The dungeon stank to high heaven.

It was muddy and gross and nasty, and Sydney was pretty sure somebody had gone to the bathroom in one corner pretty recently.

Brooding in the back with her knees tucked up under her arms and her unshod foot raised slightly in the air, she tried to figure out how they’d gotten here and, more important, if it was her fault. She tended to get blamed for a lot of bad things that happened, and while most of the time the accusations were spot on, this time she wasn’t so sure.

“I wanna go home.”

Poor Alexa was cracking. Sydney figured the only thing keeping her little sister in one emotional piece was the tight grip she had on Zack’s arm. Not that Sydney blamed her. She was pretty sure there was a meltdown in her own future if something didn’t happen soon to turn this little adventure around.

It would’ve helped if the guy in the next cell would shut up.

“—revealing myself to General Washington,” he was babbling on and on. “To do otherwise would dishonor my name, country, and king. A gentleman must remain upright and proper, even during such unseemly times of war as these. I’m sure you agree.”

No one bothered to respond. They had quickly learned the man saw conversation as a predominantly one-sided affair.

“It was quite the monumental task to find the proper words with which to convey my message,” he continued. “While I respect General Washington, he is, after all, rebelling against his king and, as such, beneath a proper British subject such as myself.”

The man, who had introduced himself as Major John Andre, had been talking nonstop ever since the children had been thrown into the adjoining cell. Sydney had quickly tuned him out and was pretty sure her siblings had done the same. Janice, in fact, seemed to have tuned out the entire world, having spent the time since being incarcerated sitting against the wall with a blank look on her face.

What had really shaken Sydney to the core was that near as she could tell from the guy’s continuous ranting, she and her siblings had somehow found themselves in the middle of the American Revolution. Since she was pretty sure that particular war had ended something like two hundred years ago or more, there was a scary-real chance that they had traveled back in time. Which freaked the heck out of her.

“Personally, I blame General Arnold,” continued Major John Andre. “The man is an utter buffoon and I should never have agreed to his haphazard attempt at espionage. Did you know he constantly smells of fish?”

Aside from the self-important Andre, the only other person they’d seen since being thrown into the dungeon was the butler who had screamed when they’d opened the door. He’d come around once to offer them bread and water, managing not to scream this time.

As Andre dove into a list of everything wrong with Benedict Arnold, Sydney once again looked around their cell, trying to come up with a means of escape. She had already tested the bars of their cell as well as searched around for anything she could use to do serious damage to them. No such luck. Finally, she hopped over to Zack and Alexa, loath to step on the cell floor with her sock. “What are they going to do with us?” she asked.

Zack closed his eyes and sighed, gathering his thoughts. “We’re going to be all right,” he said. “What can they do? We’re not spies. We’re not even British. They’ll let us go.”

“Go where?” asked Sydney.

Zack had no answer, so she shuffled back to her corner, less than convinced. She knew her brother meant well, but she was worried.

“I do believe death at the gallows to be relatively quick and painless,” mentioned Major Andre quietly.

“What?” asked Sydney.

“A swift plunge to a merciful end,” he explained, relishing the thought. “The ground beneath you gives way, and you plummet straight into the abyss. But then, of course, your fall is stopped short by less-than-comfortable neckwear. I’m sure you’ll find the experience invigorating.”

He was smiling, but his voice dripped and drooled with an unfriendly malevolence that caused Sydney to stand and move away from the creepy spy. He followed her with eyes glistening and twinkling in the fading, flickering torchlight, but said nothing more.

A loud creaking pulled Sydney’s attention to the lone door leading out of the dungeon. She held her breath as it groaned its way open. Here we go, she thought. Sydney was ready for anything. Firing squad. Poison. The hangman. A dancing bear. Anything.

Except for who walked through the door.

“Aunt Gladys?” cried Alexa, leaping out of Zack’s lap and flying to the bars of the cell with the fervent gusto of a seven-year-old being offered free candy.

“Oh! There you…right. Alex, right?” asked the ever-distracted woman. “No, don’t tell me. Andy?”

The other three children—even Janice—jumped up as their aunt fumbled with a large ring of keys. She wore her white beekeeper’s helmet tight over her face, making it difficult for her to tell key from key.

“How did you find us?” asked Alexa.

“How’d you get past the soldiers?” asked Janice.

“How’d you get the keys?” asked Zack.

“How’d you build a time machine?” asked Sydney.

Aunt Gladys started at Sydney’s question, as if physically struck. “Time machine? You think…? Oh! Well, yes, I suppose…Time machine? How strange.”

“Try another key!” offered Zack, desperate to get their aunt back on track.

“Another…? Oh! Yes, of course!”

She went back to fumbling through the keys, and the four children waited as patiently as possible as she tried first one, then another, to no avail.

“You cannot unlock yourself from fate, children,” crooned Major Andre. “The noose is ever patient.”

Aunt Gladys looked up. “Goodness! Such negativity!” she said.

“The keys, Aunt Gladys!” prompted Zack.

“Oh! Yes. They really should number these,” she muttered. “Perhaps color-code…”

Finally, a key slid effortlessly into the lock. So effortlessly, in fact, that Aunt Gladys was about to pull it out and try another before Zack stopped her. A moment later, the cell door was open and the children were free.

“Now, come,” ordered Aunt Gladys. “It’s time to return home.”

“He smelled of fish!” called Major Andre. “Fish and cheese and the gallows!”

“Aunt Gladys?” asked Alexa. “Can we release him, too?”

“Seriously? The guy’s way creepy!” snarled Sydney.

“Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t unlock his cell,” said Alexa, seemingly secure in her knowledge that deep down everyone was good and deserved a second chance.

Sydney begged to differ, remembering the predatory look Major Andre had given her a moment earlier. She was about to argue for letting him rot in his cell but stopped upon noticing a strange look of amusement come over her aunt’s face.

“Release…?” said Aunt Gladys. “How novel. Possibly amusing. Come along.”

She walked back toward the basement door.

“Aren’t you going to set him free?” cried Alexa.

“Why would I do that?” asked Aunt Gladys, reaching the door and pulling something large and bulky from her pocket.

Even Sydney was a bit taken aback by her aunt’s callousness.

“You’re just going to leave him here?” Zack asked.

“We’ve got lumps of it ’round the back!” called Major Andre, making less and less sense with each passing moment.

“Oh for heaven’s…” Aunt Gladys shook her head. “He’ll be dead in less than a week.”

“I beg your pardon?” asked the condemned, snapping out of his slow descent into madness.

“Aunt Gladys!” exclaimed Alexa. Sydney and the others froze in shock.

“Or, was dead, I suppose,” continued Aunt Gladys without a care in the world. “Will soon to have been dead. Will once again be dead. Something like that.” She returned her attention to the door and pressed the large and bulky something up against it. There was an audible click that somehow seemed to resonate more within Sydney than without, and Aunt Gladys turned what Sydney could now see was a big crystal doorknob. With a soft grunt, Aunt Gladys pulled the door wide, and a blaze of bright white light poured into the room.

“Home!” announced Alexa, who ran forward.

“Yes, yes!” agreed Aunt Gladys. “Hurry along, now.”

Needing no further encouragement, Alexa bounded greedily into the light and disappeared.

“How did you do that?” asked Janice.

“Run now,” said Aunt Gladys. “Explain later.”

“But—”

“The polite thing to do would be to set me free!” cried the forgotten Major Andre in a voice far deeper than he had used before. Curious, Sydney peered back down the hallway, and it seemed quite a bit darker than it had a moment earlier.

“Run!” urged Aunt Gladys.

Zack shoved Janice and Sydney in front of him even as another strangled cry spilled out of the now-unseen major’s lips. This one was wet, hoarse, and disturbing.

“Major Andre?” asked Sydney.

“Has been dead for over two hundred years, child!” assured Aunt Gladys. “Run!”

Another moist roar emerged from the suddenly pitch-black basement behind them, chilling Sydney to the core. With a startled squeak, Janice pushed her way past and vanished into the light.

“Go, Sydney!” urged Zack, shoving her forward.

Confused, concerned, and increasingly disturbed, Sydney gave in and launched herself into the blinding whiteness. The last thing she heard before the world wrapped itself around her was a tortured gasp of unearthly horror coming from a voice that was no longer human.