.

Mr. Sharkawy pointed off dramatically. “Leave us, boy!” he thundered. “You profane our holy ritual with your presence.”

Benny began angling in my direction. “Hey, you turn my stomach with your ugly face,” he said, “but you don’t hear me complaining.”

I grinned. Score one for Benny. No one did irritating better than him.

With a glance at the setting sun, Mr. Sharkawy snapped, “Go, now!”

“Gee, I think I’ll stay,” said Benny. “No place nicer than a graveyard at sundown. So peaceful.”

“Then our animal ancestors will enjoy a second sacrifice,” said the museum director. “Mr. Nutters, seize him!”

The freakishly tall Mr. Nutters left the circle, spread his freakishly long arms, and rushed after Benny. He snatched, and came up with nothing but air. Grunting in frustration, he grabbed again, and once more Benny spun away.

Apparently, Mr. Nutters didn’t know that Benny was the two-time dodgeball champion of our grade. My friend had some serious moves.

But all his juking and jiving didn’t get me any closer to playing ring toss on Mr. Sharkawy. I drew the amulet from my pocket. It felt warm.

“Hold still!” Mr. Nutters barked, lunging again. Benny ducked around a tombstone, making the tall man bang his knee hard and do a face-plant in the grass.

The museum director blew out a sigh. “Must I do everything myself?” Apparently, the answer was yes, because he set down his scroll and ran at Benny.

That’s the stuff, I thought. Just a little closer…

Benny slipped Mr. Sharkawy’s grab and darted past my crypt. Much faster than his too-tall flunky, the museum director followed, hard on his heels.

I gathered myself and sprang.

As I jumped, I noticed two things from the corner of my eye: (a) Tina Green leaping up and down, trying to slip her bound hands off the post; and (b) the last red sliver of sun sinking into the ocean.

Moonrise.

My timing was as perfect as if we’d rehearsed it.

Just as Mr. Sharkawy passed my crypt, I hit him from behind like a load of bricks. Down he went, face-first. But my hand was empty.

Where was the amulet?

Kneeling on his back, I scrabbled around for the necklace, which had flown free at impact. I only had seconds before he went all hyenoid and scarfed me down like Carlos niblets.

My hands shook. It felt like I was holding back a scream.

The museum director writhed underneath me. Was he beginning to change? I gripped tighter with my knees.

“Ow, that hurts!” he said into the dirt.

There! At last my hands closed on the amulet’s heavy chain. But with a sudden twist, Mr. Sharkawy threw me off his back. He climbed to one knee.

Before he could stand, I surged forward and slipped the ancient charm around his neck. Just as I did, a huge hand closed around my upper arm.

“Gotcha!” Mr. Nutters had me.

The museum director rose to his feet, lifting the amulet and blinking at it in surprise.

“Ha!” I crowed. “Suck on that, hyena face!”

Mr. Sharkawy stared at the necklace in the light of the lanterns. A strange look crept across his features. “So you brats did steal it after all.”

It was my turn to stare. The moon had risen over the hill, as full and fat as a big old lemon pie. Yet here was the alpha hyena, examining the amulet with a satisfied sneer. What about the writhing in agony? The turning into a puddle of goo?

“Die, twisted fiend!” I cried.

But he didn’t die. Mr. Sharkawy let the talisman fall back against his chest. “Thanks for returning this,” he said. “But we’re still going to sacrifice you. Bring him,” he told Mr. Nutters.

I thrashed about. “No!”

And then, a bloodcurdling caterwaul froze us all in our tracks:

Rrrreeeauh!

Craning around, I spotted Honey Girl crouched by a gravestone with all her fur standing on end. Something was setting off the cat.

And I thought I knew what.

From someplace close, an eerie cry split the twilight. “Eeee-heh-heh-heh-heh!”

My legs went rubbery.

The real were-hyena had arrived!