Like an enormous mouth eagerly waiting to chomp, Mezzarix’s cave looked anything but inviting.

“You’ll forgive me, I hope,” Mezzarix said as he led Priscilla toward the opening. “Had I known you would be visiting I would’ve taken time to tidy up.”

Torches ensconced on either side of the opening flickered in the surging wind.

“You couldn’t have at least put in a door?” Priscilla asked.

“A door is so off-putting,” he said. “Nothing says ‘stay out’ quite like a locked door. And I . . . well, I wouldn’t want to send the wrong message. I love visitors.”

Closing his hand around hers, Mezzarix led his daughter through the opening, and the mouth swallowed them up into blackness. The dark only lingered for a few moments before the old man cracked two stones together and sparks ignited in a pit near the center of the cave. Soon a fire burned, and the flames licked the bottom of a black kettle.

The ceiling towered at least thirty feet above. There were a few stalactites pointing down on an otherwise flat surface. As the warmth and light of the fire filled the cave, various items took shape. A table made from a long slab of stone. A bed set against the far wall with blankets strewn about and two matted pillows. A bookshelf with at least a dozen books stood next to it.

“Where on earth did you get those?” Priscilla asked, shocked to see Mezzarix’s selection of reading material.

“Tsk, tsk. Not everyone fears snake monsters or avalanches. I’ve summoned help from time to time.” With a swoop of his hand, he draped a blanket over Priscilla’s shoulders. “Here. You’re freezing.”

Mezzarix hurried off, vanishing behind an enormous stalagmite jutting up from the floor like a fang. Priscilla could hear the soft clink of glass as her father procured some ingredient. She quietly dug into her bag and pulled out a small vial filled with clear liquid.

She pursed her lips together and shook the bottle. The mixture swirled and bubbled. Then all at once, a cylinder of red appeared in the vial. Priscilla caught her breath, then pressed the bottle to her lips and kissed it before returning it to her bag.

“You seem tense,” Mezzarix said, returning with two porcelain cups and a teapot. He poured some steaming liquid into each cup. “Nothing a spot of tea can’t cure.”

Priscilla accepted the cup and blew across the steaming brim. As she sipped, she recoiled and made a sour face. “You consider this tea?”

Mezzarix grinned and set down the tea tray. “Yes, well, not exactly. Hard to brew a good cup out here, you know. It’s more like hot citrus water.”

She swished the drink around in her mouth and shook her head. “That’s not citrus either.”

“Oh, all right. It’s a skulking mushroom that sprouts along the cavern walls. But if you close your eyes and allow your imagination to stretch a bit, you can almost catch a hint of flavor.”

“At least it’s hot.”

Mezzarix sniffed. “It has been twelve years without a letter or any correspondence from you. Crossing into a Forbidden Zone carries a severe punishment. I highly doubt you garnered permission from the Board.”

Priscilla looked at her father, her chest rising quickly with each breath. “I don’t know that I should talk to you about this until my sister arrives.”

Mezzarix sloshed tea down the front of his suit. “Wanda’s coming here? To my cave? Oh, this is rich! You’ve certainly stirred up a hornet’s nest if you’ve managed to involve her.”

Priscilla shook her head. “None of this was her doing, but I can’t fix it without her, so she’ll come. She’s Lead Investigator of B.R.E.W, as you know.”

Mezzarix’s mouth dropped open slightly. “How could I have known that? Lead Investigator?” He scrunched his nose in disgust. “I always knew she would be the one who would join the Board. Well, I can’t blame her for her ambition.”

Priscilla heard the echoing sound of footsteps rising from somewhere deep within one of the adjoining caves. “Are you expecting company?” She stopped short as a skeleton ambled into the room.

Tall and slender, with bony arms and legs, the creature moved with almost comical footsteps, producing a clickity-clack, clickity-clack sound as it clambered over the rock ledge. Instead of a skull, a round egg-shaped stone had been attached to its neck with a long piece of moldy rope. Someone had drawn a face on the stone, which was stuck in a permanent smile.

Priscilla dug her hand into her leather satchel and pulled out a vial of sparkly, pistachio-colored liquid as the skeleton skittered to a halt a few yards from Mezzarix’s cauldron.

“Priss, I would like to introduce you to Doll,” Mezzarix said, nodding at the creature. “Doll, this is my daughter, Priscilla.”

Doll stood motionless, the rock face not moving in the slightest to greet her.

Priscilla gasped. “Doll?”

“I was always terrible with names. Now, Doll, don’t be rude. Say hello to Priscilla.”

Doll’s head tilted ever-so-slightly to one side.

“Wha . . . how?” Priscilla asked, retreating another step.

Mezzarix raised an eyebrow. “How did I make him? Are we sharing now? Secrets are meant to be shared.”

She shook her head violently. “No! I don’t care how you made it. Whose life did you take to create it?”

Priscilla knew this wasn’t the first offense of Mezzarix using the dangerous potion of Risorgimento, or the reanimation of the dead. Before his banishment, the Scourge of Nations often violated that rule. He believed all inanimate or dead things were available for his control. She repressed a shudder.

Mezzarix scoffed. “I found the bones in one of the caverns a few years ago. Someone who met an unfortunate end. Must have been there for decades. I got rid of his skull, though. Didn’t like the way he looked at me. Oh, come now! Stop staring at him as though he were some sort of monster.”

“Your banishment should’ve prevented you from concocting such a powerful potion.”

“Indeed. But time wears on everything, including banishments. Unfortunately, the strength of my command on Doll, as well as any other potion I brew, ends at the borders of the Forbidden Zone.”

“This is insane. I shouldn’t be here,” Priscilla said.

“Don’t be that way.” Mezzarix sprinkled more ingredients into his cauldron. “The soup’s almost ready, and you know I was only showing off. If it makes you feel better, I will send Doll to harvest more skulking mushrooms. I’m almost out of tea.”

Priscilla shivered as she watched the skeleton lurch away into the darker parts of the cavern, the rhythmic clickity-clack of its movements echoing throughout the cave.

“I should wait for Wanda somewhere else,” she said. “She’ll be here soon.”

“I’m already here.” Wanda stood in the opening of the cave, wearing a bulky, fur-lined parka with her hood pulled back revealing glaring eyes.

Eyes that remained glued to Mezzarix in the center of the room.